<div class="floatright">(http://orig09.deviantart.net/fe08/f/2013/160/1/0/knight_in_the_dark_by_beaver_skin-d68cssw.jpg)</div><strong><strong>Gregory Smith</strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1059435)</strong>|<strong>Fighter 1</strong><br/><strong>HP:</strong>12/12<br/><strong>AC:</strong>16 (Chain Mail)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>"The Hero and the Mug" | Dining Area<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>All<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Training went well. Better than well, in fact. Strange as it was, he found himself able to expertly wield the variety of weapons on his person; weapons he'd only seen in movies and games, and read about in books. It was like riding a bike-- if he was a professional cyclist at his prime. He sliced into training dummies with his axes, bisected them with ease with his greatsword, and pierced and bludgeoned them with his morning star and belaying pin. He'd known, of course, that the pin's purpose was not to be used as a weapon, and for some reason, he even knew of its use aboard a ship, but it proved a hefty and potentially bone cracking tool of battle.<br/><br/>The more he practiced with his weaponry, the more at home he felt with the concept of using them out in the field. By the time training was over, he felt confident in his abilities, and was all but itching for combat. This eagerness was so familiar to the soldier that he couldn't help but laugh on his way to the inn, which caught a few bystanders off guard. Clearly, they saw no good reason for a Champion to feel such mirth when faced with their deadly occupation.<br/><br/>As they sat, ready to eat, he couldn't help but notice the new patrons crowding them. He didn't like the feeling of being gawked at like a fucking circus animal, but he figured he'd let it slide, knowing that their very own Sam had wanted the extra company.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, his patience was pushed quickly past its limits when the assholes started betting on who would be the first to die. Jessica had spoken first, but he followed suit.<strong>"Right. Listen up! New rule, everybody! You say anything about <em>any</em> of us gettin' killed while protecting <em>your</em> asses, you get kicked the fuck out. No refunds."</strong>Dark, narrowed eyes scanned the crowd, just waiting for anyone to argue the point.