Erma watched as the rogue, a human named Jake who'd slipped her vision apparently, introduced himself and then began to engage in conversation with Mora. Their smalltalk was mildly interesting; though it did not seem that they were flirting, there was a sort of friendly chemistry that manifested quite early in their conversation. The raggedy troll's stomach's constant and obnoxious protests to not being filled made Erma both sympathize and envy Mora to a degree; even some unpleasant feelings that were familiar to her in life would have been most welcome. A small sigh, and she turned her attention to Fillet again.<br/><br/>Oh<i>goody</i>. They were headed first for the Stranglethorn, that infernal jungle that was populated with a menagerie of plants and animals that were either poisonous, aggressive or both. Everything was out to kill you. She frowned slightly, but Erma knew that it would all be no more than a bothersome nuisance that she could handle with ease. Besides, if things got too irritating, she was more than able to make the environment more comfortable by cooling the air about her. Perhaps she would make the aura powerful enough to comfort those who were weakening form the heat.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: blue">My only inquiry,</span>" she said to Fillet calmly, "<span style="color: blue">is what is to become of the remaining trolls when Yer'Nom is slain. Do we spare them or slaughter them all? I am not partial to the latter, though I am willing if it must be done.</span>"<br/><br/>Etheda kept his jaunty attitude, disregarding any of the looks of dislike he may have gotten from his fellow employees. Many of the others seemed likable enough themselves, though his opinion towards Erma was that she would be quite the hard nose, and the hair-thin wall of tension between Charscale and Tygrane would be troublesome. He was certain that he would be able to brighten things enough to keep them from going at one another's throats easily enough, though. He'd soothed a barbarian troll from his bloodlust and rage with a few strokes of the bow over his violin, playing notes soft and tender. He did not find himself as one who was arrogant, but still had an amount of self-confidence that could be nerve-grinding to some. The strength in spirit seemed to be a mutual feeling between Jake and himself, which he appreciated; believing in oneself was just as important in a fight as strength and skill, for there were many who'd won a battle by sheer willpower alone.<br/><br/>Cocking his head slightly, Etheda asked, "<span style="color: purple">The only I have is whether or not we may sleep at an inn whenever possible. I can bear with sleeping on the ground if I have to- what with being a wandering bard, that should be obvious- but this is merely a question of what to expect in comfort. Nothing particularly serious, really.</span>"<br/><br/>((Had to change Etheda's text color, some of the colors aren't working right for some reason.))<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>