[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/focXPJy.png?1[/img][/center]

Stravi couldn’t help but let voice to a grunt laced with derisive humour. There’s an issue with the dwarves, and so the Order sends their dwarf to deal with it. There was a racist joke in there somewhere, though Stravi didn’t spend much time trying to figure it out, as he had a suspicion that he would end up being the punchline. 

Still, at least Vaughn recognised his worth, setting him a task to deal with immediately. The former mercenary much preferred to have a solid goal to deal with, rather than be forced to stumble through the muddy streets and fields, looking for some odd-job to complete just to win the hearts and minds of the cabbage-boiling locals. The only issue was that the captain had been rather light with the details of just what was going on up at that mine. Information, some ancient and infinitely quotable intellect had once posited, was power, and Stravi hated doing anything without first having the proper information. It was like an army that tried to march without throwing up a proper screen of scouts: doomed to failure.

One that note, he would also need allies. What he wouldn’t have given to have just one of the Blackshields here with him. Sturdy Gentle, at his shoulder and guarding his back, or Cat Eye Jack, the meanest bastard with a knife that the Ashe Imperium had ever spat out. But his Band wasn’t here, they were a whole sea away, dealing with their own tasks. He’d have to make do with what he had here. 

He cast an eye over his fellow recruits, summoning what he had learnt of them during the long sea voyage here. He would attempt to conscript a few of them before they left on their own agendas, then lobby the Captain for more information. A quick catalogue of his fellow’s skills and talents, and he made his decisions. 

“Lady T’Aldanai. Goodwoman Chandler. Master Nazan. I request that you join me in my mission to the mines.” He made the petition with all the grace of a born nobleman, and all the tact of a man who was used to giving orders, rather than making appeals. He folded his arms behind his back and watched the three expectantly, eyes flicking from face to face.