He looks at her and says, "What you want the glory of adventure, the fame of being a hero, the admiration and adoration of those you protect?<br/><br/>Well, all I can say to that idea is... Pppppbbbbbbbbttt.<br/><br/>Yay, I guess you<em>might</em>get those, but what you are more likely to get are dead friends, wounds that ache when the weather changes, and the love of the protectees will eventually rot into hate, as you eventually fail to protect them from a single bandit. Think on that, for no matter where you settle, the humanoids that live there will expect something of you, even if you don't want anything to do with them."<br/><br/>He turns and moves on, his fingers digging into his left shoulder, working the muscle, trying to relieve some pain, but brooding as he moves on.