The heavy door of the tavern flung open as if kicked from the other side and slammed loudly against the wall. Any who might've been startled by the noise might've reached for their blades at first glance of what stood in the doorway. It was a rather tall, yet broad figure draped from head to toe in a shoddy, if not poorly crafted cloak which bore several holes and tears. Whatever it was, it stood motionless and its face was concealed by the ominous shadow of the hood which draped over it's head. After a few moments of silent inspection of the place, the being made its way into the light of the room and took up a spot in front of the hearth. As the flames of the fire crackled and danced, the figure reached up and peeled back it's hood to reveal the weathered and scarred face of a Nord. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were of a dull blue, though they appeared slightly green when lit with the flickering firelight. The mans head was shaven and the left side of his face bore a traditional clan tattoo. Even though he was wrapped in a thick layer of cloth to keep warm from the frigid storm that had kicked up outside, it was quite easy to tell that this man was of an impressive build. Protruding from out of the back of his cloak, the leather-strapped handle of a great battleaxe stuck straight up into the air and, if listened to carefully, it was quite clear that the man wore quite a surprising amount of armor beneath his rags.<br/><br/>He stood there for a few moments, pulling the heavy fur-lined gauntlets from his hands and set them upon the nearby table. He then brought his hands up before him and leaned into the heat of the fire; it was a welcome luxury after such a long walk from Riverwood. As he warmed himself, he turned his head to the side to eye the Argonian for a moment and then brought his attention to the woman. Both he inspected quite carefully before returning to his current task of fighting off the cold that had chilled his bones for the past three days.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>