Quentin looked Kalidin up and down, as if examining him or sizing him up at first, before nodding and shaking the man's hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sir. I am Quentin, son of Victor, a noble of the Nevarian region. I do not bear any coat of arms as I am, as of late, a mercenary and contract hitman, though I am not a warrior without honor," he introduced.
"These..." he paused, answering his next question, "...were my targets. These orcs are part of a specific clan that dwells nearby." He paused again to indicate the clan insignias on their armor. "They have been causing quite a hassle to a client, and he asked me to deal with them accordingly," he explained.
His ear twitched as the elf, to everyone else, silently dropped from his place. Quentin's arm jerked up and the blade extracted again from his sleeve, his hand firmly gripping the hilt as it shot up. The blade sat right next to Kalidin, pointed at the elf. Upon hearing him speak towards Kalidin, the blade retracted.
"Sorry. I don't react well to surprises," Quentin apologized, nodding lightly at the elf.