Character: Curly Butterfly
Status: Awkward, then serious

“Oh, ya’ know… stuff…” Curly replied stiffly to Bromann, his eyes darting between him and the girl at his side. 
Talking to people had never been a strong point of his, even when he worked for his family's circus. He tried most times to keep things short and to the point. He was better within his suit, where his piloting skills and alchemical concoctions could flourish better.

The Ironbelle beeped lowly, nudging their pilot to them. His arm twitched, the purple veins pulsing beneath the even purpler skin, clawed fingers clenching and opening. “Uh, so… ya’ like jaz-”

The conversation was brought to a sudden standstill when they were ushered by the booming might of a horn. They were gathered up by soldiers of the fort–men clearly sharpened by years of experience. As they parted, the view of what they were going up against was realized. Hulking beasts made of ice, snow and meat emerged from the snow like creatures riding through the sea.
They resembled land animals almost, yet key details were missing, making a creature that was uncannily unsettling. 
But it was the little ones that unnerved Curly, making his arm throbbed achingly. He never was fond of insectoids.

Lord Roderic appeared on his steed, informing the newcomers of the approaching horde, the need for eyes and arms, and–most importantly–the missing scouts and road status.
Frankly, Curly didn’t mean to extend his help this far. He was here to secure medicines and ingredients, clean around the fortress a little in return, done. But he made his promise to help in any way, a decision he’d soon see if he'd regret or not.
Feeling the ground beneath them shake even this far, Curly swallows his nerves and nods. “Well, I'm fixing to get this over an’ done with asap, if y’all are.”
[@Moonberry][@Nachogod][@Starleaper]@Others