"Well, let us carry on then! Fortune and Caydean favors the bold! Or at least those not afraid of the dark!" Cernan says with a grin.
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Cernan's light acts as his own personal lantern, highlighting wherever he looks with astounding clarity. ;) "Watch your step lads and lasses! On we go!" He declares cheerfully.
"Sounds good Kipka. Carry on! We're right behind you! Come along Rel my boy, there's a good lad!" Cernan declares as boisterously as ever, stepping forward to follow the others into the cavern, gently leading the boy Rel with his left hand, his right holding his poor battered sword at the ready.
Cernan unabashedly rolls his eyes behind the backs of both men. "Right! That's settled then!" Cernan says cheerfully. "Come along Rel. You stay with ol' Cernan." He tells the boy, holding out his hand. "But be careful. No more owwies. Right?" He says with earnestness suitable of the young child. "Well, Cernan says we should get moving, sooner rather than later. The ground collapsed once. I don't fancy being under it if it decides to do it again." "Kipka, Anevia, You two likely have eyes even sharper than mine. How about you take a look down the tunnels and tell us which way to go, eh?" He says enthusiastically.
"Well said Anevia." Cernan says brightly as he allows the archer to reclaim her hand. His eyes follows her glance to her quiver. "Heh. Best make each shot count, yes?" He offers cheerfully.
"Kipka! Have you anything in that prodigious backpack of yours to provide illumination?! Caydean's blessings are generous, but my own powers are not without limit. An alternative light source would not be unappreciated about now!" Cernan calls brightly as he steps towards the gnome. Cernan stops as he nears Ionnia and the small child. He glances to the paladin, raising an eyebrow. He seems, unsure what to say. At last, something the overconfident cleric seems to not already be a master of. Children.
Cernan watches first the elf, then the merchant, go at it loudly. He looks,... disconcerted.
Finally, he tilts his head back, the light coming from his head causing the shadows to scatter and dance crazily, and lets loose a full volume, hearty laugh.
"I hight Cernan indeed!" He decrees, laughter still coloring his voice.
"Cernan appreciates your opinions masters, indeed, Cernan welcomes your knowledge and expertise! But in this case Cernan has to side with the ladies Willow and Ionnia. While our combined powers have healed your wounds as best we can, you are still ill-suited to take the lead in subterranean exploration! Allow m,... us, to take that burden nobles. Lend us your irreplaceable knowledge, and allow us to temper it with our own formidable skills, and Cernan promises, we shall ALL make it out!" The cleric laughs cheerfully. He sounds supremely confident. Not OVER-confident (although that is certainly possible), but as if he speaks with unerring knowledge that it will, in the end, be alright. "Lady Anevia, my friend Kipka here seems most light on her feet. And your eyes are most expert at seeking targets. And I think that leg shall not prevent you from using your bow effectively, eh? Surely between your eyes and Kipka's skills, I feel confident that we shall spot any dangers before they spot us!" He says with a smile. "Lord Aravashnial, just moments ago you decreed that you possess mighty magics to be unleashed upon a foe, and needed only to know where to target your mystic wrath. Allow me to introduce the Lady Willow Hopgood, whose mystic knowledge aided your injuries. Pray share with her what puissant spells you currently command, and instruct her as to their best applications. Allow HER to be your eyes if we face another foe ere we gain the clear sky. Surely two such intelligent minds working together can only multiply our chances of survival. And any chance to share knowledge is a grand day indeed!" "Master Horgus." Cernan says, just as brightly, but his voice somehow conveys,... disappointment. "I fear we have precious few supplies to manage, but surely a man of your experience must have some skills in procuring supplies under difficult circumstances. Pray tell us if you see something that we can use for food or medicine. Cernan doesn't want this lad here to miss a meal if we can help it! And while I appreciate your offer to aid in battle, I pray that will not be needed. I feel that Master Hero and Noble Ionnia's strength shall be up the task!"
"Seems we have a choice to make. Wish I could tell which way to go. But though Cernan's skills are many, I am not a master spelunker." Cernan admits ruefully. "Ionnia, Hero, you seem well-traveled. Do you know of any way to get stone to reveal the quickest way out?" He asks with a jovial grin. "Preferably the same one least infected with these creatures." He adds, making an icky face towards the dead maggot-spawn.
