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[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at request]

[LordPorkins]

"Greetings. "

Fyodor keeps his hand on his blade, but does not draw it. The thin man eyes up the vagabond with a piercing gaze, with eyes the color of a fishes underbelly inspecting his every feature

[Bill Chompski]

Another minute passes, and he's still watching.

"You don't look like soldiers." The man says suddenly in a low, raspy voice, before coughing a little.

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at request]

[retromach]

A trail ration didn't sound too bad. Of course, on the ship, Chevash d'Ghallanda could prepare a meal the likes of which a simple soldier has likely never been able to afford.

[Bill Chompski]

Tensing up slightly as the woman begins to go through her bag, the man is quiet for a few seconds.
"Are you merchants? What's the ship for?"

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at request]

[Bill Chompski]

Hesitantly approaching, the soldier takes a ration, and quickly backs up, inspecting what said region contains as he speaks.
"Mmhn...Lyrander...makes sense." Sniffing the food next, he clears his throat, coughing again, before mumbling, "There's nothing on this rock that they'd want."

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at request]

[Bill Chompski]

Cautiously trying out some of the nuts, and then promptly eating a handful, the man quietly answers, "Warrant Officer Detlas Jundar, White Lions."
Chewing some of the fruit, he suddenly retches, and spits the dried appley-thing out, shuddering.
Only eating the meat and nuts now, he looks to Fyodor.
"Who are you?" Jundar asks, voice still quiet and wary, but not carrying tones of suspicion that it was previously.

[LordPorkins]

"A holy agent of the flame. No more. No less."

[Bill Chompski]

Nodding, he goes silent again, and hungrily continues to eat the rest of the ration (excluding the fruit).

When he finishes, Detlas looks at the two near him.
An obvious amount of unease takes his bearded face, and he coughs lightly.
"How's the war?" the officer asks, voice just as nervous as his face.

[LordPorkins]

"Your war is doubtless over. The Last War ended over 8 years ago. Though it's title may be a bit presumptuous."

[Bill Chompski]

The man slides down on his spear into a squat, and closes his eyes.
"Thank the Host." Detlas sighs, sounding immensely relieved, though still tired.
His body relaxes, and he sits down on the ground, setting his spear down.
Nodding a little, the soldier asks, "How'd it end? Did anyone 'win' that nightmare?"

[LordPorkins]

"That is a matter for the politicians and the historians to decide. Come. We should reconvene with the rest of the group."