Marcus-Hunter
Marcus followed the group, recognizing the weapons and overall look of hunters. He presented his papers without a word, looking back to watch someone lead his horse to a stable. He didn't look at any of the others, if this thing was as bad as he had been told, well, they'd all die anyway. He didn't need to get attached or friendly. He'd do the job and go home to a lovely keg that he had so lovingly placed on his table as a welcome home present to himself. Hell, with the reward he would live like a king for the rest of his life. This thought allowed a small smile to form on his lips.
He entered the room at length, allowing his eyes to take in the wealth and pompous decoration. He wasn't going to like this king, not a bit. He shrugged inwardly. It didn't really matter if he liked the old fart anyway. A serving girl walked over to him offering him a glass. There was her face again, he blinked, it was gone. He grimaced and took the drink, downing it. It was basically water. He set the empty glass on a small table and reached for his flask, intending to wash down the piss water he had just swallowed. Before the cool metal reached his lips, a man walked in and addressed them. Marcus listened, blinking lazily at the man. He had to admit, when this man mentioned the cup of Eden he nearly laughed aloud. He was being paid an great reward for a cup. Of course he didn't believe the tales. Stories where a charming prince rescued a beautiful maiden from an evil doer and they lived happily ever after. They were for children, there was no good in the world. What about the stories where the charming princes beautiful face was smashed in and the maiden rejected him for being ugly. That sounded more like reality.
The promise of a large feast had his mood lifting. Only slightly however, one could only lift Marcus so high before he trust a dagger into your eye. It was life. As he walked, the delicious aroma of the feast reached his nose. Perhaps, this King would not be so bad. His mind reminded him of the so-so drink and he retracted that thought. That drink was for women. Was this King a woman? Only time would tell. As he moved, he found himself behind a red-head. A rather pert behind sashayed beneath the hair, followed by strong legs. He found himself undressing this woman with his mind. A rather interesting and imaginative action. When he found that the only face he could imagine was his late wife's, he snorted and emptied his flask, tucking it into his belt for safe keeping.