Self consciously gripping his forearms and running his hands through the last wisps of hair on his head Talton speaks stiltedly but with emphatic passion.
We need to get there quick. We need to focus on speed. If I need to ditch my armor—so be it. First, how can we get notice to Veniset? Are there birds we can send mayor?
He looks hard at the portly man.
If we can, or can’t, either way we want to get ahead of the pack. Who is the fastest here? T’Alen how fast can you go? Alma? Lornaal? If we manage to get at least one person ahead we can clear the town and possibly fortify an area.
Talton pauses, looks at Matrim and Sebastian,
Is that the best answer? What if we fortified the church…or another stone building big enough to hold the village’s populous? That would allow us to knock them down in shifts and not be overwhelmed…possibly.
Turning to Alma.
I know we are at odds here…I think you know that I believe in your strength and your perception. You must know that even if I felt I would die…I would have to go.
But know this. I won’t let your soul be tarnished by this rabble: even if I have to rest it from your broken body.
Staring silently to gauge Alma’s reaction he continues.
If we can get them to attack us…rather than us attack them…I can consecrate the ground you stand on: which would prevent your soul from being trapped in living undeath. This I can promise.
Moving quickly to his horse Talton starts throwing any extra weight to the villagers of Tundrein. After unencumbering his horse he mounts the animal and looks to the others.
We must move quick.