Character: Bromann Dudemiester 
Status: Contemplating how to get away with murder. 

Bromann could hardly believe his ears, Love? He hadn’t really put any thought into the concept. Throughout his life he had never had the time, by the time he was old enough to even factor that in he was busy maintaining the farm and trying to keep his father out of an early grave. When he inevitably failed that task, he took upon his shoulders the fate of his town. Then he found himself here in the cold. The look he gave Axol would have been a tad intimidating, if not for the color creeping into his face. “[color=007236]a desire to form alliances…is not a proclamation of romance.[/color]” He would say flatly, his Tell tale nervous grin seeming to indicate his acknowledgement that he was out of his depth trying to speak reason to what he was quickly discovering was an unreasonable situation. Here they were a small band of people who knew near nothing of one another, and he was trying to coax them into a united front. “[color=007236]Though perhaps it is a fools errand.[/color]” He would say in a lower tone stuffing his mouth with more bread in an effort to avoid speaking further. 


Fortunately Andrea had her own words and she seemed to take the accusation in stride, not putting much weight in it. He could not help but notice she did appear a bit conflicted, but he could tell it had little to do with the words being said, and likely was a conflict of her own nature. ‘[color=fff200]Perhaps he is right about not being able to trust her…[/color]’ he would think to himself noting the slight shifts in her eye color and the expressions on her face shifting, though that could easily be due to Axol’s words, something in his gut said more was going on and he wasnt sure that he actually desired to know what it was. His gaze shifted to rachel still seated near the flame and seemingly in prayer. It was not much of a surprise given her earlier comments about sin, so he shifted back to the conversation at hand…missing the flames response to her words.

The red in his face seemed to grow more prominent when he heard Thorne speak. “[color=007236]Please Thorne, im not a Sir. Just a simple farmer who hunts, trying to make himself into something more.[/color]” He would say having freed some space in his mouth and quickly filling it once more. He would then rise to his feet, not too quickly, but with clear purpose. “[color=007236]You all may discuss this further if you wish, i will take the twenty percent that is fair to me. Now if you’ll excuse me, i intend to get better acquainted with the fortifications of this fortress.[/color]” He would state with an uncharacteristic bitterness in his tone before wandering off towards his cot to fetch his bow, sling his quiver over his shoulder, and reaffix his cloak. Finally stepping back into his boots he would stride towards the door. “[color=007236]Just bear in mind, none of us get paid if we die here, or if the fort falls, or if the Lord dies. Before we discuss payment it may behoove us to find out what we face, and what we have to bring to bear.[/color]” 

Thus Bromann stepped out of the barracks and back into the bitter chill. Hoping to find the Range, and walk the walls.