<span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The man dressed in blue...<br/>
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He had put the word out two days ago now that he was looking for new crew member of a 'particular skill set,' but didn't specify just what that might be. He had already conducted a series of interviews with those that had bothered to seek him out at the inn, where he was just barely tolerated for his antics there. The innkeeper's wife, who had settled for the portly man because the butcher's son had run off with a prettier lass from up the hill and had told him as much, threatened to charge him a room's fee for conducting his business in their reputable establishment. He managed to placate the woman with a handful of silver and a steady flow of ale that he had a hunch she was charging double for. Even with the monetary compensation, the woman had a hard time looking at him directly. Few could. It was something that the man had grown accustomed to.<br/>
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There were a few that showed promise; fewer still that he would bother to seek out again. None yet that he would extend an offer to board his ship to. His rules were simple. First, he gauged their character; their overall demeanor. He observed them without saying as much -- the way they treated the barmaid, whether they fidgeted or not, whether or not their smile was genuine or if it was falsely displayed. The latter indicated that the person had something to hide. If a person shifted too much in their seat, refused to meet his gaze, fussed with their drinks and couldn't hold their hands still.. well, that meant they were too anxious to be sitting across from him in the first place. The swarm of faces: vagrants, whores, noblemen, sellswords and street urchins -- most of them simply wanted a warm meal and steady pay, but had little passion for the voyage itself.<br/>
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He claimed to be a merchant of sorts, a vagabond without roots that grew his weeds at every port that would take him, but has tongues wagged and let loose their vicious words, such things as smuggler and pirate were thrown into the wind to pollinate where they would. Whispered in the ill-begotten, darker crevices of these towns, there were worse things being passed back and forth between mouths regarding this particular man. Most of it was laughable, folly derived from imaginations steeped too far in mead. The ignorant often created fictions for themselves in order to validate their own existence and ideas without seeking out much else besides idle fishwives' gossip and bored banter. Like the fact that he had no soul because he had sold it, piece by piece, to better his luck. Or that he fornicated with monstrous beasts and had sired a slew of half man, half beast creatures that he could summon to destroy anyone who pissed him off too much.<br/>
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Most of the more notorious rumors revolved around his eye, though, which fixated now on the pair that headed toward him; that he had followed like a hawk with both orbs with all the confidence that they were looking for him. Karrendin Dareis Marnier, the Tiger, was a man of too many observation and keen perception. Regardless that he only had one eye in a shade of green and sometimes blue, while the other had been lost by whatever had caused the scar that raked halfway across his face in three ragged strikes. Thick scar tissue turned the claw marks white, and stood out in sharp contrast on an otherwise tanned complexion. They scored the bridge of his nose, gouged deep into his cheek, flayed his eyelid and left a permanent indent in his brow where once his brows grew thick and dark as the unmarred other half of his face. Instead of covering the eye socket, he further brought attention to the loss of the eye by replacing the empty space with something else. The gem was known as tiger's eye for its dark split embedded in its otherwise golden sheen. It was the eerie presence of the stone along with the scarring on his face that deemed him an intimidating force. Dark hair, tinted red if the right light hit it just so, hung low in his face and curled around his ears and at his collar. He had a chiseled jaw, covered by a dark layer of growth that added to his fierce presence. And despite the vivid color of his shirt, he cut a powerful frame that was used to close quarters combat. Muscle roped and defined his physique underneath the tunic and beneath the leather breeches that wrapped his legs.<br/>
<br/>
As the woman prowled closer to his corner of the inn, he leaned away from the table and lounged with his legs sprawled in front of him, booted feet kicked out and crossed at the ankles. The broad-chested man folded his arms across his chest and tilted his chin so that the lantern's light caught the golden Tiger's eye so that it glowed in his face. He waited until she was close enough to speak before he lifted the flagon of ale in front of him, raised it in greeting, and took a swig before the smile curled around his lips, cold as well as assessing once she was close enough that he could tell just why she was there.<br/>
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"I see."<br/>
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Did he? The man shoved his drink away from himself and swung forward to settle his elbows on the table in front of him, calloused fingers linking together in front of him. He touched his lips to his knuckles in thought for a moment, then spoke again.<br/>
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"Don't bother introducing yourself or even to explain why you're here. I'm more interested in hearing how you can benefit me."<br/>
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He's done this before, judging by his warm welcome.</span>