<div class="floatright">(http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z413/Countdown0/MonkDampD_zpsab5fc6c5.jpg)<div class="floatright"><strong>Name:</strong> Irader<br/><strong>Location:</strong> On the dock near the Trident<br/><strong>Tags:</strong> Everyone<br/><br/>Irader sits on the street, not in any hurry to be the first one on the boat. As the young priestess calls for the mercenaries to form a line, Irader shakes his head, having already examined most of the people in the crowd. No doubt a few people would be considered, but for the most part, these people there were fools who were more likely to get themselves and others killed than they were to live long enough to spend their pay. He watches as a child approaches the priestess and speaks to her, running away quicker than he had arrived, no doubt rather scared. The Monk stands up, his robes thin and light but enough to keep him warm, and his cloak gently blowing about in the breeze. He plants one end of his quarter staff on the ground, and then moved forward, his slender frame easily slipping through the crowd, even though they had shifted themselves away from the large crossbreed who only moments earlier had walked to the line.<br/><br/>Irader finds himself a place in line after a couple of other mercenaries that had found the courage to step in behind the large man. A few glances came his way, but Irader didn't care about them. He waits patiently for the Priestess to be done with those in front of him.<br/><br/>The Monk is handsome in his own way, though many find him more unsettling than appealing. He is just under six feet in height, with a lean but powerful frame. Irader stands calmly, his eyes staring at seemingly nothing in the world.</div></div>