The Goliath, sprawled out in the back of the cart, half hanging off as it were, grunted as he shifted to try and get more comfortable. Whether it was out of effort or out of the zealot's words would be unknown, as he had hardly spoken two words to those he now traveled with.

While the strange female and unusual male had helped to stabilize and heal him following his encounter with a Dire Wolf somewhere far in the wilds, he was less-than personable. At least, as far as the pair could make out at the moment.

As they traveled, the half-giant, who only gave the name "Stormcaller", fiddled with a javelin as though it were nothing more than a stick. The warhammer he carried with him had been settled beside him, and the shortbow and quiver propped up against it. Given his physique, even though he was nearly falling off, it would seem, he took up about half of the cart in his current position. Reinforcing his less-than amiable demeanor, he did not apologize or otherwise suggest that he was concerned that he was taking up so much room.

Laying back, fingers interlaced behind this head, cradling it on the bed of the cart, he gazed at the clear sky...