~Miles Kyzalith~

Miles started at Roland's outburst, although warranted, he didn't quite understand why he must be so brash. Miles had not wished to dislike this person, but the contrast from Roland's personality to that of men back home was stark. The man who sat the table didn't leave such an impression on Miles, in fact Miles would rather the company of him over the others. Then again, he would prefer the company of his friends back home over anyone in this village. 

[i]I don't like him,[/i] Miles thought looking back at Roland. He rolled up the contract in his hands and stuffed it into his belt, the parchment crinkling and bending unnaturally. 

Miles let out a sigh,"Well calm down now little one. No need to get ya trousers in a bunch." He clasped his hands together and rested them in his lap. His hands frequently moved from this position, making hand gestures when he spoke. "Look...If you're scared you can't do much on this quest 'cuz all you got is parlor tricks, ya might as well storm outta here right now. No one's judgin' ya!" Miles paused briefly than continued, "I reckon each one of us can hold their own. Well, I know I can. I 'ave no trouble trustin' a stranger, did it all the time for the guppies in the army. New recruits thinkin' their as strong as the heros of legends. You don't trust em completely, but ya trust em enough to 'ave ya back. Now I'm positive that we can all manage that, ya?"

He leaned back on the bar top, the rough corner digging into his back. Miles said his peice but he wasn't quite satisfied. Roland had been right not to blindly trust in others abilities, that would come naturally to someone who was let down often enough. The least Miles could do was give the rest of them a bit of insight into his own abilities.

"Ya see, I'm a Spellblade. Used to be just a blade, but then I got this gift, I did." Miles said. "I'm right skilled with my sword here, could fight off a squad if I had too. My magic? Simple but useful. Its defensive ya see, can make my skin hard as rock or be able to withstand fire, I don't know how well it be against your fake fireballs, 'owever." He glanced at Roland, giving him a toothy wry smile. "Focusing hard enough I can change the speed of my legs or swing, 'aven't quite got the hang of that yet..." He trailed off. Miles was finished with his little speech, officially. He looked over to the man at the table and the horned fellow, "What about you? What are y'all good at?"