J'zhid stroked his fuzzy chin as he pondered the prospect of challenging a dragon. It was true that somebody needed to protect civilization from such destructive beasts, but J'zhid was not that somebody. He was a seeker of fortune, not of glory, and he had long since abandoned the concept of honor, especially among thieves. Even the prospect of a reward for slaying a dragon failed to motivate him. Yes, a reward would be substantial, but it would be split among all parties, minus the cost of supplies and maintenance, minus the cost of healing any injuries, minus the profit of lost business for recovering from said injuries... the reward did not warrant the risk. Still, if everybody else was going, it would not do much for his reputation to be the sole member of Odd Jobs heeding the guards' advice. Perhaps there was a way to make it work. 

"J'zhid is not so good at fighting dragons," he said at last, "but he will come along and offer what help he can nonetheless. You all keep the reward from fighting the dragon; the scales and the bones, those go to J'zhid. This is agreeable yes?" Indeed the return of the dragons had sparked the interest of many blacksmiths. Rumor had it the the bones of dragons could yield sturdier armor and sharper blades than even ebony tempered by the elusive Daedra hearts could. Relinquishing his reward was a fair price to pay for safety, and with the right buyer, the bones he would scavenge would fetch just as much gold as the Jarl was offering.