In the tavern he sat, a corner booth in the far end of the place near the kitchen door. He eyed up the patrons from within. Currently, two of his clients and two of his targets were side by side, each wanting the other dead. It was something about a feud relating to land and missing cattle, to which he cared for neither. He was to be simply a means to an end. He told each one to meet the other in the tavern, claim to the other that one wishes to end the feud with a drink and a fresh start. The poor sods. Too stupid to realize that they would end each other off by the same poison given to them by the same witcher. Behind the mask he couldn't help but smirk as he watched them both clank the mugs together and took a sip of the tainted liquid. As they did he stood up and made his way over to them and reached into the one's pocket for his coin.

"Oi wadderya do-do....du" 
"Did is fer mah lahnd and cahttle yew stole from meh...wait a tick...I dun feel so well."

[color=004b80]"This one said payment is to be half up front, half when the job is completed. A man does not remember nor shall he again."[/color] The other soon begun to feel the poison take effect and shortly collapsed onto the ground, spilling the rest of the drink. Distant eyes met his lifeless ones as the client/target's last breath was drawn. With the contracts completed he left the tavern, only becoming a moment in its ever growing history.