Amalia rests against the wall of the tavern, relaxing after a long day at work as she usually does. Today's job was to kill a werewolf that had been causing problems for a poor farmer in a rural farm a mile or so away from here. But as she dozes off briefly, she see's someone approaching her, {{user}} "What the hell do you want whelp? Are you just here to bother someone after a job well done? Or do you have something to say?" She then raises her head up, revealing her scarred lip and blind left eye. "Well speak, i don't have all fucking day." She then leans back with an annoyed expression on her face, she knows she's one intimidating bitch but surely she ain't that bad. Perhaps they're just contemplating what they're saying. A job perhaps? Maybe they just want to talk? Hell if she knows, it isn't like she can read minds. Amalia's Thoughts: This had better not be a Vettari assassin or something, because i swear if they are I'll bathe this whole tavern with their blood. They've already taken so much from me, and they're not going to take any more either.

Ah, someone who can read minds then? Interesting. Well, that's good to know I guess. "I'm not in the mood for games whelp," she growls at them before taking a swig of her ale. "What do you want with me?" She looks down on the shorter person with disdain. Not only because they could possibly have ill intent, but also due to their size. They were barely up to her chin when she was standing upright. Ah well, maybe it won't be so bad after all if they want a fight. She can use the distraction from all the lonely nights and stuff. And hey, they didn't even kill her before talking which is kinda refreshing compared to most people who underestimate her. "Out with it," she snaps at them, impatience starting to show on her face despite herself.

Ah, so it's a job huh? Well she was expecting that really but wasn't about to assume. "An escort you say? Against what sort of threat?" She leans in closer, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. This caravan owner must have heard some stories about her if they think she can protect against anything worth mentioning. Better play it cool and not show any sign of overconfidence.

"Tell me more," she says simply, taking another sip from her ale. If this job pans out then it could be a nice payday, just what she needs to tide her over until the next one comes around. Not that she's worried or anything, but you know how it is with mercenary work these days. You gotta keep your nose clean and your sword sharp if you want to stay relevant.

"Orcs and goblins you say?" She snorts disdainfully. "Pitiful things, easily dealt with by anyone with half a brain and a sharp sword. Not like they've ever caused me any trouble before. I'll escort your caravan all right." She pauses for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. "But you'd best have the coin to match, or else we're gonna have a problem here." She eyes the shorter person suspiciously, wondering if they can actually afford her services. Money is tight these days, even more so for travelers and adventurers like herself.

"What sort of payment are you offering?" she asks bluntly, leaning back against the wall once again. Better to get this over with quickly before she changes her mind about taking on another job so soon after finishing the last one.

Well well, it seems they do have coin to spare after all. That's a pleasant surprise indeed. Her eyes gleam with greed for a moment before she forces herself to calm down and act professional. "Very well then," she says, nodding curtly at the shorter person. "A hundred thrones now as an advance payment, two hundred after the job is completed. Consider it a deal." She extends her hand towards them, palm upward in a sign of trust and agreement.

Now comes the wait. Until they meet up with the caravan and begin their journey together. It should only take a few days to get there at most, assuming nothing unexpected happens on the way. But Amalia knows better than to make assumptions when it comes to these sorts of things. Better be prepared for anything and everything if she wants to keep her end of the bargain and get paid what she's owed.

Taking the bag with a grunt of satisfaction, she slides it into an inner pocket of her cloak. "Good," she mutters under her breath. "Now let's just hope your information is correct and this caravan doesn't end up being nothing but dead weight." With that, she finishes off the last of her ale before tossing the empty tankard aside and rising to her feet, stretching out her legs to work out some of the tension from sitting down for so long.

"Shall we depart then?" she asks impatiently, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the shorter person. "Or do you plan on just standing there all day?" Her voice is laced with irritation, but it's more because of her own pent-up energy and eagerness to get started on the new job than any real anger directed at them.

Fucking great. Now what? Amalia curses under her breath as she glances around, looking for someplace to sleep until dawn. She can't stay here all night, someone might get suspicious. Not to mention that even if she could find a place, it wouldn't be nearly as comfortable as her own bed back at the inn.

Sighing heavily, she turns and begins to wander aimlessly through the twisting streets of the city, searching for somewhere cheap and reasonably safe to pass the night. This wasn't exactly how she had planned on spending her evening, but then again, when does anything ever go according to plan in this line of work?

Hopefully they won't change their mind about meeting her at dawn. That would be quite the inconvenience if she had to track them down all over again. But then again, if they do back out on the deal, it probably means there's something suspicious going on here. Better keep her guard up just in case.

The sun barely peeks over the horizon when she finally spots them. A small caravan consisting of five carriages; two for goods, two for merchants and a guard carriage where she can see someone sitting already. She smirks grimly to herself. Well, if they had enough sense to meet her here then it must be their leader in the little seat there, right? That means things should go smoothly, at least from here on out.

With a determined stride, Amalia | The Wolf Of Velkarthal makes her way over towards them, her sword sheathed at her side but easily drawn if needed. As she approaches, she bows her head slightly in acknowledgement before speaking up,"Good morning," she says curtly. "I'm here for the job you hired me for."

Her gaze flickers between each of them, sizing them up and taking note of anything suspicious about their behavior or equipment. So far, so good. Nothing seems amiss, but that doesn't mean she should let her guard down yet. Better safe than sorry in this line of work.

"Very well," she replies curtly before climbing up into the guard carriage beside them. Once seated, she turns her attention back to the shorter person, studying their attire with interest. The sight of a chain mail hauberk and a sword belt with an arming sword and a rondel dagger only serve to further raise her estimation of them. Well done whoever they are.

"So," she says conversationally, her voice much softer now that they're in the privacy of the guard carriage, "you seem well equipped for this little venture. What brings you and your...entourage to be hiring a mercenary like myself?" She pauses for a moment, glancing around before adding with a predatory grin, "And don't get any funny ideas about trying anything stupid, alright? I might look young, but I've been in more fights than you can count."

"Vigor of youth, huh?" she says with a chuckle that holds no humor at all. "I've heard that before." Then her expression sobers as she takes in the revealed face of the shorter person. Ah, another battle-scarred survivor it seems. Something about them instantly strikes a chord deep within her. Maybe it's because she knows what it's like to have lost everything and still fight on. Or maybe it's simply because they're attractive in an unconventional way.

Whatever the reason, Amalia | The Wolf Of Velkarthal finds herself strangely drawn to this person. "Well," she says slowly, hesitantly, "perhaps you and I have more in common than meets the eye." A beat passes before she adds with a faint smile, "Or at least that's what I hope."

She glances around once again, wondering where they are now and how much further until their destination. Not that it really matters, but curiosity gets the better of her sometimes. Still, for now at least, her attention is fixed on the shorter person beside her.

"So," she says, leaning in a little closer, "tell me more about this caravan and why you need my help."

Something about the way they notice her sword almost makes her chuckle out loud. But she refrains, instead deciding to keep her amusement to herself for now. "Well then," she says slowly, cautiously, "perhaps we do have more in common than I thought." There's something about this person, about the way they carry themselves and hold their weapon...it reminds her of home, or at least what little remains of it after everything that happened.

She pauses for a moment, looking out the window before finally turning back to them with a resolute expression on her face. "I'm listening," she says simply. "Tell me your story, and I'll help you see it through." It might not be much, but for now it's enough. For both of them.