Sarrisan stood in one of the groups lining the street, hunching over as to not be noticed, Teacher always said a man who was not seen was in the least amount of danger he thought, scanning the ranks of soldiers idly. He hunched often as he walked, being slightly taller then average at six or so feet, he was also wiry, so his hight stood out all the more if he stood straight as his mother raised him to do. He wore nondescript clothes, a slightly used brown cotton tunic and trousers of the same color and fabric. They werent expensive, but they were warm at night and kept him from standing out unless he wanted to. He also wore a dark heavy cloak that cost more then his entire outfit combined, he kept it dirty so it's value wasn't noticed by novice cut throats, but he needed it to keep his weapons hidden. Underneath it all was sleeveless coat of boiled leather and matching greaves.
He tapped his ironwood quarterstaff on the ground as he watched, a habit of his. Most people just thought it was a walking staff, although they wouldn't have any reason to think he was old unless he had his hood up. In truth, it was a weapon, through and through, and he was skilled in using it to his advantage against many types of weapons. Indeed, the quarterstaff was probably his most prized possesion, hard enough to block blows from all but the most powerfull of axe-swings, he coulg knock someone out or break their neck with equal effort, and if the situation called for unreasonable violence, top foot of his staff screwed off to reveal a sharp steel blade hidden beneath. He also carried a number of nives, one almost long enough to be a short sword, and five others of varying length for throwing.
He shook his head at the spectacle and the derison from the crowd around him, parades by soldiers impressed him little, although he had to admit that it probably had the effect it's commander wanted. All those big men and shiny lances could scare any population into good behavior for a time, even if they tended to make people hate the paraders even more. He turned finally, bored, and started down the street behind the rows of people watching the passing men in armor, he didn't have any true destination, but when a pub apeared on the side of the road he was walking on he decided he could use a drink. He walked through the door - quickly scanning the room and judging it safe enough - and sat down at the bar on a stool. He ordered a mug of ale and twisted around, watching one of a taverns typical fights break out between some dwarf and a human thug.
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