- The soft creak of leather.  The quiet but sharply tinny clink of ring mail.  Thick and heavy sound of the walking hoof beats along an almost muddy road.  These sounds pierce the mists of a morning dawn, laid heavy with a fog.  Cool blue eyes set in a grim looking, but not entirely unfriendly face.  A thick fingered hand holds the reins of the dun colored warhorse he rides.  A single jagged scar runs down the jawline of a grizzled face that has seen many a battle.  The other hand rests easily on the pommel of a well used but well kept longsword. Dark hair swept back and tied out of his face by a strip of leather.  A shield strapped to his back and easily within his reach carries the sigil of a mercenary band.  His own mercenary band.-<br/><br/>-His destination is still a couple of leagues from him at this point and the mercenary is in no particular hurry.  The easy gait of his mount belies such.-