Taken from an early 1st draft of a fantasy novel I am currently writing:
From behind them they heard the front door open and suddenly the entire tavern went quite. The band of fiddle and flute players too ended their chorus abruptly and Stevon sensed all eyes turning to the newcomer. He looked at the barman whose cheery expression had been replaced by a stern look.
“We don’t serve your kind here,” he said, as Stevon turned to see a man clad from head to toe in armour standing just inside the doorway. On his back was a pair of gleaming swords and a longbow, all strapped to an enormous pack that was overflowing with furs, bones and trinkets. For a moment he didn’t move, and just stood silently half in the door. “Go on, off you go, there’s nothing for you here.”
Just as the tension was becoming unbearable the stranger turned and left.
“Yeah, fuck off.” Came a shout from someone in the room, but only once they were sure he had definitely left.
“That seemed harsh.” Said Ka Grog into his tankard before taking another long drink.
“Yeah” agreed Stevon, “Felt a bit unnecessary.”
“Bloody adventurers,” chuckled the barman, his polite demeanor quickly returning, “They bring nothing but trouble.”
“Surely they help out a bit?”
“Hardly.” He said more as a laugh more than a word, “Oh they’ll sort out the odd problem from time to time I’ll grant you, but once one gets a whiff of gold to be had the town’ll be crawling with them. If we don’t keep them in check they’ll be running around looking for quests, invading people’s private property and poking their noses into people’s personal business. Not to mention all the shops’ll be full of all their useless junk and selling nothing but health potions in return, s’terrible for the economy it is.”