A bare chested dwarf with copper colored hair, a large axe on his back an a metal helm on his hair walks into the room. On his arm are numerous scars, that any warrior would guess is a kill count, and glowing reddish gold runes on his chest and arms. The dwarf stands tall and proud, and dirty as if he just came off a battlefield. Anyone familiar with the fyreslayers may be able to identify the dwarf as one of their Runesmiters. When the Lord-Castellant asked if Fyregrim would be willing to join the Soulbound he said he would, but had conditions. He was to be paid in gold (specifically looking for ur-gold) frequently, would be allowed to take the group for personal missions in certain circumstances, and a copious supply of Magmalt Ale. With that agreed he joined up.
Joining with the rest of the group, Fyregrim sits down at a table, leans his axe against the table and puts his feet up. Alright where be me magmalt ale? So, who be tha rest o' ye an' what be tha plan?