<div class="floatright">(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2013/049/b/8/cleric_copy_by_yamao-d5vddiv.jpg)</div>"It's only fools and bigots who fear what they don't understand, simply<em>because</em>they do not understand it," Anton sneered at Morgan, his tone derisive and unadulterated with disdain for her puerile way of thinking. "The gods are gone. Demons don't answer calls but to fuel their own power. Neither, then, is the source of magic that does not get aid the demons in whatever cause they serve. It could just as easily be cosmic power flowing from the stars, or an in-built potential that some people," he glanced at Angrim and Morgan, "simply were not worthy enough to acquire. Or perhaps a talent borne from a certain way of growing up, or another natural phenomenon. But just because two reasons why it exists are proven doesn't mean it cannot come from anywhere else," he says, disgust filling his voice.<br/><br/>He quieted when the King spoke up, acquiesing to his request. They were here because of him, and for being able to organize such a gathering the man had to be respected--even if some of those who had been invited were little short of disgusting parodies of sentience and probably had some sort of insidious plan to cause them all to fail in some way that only the demons could think of. His eyes were wary as he scanned the two tieflings, flitted over the halfling, and finally rested on Grant. The two locked eyes for a moment before Anton looked away first. The action was involuntary and almost instinctual, and he hated himself for being so weak and furious at the man for making him feel this way. A part of him wanted to jump from his seat and tackle the other man before throttling him to death before everyone, but on the other hand he knew that he was probably among the weakest in terms of offense of the entire party. No, he would need to use what wits he had, his tongue which had rarely failed him, and his greatest power, his spellcasting, should he decide to make good on avenging his sense of pride.<br/><br/>His momentary thoughts were interrupted as the voice that he almost least expected chimed in to take him up on his offer. His eyes snapped in surprise to her and his breath caught in his throat. A contract? With ... one of<em>her</em>kind? It was unthinkable, giving a measure of his power to the demons when it had been they that... had... In the space of a blink he remembered how just weeks ago he had been ambushed by the foul things and returned to his home to find nothing but charred bodies and broken rubble. And the armor. His hand followed the silvery line of the metal down the left side of his breastplate as he tried to think of a response.<br/><br/>"You. Want to make the contract. With me?" he asked, and his resentment might have been only imagined beneath the surprise in his voice. "Stipulations? You mean the terms of the contract?" he asked just as much surprised by the words she used. They tended to confuse him, almost as though someone forcefully packed too much meaning into too few syllables. He looked hesitant for a moment, eyes downcast as though searching the ground for some sign of what to do. It was obvious that he wanted to refuse, that every fibre of his being called on him to refuse her, but he still remembered the King's words, that they should trust one-another, and he respected the man to listen to him... at least for now.<br/><br/>"F--fine. I don't trust you farther than I can throw you," he said darkly, "but out of respect for out leader," he glanced at the King, "I'm willing to give it a try." He drew out a piece of paper and quickly scribbled the terms before explaining them to her, full disclosure being a necessary part of the contract. "You will not do anything that is against the expedition's interests, or anything that will knowingly lead to any of the expedition's members' harm except in self-defense. And finally," he held up one finger, "This will last one day. I'll know automatically if you break the contract, but I'm willing to give you a test run." It was obvious that even this admission placed a terrible stress upon him, and he wondered if he was truly doing the right thing, lending his power to one of... them.<br/><br/>If Nsia agrees to the conditions he nods and puts out a hand, ready to transfer his essence into her through the spell, and act that required contact.