(I have no idea if there is something I should know before I join in so I'm going to let myself in.)
A man walks through the front door of the bar. Slung across his shoulders is a 5 foot oak stuff, polished by many years of fighting and dueling. At his side is a small falchion with some names carved into the steel blade and a family insignia on the hilt and the scabbard. He pulls his hood of his forest brown cloak away from his face as he closes the door, revealing his short brown hair and a callused face. Pausing for a moment, he surveys the room, his hazel eyes going from Therian to finally resting on the three river pirates. He walks up to the bar, still eyeing the trio. "I'll take some mead, but if you don't have that I'll just take some ale." He says, his deep voice resounding around the bar. He finds a small table without any people and takes his staff off his back and rests it on the table. He relieves himself of his cloak and drapes it around his chair, making sure to place all his valuables in his sight.