"Morning, chaps," the [color=FF3333]rogue[/color] had said, before offering a curtsy to [color=FF66CC]Adele[/color]. Marcel thought that a little strange but said nothing; he wasn't very well versed in formalities so he had no right to judge. Heard he had been head of another mercenary company born from some place called Montgarde- wherever that was. Marcel came to the realization that this escort mission would be his first [i]significant[/i] time spent away from Belencrest- sure, during the missions involving the greyskin barbarians he had been outside of the city plenty of times, though rarely would he be gone but a few days. 

"Lad," Marcel offered the single word in reply. He had no idea how old [color=FF3333]Rook[/color] actually was, but he assumed he was younger than he. In a way, the red-sashed swordsman reminded him of the tales he heard of duelists from some far-off land (Perhaps [i]that[/i] was Montgarde?) whose bard-like acting abilities and use of totems accentuated their swordplay to create a style that was as flashy as it was deadly. Marcel's mind began to wander until [color=CCCC00]Hain's[/color] voice brought him back.

"I'm afraid I have little experience with caravans myself. I am not the most experienced of guardsmen." 

[i]Don't worry, [color=CCCC00]Hain[/color], escorts are easy. 'Sides, I'm here to make sure all eyes stay on me.[/i] He referred to combat, where that [i]was[/i] the role he preferred, and from the looks of it, the only one suited to such. Many of the other guardsmen- at least, those standing around him- were lightly armored, so if Marcel was to act as the anchor from which their blades danced, then so be it. If an attack slipped through their speed, he'd make sure Weaponward was there first. 

He heard a small crunch.

[i]Woad![/i] Marcel feared the worst- how had it broken? Had something heavy in his pack put too much weight onto the small vase? Marcel's hand fumbled as he unclasped the bag and out tumbled the vase- he was able to catch it, but with his bad hand. He cleared his throat as he inspected the urn and was pleasantly surprised to find no crack. Then what had made the noise? Marcel carefully returned the pot to it's place in his bag and took a quick and timid glance to see if anyone had seen his deformity. [color=FF66CC]Adele[/color] was busy inquiring [color=CCCC00]Hain[/color] about calling him 'Fluffy' as well as questioning caravan guarding itself, all the while poking fun at [color=ff3333]Rook[/color]. She was quick.

Before closing his bag Marcel retrieved one of Miss Creedey's rolls.

"The lass' got a point," he smiled and stroked one prong of his beard with his good hand before taking a bite of bread. As was expected, it was delicious, he just wished Creedey made them bigger. As it was, the poor thing wouldn't survive the second bite. 

"As for caravan guarding, it's pretty simple," he said between bites of roll, "I've never been the guard, but I used to run deliveries of a sort. This caravan just seems to be on a bigger scale. I won't speak for [color=00FFFF]Djonn[/color], but if I had to guess, it'll be mostly walking, stopping to eat and sleep, and then more walking. We're all gonna' get real friendly with each other by the time this is over."

Just then, [color=66FF33]Zacharias[/color] appeared. “Hello, guys, did I miss anything important?”

"Nothin' too bad. [color=00ffff]Djonn's[/color] probably gettin' the details on what we're going to be doing." Marcel couldn't help but notice his burns again, which formed around that eye. That [i]totem[/i], rather.