[h3][color=bedded][b][center]Thomas Richard Harrison[/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] The Campgrounds.
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] Satilla, Keystone, Sana.
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Such agitation. Fools of simpler minds could not comprehend the vastness of the cosmos. Could they not see it? Were they blinded by the darkness of their own ignorance? Or Were they blinded by the light of his own brilliance? Even now this woman laughed like in euphoric mania worthy of the Mad Gods. The blind idiot who desires the world to dance around themself, dancing to the tune of its own design. The dread names whispered among the stars, for even beyond their reach were the epicelestials, beings said to be of tremendous might and power, the god of gods which rule over the gods. And their names were nameless, unspoken but described in ways befitting to them. Only those loremasters would know the true names of these things, but even they grasp at straws. For perhaps they do not actually exist at all, or perhaps they do and they choose not to.

[color=bedded]"Hrmph. Bread is not enough for me. Your culinary efforts will be reduced to excrement within its passing after consumption. Knowledge remains. And though in your skills may craft a meal worthy of the gods themselves, it was your mind which forged the nectar and ambrosia lest you are merely a brain-dead monkey who prepares meals by plucking from the chaos a concoction of pure luck rather than thought. You cannot sate my appetite for knowledge in this life. So perhaps in terms you shall understand, I shall ask of you in the colloquial befit of a man of your profession and brow: Simmer Down."
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Not keen on making friends here, having told off Keystone in a direct confrontation with nary a glance at the aforementioned explosive chef. The megalomaniac version of Thomas was a far cry from the shy and almost-inept one about an hour or two earlier. Yet no one has brought it up or directly asked the Sorcerer himself regarding the 120 degree shift in personality, maybe they didn't care, or perhaps they never had experienced a sorcerer in their midst.

[color=bedded]"Very well."[/color] A rather laconic response for Satilla, contrasted to the long-winded, grandiose, and near-philosophic or perhaps sophistic report given toward Keystone. 

[color=bedded]"As for your concern of undead, the pursuit of knowledge is a worthy venture. Great sages of old have delved deep into the inferno, angered the very gods, and it is said the knowledge of this very fire was stolen from either the heavens or the abyss. And it is better to die one step closer to enlightenment, lest you would rather live in ignorance. As such perhaps it is best that indeed I stay, these in so far quiet orcs may keep better company than a hysteric and militant."[/color]

There it returned. The haughty arrogance as he practically volunteered himself to stay in the company of orcs. Maybe he should have eaten something, as he heard Sana's snickers, because someone really ought to tell Thomas he's not him when he's hungry.