You enter a crowded tavern for a decent meal and a drink. The tavern keeper reluctantly seats you beside a large figure, cloaked with black armor. On his back wields something too big to be called a sword. Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough. Indeed, it was a heap of raw iron. His face was fierce, but he continued eating without minding your presence. After a moment he notices you are staring at him.

"What." His voice was deep and stern. His stare pierces you as he awaits your reply.