Saladin opened the door of his tent and surveyed the scene. When news came to him of the Dwarf's oppurtunity, he knew he had to leap for it. His skill was in diplomacy, something people rarely bought imports of. Without an income, his ability to regain what had been lost fell into a deep rut, and he was barely scrapping by enough to survive comfortably, let alone the massive warchest he would need to accumulate should his long-term goals ever come to pass. He was fortunate therefore that this mission required a skilled geographer. He wasn't the best to be found in all of Amstaad, but he was good enough and his skill in rhetoric made him seem that much better. As he gazed out, he spotted the elf survivalist who would be a member of his team. He exited his tent and approached the man, his hand extended.
"Salutations, my friend. Mr. Heron, I would presume? I'm your associate Saladin, Prince of the House of Carr. How does the morning find you?"