"Right. Nothing that can't be taken care of with Faith and determination." Cernan says firmly, tucking his sword back into his belt once he recalls that it is too bent to fit into it's scabbard. "Gather round everyone. Cernan has something for you!" HE says briskly. And gathers the survivors around the injured archer and mage. Once there, he pullsout his beautiful if well-worn silver cup, salutes the ceiling of the cave with it, and toasts, "Caydean and Cernan salute you Terendelev! We salute you too Storm-King-Demon-spawn! UP YOURS! We'll be back!" And Cernan takes the barest sip, then tosses the contents into the air. There is a pulse of warmth, and instead of falling to the ground in a dirty puddled heap, the drink flashes with a pulse of golden light, and spreads out in a shower of tiny golden droplets, infusing all nearby with warmth and health.
Cernan follows the warrior, a step behind and to the side. His own bent sword held at the ready.
"Alright, You've bugged me enough for one day!" Cernan taunts the carcass as Hiro examines it from the other side.
"Up a creek without a paddle!" Cernan replies cheerfully. "Nothing we can't handle."
"Ah. Um. Yes! Good work Hiro! You followed Cernan's plan perfectly! Cernan's clever distraction gave you the opportunity to attack it unopposed! Good teamwork!" The metallic cleric beams at the little oriental warrior.
Cernan becomes visibly agitated at the persistent pest before him. "For the love of Caydean, DIE already you insufferable insect!"
And Cernan flails at the maggot, giving up all pretense of combat etiquette, giving it a nice steel massage in the process. ;P
"I say, Well done!" Cernan cries as Ionnia cleaves the filthy maggot in two. "You see? THAT'S how your SUPPOSED to die you foul vermin! Allow Cernan to demonstrate!" the cleric cries as he swings his bent blade at the maggot again,...
"Persistent little bugger, isn't he?" Cernan asks wryly as he batters ineffectually at the slimy, voracious creature.
"Save your pussiant-ness master wizard. I have no doubt we shall have need of it before we are done. This is just a little,... insect trouble. Nothing a good flyswatter can't handle. Unless you happen to have a 'Summon Salt' spell at your disposal?" "No? Alas. This shall have to suffice then!" Cernan says as he steps forward in a passable warrior's crouch and batters at the revolting insect with his own battered blade.
"Back you infernal insect! Cernan has had quite enough of the likes of you for one day!" The cleric cries as he batters ineffectively at the slimy maggot.
"Ah-hah. Be right back folks. Nothing to worry about. Just a little pest control problem." Cernan says as he moves away from the wounded and skips lightly over the rubble to stand next to Kipka.
"Excuse me miss Kipka. Can't allow you to hog all the fun!" The heaven-touched says with a grin as he tugs out his damaged rapier. With a swift, forlorn glance at the poor battered blade he assumes a guard stance. One hand holding his bent rapier pointing towards the nasty creatures, his other holding his ever-present mug and buckler.
"Now, lets get you tended to. Nice work there Willow, But let ol' Cernan show you how it's done!" The cleric declares as he reclaims his mug from the blinded elf and finishes the last of the wine himself. "Caydean be praised for his many blessings this fine day! Not the least of which is our lives!" Cernan calls, holding aloft his silver mug, which gleams in the golden light from Cernan's Ego. Er,... head. "Now we ask your blessings once more, to heal the worst of these wounds these good people bear. Having earned their wounds in glorious battle against battle against your most fell foes we,... What was that?!?" Cernan is interrupted mid-speal by Hiro's powerful, if girly, battle cry. ;)
"Hah! Well said Miss Willow! Cernan couldn't agree more! Now let's have no more of that kind of talk! Caydean has plenty of blessings for all! Here, drink this, and let us work." he says, pressing his battered silver mug into the elvish wizard's hands. The smell rising from the cup is that of strong, red wine. "You DO realize of course, that you shall have such a tale to tell as has never been told!" Cernan continues as he gently examines the man's burned face, seeing how Willow's spell restores him, and then preparing to call upon Caydean for a healing spell of his own. "Think about it! YOU have withstood an attack, not from just any demon mind you. YOU have taken a lash from the whip of the Storm Lord himself! And lived! After this, You should fear nothing! Think about it. What are they going to do to you? Threaten you with a lesser demon? Another lashing? Hah!" Cernan's bark of laughter bursts through the cave. "'Been there, done that'! Tell them to send someone scary next time! When you get to hades You tell 'em that Ol' Cernan and,... (What was your name again?) You tell 'em WE sent you! And don't come back!" Cernan chuckles at his own wit, or possibly the sound of his own voice, as he works on the injured elf.
