Alistair takes the grim news about former champions with a nod. Missing or dead. We are the disposable heroes come to save a quaint little land from ruin and try to survive in the process. The odds of the second part aren't good. It seems most everyone in this group is more concerned about what's between their legs, or their companions legs, to concern themselves with the actual problem in front of them. This means half of this band is likely to be off fucking when they should be fighting and putting the rest of us to risk for slaughter. He looks to the boy.<br/><br/>"Lad point me the direction to Newgate."