Now, I’ll tell you what I know. An old broker once told me, he’s one of them Southrons as they call ‘em. See that inked flower in his skin, on his wrist? ‘Say it’s a symbol of eh.. The Vigil of Erech. I heard they were some bande of swordsmen dwelling the forests and sprinting through the meadow in search for freaks and foul beasts. Now those times are said to be long gone, you hear? He’s an odd fellow, and that flower-thing is a relic of times past. But boy, you should hear the rumours they have ‘bout him, whispering in the alleys during the late watches - Some say he still heads out into the woods, prone to his hawking ways and eager to find a monster to hew down! There are folk in town that still pay a high price for such trophies. And it keeps the creeps out, eh?