After Making certain that the woman will not be crushed, again, and is clear Cernan grunts "Back, NOW!" and steps back from the rock. He covers his face (Temporarily dimming the light) to protect himself from the dust the rock kicks back up. Seeing that Willow has the woman's injuries under control (within the limits of the circumstances) Cernan gives the Artist a respectful nod. "Excellent Willow. I haven't seen anyone with a finer touch in years." he says without his usual bluster. "Your in good hands my dear. Here, have a sip for the pain." He offers his mug to the injured archer, and she finds it is filled with strong brandywine. Encouraging her to finish the entire cup, gets back up. "I'll see to the others." he says, retrieving his now-empty cup and making his way to the injured wizard. His growth spell now expired, he is much more nimble moving across the debris. He glances at Kipka, making sure that she doesn't have any other 'company' from her new-found experiment. "Hiro, would you be so kind as to assist Ms Kipka? I'd rather not have any MORE surprises for one day!" He says cheerfully as he moves to the wizard. "Now then! Let's have a look at you magister!" Cernan says to the wizard, his usual boisterous self once more.
Cernan glowers at the rock, obviously quite unhappy with it's daring to resist his efforts. "I think this may take a more concerted effort. As much as I love a good display of brute force." He grins wanly. "Ionnia, Hiro, and Willow, If you would be so kind as to all step over to this side of the rock and lift on my cue. Kipka, as we lift can you slide in some of these smaller stones underneath it? To prevent it rolling back? We need not lift the entire mountain and throw it into the sea, we need only tilt enough to free the ladies leg. A little to the left Hiro, thank you. Ionnia next to me, there. Everyone ready?"
"Ready, steady, GO!" Cernan cries boisterously, lifting with all his might.
The Enlarged Priest's feet slip a little more in the rubble, then find purchase and he actually feels as if he might have a decent grip on the thing,...
"Of course Ionnia! Ready when you are!" The mystically enlarged priest bends over and leans his own armored shoulder against the largest rock pinning the archer. On the paladin's count he grunts manfully. (Not to be outdone by a woman. Even if she IS a fine example of a warrior priest!)
Cernan's boots slip on some of the rubble, and he is unable to move the large boulder any more than Ionnia is. "Well. That simply won't do. Let's try again, shall we?" Cernan says, replanting his feet for another attempt.
Cernan sits the heavyset merchant upright, and pats him on the shoulder. "He's fine! Aren't you my good man?" Cernan replies, his usual bombastic baritone seemingly far too loud in the cavern. The cleric's bluster seems undimmed by the tons of rock around them. "Nothing some clear air and exercise won't cure!" Cernan adds with a final, enthusiastic slap on the merchant's back. "Alas! My best blade!" Cernan cries in despair, recovering his sword from the pile of rocks it is lodged in. It is bent, not broken, And Cernan places the tip on the ground and applies pressure with his boot to the bend in an attempt to straighten it. It straightens a little, but the weapon is certainly far from it usual battle-worthiness until properly repaired. Unable to fit the bent blade into it's scabbard, Cernan tucks it into his belt and returns his attention to the others. Moving with natural grace, the brightly glowing Aasimar clambers over the rubble, following Willow's movements. "Willow, the archer." He says, indicating the woman's obviously trapped legs. "Hold on my dear, help is on the way!" He says cheerfully. Obviously rescuing damsels in distress agrees with him. As he makes his way to the woman he calls over to the elf, "There is light this way my good fellow! Simply turn your head!" He says grinning. Then notices the torn robes on the elf's body, and remembers the whip strike from the Demon Lord. And his smile actually dims. "Actually, you stay right there my good elf! I'll be with you in a moment! First we'll just help out this little lady. Hello there! I hight Cernan Cereznin, Cleric of Caydean, at your service!" He continues brightly as he reaches the archer. "Let's just get you out of here, shall we?" He continues, looking over the pile of rock to see how hard it will be to free her, and trying to ascertain how badly she is injured,...
"Good, Good! Take stock and help the others!" Cernan declares, looking around for survivors himself.
