Sergei sniffed, stretching his aching neck. A simple fishing rod was buried in the ground beneath his legs, and he reached for the bottle of liquour by his side. Pulling out the stopper with his teeth, he took a swig, and sighed, regarding his line. Fish was not a common food in his homeland, and he found the taste pleasantly exotic. Still, by that same virtue he had little knowledge of the sport, an annoyance compounded by his current lack of coin.

"Hmmmm..." He adjusted the hood concealing the scarred half of his face, and sent a silent wish to the god of money. No sooner did his eye snapped to the side as some fifteen feet to his left, a scoundrel and a mage sloshed ashore, soaked to the bone.

The knight gave a horribly wide, toothy grin at the pair.