Walking over the hill, feeling the wind blow behind him, the figure walked forward with his cloak flowing behind him. No one paid attention to him, for as soon as they saw the swords at his side and an axe behind it, they knew him to be a warrior. He marched onwards to the establishment where he may find himself some money. And perhaps a drink. 

Opening up the door, he marched up to the innkeeper, who was trying to clean a glass cup. He waited until the man was done with his task. It would not do until the keeper had completed. The cloaked warrior looked around the building, looking for anybody of interest. All that were there was a young woman sipping at a mug. In the corner, men sat huddled together. 

The innkeeper finally took notice of the stranger and spoke to him:

"What da you want? Food and drink? A bed?"

With a low voice, the soldier turned to the owner.

"I need work. Anybody come by, asking for people to be dead?"

A shudder went through the keeper's body. This was no simple man; this was a killer. 

"Kalar Pallaxis what I am called by some. Others do not speak at all. Now, do you have a job?"