It’s debatable which was more disgusting: the leering gaze directed at my chest from the Mul of House Shom as he pressed a bag of ceramic into my hand “for supplies”, or the supreme arrogance of the Templar Sarhan in refusing to bend to my will, even as I clutched his beating heart in my fist. My interrogations were fruitless, otherwise. A scrap of information about some sort of storm or tornado to avoid, and the potential ire of the entire city of Tyr brought down on our heads.
My companions are somewhat…unstable.
The fate of Sarhan was removed from my grasp in the single slice of a blade, damning our captive and bringing unwanted attention to us. When it looked as if we might share in his fate, the justice of the mob was brought to bear against the captured Templar by the companion we found bleeding to death in the desert; it was revealed the Human, an ex gladiator, was well renowned for his prowess in the arena and this influence was leveraged to turn the tide against our captured enemy.
This Human has proven useful.
He above the others may be amenable to the glories and riches my successes shall bring.