[b]"Meat is a luxury, but we get enough of it. Anything that wanders close enough to our camp we'll have... wolf meat might seem strange to you, but believe me when I say that no man here would turn down a good leg of dog when he can have it."[/b] Roran smiled to himself as he led the woman outside again. The smell of fresh meat had filled the camp - her horse had been butchered well, and quickly, and was now roasting amid various herbs and spices collected from nearby. It's quite a pleasant smell, with some hints of basil and rosemary in the mix. [b]"We send out hunters regularly - they're dressed like ordinary folk, you understand, and could be from any of the nearby towns if asked - but they don't always bring back much. Aside from that we farm various patches of the forest for berries, mushrooms, vegetables that can be made into stews. It's not enough, but it keeps us going. The money from travellers such as yourself doesn't hurt, either, and means we can buy from the locals once in a while."[/b]

Roran was not quite sure why he was telling Alianor all this. He supposed, on reflection, he found her amusing. Each new minor revelation, whether it be the dog meat or the poetry, made her wrinkle her nose up in clear, barely disguised distaste. He enjoyed the satisfaction of slowly chipping away at her prissy demeanour, and was wondering how far he had to go before he broke her down to his level. Her father was apparently a sore spot, and he resolved to prod at the subject more following dinner.

[b]"The way I see it, you have to measure good, evil and purpose by your own flesh and blood. Is a wolf who kills a lone traveller evil? No, it's doing what it divinity ordained it to do. And dragons- were they 'evil' for burning towns and collecting magic trinkets? Flames, no- you give a lizard enhanced intelligence and magic breath and it does what you expect it to do. People naturally learn, love, hunt, eat... all of that never needs to be taught, we just know to do it. That's what we're here for. But you and your folk strip yourselves of your humanity - you marry for politics, you memorise the knowledge of others, you have a man-servant to kill your meat and if you could delegate your eating to someone else you probably would too."[/b] Ronan frowned. He was rambling a little and was not entirely sure what he meant to say by all this. Eventually he collected his thoughts and finished his tirade with a grumpy grunt. [b]"Makes me bloody sick."[/b]

He sat around the fire with some of the other bandits, motioning for Alianor to sit beside him. Some of them looked positively beastly, almost as if they had orkish blood in them - hulking men, disfigured and scarred, with unkempt beards and mucky faces. They seemed in good spirits though, and the horse meat was becoming increasingly more appealing as they watched it turn on the spit. After a little while Ronan stood up, carved off the first hunk, and shouted 'grub's up' before sitting back down. He offered the meat to Alianor before he ate himself.

[b]"You were riding it earlier. Might as well try it."[/b] He grinned. He wondered how she would react to the rich, succulent meat in front of her.