[color=598527]"Slavery? Mate, that's piss poor business practice. Put the steel away, I'm the one saying that 'mercy' was awful to begin with, remember?"[/color] Walker's hand tightened on his own dagger, though he didn't produce steel yet. Ideally he wouldn't be slashing this poor fool's throat, he was about the only information source they would have that wasn't the golem or plague doctor. Or Kaath, but given recent events he couldn't exactly rely on her to be a consistently available source of information. However, a very familiar sight stumbled into view, though the saying was rather on the nose given who it was. His eyes genuinely, albeit briefly, widened in surprise at the sight of that poor lass Isabelle stumbling into the clearing, clutching that cane of hers and remaining as blind as ever. A low, weary smile cracked across his face as he spoke a phrase that, well, she'd recognize instantly if she remembered their first meeting well. [color=598527]"Now, what's a saint like you doing out in a place like this?"[/color]

	Seemed the wounded, battered, and defiled man took exception to that, and given the flailing from before it seemed that the man saw Walker as the biggest threat. What brought a cocked eyebrow was the roaring cry and the dagger flaring to life, glowing brightly as it was thrust towards him. He sidestepped, left hand flashing out with his own dagger, catching the blade and, with a twist, aiming to send it hurtling to the ground as Walker caught the man to keep him from falling from the lunge, holding him very still and looking him dead in the eyes, speaking lowly enough so that only he would hear him. [color=598527]"Stand down, we're not enemies, I'm not here to kill you, and I'm sure as Spite not here to enslave you. You're in no condition to be fighting, fancy Church tricks aside, and if there's anyone in the realms that isn't going to hurt Isabelle it's me. I'm going to let you go slowly, and then we'll talk, figure out all that's going on, and get somewhere safer, savvy?"[/color]

	Once Walker got a reply, even a negative one, the man would let the assailant loose, slow enough for the mutated fellow to get his bearings as Walker stepped back out of swinging range again, which meant it would take another lunge to get within reach of him to actually make an attempt on his well being again. They were too lean on bodies and knowledge to be slashing throats, and he almost shrugged idly as he resheathed the dagger in his left hand, hidden once again beneath his cloak. While he was watching the man out of his peripheral vision, he was once again processing how some poor soul like Isabelle ended up here. She'd been too good for the Church, and he never was successful in convincing her of that, though he never had the heart to be crass or rude about it towards her. [color=598527]"Once you get used to that...thing you got going on, you need to learn the Chergurd handshake from someone who's better at doing it. Given the extenuating circumstances though, you get a pass this time. No more offering 'mercy' towards the poor bastard, alright V?"[/color]