A small jingle settled from Claire's waist turning to regard the oncoming caravan. Moments passed before the savage-looking armored brawler invisibly relaxed his shoulders from the slight feeling of tension, which probably meant that he had settled on which wagon wheel to break over the old coot's skull. Or the silent barbarian ascertained that the vehicle wasn't carrying treacherous bandits, delineating from his imagination.<br/><br/>His glove creaked at the advance of their white-haired ambassador. The iron plating on his fingers gripped the battered, bloodied lance tightly, clearly waiting for the nice young lady to step aside so as to pillage the cargo underneath for his own twisted, black-eyed amusement. Oh, hey. She closed in and spoke to the owner of the cart. License for the blackguard to shatter every fine pottery and pillage the food meant to feed a whole unit of soldiers!<br/><br/>Intent on fulfilling his dark agenda, Lord Attack Dog took hastened steps on the dusty path to the wooden box on wheels. A kind of character whose breakfast consists of mayhem and lurid violation, consuming with utensils of metal claws. Equipment existing less to protect the fingers underneath and more to enhance rip-and-tear efficiency. Said metal claw, reserved apparently for better work than to hold a less personal instrument of impalement, reached out to tear asunder the cloth shielding the goods within. Murder murder murder murder!<br/><br/>At least, until the contents of Pandora's box proceeded to stretch and demonstrate first-hand the fine qualities of women from Alaquant. A response which apparently froze the stream of time that the tin vagrant had existed in, rendering him as immobile as a statue. Aside from the ragged scarf, Claire would make a fantastic display piece in a less-than-respectable warlord's castle. Alternatively, a prized item of a bandit's hideout.<br/><br/>Finally shaking his head off the glorious display, the knight stepped back to reassure himself that no voluptuous curves and flawless skin would deter him from his mission of chaos and bullying. Yet a sight beyond the wagon's structure showed something impossible. Aurelia had  taken a sip of the Fountain of Youth! And somehow colored her hair pink. How does that last one even work? Where's her Pegasus? Why? How? When? What?<br/>⃞<br/>Speechless, Claire was close to dropping his lance on his foot. It'd be better than dropping it on the wagon, though!