Upon turning the corner by the inn, Strynn grinned widely at a welcome sight- a slightly bored-looking guard in uniform. "Another quiet day, nothing to report." He said as he saluted his relief. The man made a slight face as he heard the news, complaining that for once, he wished he could see another raid. 'Sodding rook.' Strynn thought as he gave a small wry grin and patted the man on the shoulder, making his way toward the tavern. His memories had taken him back and he was in a bleak mood. 'I need a drink.'
He brushed aside the hanging cloth door to the pub, immediately accosted by the annoying sounds of a complaining nobleman. And by the look of him, foreign. Strynn sighed heavily as he hung his head for a moment. 'So close. I was so close to a quiet day and a much-needed drink.' "Here, now." He said aloud, putting a hand on the fat man's shoulder. "I don't know how it works where you're from, friend, but around here you pay for your drinks. And you ask for them, ask mind you, in a civilized manner." The fat man swiped Strynn's hand from his shoulder and sputtered indignantly about his lineage, his station, and a few other things the watchman didn't really listen to and didn't want to hear in the slightest. "That's all well and good, sir, but I must ask you one more time to-" his words were cut off with a small *slap* as the nobleman struck him across the face. "And mind your tongue when you speak to your betters, knave! The nerve..." Muscles built from years of military service corded as Strynn clenched a fist and drove it square into the noble's belly, the fat man's eyes growing wide as he doubled over and gasped for breath that would not come. A moment later, the man was flying through the doorway as Strynn bodily hurled him out. "And stay out!" He roared, booting the man's ass and sending him sprawling again as he struggled to stand.
"Bloody stupid heavy fat bastard." Strynn muttered, picking up his "usual" from the barkeep- a large squared bottle of dark rum. "On the house, that fat fool was asking for that one, mate." The man chuckled, earning a grin and grateful nod from the guard. His eyes scanned the crowd, seeking a table that was empty (for he wanted to drink alone), but the closest thing was one in the back corner with only a single occupant- and she also looked like she was a newcomer. "I haven't seen you around here, before- please, have a drink. Welcome to Woodhaven." He said courteously, pouring the strong dark rum into two glasses. Upon closer inspection he saw that the woman looked to be in a foul mood, and her hand seemed to be in pretty bad shape. "My name is Strynn Swiftblade, a local watch-keeper. Is something troubling you? Perhaps I could point you out to the local healer?"