<The young soldier in the gold helmet and the large broadsword hears the ruckus coming from the tavern and goes to investigate.  Opening the door to the tavern he walks in and takes in the scene.  His lips curl into a chuckling smile at the mayhem in the tavern.  He decides to lean against the wall to the side of the door, his arms folded and one soul on the wall with his knee bent.  His steely gray eyes watch a few of the pretty bar maids before landing on the gruff dwarf.  Unfolding his paper he checks the list and then under his breath>  You can't be serious?  This is our tank?