Character: Axol, The Unworthy
Status: In need of food and ale.

Axol couldn't recall how many times he had fallen asleep on the wagon, waking now and then in a brief state of panic and rummaging to see if something had been nicked from his pockets and throwing accusatory glances before falling asleep again. He couldn't even tell which of them were dreams, though there was one instant where he awoke to find himself surrounded by humanoid alligators. 

That one was definitely a dream, because he knew that alligators can't breathe on land. Well, that's what [i]he[/i] knew, at least...

The clinking of heavy chains and the low moans of the Bastion gates did wake him, and he soon found himself walking half-asleep alongside the other travelers before being halted by guards. He rubs his eyes and looks up, his hood falling behind his head as he stands still, witnessing the tall and cold structure that looms over them, suddenly feeling small. It was a feeling he did not like. Axol has no idea where he is in the world right now. He came in the promise of a wealthy employer that needed his talents in exchange for gold. 

All he really needed to hear was "gold." Leave it to the gods to help him find his way back.

The winds were harsh against his skin, his armor doing little to keep him warm, but it seemed that his companions were a lot less used to harsher climates, save for one of them, clad in fine clothing akin to a lordling who appeared to be one with the chilly breeze. Axol kept quiet with his arms crossed over his chest, taking brief mental notes of each of his companions. He slowly realizes that whatever rewards they'll be receiving might end up being spread too thin, given their numbers. 

[color=0072bc]"Too many to share with..."[/color] He mutters to himself, albeit a bit loudly. 

Some louder man with a bow began throwing jests, engaging in conversation with a pointy-eared woman who looks to be just a few minutes away from freezing up completely. Axol found himself chuckling at the sight of the archer nearly kissing the sharp end of a pike from one of the guards. He found it amusing to imagine; blabbering and being abruptly interrupted with a pike through the skull. [color=0072bc]"I don't know about a fire, but some ale and a hot meal would definitely fix me up."[/color] He remarks, nudging the quieter girl beside him as if they knew one another. [color=0072bc]"You don't happen to have some ale on you, do you?"[/color]

Before the meek lady could respond, Axol's eyes landed on the young royalty that stood before them; most certainly their employer. A grin slowly crept up on his cheeks. He recalls the last time a lord had employed him: a poor balding bastard sneaking away from his wife to meet with a mistress, and needed some muscle to secure the perimeter while they copulated in the woods. He was paid a fine sum. This young lord, however, seems to be troubled by more than just forbidden nocturnal activities- and the deeper the trouble, the better the pay. Though he wonders just how big an amount he's looking at, and more importantly, how bigger it'd be if there were fewer of them to share with in their ragtag group...