<div class="floatright">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/7c29525a6544f8e21f81fedc988a141a/tumblr_oggp33Tmy51r3m39wo1_1280.png)</div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Mirish Penumbra</strong></span></span></div>The half-orc offered only a grimace in response to the halfling's admission. Nothing nearby warranted the title of mountain, but she wasn't inclined to mention that particular fact. Mirish couldn't decide whether the stultifying lack of common sense she'd encountered so far today was some kind of pariochial Tollmouth, thing - or if something more sinister was afoot. First the farmer, terrified by a stationary halfling, but surprising accurate when it came to detecting necromancy (although, she had to admit, it was possible that he'd just scored a lucky hit after accusing anything beyond his ken of being dark magic). Now this irritating... what was it the archer had said? Oh yes... ornery little corn nugget... who seemed pathologically incapable of getting to the point!<br/><br/>Mirish watched the interplay between her travelling companions, recognising that this wasn't her battlefield. Verbal sparring wasn't the half-orc's way and, truth be told, the halfling's vague replies were beginning to grate. No, she'd let the others try to talk sense into the mysterious<em>nugget</em>. Mirish would wait and only offer her assistance if their honey failed and a more acidic approach became necessary.<br/><br/>"Let me know when we've travelled far enough," she suggested blandly, "And I'll start setting up camp."<br/>