[b]Edon Wolf
Broken Keg Tavern
Dalenham, Ethora[/b]


Edon didn't seem thrilled with his new companions.  The orc was an orc and the woman was a woman.  He wasn't excited about any manner of baggage either would be bringing with along.  The orc even had a war mount of sorts; something as big as a horse but also much more dangerous if spooked.

The Raelusian nobleman gripped the shaft of his halberd tightly out of frustration but remained silent.  Memory of his last encounter with orcs was still fresh in his mind and he watched Folkmar with a critical glare.  Being who and what he was, Edon usually came across as arrogant and snobby under the best of circumstances.  His expression could easily be misunderstood as hatred toward the gray-skinned male orc.

Absently, he noted that he was now, likely, the third strongest member of this group in terms of raw phyiscal might.  He wagered he was also the quickest.  The woman looked like she had seen a fair amount of combat but, he conceeded, he wouldn't know anything significant about either of them until he saw how they fought.

Eventually the portly tradesman arrived and distributed their initial pay.  He then produced a map and, on a busy road in full view of anybody coming or going, proceeded to brief them on the oh-so-secret mission details.  For just a moment, Edon felt both physically ill and murderously angry.

He wanted to ask for details about the fortress but, considering what he had just witnessed, he decided against it.  The fat bastard probably didn't know a thing about forts.  So instead he stayed silent and bided his time.