The man sitting across from him barely made a motion at  the speaking of his name. He was a big, dark-skinned man. Pulling the napkin out of his lap he placed it on his finished plate and stood up. Mathias felt the leery gazes of the tavern's patrons as he threw his cloak over his shoulders and lifted the hood over his bald head. Covering the horrible scars on the left half of his face. "Yes sir." he said in a dull, deep baritone. "Are you sure you've got this one, Squeak?" Mathias asked the female guard at the table. His smirk hidden by the hood.<br/><br/>Striding out of the tavern, Mathias scanned the streets, no more than glorified deer trails, of Perrys Ferry. Mathias struck an intimidating figure especially these country people. He had obviously forsaken his military uniform for a more mercenary look. Mathias wore boiled, metal studded leather armor, that fit his muscular form, and cinched at the waist with a matching leather belt. He wore black baggy pants tucked into his leather boots that came half way up his shins. His bare arms had little in ways of protection other than the leather gauntlets with their studded knuckles. He had left his military broadsword at home favoring a big machete at the small of his back, and a steel arm guard in favor of a shield.<br/><br/>Mathias still looking around, he noticed a sign that showed the direction the ferry was in. Taking note of his surrounding Mathias struck off toward the ferry his long gait eating up the distance between him and his destination.