<hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Game Master</strong></span></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/CpZ09Ch.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">”Not like a dog Gabriel,” Azzir assured, though at this point he had caught the words meant little to this man of the north, “You help me, and I will help you. A trade, it’s that simple.” He finished, shrugging. Whatever Gabriel decided to make of that at this point was his own business, he’d already agreed and that was plenty good enough for the masked man for now.<br/><br/>When he was ready to leave however, he paused as he’d not been expecting the last question. He repositioned himself in his seat and sat back in it, his arms rising to cross over his chest and his head tilting to one side. “I’m not certain what you mean,” He replied, cautiously. “What is it that you want to know about me?” He inquired, genuinely curious to see what the barbarian was trying to gather from him.<br/><br/></span><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Game Master</strong></span></span></div><hr/>