The grey man scoffed a little bit, but seemingly out of mirth, instead of disgust. In truth, he was a bit incredulous. The raven squawked loudly, before hopping into the air, flying in a circle around the merchant's head, and wheeling back to perch on Folkmar's shoulder. The bird hunched forward, as if skeptical, but its facial structure made it seem somewhat satirical. Ignoring the bird's comedic antics, the grey man moved forward just a bit.
	"[color=0054a6]What way is that to speak to someone with whom you'll be fighting?[/color]" he remarked.
	The gesture to this angry man at the mention of archers, and his assertion to take point, seemed to cause Folkmar to become rather cross. His brow furrowed, and he sloped his shoulders forward. In his irritation, he quietly took his shield, and gripped it in his left hand, before giving it a shake to grant it visibility.
	"[color=0054a6]Sending some fancy-man to the front when you have an orc to do the job,[/color]" he grumbled rather audibly, "If anyone can take getting shot by an arrow, it's me."
	And then there was the grand anticlimax. These bandits, simple as they may have been, were likely hiding. Cowards sunk in a hole under a crumbling wall. Folkmar spat at the ground. There was no strength in that. Even with a fight on the horizon, his mood was soured with the prospect of a challenge stripped away.
	"[color=0054a6]Then we'll just knock the walls down and be done with it,[/color]" Folkmar remarked, coming astride his war dog, and offering the last of his now dry haunch from the night before to the steed, as the raven picked at the scraps that hung off its tusks.
	"[color=0054a6]Not going back on my word- already said I'd do it. But seems a waste of my talents to simply gut a group of cowering spineless gophers. Feel like you should have been more forthcoming with this information when passing out jobs I do, Varian the drunkard.[/color]"
	The way sat and spoke, as well as the position of his hands, seemed to indicate that Folkmar was keen to ride off.