Helix Nebula
Three fries short of a happy meal: WHACKO!!
Laurolf Fangür
"I ought' to be knockin' yer out, fer sayin' somethin' like 'at, Drake!" Laurolf growled, "'At lad, Eltheron's a tough one, an' I'm sure 'at crazy jester who fancies 'imself a mage', can be 'oldin' 'is own in a fight, as well. It's more likely, for 'ose two to 'ave go'en 'emselves lost, or to a invitin' tavern- Rather 'an killed, hmh!" The Dwarf gave the Drakkar a sharp look and then sunk down some ale from his mug. Laurolf would never admit it openly, but he was slightly concerned as well; out of the entire group, Eltheron was the one he felt he could trust with his life and the life of the others. The rest of their little, "fellowship" was.. well.... One of them was a helpless human girl, one a bloodthirsty and uncontrollable beast and while Meric might've known what he was doing, Henvei was.. Henvei. The two newcomers, Laurolf hadn't had the time to form an opinion of yet. Overall though, he wasn't sure if anyone but himself and Eltheron, had actually understood what their little mission was and what exactly it might take, to complete it. It wasn't a camping trip they were on, after all, and yet, some of the others acted without a care in the world.
As his pint hit the table, Laurolf took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Now.." He eyed everyone present, "Could one of ye' tell me, why we should be carin' 'bout some bloody murder, or a group o' smugglers, eh?" He instinctively lowered his voice a little, knowing that Ilhirel's hounds could have been nearby. "Ye' do realize, 'at chasin' down some petty criminals, that ain't really even our problem- Is just a waste o' time, rite'? We cannet' be runnin' 'round, Ridge, what we must be doin', is figurin' out- How we'll get to 'e bloody Drakesands, before we're noticed. Which we will be, if we keep drawin' attention to ourselves, by solvin' some mysteries-" He glanced at Xenthriss, "-or toughenin' up, blacksmiths."