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Arthrax listens to the words of the others, then nods gravely. "Indeed. Sir Ilivan's final moments were the bravest I have seen, sacrificing himself to stave off the demons whilst we rescued these men and made our way here. Your armies have lost a good man in him, but hopefully some of these we rescued will come to take his place." The burly warrior claps Pooka's shoulder as he sees the halfling clamp up, then backs away, giving him some space. All in all, a successful mission, and a proud ending for Sir Ilivan.
Arthrax listens to Sir Ilivan's words quietly, his brown eyes fixed on the older man as he tells his story. As he finishes and the others add their thoughts, Arthrax merely pats the man's shoulder gently a few times, giving him a respectful nod before putting some distance between them, in case Sir Ilivan needed a few moments to himself.
Arthrax gives Delzden a curt nod, such as a comrade would do when another does something which requires no apology. Attempting a bit of reconciliation, he rides a bit closer to Xull and Sir Ilivan. "Well at least we made it through that relatively unscathed, eh? That's two encounters now. One more and we'll be seasoned veterans, right?"
The warrior shakes his head as everything seems to return to normal, including Sir Ilivan. He gives Pooka a friendly pat on the shoulder. "No worries. It seemed all of us were a bit excitable there for a bit." As Xull wanders up, Arthrax gladly retreats to take the bloodrager's spot in the formation, happy to be away from Ilivan's side.
Arthrax helps Xull restrain the normally jovial Delzden, avoiding the other man's blows as best he can as he helps get him into a disadvantageous position that would allow Xull to completely overwhelm him on his own. Once that is done, the burly warrior goes to help Pooka with Sir Ilivan, doing what is needed to help get those that are refusing out of the terrible pollen.
Shaking his head to clear the remaining irritation there, Arthrax is surprised to see Delzden swing at the dog, connecting, before then swinging at Xull as the bloodrager tries to tackle him. Confused, but guided by the Xull's non-lethal tactics, the big man attempts to help Xull incapacitate Delzden.
Arthrax remains silent through the banter, as he is wont to, slowly weighing each party's words. He keeps his eyes on the floor, thinking things through. He hears Xull's words, then shakes his head. "Regardless of his reasoning, Xull, Sir Ilivan's words ring of cowardice. Perhaps he has seen horrors I could never imagine, I don't know. I do know that anyone who puts off a chance of saving a comrade because they will 'likely' die anyway is just a big pussy, in my book. Good reason or no. Anyone who would let us rush forward and just watch, when his battle blood should have been boiling hot, is not worth the name of warrior." The large man's words are even and calm, said in a matter-of-fact tone. The warrior's dark eyes meet Sir Ilivan's for a moment, then he shrugs and urges his mount forward, ahead of Sir Ilivan, dark eyes on the horizon, trying to look for threats.
Arthrax nods gruffly to Delzden. "One less demon-spawn to trouble this area. And another who will think twice. Seemed worth it, to me." Though he is addressing Delzden, his words are certainly meant for another. He takes up his position beside Sir Ilivan as they continue on their trek, keeping his eyes open for more trouble.
Arthrax does not turn around as he hears the vaunted Sir Ilivan begin to crack, but he starts to understand. Here on the edge of civilization, where the very forces of the underworld were an ever-present threat, things like this must happen so frequently as to become common. Thus, the casual disregard for saving the farmers. To Ilivan, they were already lost, a couple more pawns lost in the larger battle at the Worldwound. The big warrior shakes his head at the general hopelessness and apathy of such a reaction. Though he might understand Ilivan's circumstances, he could not agree with them. Even the smallest sliver of hope was better than none. And even if the men died, their killers, a pox upon the land, would meet their end as well and so not harry and murder another group. The fighter stalks towards the melee, axe drawn and menace in his eyes.
"It's Arthrax. With an R. And I certainly defer to your vast experience out here. However, you and I...we probably have a different take on the word 'earn'. Though we didn't sit in the Worldwound and work our way up in your military's structure, my companions and I are no less capable or worthy than any of your military men up here. What we lack in the discipline you seem to crave, we make up in ingenuity and guile." The warrior swallows his petty anger, kicking his mount up to ride alongside Ilivan. "In short, I'll follow your words out of respect for your experience here, but do not infer that because I am not a soldier in your force who has 'earned' his rank that I am beneath them or am willing to accept your poorly disguised barbs at my background with the Pathfinder Society." The warrior nods as though finished, then his lips curl up in a smile and he expects his hand toward Ilivan. "So let's start over. Sir Ilivan? It is an absolute honor and pleasure to meet you. We have heard that you are one of the finest this region has to offer. I am Arthrax, and I look forward to working with you."
Arthrax buckles on the last strap of the ridiculously complex system of straps and buckles for his new, gleaming suit of plate armor, giving the heavy suit an experimental work through as he gets used to the motions it will, and most importantly won't, allow. Nodding in satisfaction, he turns to his companions. "Ready to move out, folks. Got some demon-killing weapons and some new armor to improve my odds of not getting ripped to shreds."
Arthrax nods along with all the ladies assessments. "Yes, all the fools wanted to flee or fight, and weren't exactly responsive to questions. Odd things happened when one tried to use magic while holding a statue, but other than that it was pretty standard 'beat up the other guys and take their stuff' work."
Like Reesa, Arthrax will also honor his word to the dubious information broker, in all likelihood to figure out exactly how much the information cost the Pathfinder Society than any sort of duty he felt towards Grandmaster Torch. He smiles and nods to the sorceress, accompanying her to the amoral man's place.
Arthrax offers bluntly to Venture Captain Yasmin, "Chaim is dead. By the hand of this Grandmaster Torch's bodyguards. Thankfully, he offered us a lead on the four statues, and were able to thus recover them. He would like to meet with us later, likely to call upon or at least remind us of the favor we now owe to him."
Arthrax is perfectly fine accepting the coin for helping the shopkeeper. Rewards are encouraged, in his mind. As the guards ask for their weapons, Arthrax bristles, clearly not ok with the situation. At Eva's suggestion, he hands her his pride and joy, his battle axe. He then proceeds to offer the guards his other weapons and steps through.
Hearing the other thugs from deeper in the shop, Arthrax steps towards the entrance from the back, his battleaxe out and at the ready. He glares at Belal, mentally daring the man to do something stupid. "Look, I realize you probably would've rather waited for Belal and his cronies to clear out, but that horse has left the stall. Nasir, be reasonable...better us than these goons, right?"
Shrugging off the gruff words of the dwarf, Arthrax focuses on the green centipede, knowing some of his companions seem to be in serious trouble. Knowing he has to make this one strike count, he plants his feet and takes careful aim before twisting his body, putting his full body's weight behind the powerful blow.
Arthrax has the grace to look ashamed at Jani's berating, looking down and nodding his agreement with the woman's assessment. Too often he let the thrill of battle overtake him and not worry about the consequences. Most of the time it worked out...but that had been a slippery slope back there. As the group approaches the man, the burly warrior waits for another more friendly character to make a move, not trusting himself to make a good judgment call after the fiasco that just occurred.
Arthrax nods at the resolve of the guards, understanding their plight. Still, if they let the man escape, they might not get an opportunity to apprehend him again. The burly warrior starts forward, ignoring the guard's orders, only to have the man lash out at him, the scimitar clanging against Arthrax's shield. Glaring at the man, he yells at him, "Out of our way, fool! We are trying to catch a thief!
Too late, Arthrax realizes he never wiped his face after eating, and the sauce from his meal is smeared copiously across his features, ruining anything he might attempt that was not comedy.
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