The outdoor market district of Mezzar was always busy, always crowded, always… sort of smelly. Loud voices calling from stalls with merchants and farmers peddling their wares and food, children running through the streets playing with toys and knick knacks while close by, their mothers purchased dinner for the evening. It was a nice scene for most. Many people would consider this idyllic, not Daveon however. He was too busy arguing with a merchant over the price of a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. The normally cheery corner of this part of the market was quite handily disturbed by the small man, his gruff demeanor and loud voice making all around them very aware of the Little Wolverine’s fury. 

[color=#b24f15]”Ya means t’ tell me that yous are gonna charge me, ME! Daveon Axebane! You’re going to charge me fifteen copper for this shite wine and this stale bread?! Are you out of yer fuckin’ mind!”[/color] The little man stomped and was getting ready to climb over the display, a hand reaching instinctively to the handle of his axe, his rage bubbling up as he felt offended. Instead he simply spat at the merchant and tossed the coin at the man. [color=#b24f15]”Yer lucky I’m here of order business, else I’d be takin’ yer hand, ya sack o’ shit. Fuckin filthy humans ripping off good halffolk… Thinkin’ we less than them, over chargin’ us for fuckin’ bread…”[/color] Daveon grumbled to himself as he bit into the somewhat stale bread and walked through the rest of the market, curious about  if there were a quality blacksmith in these parts, he’d never been to Mezzar before and wanted to find out what their quality and standards for weaponry would be and if there were pits to make some cash. He knew there was a mission ready for him, but he wanted fun… adventure… Blood. A swig of wine hear, a crunch of bread there, a casual insult tossed at a group of Free Elves. 

Daveon was really just wasting time at this point, knowing that if he were to show up to the meeting on time… or even worse… first, then it would damage his reputation as a smart mouthed jackass that could careless about the team. He would die for any of them, he knew this deep down, even that shitty Dusty Knife-Ear, Shayzani. Daveon fought alongside of them for some time now and even against one of them. He never let people in, never let other races close enough to gain his trust, but this group had proven themselves capable and he knew in a pinch he could rely on any one of them to help him out of a tight spot, even if he did constantly say he hated them. [color=#b24f15]”Buncha filthy bastards, the whole lot of them…”[/color] He whispered to himself as he kept roaming the market square.