Doonkur remained silent, soaking up the atmosphere around the table. He couldn't put a finger on it, but he could definitely sense a buzz was in the air. All this talk of a Wolf Queen, and caves, and necromancers, and a resurrection had him intrigued. Of course, there was also the matter of septims. A generous purse for sure, he thought.
While the others were in conversation, he glanced around the table, trying to assess each individual. This didn't take him long, as he knew almost nothing of them. Mesiri, he thought, could eat like an army. There's no way I could put away that much food, and not get sick later. Hell, I couldn't even eat half of what she did. And in battle? The little elf obviously had some magicka skills, and that, Doonkur thought, would come in handy in battle.
The Orc, he continued, was, well, an Orc. Gods, he easily outweighed the three of us put together! The size of a small mountain to boot. Correction, the size of a rather large mountain, he mused. I'd love to see the Orc in a fight with a giant, Doonkur smirked. My coin would be on Ukthrall, no doubt.
And that left Sita. In this light and with no mead to cloud her mannerisms, she was a very attractive woman. And that hair! Battle, fool! Think of her in battle! he chastised himself. Yes, he thought, I've no doubt she can take care of herself. Her Imperial pride and that red hair would make for one fiesty companion.
She still smells good, he smiled to himself.
So that settles it then, he thought, forcibly snapping himself out of his infatuation with Sita. If they ask me to join them, I shall. It would be nice to have comrades-in-arms for a change, he concluded.