Jagred stepped into the welcoming warmth of the inn, his tattered cloak draped over one arm, while he kept his backpack in the other. The stench hit him as he crossed the threshold, but after years drifting from places to places without a home, he had been less picky about where he slept. Along with the others in the group, he stopped at the bar first thing, glancing at the various bottles behind the barman. Despite just having returned to Persk after a two-month campaign up North, Jagred found himself in especially high spirit today. After all, he had just found one tempting assignment. It was a proper manhunt. He couldn’t remember the last time he took on any bounty. Most of the ones he came across either didn’t pay enough to pique his interest or had had too many takers already, so it had been just boring campaign or bodyguard duties for him all year long. Hopefully, this job would be worth the wait. 

 There was still one thing that kept bothering though. It was the team. Jagred worked alone, it had been his way for a long time. Even when temporary serving with other mercenaries in some lord’s army or bodyguarding one, he had always enjoyed a sense of freedom. He would finish his assignment, yes, but under his own terms and in his own time. While there were certain drawbacks, which he fully-aware of, he still preferred solitude. However, it was too late to walk away from this now. Not that he would, since jobs like these didn’t just drop into your lap now and then. He could work with other people when asked for, as long as they stayed out of his way. And from their looks, they appeared to be quite competent themselves. 

 Once the friendly gentleman and the dark-skinned foreigner had ordered their drinks, Jagred raised his hand slightly to get the barman’s attention. “Your least watered-down wine here, please.”- He spoke, loud enough for the barman to hear over the noises, and soon enough, a mug of dark red liquid was shoved into his waiting hands. He took a slip, then grimaced. Still too watered down for his taste, but he supposed he would take what he could get. Just at that moment, the older mercenary decided to go get them a table after a brief chat with the barman, and when beckoned, he walked over, mug in hand. The middle aged mercenary was quite keen on impressing the two women in their group, pulling out chairs for them and all. Not an usual thing for a sellsword to do, but he was sure it was just because of the horrible company he often kept. 

 As he sat down at the table along with the others, the older man once again proposed that they introduce themselves. Jagred took a long swig from his mug first, before speaking up, a half smile tugging at his lips –“Name’s Jagred. Pleasure to meet you all.”