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[center][h2]Markus Flintbrook[/h2][/center]
[hr]

Markus's dark eyes glinted subtly in the gloom within the passageway, his cloak about his shoulders. He'd been down here for about an hour, and even though he wanted to, he had been instructed to wait for the 'team' by Esvellee. Now that he got a good look at them, he wasn't certain he should have followed that particular rule. "Guess I'll deal with it," he muttered to himself, watching a horse being lowered into the dungeon. 

He had fought both Lizardfolk and Tieflings before. He never thought he would find himself allying with them, but he wasn't closed minded enough to think it beneath him. Everyone, even planar beings and savage races had a choice in how they interacted with the world. He had never met a Tortle, but the way this one moved about seemed strange to his sensibilities. He should have known that Esvellee didn't simply call him to help get her brother. It was likely to also watch these adventurers and make sure they barreled their way into Skullport. 

Taking the hood of his cloak off to reveal his rakish features, he stepped out of the darkness of the tunnel, opening his cloak so they didn't suspect him of hiding any hidden weaponry. They would see a longsword hanging at the Eldritch Knight's hip, and two Scimitars crisscrossed upon his back. "It took you long enough," Markus said to them, his face casually expectant. "I'm not certain if Esvellee told you about me. She enjoys teasing me that way at times."

Despite the irksome circumstance (if that was the case), he couldn't help but give a grin. It truly was like old times, he decided. "I apologize, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Markus Flintbrook, an old associate of Esvellee's here to help. Is there anyone else we're waiting on?"