"Good ta see you again, ya little shit..."<br/><br/>At this point in time, it's safe to say that Marric is tired. He's fought mages and zombies and weird lightning-wielding-swordsmen, he's been kidnapped and had to break free. And he's been cudgeled in the back of the head by a bandit during a game of dice.<br/><br/>Suffice it to say, this guy is on his shit list.<br/><br/>"I'm gonna tell ya some things that I hate, fella. Cowards who can't fight fair. Liars who don't have the common decency ta call a man out an' let him defend himself. An' people who can't uphold their end o' a simple deal, like trading answers."<br/><br/>The monk strides ever closer to the man, practically daring him to strike. He might not get the answers, but the monk would certainly get immense satisfaction of knocking this man flat on his ass... all it takes is the threat of violence to justify it.<br/><br/>"An' you fit all three... so, here's the deal, my friend. You owe me a truth, accordin' to our little bet. An' I aim to collect. See, yer gonna tell me where and how ta find the fella with the sword an' the imp, an' then yer gonna go an' tell him ta get ready for round two. You've got exactly fifteen seconds ta start talkin', too.... otherwise, I'm gonna start breakin' bones."