Watching possible opponents like a hawk, Cical was still able to pick a choice section from the man's words. Four of five? Was the fifth who knew of the egg Mennon? He certainly hoped so. If Kothar knew of such a powerful thing their quest might as well be over before it began. From experience he knew those bastards were unyielding.
        In fact, at one point Cical was ambushed by Kothar bandits. After cutting off the arm of one and slaying his friends, the recently dismembered actually picked up his severed limb and rejoined the fight using himself as a makeshift club! What made it worse, is he continually claimed it was "just a flesh wound" and he could still win!

        The lancer repressed the thought through a shiver. He believed the geezers words now, for the moment he couldn't find any flaws or create any questions. Not like this was the moment for such anyway. With a stern, set face he gently pushed his back off the wall and untucked his arm from the other. Wordlessly and with one easy, telegraphed move he tossed the egg back to its original owner. Unlike how it was thrown at him, the toss was gentle and easily foretold.

        The tale of ghouls slightly unnerved Cical. Beasts and humans, albeit sometimes difficult to differentiate, were one thing. Monsters of magic and creatures of the dark... Held by the Brimlands and Dark Lands... They were stories of their own. In his time venturing, he only fought four obscure creatures of death. Each was a tale worthy of several drinks on their own. Each left him with scars both mentally and physically. If anyone cared to examine him closer they would see four large claw marks on his midsection that still had yet to fully heal. That had been months ago, which was curious on it's own. Cical was confident in a lot of things, surviving, dueling.... Drinking. But surviving battles with those types of monsters? He wouldn't bet on himself in a fight, leave it there.