"I can easily say why you should hire me boss. Im Norscan, my people are stronger, faster and smarter than men of the old world, i know how to hunt great beasts, see i brought you mammoth despite not being as big and strong as an ogre, i carry trinkets and trophies of most people of the world." Lars said once again lifting up the many pendents around his neck, sure he had traded and found most, but the ogre didn't need to know that, as far as he knew from the stories of old travelers, ogres respected trophies and names, just by their existence alone.
"And then we shall party tonight, drinking contests and headbutting matches, though i am sure you the boss will win those HAH,"

Dawne looked at the ogre and smiled. ¨Sorry I eat as I need to. I am Dawne from Averland. As I said I am a Duelist as well as Marksmen. Not the best for formal occasion but I will drink if it's in the name of a good fight!" Saluting the ogre.

"I am Dagrim son of Durin and I kill monsters. I don't need any of your gold or loot unless the items are relics of my people and belong to them. Give me food and lodging and you will have my axe. I care nothing for what we kill as long as it provides a decent challenge. I took the Oath and I seek a glorious doom, so if you can help me find it, I'll raise a tankard in your honor once I sit down to feast in Grimnir's halls alongside my ancestors," the Slayer finished with a nod, glaring at Argot and awaiting his response. He didn't have much else to add, what he does in the next couple of moments will depend on whether this Ogri accepts him or not.

The Dark Elf placed a hand on her chest, displaying the Rune of Khaine proudly, and all the cytharai symbols with them. "Selarthi, from the tribe of the Ankarels and truthful heiress of Clar Karond. I was led here by Anath Raema, but in more concrete terms, I believe you will find my soundless step, faultless eye, and ability to circumvent the... barriers of civilisation... useful." As if to stress her words - indeed, to show her sleight of hand - she turned the hand that was resting over her heart around to reveal a delicately-crafted lockpick stolen away in her palm, black metal contrasting harshly against the white of Druchi skin.

"I kill people, open gates, hunt beasts, and take trophies if you want. The men here - and Dawne of Averland - will outmuscle me, but perhaps you stumble upon situations requiring a more delicate touch. Finesse may afford more wealth, glory, and food than raw violence at times, and finesse is what I excel at." The blonde ranger bowed briefly, deeper than she would for any Druchii noble.

"I'm not here to cook, and instead here as a "Warrior of the World" as you so put it." Selaris said, realizing she was going to have to make a little demonstration, as her now freed hands went to pry her staff from the travel pack's straps, even as she briefly scowled at the Druchii's introduction.

While she noticed the pretty hair on Argot, the Asur was very sure that it was a wig, unlike her own which while sodden wet from being outside was at least part of her body, rather than an addition. But once the staff was disentangled from herself, she drew forth Hysh and made the tip of her bladed staff glow a bright white light to hint at her strength.

"As you can see, Magic is my forte, and I am Selaris Tarenna. I can heal the wounded and cure the sick, enhance the fighting prowess of everyone here and even smite those that would try to harm me via light." The self-named High Elf said, lightly bowing before Argot as a courtesy to her would-be employer.

Lorin would look like he was about to step forth and speak, yet a casual waving of Rolayn's hand would silence his compatriot. The knight of Bretonnia had listened to the words of the foul creature, watched it cram it's food down it's putrid gullet, and endured the stench and offensive odors of the beast with what could be described as a dignified disdain. Now, as the ghastly, jeering creature would bellow out it's demands, the man would only further feel his resolve harden. He listened to the words of those around him, some out for gold, a lesser being's drive, the dwarf out for glory, a respectable pursuit that earned him some praise, and found himself once more questioning his place among these bottom dwellers. When at last the elves had been silenced, and the gaze of the monstrous figure turned to him, Rolayn would raise his head high, before speaking.

"You should let me join because it is destined."

He let the statement hang in the air a moment, steeling his words with a determination that could only come from a man fueled by a passion from the divines.

"I am a man of Bretonnia, a knight questing for the sacred Grail of The Lady. Since taking up my oath of pursuit, I have sworn to face men, monsters, and anything else that would dare stand between my and fulfilling my duty. If you know of the Knights of my homeland, then you will know how seriously we take our oaths, how we live and die by the code of chivalry. Perhaps two moons past, I received a vision from The Lady, as I lay in the dark woods of Mousillon, my body ravaged by wounds from battle with those griped with unlife. It heeded me to seek out the Warriors of The World, and thus, I did as The Lady bid."

Rolayn would feel his fists clench, as a burning sensation of purpose and drive would burn within him, at the mere thought of his vision granted by The Lady. It would be clear for all that the man was completely dedicated to this course of action, as he would continue his speech.

