Dinggg-dading-ding
Ulis' opened the door and strutted into the dim-lit tavern. He swaggered over to a brown, rickety stool in front of the bar and plopped himself down on it. He twitched his nostril and gagged, the bar reeked of shame and morning's to regret. Boisterous banter and raving invaded his ears; the bar was unkempt and rowdy. He shook his head at all the belligerence and sighed, resting his foreleg atop the bar and his head in his hoof. He closed his eyes, appeared he'd fall asleep but he didn't.
Ulis was a tall, bulky stallion with a stern stature, similar to a military veteran. He was poised, leaving every step with a 'thud.' He couldn't sneak up on any pony if he tried. His coat was a blanket of snow, as was his mane, streaking with turquoise. His eyes were two envied diamonds, a bright ocean blue. His muzzle was rectangular, a true stallions, though it was snubbed a little short; ironically, figuring he spoke well past his worth.
Smacking his lip together, eyes still shut, he raised a hoof and waved it, "Barkeep. Appleflank, what's top of the line?" his voice was raspy and scratchy, like a pony with the blue flu, "I need something to celebrate."