<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/j3uhQUr.png)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Khaldrash 'the Beast'<br/></span></span><hr/><em>Lvl 4 Male Orc Fighter</em><br/><strong>HP:</strong>56<br/><strong>AC:</strong>22<br/><strong>Standard Perception:</strong>+0<br/><hr/><br/>Khadrash's gleaming orange eyes flickered across the bar to where Milena was descending the stairs. The way she held the bannister, it looked like an aristocrat being introduced at a ball. Not that he knows much about that; the Orc just knows that it's the<em>fancy</em>way to do it, the way where your fingers brush the wood as if you were too good to touch it properly. He kept his head cocked slightly sideways, bullish neck broad enough that it's hard to tell that he's taking her in sidelong. Between the laces, the frills, and the serpent coiled around her arm, she looks more of a vampire than the actual fucking vampire, Khaldrash decides.<br/><br/>Then again, why is she even here, the Orc questions to himself with a low snort. Who the fuck takes a<em>lawyer</em>into a jungle? It's a testament to Milena's persuasiveness that she's here at all, he figures; she must have convinced the boss that she won't just be dead weight out there. The Orc considers vaguely whether that's a compliment or not; but if it is, there's no way the Asmodean will ever hear it spoken as such by him. If you ask Drash, there's too much silk on this expedition and not enough swords. But then, he noted with a low, sour rumble, no one's asking him.<br/><br/>The mercenary rolled his shoulders, easing back in his chair as he heard the authoritative click of Milena's heels coming closer. Something irreverent, disrespectful, even a touch juvenile in him twitched with the proximity. So he made her draw his attention, deliberately swigging at his drink instead of turning until at last there's that tap of a painted, peevish nail at his shoulder.<br/><br/>Slowly, Khaldrash swiveled on the chair, turning to face her and her papers, legs spread, an elbow thudding down onto the tabletop. It's quite the juxtaposition: pristine, darkened priestess, standing aloof beside him; and he, an oversized savage, armed and armored in the simplest, most effective gear, height virtually the same sitting down as she is standing. "Hah." His response was a sharp, singular bark of laughter, carrying with it a nearly sardonic note. Then, taking hold of the contract and breaking the seal, he splayed it out across the table. "Sit down." A thud of a gauntlet across the table indicated that she could have her choice of chair. "If I get killed or dismembered, I won't give a shit 'bout the money. And if it's just a little wound, isn't that what you're for, hrm?" A thick, grey-green index finger reached out to flick at her unholy silver pendant indicatively.<br/><br/>Cavalierly, Khaldrash made his mark at the bottom of the paper, giving the contract a cursory once-over before doing so. Rolled up messily, the Orc slid it across the table toward Milena, then made a slight jerk of his head in the direction of Davriel and Twin. "Know what that's about? Mage wants to play some universe-endin' game of poker, best I can figure."<br/><br/><hr/>DM: Mention of Twin, but nothing directed his way.