"You should let me join you, because this is the path I must walk, the challenge I must face. Should you not, I will be as your shadow, I will hound your company's every step. I will follow your Warriors of The World to the ends of the Old World, and beyond, for that is what The Lady demands of me. I ask not for gold, nor payment of any kind to be a part of your party, I merely ask for a place to walk on my road, wherever it may take me."​

Grahk, upon processing what his would-be employer had said, would speak regardless of whomever else may have been talking at the time.

" I'm an Orc! I'm right tough and I'm reeeal cunnin! "

The Orc was pumped up at the prospect of talking himself up and this was visible to any who would look. There was a visible intensity that seemed to possess the Greenskin.

" Where those otha lads just run at you lot, I can use dis fing called 'Strah-teh-gee'. It means ya do somethin else and they don't know it 'till yer there krumpin 'em. That an I fight da best! I'm an Orc! "

Regardless of just how common or uncommon such a claim is for his kind, the Orc seemed to believe in himself completely. While he awaits a response that would hopefully see him added to the warband, the Ork spares a glance at the others. His red, beady eyes scan each and every other hopeful present almost as if he were a predator eyeing prey. In his head, the Greenskin thinks them over like only he could:

Git, git, git, stunty, git...

Grahk would continue his "observations" unless interrupted.

"Words, words, words, lots of words. Me no like lots of words, me want action. Me ask for words though so me no hit you this time." Argot bobbed his head, forgiving and wise was he. "I cannot risk name of Argot's Warriors of the World on bunch of no-title gutlings, even if you have this Lars the Pious Man Eater with you. So me give you loot-make job that will make golds and foods if you actually worth the trouble." Another sagely nod, Argot jamming a finger in his mouth and sucking off some spare meal grease from the mammoth bag between nods. Tree trunk begins to groan underneath Argot's shifting weight, Ogre pulling a drawer open behind his desk and slapping a rolled up parchment into everyone's view. Paper is marred by burnt edges, discoloring from various food stuffs, yet miraculously lacks any tears. Unfurling it Argot presents parchment as a map with a crystal clear image of the country side including and surrounding Nordland. Man Eater plants a single finger near a small collection of homes labeled as Norden. A sapphire set into one of Argot's many rings begins to shimmer.

"Me want you to pick one place of two me interested in. First one is Ham Wood." Argot swipes his finger over map and locale is flung off into a blur. Argot groans and taps fingers on ruined image and halts movement. Flicking it back he stops it just short of Norden and begins a slower drag along. Eventually they spot a section of woodland outlined in red, appropriately enough it is a ham shaped boundary. "Extra twiggy Elf people attack this place. It was a big wizard's house, but now it all full of dead people and more importantly abandoned kitchens and loot rooms. Man wizard that live there kept lots of trinkets and magic things, cause they were a wizard you see." Argot lofted a brow and gazed across the whole group making sure they understood what he had just conveyed. Wizards liked magic things, it was a tricky point, but a piece of wisdom their prospective boss was happy to share, as long as it made him look smart.

"So there be that, or you can go here to...beach place. Somewhere around here..." Argot drew their attention to a new locale on the map, one several miles out from Norden itself and along her blighted coastline. "Some North-er Men that Man Eaters but not eat men crashed into shore and people say they had dead men that act like living men Man Eaters among them. Living and dead-that-live no like each other, dead no taste good you see. In this case though they was all travelin' together, makin' a straight run inland and towards who knows what. North-er men usually have better meats than we get here, and dead-that-live men usually mean magic, so that must mean there somethin' valuable or strong and thus expensive and good for gold and food make with thems. You can go track them down if you want. Either way, you all pick one of these two, tell me in morning, me assign you smart leader Man Eater-ling, and then you go away and come back useful and worthy, or not at all. Me clear?"

"I say we go meet what i guess are my countrymen, any Norscans delving in reanimation that is not of the Raven are less Norse than even i, "Lars said, the last part with a joking smile, he did in fact see himself as a prime Norscan, exept he truly had no gods or kings commanding him around, sure a boss giving work was one thing, but no one lorded over his world walking.

"I'd prefer to look around Ham Wood, considering that what I like is hard to come by compared to arrows and swords. There's always more... Norscans to smack around, but I would like to think we could get more gold from magical paraphernalia than just smacking people over the head with metal and wood." Selaris said, hoping that someone would agree with her that Ham Wood would be the better place to go. She would rather poke around an abandoned place than go and fight people just yet.