[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/G519jyZ.png[/img][hr][/center]

The foul stench was getting to the sea dog. To a normal person, the stench of rot and bog water could be tolerated or ignored. His large physique could only recoil into itself to avoid the foul air. Seeing his imposing figure curled up and his large, clawed hands holding a much too small, soaked in spirits handkerchief to his nose was a sight to behold. Klaus was having an absolutely miserable time in the swamp on the outskirts of Bludmach. Why did he even come to a place so far away from the sea?

The answer was responsibility. Having someone who—quite literally—joined the guild the previous day take an urgent, high-difficulty mission was a big red flag. Doing such a thing either meant you were sandbagging for most of your life or were an overconfident shmuck. The latter was always more likely. Having one of these types was bad enough, but two of them were bold enough to run headfirst into that four star quest wall. It wasn't like those elusive jobs undertaken by the greatest mages, though. Unless there was something [i]really[/i] wrong, there was really nothing to stop people from overextending. Common sense, maybe, but nothing else.

With Eldrid raging against the runner, the sickened Klaus piped up to rebuke her.

[color=9A9FAC]"Oi, don't make trouble. Yer part of a guild now. Bein' a knob fucks it up for the rest o'us."[/color]

He didn't really acknowledge the fact that his passive bonus to a party's intimidation played a pretty major part in getting the poor marsh runner to cart them in the first place.