<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://th08.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2013/204/4/0/saladino__centaur_colt_by_iririv-d6erg2b.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Lark</strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=1082729)</span><br/><strong>AC:</strong>22<br/><strong>HP:</strong>34/34<br/><hr/>The young centaur looks rather blankly at Viscariot's comment on horse-heads, then repeats his bow, perhaps with a touch more of a blush to his cheeks, as the Fey faun arrives.<br/><br/>After they are led to the great hall, he bows again...It's clearly not a move he's well-used to, but one that he's practiced somewhat, prior to meeting such austere personages. Shani's response to the Lady gets the faintest hint of a nod, but he winces at Sera's bald statement. While he is a member of (ex-member, he reminds himself) of a mercenary order, there's a time and place for such negotiation and a proper way to do it.<br/><br/><br/>At the Lady's gesture, Lark comes forward to study the map-table curiously. He blanches slightly at the comment regarding assassins, blinks at the amount of gold on offer, but his eyes remain on the map, mostly noticing what's not there. No front lines. No safe retreats. Everyone possibly an enemy? Things that exist without existing? Lark isn't quite sure how that even makes sense, but he certainly would hate to try to cut such a creature. The young knight coughs delicately. "Thy pardon, Marquis, but do we know if the military itself has not been compromised?"<br/><br/>This has all the earmarks of what Old Marl would call "a bad job." No clear enemy, uncertain duties, and no certainty that one could rely on friendlies to guard one's flank instead of hanging one out to dry. But it's something the Lady of Lahearth herself feels necessary...Who is he to judge?<br/><br/>Even so, Sera's second financial comment causes him to glance askance at the man and his tiny companion. He does step back from the table slightly as the faun speaks up, deferring to her comments, then another clip-clopping half-pace as Shani speaks up, speaking of dreams and visions.<br/><br/>For the moment, Lark silently mulls things over. There are worse things than to fight alongside a reliable prophetess, and there's no knowing what strange powers the, ah, Fey might have at her command. He's a touch more concerned at the rest of them, however. Not that he's the sort of officer usually summoned to the bargaining table, but he imagined some degree more of decorum might be involved...The scholarly looking fellow's focus on gold isn't entirely unwelcome...Lark's used to fighting for a paycheck...But damned if he wouldn't prefer to fight alongside people who were inclined first to keeping each other alive, and second to getting paid. Being rude to one's employer isn't something Lark can imagine as being terribly wise.<br/><br/>Without really thinking about it, the young centaur paces a half-turn around the table one way, then the other, studying the map over the shoulders of those gathered around it. He eventually ends up, unplanned and perhaps unconscious, sidling up between Shani and Honey, though from the slight frown on his face and the way his eyes flick about the map, seeking some pattern or surety, it's unlikely that he's really conscious of the company.