Ögei half-turned and regarded the man speaking to her. Too dark for Nord, too white for Khergit. Swadian? Didn't matter, truly; not being a southerner meant he, too, couldn't probably ride a horse to save his life. Oh, well. She turned around again and headed straight for the table, cutting her staring short upon remembering these people tended to get the proverbial fire ants in their underwear if you looked at them too long; instead, she stopped at the table, alternating her looks between the woman and the Sarranid man.<br/><br/>"Yeah... I'm here about the merc band," she said with a nod, letting the saber on her hip and the bow on her back do the talking for now; no sales pitch on how she's the greatest warrior ever that could defeat Ragnar AND his army singlehandedly using nothing but a butterknife and a pair of linen pants (used as a weapon, not item of clothing). No, just a confident stance - and a bit of an awareness test for the recruiters regarding her equipment and upbringing. Not every steppe rider was a great warrior, but those that were not rarely came to Praven except on a chain. That is to say, Ögei let the locals do the proverbial maths.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>