A bleary-eyed Ismark the Lesser reluctantly meets an overly bright day. Squinting in the light, the large man smoothes his moustache with his left hand. Seeing the other adventurers he nods a silent greeting before watching as the villagers wander back to their homes.
"Well then," he starts in his rough gravely voice. "Are we going to save my sister or not?"
"Well then," he starts in his rough gravely voice. "Are we going to save my sister or not?"