Eisenhorn — Roleplayer Guild

Ansgar Staudinger

	The woman who introduced herself, before the one that looked suspiciously like a rogue, thief type, had that familiar knot of foreboding forming in Ansgar's gut. A Solvnir pegasus warrior, eh? That would make evading her should she get her panties in a bunch rather tricky, those flying cavaliers, as most Solvnir Soldiers mockingly referred to them as, had a major mobility advantage over, well, just about anyone else that wasn't on some flying mount or could fly themselves. Get in the woods, though, and he could manage. Same with a dense enough city, moving from building to building worked against, well, anyone mounted but against the flying pegasus riders doubly so. Gods knows he had to apply that when being hounded by the Solvnir Army during his own escape of the island. No one ever got a solid bead on him, thankfully, but it was still cutting it rather close a few times. He hardly had any interest in spilling more blood of his former countrymen after all, and that applied to now as well as then. Thankfully, at least right now, either they had the sense to not bring it up, or hadn't recognized only his first name. Now it was a waiting game, though, until they realized it or proved they had no idea who he was. And that wouldn't be until their first fight, he suspected, unless she somehow identified him based on manner of speech. Which, well, was a possibility, but not like he could just back out and run now because of one person arriving.

"Flying cavalier, eh Miss Flos? Wonder if this shadow army has archers or not, might be a fairly glaring weakness if they don't..." Nothing in Ansgar's statement was malicious or hostile, rather, he was poking fun at a common problem that plagued any aerial cavalry, and at those that didn't usually track the differences between different cavalry groups, flight being barred as obvious of course. Archers, for varying reasons, perhaps due to the whole getting shot out of the sky being fatal thing, tended to cause them more than their fair share of grief. Then again, archers caused most people grief, right up until you got a lance into their throat. Not so good then, he mentally smirked at the thought, glancing at the iron lance resting on his shoulder. It lacked ornamentation, and was solely a working tool that had survived with him for this long. Of course, part of his mind questioned engaging her at all in any sort of interaction, but if he actively avoided her at all costs, it might seem a tad bit more suspicious than simply talking to her every now and again. He might be able to keep this from blowing up in his face yet, if the Gods were willing to be a bit more merciful than usual, at any rate. Since, as he said though, he had all of his belongings already on him, well, he had no reason to wander off yet, not until it was time to depart for the southern territories, to see what had specifically gone wrong back home. Home, strange, that he'd be going back at all, let alone under these circumstances...

@Chieri
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Inquisitor of some Note

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