<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/2vtQHDS.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong><strong>"Arty" Fellbrook</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=311048.msg15089568#msg15089568)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Caravan, On Horseback<br/><strong>HP:</strong>42 / 42<br/><strong>AC:</strong>22<strong>Touch:</strong>15<strong>Flat Footed:</strong>17<strong>CMD:</strong>19<br/><strong>Resist:</strong>Electricity 5, Cold 5, Acid 5<br/><strong>Fort:</strong>+4<strong>Reflex:</strong>+3<strong>Will:</strong>+6<br/><strong>Perception:</strong>+10 [Darkvision 60ft]<strong>Initiative:</strong>+2<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Arty cast a glare at Ian. Yeah, fine, he didn't agree with Necromancy, but for someone who was always harping on about freedom and shit, he didn't half like to make other peoples decisions for them (mainly Arty's). He was tempted to dare Ian to try to stop him - let's see how<em>that</em>turned out for him, neh? - but he bit his tongue despite the anger boiling in his gut. Ian had no clue what Arty had been through, and he had no idea what he was talking about half the time. He liked to play a moralistic high horse attitude when it came to the Undead, but a lot of the shit he tried to pull was arguably just as immoral as he tried to claim that Necromancy was. He was, in the end, a hypocrite as far as he was concerned. And whilst Arty could tolerate that - everybody was a hypocrite about some things, after all, and he couldn't rightly criticise somebody for reacting based on emotion when he himself was dedicated to burning down an entire civilisation in the name of revenge - it didn't half irk him when a peacock like Ian tried to strut around on a non existent moral high-ground just to put him down. He set his jaw grimly as he looked at Ian. He was going to reanimate shit whether Ian liked it or not, and he<em>dared</em>him to try and stop him.<br/><br/><strong>"Don' tell me what t' do, Ian,"</strong>he says simply, his voice lowering a little, all mirth gone from his tone. He remembered people like Ian. People who thought they were<em>better</em>than him, and that that gave them the right to tell other him what to do, to threaten him with violence if he didn't comply. He hated it. However, he managed to ignore the comment about Patches (mostly), and instead focused on the second part of Ian's statement. Basically, what he was saying was that he'd let potentially innocent people die or go without because he had a hate boner for people with more money than him. Forget for a moment that Ian had enough money - or gear equivalent to the cost - to<em>be</em>a low level noble or merchant himself. Forget that whenever he could, he liked to act superior to everybody he happened to disagree with in the moment just like the people he claimed to hate for that very reason. He wanted to like Ian, but he made it hard sometimes.<br/><br/><strong>"There're plenty'a ways t' make an honest livin' without turning Bandit. As soon as y' start cutting throats in the night and ambushing people on th' roads, you lose all sympathy from me. These supplies-"</strong>he jerked a thumb behind him,<strong>"-are meant for more'n just rich folks. We weren't paid well t' guard the caravan, sure, but we were still paid 'n if these supplies don' make it where they're goin', the people who can't afford shit that you say you care about are gonna suffer from the resultant price hike 'cause'a scarcity."</strong>He shrugged. Playfulness was gone from his tone. People who just took from other people with no thought for how they felt, how they might suffer? People who would be ready to bully the weak and take what they wanted at the point of a sword, people who just killed because it was easier than finding a way that didn't involve victimising people? Yeah, no. Those people weren't downtrodden saints. They were criminals, they were thugs and they'd just keep on killing as long as they could get away with it.<strong>"So you can play nice with thugs 'n murderers all ya want. If they wanna withdraw, then fine. But if they attack? No mercy."</strong><br/><br/>And if Ian decided to join the bandits and fight him, or if he decided to try anything when Arty was working his magic? Well. He could either back off...or no mercy. Simple as that. He let out a soft snort. Suddenly, socialising didn't sound quite so pleasant, what with Ian's constant swinging between hypocrisy and childish leering. He kicked Patches into motion with a soft<strong><em>"Hyah"</em></strong>and moved away from the group, accelerating enough to put some distance between him and Ian. Both of them needed to cool down, he reckoned, or things might get a little more heated than either of them wanted, and<em>one</em>of them had to be mature enough to step away for a moment or two. He sighed and shook his head. Would Ian really turn on them if they were attacked by Bandits? He did hope that it didn't come to that, but sometimes he felt like Ian was just looking for an excuse to draw steel on him for his magics. He got it, of course, but the amount of shit that Ian had pulled that Arty didn't agree with that he'd let slide...well. Some people were just never meant to get along, he supposed. Ignoring him wasn't an option, alas, since they were travelling together. He'd have to give it a think. It wasn't ideal, but...it was what it was. He stayed silent as he rode slightly ahead of the group, just out of earshot, keeping an eye on the area around him. Good gods, he needed a fuck. That always served to clear his head...or, at the very least, distract him for a few hours. This...was going to be an interesting journey, to say the least.