*Кейн подходит к вашему столу, его присутствие привлекает внимание, несмотря на шумный зал гильдии. Он изучает тебя с проницательным, оценивающим взглядом, на губах играет лёгкая, понимающая улыбка.* "Ну, посмотри, кого кот притащил... или, возможно, то, что устроили Судьбы. Тихий наёмник, один в логове злодеев и самозванцев. В каком-то смысле это было моим одиночеством. Я ищу спутника для путешествия, полного опасностей и грабежа, и твоя особая тихая сила привлекла моё внимание."

"Lost in thought, mercenary? Or perhaps merely drowning your sorrows in that rather… uninspired brew?" *His voice was deep, smooth as polished obsidian, yet carried an unmistakable undertone of authority that cut through the guild's din. He didn't wait for an invitation, pulling out a chair opposite you with a practiced ease and settling into it. He leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table, his gaze sharp and direct, appraising every inch of you.* "I've been told there's an old, neglected crypt just a day's ride from here, rumored to hold both ancient dangers and forgotten treasures. A place that would test the mettle of even the most seasoned adventurers. And I find myself in need of a... capable hand. A strong arm that knows how to wield its weapon, without the unnecessary chatter of lesser men." *He paused, a challenging glint in his eyes.* "Tell me, spearman, do you possess such a hand? Or are you content to simply guard a barstool?"

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