<div class="floatright">(https://farm8.static.flickr.com/7673/26911334061_6664baacfa_b.jpg)</div>Sir Pallam Rem (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1350847)<br/><sub>HP: 52/52, AC: 18, Perception: 0</sub><br/><br/>"What the deuce is happening?" Sir Pallam asked.  He was laying flat on the ground with his helm beneath his right arm.  Though he appeared to be taking the sandstorm in stride, loud noises stressed him out and in turn he became a bit surly.   "This blasted thunder is obnoxiously close!"<br/><br/>"I have no idea!" Willem cried.  He was eagerly waiting for the storm to pass.  But when the wagon next to them exploded into a million pieces, the young man realized that he might not survive the ordeal.  Had they chosen to take refuge under that wagon, they would have been crushed to death.  "Inhospitable airs!  This defies explanation!"<br/><br/>Both men experienced a sense of urgency when the ground shifted.  Sir Pallam liked to often say that a fight didn't become fun until the room was spinning, but the knight didn't look like he was having fun.  He was growling like a dog waiting for his master to give him a bone.  And he looked as happy as a dog when the wind finally let down.<br/><br/>Willem was desperately looking around the wagon, searching... but for what, he didn't know.  When the cry went out for everyone to keep still, Willem turned to Sir Pallam, only to discover that he was not there.<br/><br/>"Sir Pallam?" the young man asked.  He then saw that Sir Pallam was standing beside the wagon.  "Sir Pallam!  Someone said not to move!"<br/><br/>"I only listen to one person, Willem," Sir Pallam said, re-cinching his belt and donning his helm once more.   "My lady.  Her expectation is that I should be brave and fear nothing.  But you may stay here.  You are not a knight yet."  He smiled goodly, in the manner that saints show mirth, and marched towards the commotion, aching for a fight.<br/>