<div class="floatleft">(http://orig00.deviantart.net/065f/f/2017/187/5/9/august01_by_ravagedgirl-dbfdsq3.jpg)</div><br/><br/>He shook hands with Warren, the grip firm but relaxed. Far was he from trusting strangers without fair and ample reason, but August did not feel threatened or otherwise disturbed by the company. Nothing made him particularly suspicious, so for the time being August would remain here, in the Tavern with that strange name, with warm and welcoming people. Come to think of it, he had not seen a single male employee, but this was of minor importance to him. Things to write, things to read, things to say.<br/><br/><strong>"August Brightmoor,"</strong>he offered a response.<strong>"Recent apprentice-turned-mage, trying to play catch-up with his studies. Newest addition to a mercenary crew on break, the self-proclaimed Red Band Party of four, that no one has ever heard of."</strong>It sounded as if he was reading from a script, implying he had done this introduction more than once. Members of his crew did that as well, though not for fame as it was never their goal. Shreds of recognition only uttered for those who might have been fighting with them at some point or another, amid a cloud of anonymity that they generally preferred.<strong>"We wander as well--finding the locals of each town that need spare hands, and sometimes either doing the things they can't do themselves, or taking a few matters into our own hands--with decent methods and good motives, mind you. Even sell-swords have standards."</strong><br/><br/>Not long after, Chariss came back with what he'd ordered, and from the look on her face, he'd probably asked for much more than they'd expected him to. He had the coin to pay for it of course, and the empty void in his stomach to accommodate that meal. He thanked the dwarf before she left, then flipped the book closed and set it aside before taking up utensils to dig into the food, punctuating most bites he took with a sip of mead. He'd gotten used to the alcohol by now--the crew had seen to that, one stormy night at a port city. Hilde, baiting him into it on a dare, the two of them immediately getting into a contest amid the roaring jeers of observers. August only remembered fragments of that night, but he thought he did okay. Of course, the next day he'd awoken facedown and half-dangling off a table like grapevines from a cliff face. From that, he'd become slightly wiser, with a better tolerance for drink, a dislike for pounding headaches, and much better judgment for challenges that were worth taking.<br/><br/>That wasn't to say that the incident wasn't fun.<br/><br/>He tried to dismiss the memory as he ate now, and it was completely gone with the topic switch Warren brought in, asking about the book. He nodded to acknowledge the question, but only answered once he swallowed his current bite.<strong>"It's a listing for potions. Well, that and the herbs needed. Alchemical ingredients, some of them expensive or hard to obtain. Et cetera. I'm trying to perfect some important ones and develop a few that are meant for specific situations."</strong>