[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjE1OC4zMjYyMzcuU0dGbWNtSnFiM0p1LjEAAAAA/uncial-animals.book.png[/img][/center]
[center][i]Towering Giant, Survival of the Fittest[/i][/center]
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Garret had remained silent and fallen on deepened thought. After hearing of Hafrbjǫrn ultimatum, his eyes trailed towards the group witnessing the savaging of the spoils. His ribs still felt ill, so the former of the two would not suffice for them to end up victors against the Irregulars, and much less would Hafrbjǫrn be too willing to uphold that end of the bargain for what was originally planned as pay for him. And so... the Serim knight nodded in agreement and extended his hand towards the giant. [color=ed1c24]"Fret not, Half. This Journey would soon come to an end."[/color] However, he brought his hand back, closing his fingers in a gesture with his index as if it representing the exception to what was previously told [color=ed1c24]"However, I suggest you don't stray away our saviors, least you lack the honor. Remember my dear partner, regardless of circumstance or fate, the irregular were paramount to our survival today."[/color] Hafrbjǫrn rose his brow as if to suggest the utter nonsense the man had just spoken about. At the instance they decided to open what was the Pandora's box of this dungeon their lives were forfeit. That they had survived was by mere extension of many factors, which were all too closely knit to luck. The bombs he had brought, the bow and arrow he picked up, the soulstone he retrieved. There all due preparation for these all to predictable outcome, and yet... Hafrbjǫrn could not fully disagree to what his employer had said. His eyes kept stead on the Serim's stare "[color=ed1c24]Oh I see it too clearly my companion in arms! You are far too vigilant for your own good. You do not fully believe on the merits of these people's good tidings and strength. You'd sooner place our victory in the hands of fate. Well quake not in your boots, Half for it is true. We owe these kin a great debt and much like the one I have with you, I intend to keep it."[/color] 

The tune of the Serim's voice pledged something greater than what he spoke. Ill intent had roamed on its entirety, but Hafrbjǫrn did not care for the intention of the people whom he was hired by... Sadly, he only is here to do what was but the extend of his only capability. Battle, his smiting garnered much, but not enough to warrant a living in peace. For much of the guilds owned their own swords and selling knives to pandering merchants and peddlers was not a means of earning a good sovern. A sigh escaped this old giant, weary of such nonsense he walked passed an outstretched Garrett, and continued his path towards the entrance. There was not much for him to do in this place, and so he would wait somewhere with less blood and corpses as scenery. Garrett lowered his arms and released a hefty breath, pulling the tags of his fallen Serim comrades, he witnessed their names once more and began to wrought in their thought. A clutch of their steel, he wore them around his neck, along side his own. Forming, even if only by metaphor, the party of the Serim Knight once again... "For naught will have been your work... Dear friends."

And so proceeded the night to finding something of value or relative interest. 

[hr]

Minutes became hours, hours became days, days became weeks before they had finally arrived at their destination. Not much had happened with Hafrbjǫrn throughout the course of this journey. He spoke naught throughout and fell terribly to his lonesome, night consisted of his standing guard, if not reading and updating finding to a small log book he kept, other times was reminiscing to himself tales of a bleak origin that haunt him to this time. Surfacing in times of rest, these memories would not halt their blare, and much less would Hafrbjǫrn demand them to stop. Within them there was a face, one of which he cared for deeply for and though dark, these memories bring warm to what is a terribly frigid life. Yet it mattered no longer, as they have finally made leeway to their destination, and stepped foot on the The Silver Moon Citadel. Such sights were of no surprise to him, he had seem to fancy these types of locations due to his work. Reaching their resting place, Garrett and Hafrbjǫrn were handed a drink by the Irregulars, although the giant was terribly distant, it seemed the guildmates were not. 

A silence befell the two, as the time for farewells and ends would soon come to an end. Garrett and Hafrbjǫrn would lock eyes and exchange gestures before drinking their beverage and indulging in silence. Or, that was the idea until the Serim decided to speak. [color=ed1c24]"Have you grown accustomed to the Irregulars?"[/color] What nonsense has this mad knight began to spout again? He spoke as if we were to continue this journey at the hands of these people. [color=ed1c24]"You haven't said a word since we left the dungeon, Half. Does it not make you weary to clutch to your own devices all the time?"[/color] There was something peculiar about this... but Hafrbjǫrn did not discern what at the immediate moment. He just remained silent, indulging in his drink.[color=ed1c24] "There. Right there, Half. Two week of companionship and you continue to baffle me at wits end on how severely private you are. Can you not at least attempt indulgence in alcohol and conversation?"[/color]

[color=007236]"Not with the likes of a man who's face reeks of treachery."[/color]  The Serim rose his brow in confusion, then replies with a soft, almost limber laughter. [color=ed1c24]"So those were the thoughts plaguing you, Half. You should certainly know how to-" [/color]Hafrbjǫrn halted him by placing his hand before him. He didn't care for lectures. [color=007236]"Be quiet. I do not intend to enjoy the rest of these mead with ill company, much less ill conversation."[/color] The Serim smiled, almost wryly... [color=ed1c24]"This might as well be our last ever meeting, Half. Could we not end such with pleasantries instead of rivalries?" [/color]

[color=007236]"Are you suggesting that I am wrong in my assumptions?" [/color]

[color=ed1c24]"Indeed, I am. What I have looted will be profit to pay what we have agreed upon."[/color] 

[color=007236]"I see. Then why do you linger here and not went towards with the others to sell your goods?"[/color]

[color=ed1c24]"Because, Serim have their own means of trade. I could get twice as much in a town over--"[/color] 

[color=007236]"This is not what we agreed on, Serim. I told you we would get to the next shelter and bid farewells there, no such more than that."[/color] 

Garrett remained silent, clutching his drink firmly upon his fingers. Dousing his thirst with its substance Garrett wiped off any residue left on lip with the sleeve in his arm and continued to stare down the giant that seemed to be loosing his patience. [color=ed1c24]"...Alright. I'll have your sovern by the return of the Irregulars."[/color] 

[color=007236]"See to it that you do, Serim. You have aught yet to witness me when I am angry." [/color] Garrett nodded and smiled, standing from this table, now the giant sat at his lonesome, again. Much like before. Just that this time he had mead at his hand.