"What of me?" said Alaric, still sharpening his blade. "I've seen enough death to last several lifetimes, and the last thing I am afraid of is getting my hands dirty." The prince wanted to say more, until the newcomers arrived. The first two, an odd looking man covered head to toe in a cloak and a what appeared to be a young boy (Alaric wasnt sure of his age) came in an accepted seats. The third man, however, stood back and watched. 

As soon as the prince of Balder lay eyes on him, he could sense the man's depravity. His skin was a mass of scars and pus filled sores, his helmet was that of a skull. Alaric felt his hand tighten on the hilt of his sword, and even as the man seem to lower his weapons, the prince still wanted to attack him. Still, using his very best self control, he relaxed. [i]This was not a man to be trusted.[/i] he thought to himself, even as the older mustached man from before walked up to and welcomed the dark man.