Malachi arrived at the rendezvous late, bearing a knapsack laden with sufficient goods to begin a journey. The look on his face suggested that he didn't want to see anyone here again at all, but the brawler had gone against his judgment and joined his coincidental companions one more time. Were anyone to chance upon them, he figured they'd make quite the scene together. While the others exchanged a few words and sentiments, Byron lent him a a hand once again by summing up. So, the little hellion wanted to go and slaughter some poor fools. That eager look on Sylphie's face cemented her status in his mind as a twisted, vicious killer. Sure, she bore some sort of divine power, but lots of people justified lots of things. Whoever was strongest in the end could say what was right and wrong. 

With such a powerhouse around Malachi felt his help unnecessary and unwanted -no doubt the others saw him as a simpleton and brute- but he did feel like punching something. At the very least, he could get an idea of the murderous tyke's real ability, and maybe by knocking out a few thieves prevent all of them from being annihilated. Crooks and killers deserved punishment, of course, but paying evil unto evil constituted something other than justice. What Sylphie seemed to have in mind was excessive at best and bloodthirsty at worst. A monster who declared herself de facto innocent. Then again what did he, some meathead from the wilderness, know about right and wrong, and higher purposes? Best not to think about such things, and certainly not to act on them. After all, what chance might a poor lunk like him stand?

The musings more or less distracted him from the perturbing conversation between Izel and Sylphie, which he was thankful for. Whatever went on between them, he didn't need to know. After a sigh, Malachi spoke. "Guess I'll 'elp check it out. Folks in town seemed nice, shouldn't 'ave to put up with any trouble."