"Hey, buddy!"
Holland grunted with effort as he lowered the Ogre from his shoulder, placing it on a relatively flat patch of ground nearby.
He then shook out his slightly aching arm, narrowed his eyes, and took the Iron-Wrapped Oak Shield from his back. Its edges were already covered in new dents and scrapes. He held it steady before him.
His gaze swept back and forth across the three figures radiating an ominous aura, but he spoke in a low, intentionally casual tone.
"Say... if we were to raise our hands right now and tell them we're just passing through, completely uninterested in disturbing their... uh, 'late-night snack'..."
"You think these tentacle-headed gentlemen would be so kind as to let us pass?"
"I'm guessing that's not an option."
Roland's voice sounded from the side, so calm it held no hint of a joke.
He too was staring ahead, his gilded, vertical pupils shining with a particular brilliance in the dim light.
