Today had been an interesting day. Let’s go through the list, shall we?

Fistfights – Two. 
Poorly placed wagers – One. 
Available funds – Sparse. 
Contracts of employment – Zero. 
Times slapped by women – Two. (Well, one woman, but she slapped twice)
Odd rumors about wizard-on-wizard violence – One. But very profitable. 

Having ended a contract by some textile merchant or another for the position of Grand Babysitter in charge of Really Big Bolt of Cloth Transportation Safety, and the subsequent week blowing the modest earnings therefrom, it was time to look into others venues of employment. Now, ordinarily he didn’t get involved in the affairs of wizards (he seemed to remember a piece of sage advice on the subject), but he was nearing a lean season and the promise of reward, he reasoned, would bring others. If you have to get involved, don’t go it alone. At least, where magic was concerned. 

He neared the tower; the one very clearly pointed out to him by the somewhat off-putting lady at the inn he had just vacated, and took a moment to survey the surroundings. The sun said its goodbyes for the evening, the streets had quieted, for the most part. Seemed like a good enough time to start another job. Confidently but quietly, the large man strode to what he hoped would be the start of a contractual obligation (or at least the promise of gold). In the interest of being polite, he made his footsteps heavier as he approached the pair outside. The thought of this undertaking being handled by only three individuals made him wary, but money meant food and security, and he was rather short of late. As they took notice, he cleared his throat, and began speaking in a thick underclass brogue,

“Gentlemen, ‘pologies for my intrusion. I’m given to understand you’ve need of someone of my qualifications.” 
He unshouldered his pack and set it down lightly, then stepped more clearly into view. He carried no obvious weapons and wore no armor, but looked like one of the largest pure humans this city had witnessed in quite some time. He unbuttoned his coat and flexed his hands, audible popping sounds issuing from scarred knuckles. His basic articles of clothing made him look more like a laborer or traveler than a mercenary; the set of his face and self-assured stance prompted the opposite. 

“I’ll be brief. My name is Keystone. I don’t remember working with either of you before. I have to assume that you don’t know me, either. It’s fair obvious how I earn my keep, and I was pointed this way by a very malcontent lady what smelled like brimstone. You likely can’t do this with just the two of you, so I’ll make you a deal: If I die or slip away in the night, you don’t have to pay me. Are we good?” 

He took a moment to give his companions a once-over. Half-Orc and a wizard. The Half-Orc didn’t give him much pause; obviously a warrior of some kind. This one seemed cleaner than most, so that was a plus. Besides, he wasn’t all that pretty, himself. The wizard… paid well. We’ll leave it at that for the present. 

“If there’s an issue, you can tell folks you just keep me around to cook.”