<div class="floatleft">(http://i782.photobucket.com/albums/yy103/TrashyMe/ad0674cc.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Elandra Ravenholme<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Thirsty Turtle<br/><br/>Not far from the others, a slender figure shrouded in darkness quietly listened. Hunched over a table, the sword-for-hire known as Elandra cradled a tankard of warm frothy ale between her gloved hands, a drink which she cautiously sipped at between curious glances of the crowded tavern. The stink of stale air, alcohol and sweat filled her nostrils, creating a heady atmosphere - one which, when coupled with the incessant drone of nearby patrons, made the catching of the utterance “Riddick” especially lucky for the slightly groggy Ravenholme. With a swift turn of her head, she immediately picked up on the growing gathering nearby and, from beneath the adventuress’s cowl, a tight smile gradually played across her lips, as her excitement grew upon the discovery of her target.<br/><br/>Raven' could hardly match names to faces but she assumed her potential employers were the two which currently sat amongst the small group. She could make out very little of the one gentleman, who drew his cloak suspiciously close around himself, but the other was apparently less shy of showing himself. He had the grizzled look of a man who had seen plenty of action, with a wavy mane of blonde hair framing his battle hardened features. The seasoned look of Connor’s mentor helped soothe the reservations Elandra had recently been having of the offered job. Reservations she acquired while asking around and stumbling upon the stories of ill which befell the last mission into the unknown, the one led by a hapless commander by the name of O’Fearghail.<br/><br/>The other two, standing before the table, were likely the competition. Once again Elandra’s perspective was hindered by a thick cloak, making it difficult to tell much of the one merc, Nariel. Her vision of Eckhart however was thankfully unimpeded. The strapping young man stood tall, with powerful burly arms, an intense hazel gaze, a firm jaw and scars, like proud badges, scattered across his body. He appeared capable (among other things) but not enough to deter Elandra from throwing her own hat into the ring. With a soft creak, the adventuress pushed back her chair and stood, before approaching the table that was steadily becoming the focal point of interest in the Thirsty Turtle.<br/><br/>With a confident gait, Elandra Ravenholme stepped up to the two men; gently shouldering her way past the few who had made it ahead of her. Unlike many of the others the adventuress wore her black, fur-trimmed cloak, more like a mantle than a cover. One which she proudly tossed back to reveal her face as she stopped before Connor and Riddick, revealing a pair of deep, blue, eyes topped by a short but kempt, raven-black, hairstyle. Across her nose ran a smear of red paint, indicative of her barbarian heritage, while a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she cocked her hip and rested the steel claw which gloved her right hand neatly over it.<br/><br/>“I wish to offer my services,” Elandra stated bluntly, “I have some experience in navigating dangerous terrain, along with a variety of<em>other</em>useful skills, and as long as no better offer shows itself, I will loyally follow your command; no questions asked.” She attempted to keep her application succinct but honest, an annoying trait that she’d picked up from her grandfather, followed by a brief introduction, “If it matters any, I am Elandra of the clan Ravenholme.” Most of her previous employers hardly cared for names.<br/>