Don't mess with mercenaries, please! part 1

In a small tavern located within the wooden palisade of an insignificant town, a scruffy looking man in his thirties gulps down his pint of ale, lifting his elbow to let the last drops fall on his tongue. Not content with that, he then closed one eye and looked inside the empty pint only to be disappointed. It looked empty and it sounded empty as he slammed it into the bar.

He had dusty hair, dusty was his face and his armor looked as if rust had corroded most of it. He had a week old stubble and a tired look on his face, encompassed by several dark colored rims beneath his eyes that were proof of his lack of sleep. Everything about him looked dirty and unhealthy, just as most of the people inside that tavern.