Even the persistently peppy Cernan can only stare in nothing less than unadulterated shock as the Demon strikes the silver dragon down from the skies to crash upon the temple. As the once gleaming symbol and last hope for shelter lies crumbling before him, a single tear makes it way down the Aasimar's dust covered face. Ignoring the disturbingly human-faced demon-spawn before him, Cernan struggles to rise, to aid the mighty silver dragon, to save the people that just moments ago were sheltered within the temple, to distract the demon, to do ANYTHING to stop the flow of nightmare images unfolding before him! "Hey! Fang-Face! Try picking on someone your own size!" He shouts, hoping to distract the terror if for only a second. But his shouts go unheard in the tumult, drowned out by the cries of fear washing across the once great city like an ocean wave, and by the bellowed boasts of the Balor Lord. As the demon stomps upon the ground, causing it to open a chasm almost directly under them, Cernan instinctively lets go of his sword, which immediately shrinks to normal size and is lost to sight in the cascade of dust, debris and bodies sliding into the dark hole, and reaches for anyone and everyone he can, bringing them into his Large sheltering embrace and using his own body to protect them from the plummet he realizes there is now no avoiding,...
The last sight the cleric sees is Hiro, somehow still standing upright, and holding a child protectively next to him, Facing the demon lord seemingly as calmly as the warrior might face a would be pick-pocket. Then he slides into the darkness, curling protectively around the one person he managed to grab. He hears the silver dragon's stentorian bellow, ringing with authority and defiance, and Cernan's plummet becomes a gentle drifting. As he gently settles upon the ground in the darkness below, he can feel the rubble even through his armor. He releases the individual he had grabbed as they fell, and lies there for a moment, his mind refusing to accept what he has just witnessed with his own eyes. It is Willow's surprisingly chipper voice that snaps him out of his reverie. 'Enough of this! I can contemplate the spiritual ramifications later. Right now there's people to help. And I'm just the one to do it!' Cernan carefully makes his way to his knees, (which currently still puts him at a normal person's height) and speaks in a language which sounds melodic, hopeful and authoritative all at once.
Spoiler:
"Let there be light!" And light springs into existence, a warm, golden light as bright as daylight. It emanates from the top of Cernan's head.
"Caydean will light the way! And Cernan will be your guide!" The enlarged cleric declares in his best worship-day preacher voice.
"To me good folk! Call out if you need help! Aid others if you are able!" Cernan declares with an amazing combination of warmth and authority.
"Oh that sounds great! Count me in!" Cernan says from his prone position, still SMILING at the horrid person-faced demon-thing.
Cernan, propped up on one elbow still facing the maggot-demon-spawn, reacts as if to someone speaking to him. "Don't bite off more than you can ch-EEEWWWWW!!" He finishes with a bellow of disgust as the maggot-thing belches nastily upon him.
He manages to duck his head behind his enlarged buckler, avoiding the worst of the nasty-blast. "Really. And people say I have disturbing habits?!?!?" He barks as he stabs out with his Large Rapier once more, not bothering to try and get up first.
His attack swinging wide, it looks more like an attempt to warn the nasty-bug-thing off than an actual attempt to fight. Seeing the maggot-thing rear back for it's own attack, Cernan grins, waggles his eyebrows, and a GLEAM shines briefly from his teeth,...
From his taller-than-normal-height, it seems to Cernan's hyper-active-battle-frenzied mind that he is taking a duecedly long time to fall. "Faith I have in abundance little Willow." Cernan calls out as he topples in a most undignified manner. "What Cernan fears is a lack of respect from the little demon-@$$#@^^$,...D@#N!" He bellows as he falls, finally, heavily to the ground,...
Cernan swings with all of the might behind his enlarged size at the creepy creature,...
And THEN the force of his swing at his unaccustomed size, and the uncooperative ground, cause him to tumble,...
"HOLD it right there WORM-in!" Cernan bellows, pointing his sword at the closest trio of disturbing creatures. "I'm afraid they aren't on the menu! But you can try ME on for size!" He somehow manages to be both large, bellowing, and cheerfully flippant as he stomps his way towards them.
"WHOOPS! HEADS UP!"
Staring, his wide eyes never leaving the sight of the Silver dragon and the Storm King clashing above them, Cernan takes a sip from his holy symbol. Then a much larger gulp. He then holds his holy symbol aloft once more, and begins intoning his own chant. It sounds oddly similar to Willow's spell, but has the intonation of being a plea for assistance, as opposed to being a command to reshape arcane energy. Cernan begins to grow at about the same time Ionnia does, and accidentally bumps her as they enlarge to nearly twice the size of normal humanoids. "Oops. Excuse Me my Dear." Cernan grins at Ionnia with a broad wink. His eyebrows waggle slightly as he appreciates the paladin's figure from a new perspective. Tossing the also-larger-than-life Lord Hulrune a jaunty salute with his mug, Cernan stretches out, getting used to his new size. "AH, that's more like it! NOW we can get this party started!" He says, his voice now able to be heard above the din of destruction going on above and around them. He motions for those commoners around him (and hopefully befitting from his Blessing and not in a total panic) to get behind him and Ionnia, towards the temple. "Into the temple you lot. This is not going be a safe place to be standing very shortly." [b]"Come foulspawn! Cernan brings you Greetings from Caydean! Come and let me give it to you properly!" He bellows towards the approaching cloud, brandishing his sword.
