(Thought of an african/jamaican accent when righting this, works well enough.)<br/><br/>Grimwauld watched the situation with a cold glance, noting that the bandits would undoubtedly get slaughtered, as there peers had every day since Solomon Drake has fallen. The organization that had once led them to glorious battle, was now left as tattered bands of cut throats and bandits. "More death will change nothing, but this man speaks of Drake, I will know dis man's meaning." Grimwauld said to himself as he approached the group, looking at Hawker with grim eyes, as always. "You come to our land stranger, you play the part of the hero, but your folly is meaningless." Grimwauld continued with a cold tone as he turned to the lead bandit, recognizing the ragged band vaguely. "Solomon, you speak of him, what do you mean?"