[center][color=#ff8c00][h2]Cadmon Demet[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@Octo][@Psyker Landshark][@Eisenhorn][@HereComesTheSnow]
[hr]

The plan was a reasonable one, other than one clear mistake in the order of operations. Something that would be easily rectified, if the assassin and the mercenary would be willing to see it done. First, though, to follow up on what was just being said around him—while most of the time he wouldn't agree so readily with István's proclivity towards violence, in this case, Cadmon found himself all too willing to indulge the large man's impulses. Relative cultural acceptability had no bearing on the abomination that was the Morahti's practice, and if they were willing to set foot on Veltish soil and continue their ways, then they deserved every consequence.

[color=#ff8c00]"Mmm. Perhaps, in a moment,"[/color] he said to Lirrah, after she'd finished speaking. [color=#ff8c00]"Might myself and Sir Shilage get some of that acid, say, as a trial run? Repayment, perhaps, for helping you avoid complete embarassment?"[/color] He leaned his halberd against the nearest available vertical object not named István Shilage, before lifting his helmet slightly as he looked down towards the Nem still held in one of his arms. [color=#ff8c00]"A favour for a friend, even?"[/color]