[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=DC143C]Fyror Kildragon[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c08e11f7-3cfd-47ba-8929-88361f1112d2.gif[/img][/center][center][I][h3][color=DC143C]You can't protect everyone. I have to try.
[/color][/h3][/I][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Prc1mHjnM_o][color=DC143C]- [I]Unknown[/I][/color][/url][/center]
[hr][hr][center][b][color=DC143C]Location:[/color][/b] La Canela Ship (Below Deck) - Sailing Northward from Preston, England 
[b][color=DC143C]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A 
[/center][hr]
	Fyror's attention was a bit torn, only halfheartedly eyeing Marco as the man slipped out his hammock and casually enough walked over towards him. His mind was otherwise just too preoccupied. He could feel the telltale signs of his rising agitation stirring within him. Upon occasion, under circumstances such as this where his insatiable desire to protect mixed with a feeling of utter failure and helplessness, his sanity could tip over the edge, sending him into a frenzied panic. Mind over matter was more or less pointless then as the raw need to make things right, even at the cost of his own life, took over any intelligent thought. Yet, before he could truly entertain the thought that he was nearing his breaking point, he was suddenly backhanded, sending him sprawling out onto the floor. A grunt mixed with a startled gasp left his lips before he felt pain radiate through his body as he made contact with the hard wood floor. He certainly hadn't seen that coming, and his mind was rather hazy at the moment. He spat out some blood from having bit his tongue on his way down. He let out a small groan and blinked as he tried to recollect himself. 

	His gaze stiffly turned to look up and over at Marco as he slowly pushed himself upright. He shook his head slightly, trying to focus and understand the man's line of questions. Why was he trying to save Millicent? Was that what the man was asking? [I]Well, why not?![/I] was his gut reaction, but perhaps that was his heart once more speaking on behalf of his mind. While a part of him felt that he didn't have to answer the man, that he shouldn't have to explain his actions, propriety said otherwise and intelligence made him falter. Why did he so adamantly believe Millicent was in danger? Why did he feel so desperate to save her if she was? Those were good questions with multilayered answers. He got himself back onto his feet, albeit a bit shakily. He moved to straighten his jacket and then remembered the man had given him a fresh pair of clothes. He grimaced slightly, before addressing the man's questions and accusations head on, his words getting more fervent the longer he spoke.

	[color=DC143C]"I was given what I believed to be reputable evidence that it is highly likely that the woman is in danger by the man in question. I was given a file by one Dr. Graham that described in graphic detail what the man's previous wives had endured before they died. They were brutally abused, defiled, and subsequently killed. He would then take their families' money and properties. Not only that, while I was at the hospital learning this, I walked in just in time to hear one of her sisters saying something about Millicent having possibly been defiled by the man. [I]What was I supposed to do?![/I] If she really was in danger, the longer I waited, the time it would take to verify all of the sources, [I]Millicent could be lost forever![/I] I would rather go after her and find out that she's alright then to gamble with her life. And I will tell you this, [b][I]sir[/I][/b], I would go to the ends of the earth, to hell and back, for those [I]I CARE ABOUT!!![/I]"[/color] And there it was, perhaps the real truth of the matter.