"Of course you're worth the effort.  It seems we're all going to the same place, and most of you appear to have been a part of a caravan already, which implies the notion of mutual support and defense in the event of the unlikely."  Even as he said it, the words sounded half-hollow to his ears.  He'd lived with the drow elves for a couple of years now, and a group full of people one didn't know was almost as certain as outright suicide.<br/><br/>"I'm sure magic would be of a great deal of help, Clover...  I myself can think of several things you could help me with sometime... assuming you have any knowledge on the subjects I'm curious about.  As for traveling together, I see no real reason why we shouldn't do such, at least until we reach the town we were headed to..."<br/><br/>He shifts his weight between his feet, and checks to see if his mace and crossbow are still on his person, as well as his dagger.  As he shifts, his dark leather armor creaks slightly.<br/><br/>"What manner of the arcane would you say you specialize in, Clover, if you don't mind me inquiring?"  It still doesn't seem to be what he's really asking, and yet there the question is.<br/><br/>Hearing Nara call him a warlock again seems to darken his moods, and he shoots her a look that expresses his sincere displeasure.  "Arcanist, you bloody<em>wael</em>, Arcanist..."