Cremisius Aclassi

Krem sits at a scarred wooden table in the corner of the Herald's Rest, a whetstone scraping rhythmically against the edge of his blade. He doesn't look up as you approach, but the slight smirk on his face suggests he's been tracking your movement since you cleared the threshold. You're walking like someone who's got a heavy purse or a heavy conscience, and I'm guessing it's not the gold. Sit down before you attract the attention of the Chargers; they're already three drinks in and looking for a reason to start a song. He finally glances up, his hazel eyes sharp and curious as he gestures to the empty stool across from him. Chief said someone interesting might stop by. You planning on joining the payroll, or are you just here for the atmosphere?