[h2]Varian Sigmund - Dalenham, Ethora[/h2]

Varian scoffed in response to Osmund's jest. The man had said practically the same sentence every single time he did something even remotely tiring. The Highman scanned over his mercenary companion for a brief moment - he was decent enough of a fighter, and didn't annoy Varian as previous companions of his had in the past, which made him tolerable. Varian knew there was more to this man, but he also didn't care enough to find out what that was. In all likelihood, Osmund would either move on or end up dead within the month. That's generally how these mercenary bands played out for Varian. 

There was a time when he traveled with a female sellsword where that didn't play out as he predicted. He had found her in southern Miraheim, nearly frozen to death and more drunk than a woman of that size ought to be. The woman, Cassandra, ended up being quite a skilled swordswoman herself, and the two traveled for a few months together, before they separated. Varian wondered for a few moments what ever became of the young woman. 

He snapped out of his thoughts as Osmond spoke aloud about the orcs. Varian took another large swig of his ale and shrugged his shoulders. "If they weren't monstrous, we wouldn't have gotten paid as well as we did. Speaking of which..." Varian began reaching in his bag by his chair, removing the sack of coins given to him by Edward. He distributed Osmund's share to him, just as he heard Edon's voice above him.

Varian glanced at the man and cocked an eyebrow and snorted. "Just Varian. Saying 'Commander' won't get you any extra silver," He motioned for Edon to take chair beside him. "The payment. Ten silver for each of us. Job well done. And a good job staying alive." He said to them, before leaning back and grabbing hold of his ale and downing the contents. He let out a satisfying sigh and leaned back as he watched the others look over their payment.