~Grimaces, taking her hand from her faithful long sword. She felt she could trust, for now. Her cloak blows slightly in a chilling wind, and she pulls the black hood over her tapering ears.~ "Well, friend, after me and Deiter fled the burning KFA, we were approached by Larry who seemed to have a rather personal problem. We had just straightened it out when you came along." ~She pulls the black and green cloak closer round her, shivering slightly. She looks over at Larry.~ "Forgive me but I am not native to this climate, are the nights of the waning warmth always so cold here?" ~She shudders, you hear a small clicking noise, her teeth were chattering.~ "I suppose being raised in a land-locked village near a tree such as Kuldahar's would not help my tolerance to cold."
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"A man who won't die for something is not fit to live."
