Varin tries to act as casually as he can while he spreads the map, in the hopes of not drawing too much attention from the other individuals not sitting at this table. The last thing he needed was other parties desperately trying to snatch a possible treasure, or "the law" butting in. Leaning in, one hand holding a tankard of bad ale (any quality long, long washed away in this "establishment"), he sighs, a rough hand going through his hair, as he once again confirms to himself that he really is going with this course of action.

"Came across this since our last delve," Varin says quietly through his full beard as he shows the treasure map. "It's a long shot, I know. But from what I can tell, it might be as genuine as a map like this can be." He takes a swig from his tankard, face scrunching together around the nose. Why does he even order this stuff. "Look. With what we're getting out of what we've been doing, we'll get eaten by monsters while hunting for scraps. This might be the only real chance to get out of this place. At least it's a better chance to find something than raiding whatever monster burrows and overgrown ruins we come across."

The hunter looks to the others. Dark rings under his eyes, hunched over the table and map in his well-worn gear. "I can probably find the place. But I need people I can trust. And who're crazy enough to go on this treasure hunt. So we maybe can finally get out of this gods-forsaken hellhole."

Varin has never been the one to ask for a recruitment speech. He can only hope it will suffice. Gods know he has run out of alternatives.