Edit History

To anyone that knew Cal's past (which was a fair number of the assembled Hunters; he didn't advertise it but word got around), it was probably not exactly surprising that the young man - never exactly the most jovial of individuals to begin with - had had a certain...focus...since arriving in the Guild Hall.  He'd nodded to some of the other Hunters he knew from prior adventures, but beyond that hadn't really interacted with any of them.  Someone he barely knew, in what might have been an attempt at sympathy, had pressed a bottle of strong rotgut alcohol into his hand, and he was halfway through the bottle already.

 

Not being able to get drunk was another 'gift' from his Beholder creator.

 

The first time his expression changed from anything but a dark scowl was when the Guildmaster called his name.  And for a few moments he grinned, a vicious, malevolent smirk that promised violence.  He schooled his face back to a neutral demeanour by the time he was in the Guildmaster's office, though, helped by wrapping his scarf around his mouth.

 

He didn't sit down.  This was the first time he'd ever truly spoken to the Guildmaster, and certainly the first time he'd ever been directly assigned a mission from her.  The decision about whether he was allowed into the Guild or whether he was to be wiped out like the abomination he was had been hers in the end, and he'd made something of an effort to avoid her ever since he found out.  He knew he wasn't the most charming of individuals and had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way, and irritating someone who literally held your life in her hands didn't seem like a good plan.

 

So instead he made what might have been an attempt to stand at attention, the one eye that wasn't hidden behind his eyepatch (unlike the Guildmaster, his other eye did function, it was just that focusing on a point with both eyes brought his powers out at full force and despite all his efforts he'd never managed to suppress that particular effect) flicking between the nobleman and Guildmaster as they spoke.

 

His expression didn't change when Hardblade handed him Master Erebaun's weapon.  On the one hand, he realised what an honour it was to be given the personal weapon of one of the Guild's Masters.  On the other...Figures. Of course I'm the one who doesn't get a good weapon.

 

But he couldn't help but give a small smile as the Guildmaster related Master Erebaun's words. "I will," he said aloud, quietly.

 

After a moment, he returned to business.  "One week's sail to get there.  We have two to three weeks." He was more musing to himself. "I'm guessing the ideal situation would be for us to resolve this before you even set off? Even just the preparations are going to tie the navy up, aren't they?"

 

To anyone that knew Cal's past (which was a fair number of the assembled Hunters; he didn't advertise it but word got around), it was probably not exactly surprising that the young man - never exactly the most jovial of individuals to begin with - had had a certain...focus...since arriving in the Guild Hall.  He'd nodded to some of the other Hunters he knew from prior adventures, but beyond that hadn't really interacted with any of them.  Someone he barely knew, in what might have been an attempt at sympathy, had pressed a bottle of strong rotgut alcohol into his hand, and he was halfway through the bottle already.

 

Not being able to get drunk was another 'gift' from his Beholder creator.

 

The first time his expression changed from anything but a dark scowl was when the Guildmaster called his name.  And for a few moments he grinned, a vicious, malevolent smirk that promised violence.  He schooled his face back to a neutral demeanour by the time he was in the Guildmaster's office, though, helped by wrapping his scarf around his mouth.

 

He didn't sit down.  This was the first time he'd ever truly spoken to the Guildmaster, and certainly the first time he'd ever been directly assigned a mission from her.  The decision about whether he was allowed into the Guild or whether he was to be wiped out like the abomination he was had been hers in the end, and he'd made something of an effort to avoid her ever since he found out.  He knew he wasn't the most charming of individuals and had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way, and irritating someone who literally held your life in her hands didn't seem like a good plan.

 

So instead he made what might have been an attempt to stand at attention, the one eye that wasn't hidden behind his eyepatch (unlike the Guildmaster, his other eye did function, it was just that focusing on a point with both eyes brought his powers out at full force and despite all his efforts he'd never managed to suppress that particular effect) flicking between the nobleman and Guildmaster as they spoke.

 

His expression didn't change when Hardblade handed him Master Erebaun's weapon.  On the one hand, he realised what an honour it was to be given the personal weapon of one of the Guild's Masters.  On the other...Figures. Of course I'm the one who doesn't get a good weapon.

 

But he couldn't help but give a small smile as the Guildmaster related Master Erebaun's words. "I will," he said aloud, quietly.

 

After a moment, he returned to business.  "One week's sail to get there.  We have two to three weeks." He was more musing to himself. "I'm guessing the ideal situation would be for us to resolve this before you even set off? Even just the preparations are going to tie the navy up, aren't they?"