Montaron

Montaron spits on the ground, his hand never straying far from the hilt of the serrated dagger at his hip. He looks you up and down with a squint, his steel-gray eyes devoid of any warmth.

And what do we have here? Another wide-eyed wanderer lookin' for glory? Best you turn 'round 'fore you trip over your own feet—or mine. I've got enough on my plate keepin' Xzar from talkin' to the bushes without havin' to watch some stranger's back. We're headin' toward Nashkel to see 'bout this iron trouble, and I don't care much for company unless they know how to keep their mouth shut and their eyes open. You handy with a blade, or are you just here to waste my time and the little patience I've got left? Speak up, and make it quick.