Cernan's Smile never falters as he endures the faint, last -minute jostling of the crowd as the expectant hush falls over them. It's only fair after the last few minutes of jostling they delivered after all. He holds up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun when the aged holy warrior steps onto the stage. (Sunlight on metallic skin is BRIGHT in one's eyes, as well as the eyes of others.) Cernan gets a puzzled look on his face as he notices the reflection from his upraised hand is a dirty red, not bright white. Then the retort from behind hits his ears like a hammerblow. He turns like everyone else in the crowd, gaping like a fish out of water. Or a tourist. "Caydean's Cup,..." He mutters, as unable, or unwilling, to accept what his eyes see as everyone else. The Voice of Willow, (calling out amazingly sound strategy) and the firm if stuttering commands of Ionnia cause him to blink, snapping him out of it. The rasp of his longsword clearing its scabbard rings out slow and sharp over the crowds collective preparation to scream. "You heard the Lady! F-O-O-O-R-M R-A-A-A-N-K-S!" The cleric bellows in his best Holy Day Sermon Delivery voice.
"We are the Fighters of Freedom! We are the Warriors of Virtue! You have prepared for this! They shall come, and we shall meet them! Protect the Folk! Defend your friends and neighbors! Stand Fast! Hold Firm your Faith! For Iommedia! For Shelyn! For Desna! For Cernan! FOR GLORY!" Cernan hold aloft his worn but exquisitely crafted holy symbol, then takes a swig from it.
Upon holding his cup aloft, again, there is a flash of light that is more felt than seen, and all those nearby feel calmer, emboldened by the Cleric's Blessing of Caydean.
Cernan swaggers after the gnome, his skin, hair and teeth gleaming in the surprising amount of sunlight on the joyous occasion. Any accidental elbow or collision in the crowd he follows with a heartfelt slap on the back and wink or a grin. But he weaves through the crowd with a sense of purpose, and between the gnomes bustling shouts, Ionnia's large shield, and his own gleaming appearance, the crowd parts for the small group with reluctant deference. "Nice place. You know, when not repelling demon hordes,..." He says cheerfully to the now-stranded baker's apprentice as he passes.
Managing not too look TOO smug, Cernan nods happily. "Cernan has yet to meet an opponent truly worthy of fear. Besides, Caydean frowns upon cowardice. Although a healthy respect of another's battle prowess and consideration of one's own well-being is highly encouraged." Cernan replies matter of factly. "And a quick swig merely helps to settle one's nerves!" he adds with a gleaming grin.
"It's good enough for me, Ionnia replies. Frowning a bit, she adds, "I just hope the Iomedaeans won't think Hiro's story means he's a witch or something. According to Kaseyennia, the Kenabrans have been much too quick to see demonic influences, and much too keen to burn those influences out without asking questions first." She shakes herself, as if wishing to physically rid herself of the notion. "But I'm sure those tales are exaggerated. Surely the queen wouldn't let a lord remain in power if they were true." Cernan Tut-tuts. "Cernan is certain there is nothing to fear. I'm sure that there are a few who get, overenthusiastic, about their duties. But surely those who watch over a city such as this do not jump to conclusions like commoners at shadows." Cernan says brightly.
"Audience with the leaders?" Cernan even looks surprised at the possibility. But just for a moment. "Of course my dear lady! Cernan would not dream of making you look foolish!" The Assimar declares. (Apparently oblivious to the thoughts the others may have about that statement.) "A meeting with the heads of the city. Exactly what Cernan needs. I cannot thank you enough! Already this is turning out to be the best Armasse day ever!" Cernan says brightly, getting up to follow the others. "Come along Hero! Let us get you your audience. Then we can go on to our separate destinies!"
