Zyre followed the others into the tavern, lagging behind everyone else for a moment as he paused to notice the table they were to be sat at, his expression changing to one of mild disappointment as he noticed the ale, he needed something classier, so he turned to one of the pretty bar maidens and flashed a charming smile at her as he spoke to her, issuing the simple request for her to bring a glass of red wine to him at his table. She nodded as Zyre moved to the table, lowered his hood and sat down.

He crossed his arms and remained silent as he listened to his new team tell their stories, some came from humble beginnings, others with some extraordinary tales to themselves. Zyre himself hated to speak of the past, he really had nothing to say. He glanced to see the waitress hand him a glass of wine, which he grasped, then with his free hand he flipped a coin to her hands. The assassin brought the glass to his mouth, taking an extended sip.

The taste almost made him grin in relief, he hadn't drank wine in some time, then again it was rare in his life that he was able to just sit back and relax, maybe light a candle, read a book, eat a sandwich. He placed the glass on the table carefully, then waited for the latest member of the mercenary band to speak as Zyre rose his voice to introduce himself as his eyes explored those at the table, putting names to faces.

"I am Zyre Le Maitre, I hail from the isle of Baellar. I've slit throats for coin and fought armies for jewels. I've been all over the world, across seas and under bridges. I have experience with mercenary bands when I joined one after my parents passed and I had to fake my age. I spent several years with that group then went my own way which has led me here," He paused to take a sip of wine. "I'm skilled with swords, knives and arrows. I'll fight wherever you request me to, whether that involves me slipping into an enemy's camp silently or charging the frontlines, it does not matter to me."

He finished speaking, then took another drink of his wine before placing the nearly empty glass down to reach across the table to grasp a pin, which he hooked onto his armor just below his collar. He then leaned back in the chair, eager to get going on their journey, a single finger twirling around the top of the wine glass.