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Rastheme Chombra
Rastheme breathed in the market air, he'd been hoping to hear word of any new caravan's entering or leaving town, mercenaries were often needed for guarding marketstalls or protecting leaving caravans, they were often low to moderate risk, high reward jobs, especially for one of his reputation and knowledge of the island. But there was no word of such need. Instead only vaguely worded requests for stalwarts, the risks were higher, typically, but they also tended to give looters rights to the survivors, which usually far outweighed what he could expect as a guard.
Cursing as several humans jostled him while walking away, he proceeded to the stairs, finally getting irritated enough to shove a foppishly dressed man who refused to notice that someone wanted past, it was bad enough being looked down upon due to size, it was worse when they only looked down at you through a nose held high in the air. Rastheme chuckled a bit as the man went down, and continued on into the city hall, noting the lamps that provided a fairly bright entrance chamber, making use of natural lighting in a way that was unusual for human architects, humans in his experience typically built ugly functional buildings that would require constant upkeep or collapse within a decade or two, this appeared to be different, but he didn't want to dwell on human architecture when he could dwell on whatever job would be mysterious enough not to list off to the morning crowd. Most of the lads in line ahead of him looked as though they had either just barely left home, or were here without their parents knowledge. If the risk was genuine most of them would likely be sent home, maybe he could teach the smart ones that remained enough to stay alive long enough to learn the rest.
Rastheme took a stance against a wall where he could easily watch the entire room, and gain a better measure of the lads present.
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