Cernan arches a thin eyebrow at the lady's bow. With none of his usual verbosity he rises to return the bow. Cernan's bow is lower than the woman's, but not nearly as low as court hierarchy would require him to do. His response is not meant to be insulting, but rather an acknowledgement of the woman's position, while serving sly notice that he doesn't really pay attention to such things. "Champion? Well, I don't usually refer to myself as such, but thank you." He replies, clearly enjoying the title. "Fortune Reading?" He asks, looking with interest from Hiro, to Willow and the others. Hiro's interest is unmistakable. And somewhat contagious. "Very well, if you insist. I accept your offer." Cernan says cheerfully. It is clear that he is skeptical, although with the woman's references to Iommedia he suspects that she may be priestess of some sort. With another heaping forkful of food he settles back to watch the Fortune reading with interest.
"Yes please." Cernan replies instantly, then winks at Willow. "Well, maybe later. No lasting harm done there I think." He waves in the general direction of the departed former Arguees. "What is this Ker...Kerrfuff...Kerrfluffyel? I am not familiar with this word." Hiro asks, continuing to pour tea for everyone at the table. Cernan laughs loud and boisterously, but good-naturedly, at Hiro's question. He DOES manage to restrain himself before slapping the smaller man on the back and spoiling his pouring of the tea. "I should think not! Considering our friend here just made it up!" He explains, still chortling.
"Hah! 'Kerfuffle', Good one! Nothing much really. Just an overzealous crusader taking offense at the probably well-intentioned if obviously ill-conceived marketing strategy of a would-be potion-peddler. Just High spirits looking for an outlet on this fine day!" He says, automatically raising his mug once more at the mention of 'Spirits'. "Hm, "Mistress of Ceremonies', I like that!" Cernan continues boisterously. However his keen eyes take note of the precise way that his new 'friend' Hiro pours the tea and moves the cup.
Cernan stands and smiles as the Crusader explains her views clearly and loudly. He waits until he is certain that she is done, then opens his mouth,... only to be a beat behind Ionnia. He looks confused for a moment, clearly not used to others speaking before him. (Or just never got used to the idea at any rate.) So that by the time he is ready to speak, again, the situation has been defused. With the Clearly non- recalcitrant peddler going one way, and the irate crusader moving another. "Yes! Excellent! So glad we could solve this amicably! Glad I could help! Blessed Armasse day to you all!" He declares cheerfully to the crusaders, winking at the woman if she looks his way as they depart. If not, he shrugs his shoulders and turns back to the others. "See? no one really wants trouble on such a fine day. They just needed a little help in channeling their enthusiasm." He grins. He makes his way back to their table and rejoins everyone. It is only after he has seated, drunk half his drink in one long pull, and helped himself to a handful of food that he realizes there is an extra person in their little group. "Hello there! Where did you come from?" He asks grinning broadly. "I hight Cernan Cereznin, Cleric of Caydean, at your service!" He says, saluting the older woman with his earthenware mug the drink was brought in.
Cernan stands, his teeth gleaming in the pallid sunlight, his fists on his hips, smiling at the female crusader as if expecting her to swoon at any moment.
Cernan stands there before the female crusader, hands on hips, feet apart, smile (and skin) gleaming, waiting for her to respond. Or swoon before his obvious awesomeness. Whichever comes first.
Unconcerned with whether the others have joined him or not, (Or simply unaware) Cernan steps firmly and evenly towards the primary commotion-maker. As he draws closer, his usual smile winds its way back onto his face. "Hail and well met good Crusader!" He begins, his voice loud and clear and meant to be heard. It is the volume of self-confidence and authority, and not the screeching cry of a street vendor or trouble maker. "Pray goodwoman, tell Cernan what troubles you so this fine Armasse day? For verily Cernan did hear your cries across yon street, and in such a voice! Obviously such a fine woman as yourself is far more used to raising her voice in merriment or cheer than in the sour notes I do hear! Fear not! For Cernan has heard your cries for assistance, and is here to give what aid the damsel may require!" He finishes with a sweeping bow.
A couple of the crowd surrounding the vendor chuckle, having caught the intertwining of flattery, compliments and subtle insults woven into Cernan's tapestry of words.
"Oy. Now THAT'S not nice!" Cernan says with a furrowed brow, after hearing the latest declaration from across the street. His tone is,... dark. As opposed to his seemingly perpetual good cheer. "I think I'll just have word with the good crusader. Shyster or not, there's no need to go ruining a perfectly good Armasse day by throwing around dangerous accusations like that. Excuse me." Cerna gets up from the bench and starts walking calmly towards the excitable group. He is halfway across the street before you realize that he didn't refer to himself in the third person. Not once.
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