The ancient Drow looked down…and down…to regard this newcomer to the Legion. "I don't have time for this," she thought, as she regarded the Halfling. "Why have you come before me, little one? What brings you to our great city – dreams of treasure and glory, perhaps?"
The Halfling looked up at her blankly, "Not really, heard there's a good ‘mount a killing down this way, an' to be honest, I just like killin' things. Reason 'm down here in the first place – seems the city a Neversummer dun take too kindly to their guards bein' systematically killed 's they sleep."
The matron cocked her eyebrow slightly – the Halfling certainly had gotten her attention. "Well, not for the first time have Halflings surprised me," she thought to herself. Looking down again, straight into the Halfling's eyes, she asked, "Exactly why were you killing these guards?"
"Oh, that," the Halfling shrugged. "One of 'em looked at me wrong."
The matron smiled. It was a rare act that made half of the Drow in the chamber shudder visibly. "Indeed," she intoned. "I supposed I could use your help with some of the nearby Dwarves. You don't have a problem with killing dwarves, do you?"
"Dwarves, Dwarves…," the Halfling said, scratching his head. "You mean those fat, ugly, stinkin' of smoke and booze Dwarves? Nope, no problem at all."
"Well, then, Halfling," she said, bowing her head slightly. "I believe there is a great place for you here in the Legion."
"Long 's I get t' kill I'm fine. Li'l gold for brew dun hurt either."
The matron nodded at one of her underlings, who produced a small pouch seemingly from out of nowhere. With a flick of his wrist, the bag was sent sailing into the arms of the stout young assassin, and giving it a brief feel for weight, the Halfling pocketed it and grinned in approval. "Think 'm gonna like it 'ere."