[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=39b54a]William Fraser[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://bookesther.files.wordpress.com/2017/02/john-thornton-smile-gif.gif?w=500[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][color=39b54a][b]Location:[/b][/color] [b]Kirkpatrick House[/b]
[color=39b54a][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]N/A[/i] [/center][hr]

	William nodded himself. The man was right, perhaps William was too laid back about the scene of carnage they had stumbled across. So many of his songs and stories seemed to revolve around the creatures that stalked shadows and nightmares that they were never far from his mind. But to see so many of them in the flesh? Or as close to it as those monsters could be to 'flesh'. That was a rare sight. William had been driven to train by his father's... he hesitated to call it paranoia, but that seemed to be the label that fitted best. But even with his training, he could count the times he had used it on one hand. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He used [i]Gislid[/i] regularly during his travels, and he'd even used [i]Ingulf[/i] from time to time, although he didn't tend to enjoy it. Now he cast his mind back, he'd even dabbled in [i]Hadd[/i]. He shuddered at the thought. He lived for stories, but some of the things he saw in those dreams? They were enough, even for him. 

	Realising he hadn't responded to the driver, William felt his curiosity pique. 

	[color=39b54a][b]"Have you trained? If you don't mind me asking."[/b][/color]

	William wouldn't be surprised if the man wasn't. He knew that not everyone trained anymore, and if they hadn't just stumbled across the bloodshed that they had, then William would struggle to argue why it was even necessary anymore. But looking at the man standing in front of him, with his worn face, and a life of travelling through the open spaces between places people actually wanted to spend time, William couldn't help but think that he at least knew how to handle himself. He hadn't looked, but he'd be suprsied if there wasn't a weapon resting somewhere within easy reach.