The bastard Henrik entered the tavern, casting a wary glance around at the place. He liked to pop in here every now and again, when he had some coin to burn, like today. Just yesterday, an outrageously pompous nobleman  had been trying to cross<em>his</em>bridge without so much as a guard or a weapon to fend himself with. It was easy to convince him to pay a 'toll' to use the bridge. And now it was time to piss through that 'toll' money, and enjoy himself. Plenty of food, plenty of drink, possibly a whore when he was done with the former.<br/><br/>The stoic man walked with an air of quiet confidence, and something else... a sort of natural 'aura' of fear. Most people could pick up, just from the way he carried himself, that Henrik was not someone you angered, because he'd be on you like a rabid wolf.  It makes him definitely stick out in the crowd.<br/><br/>He settled himself down in a tactical location at the bar. His back was towards a wall, and he could view not only most of the establishment, but the entrance as well. A slightly bedraggled woman hesitantly approached his table, and upon asking him what she could get him, he'd respond, with a dreadfully monotone voice. "Roasted meat, and some brown ale to wash it down."