[center][b]Derrix “Nightbane” Herchiv[/b][/center]


	“I am just a poet,” Derrix insisted as he folded his large arms across his chest, “a poet without any ink.”

	He looked over the two women and two men who had gathered into a colorful group. His golden eyes seemed to glow in thought as they scanned the four and his chest expanded as he inhaled slowly. The group before him already looked mismatched and disorganized at best, did he really want to bind himself with these people? Probably not. 

	His gaze stayed on them for a while longer as he festered in his inkless annoyance. With a sigh he let his thick arms fall to his sides as an unsaid thought tickled his conscious and prompted him to ask, “what is the quest?”