The door to Sugar Hill opened and a thunder rolled across the wooden floor. There in the doorway stood a massive beast with green skin and fangs protruding down past its chin. "It" was a half-orc, though no one who looked at him was reminded of a half-orc, half-human. Perhaps half-mountain, half-ocean, or half-nightmare, half-snot. Something big and terrible.
He carried on his back not the usual adventurer's packs, but a wheelbarrow with the back facing out, and straps stretched across it to keep his belongings from spilling out. He had to constantly lean his head down to make room for the wheel, which pressed against the base of his green neck with every move.
The thunder continued as the half-orc walked across the floor and sat at the bar, the stool bowing and crying under his weight but miraculously holding him. As the room grew quiet and everyone began to stare, the creature craned his arm back, bending his wrist at an ugly angle to reach into the wheelbarrow. He squirmed, grunted, twitched, and for a moment it appeared that all his belongings would spill onto the floor. Finally, he pulled out a sizable coin purse bulging with gold from all manner of places, and plunked it down on the counter. All around the Sugar Hill, eyebrows shot up; that was more money than most people had seen in their entire lives. The place grew perfectly silent as a few preemptive grumbles issued from the monster's lips. A purple tongue flicked out to lick them for a moment before a single word clattered across the bar.