Looting was something that would always put a smile on Silas's face, it was like opening presents; bloody, ill-gotten presents. There was no smile on the rogue's face or twinkle in his eyes however as they got to work stripping the Kobolds of their gear, the loot itself was poor fare, but the thing that was really irking Silas was his dismal performance out on the field; beyond one napping Kobold, the rogue had managed to do nothing but sprain his ankle, an embarrassing injury for an embarrassing fall.<br/><br/>Oh well, there was little to do now but rub his ankle and cover his pride. Taking his mind off the last few hours, Silas got to work dragging away the bodies, collecting firewood, and helping the others pitch tents and set up bedrolls to prepare for a night under the stars. As he labored however he found the humid heat of the jungle to be unbearably stifling; no matter, there were ways to cool down. After dragging the last of the Kobolds to the jungle Silas took off his leather armor, leaving his finely-muscled upper body bare save for a slick sheen of sweat as he continued to work.<br/><br/>With everything prepared for the night, Silas sat down by the fire with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Rummaging through his pack for a ration or two, Silas took a gander over at the baskets of radishes the Kobolds were busy filling, "<strong>just what <em>kind</em> of radishes are these, anyway?</strong>" He inquired, getting up to take a radish from one of the baskets. Returning with vegetable in hand to the fire, Silas sat down as he turned it over in his hand, sniffed, and took a big, meaty bite.<br/><br/>The thought that the radishes might be poisonous never even crossed his mind.