Now Daniel was by no means fearless - he was not one of those Hollywood superheroes that laughed in the face of danger... nor did he have any particular death wish - in fact, he was rather fond of living and breathing. It was just an unfortunate chain of events that had led him into his particular calling - or Fate, if you listened to some. Those were the sort of people he usually gave a bright cheery grin to whilst wondering why it was that other people were always quick to call it Fate when it was someone else getting their arse kicked by something all together unholy.<br/><br/>'Right... A Baron huh... Don't suppose you happen to have, oh I don't know, a holy sanctified Crusader tank in the back? Or perhaps a holy water drenched tactical nuke?'. He knew all to well that the items the old man reeled off like a weekly shopping list would probably do him little good, but there was always something comforting about having a shotgun to hand - even if it would no doubt be as effectual a weapon as a nerf gun.<br/><br/>'The book... Can I see it? I don't care if those writings turn out to be early 16th century instructions from Ikea on how to put up your new Wardrobe of Evil - I'd feel a little better if I was at least able to have a quick skim over it and see if I can pick something out.'<br/><br/>The fact that the old man clutched the book so tightly was making him a little nervous, and he wasn't entirely sure why - but he'd feel a little better about things if he could at least take a look at it, at the very least to make sure it wasn't something in the book that had pushed the man over the edge. Not that he was sure he would fair much better, but still...