Gavlan knew not what to think of his new found companions; most of them being quite outlandish, or highly influential figures, Gavlan felt a little out of place as a Templar who had spent most of his life in complete solitude as a ranger, warding the roadsides and keeping the country safe. For the most part, most of his jobs had been low key, at least from his perspective. He had been a determining factor in the long waged Giant Wars that had struck the Northern regions many cycles ago, but, of course, it was a footnote in the history of Miras, and he hardly remembered the details, himself. He could never admit to his superiors in the Order that he had been, for lack of better words, completely piss drunk during a number of high priority engagements with the giants, as this would have, without a doubt, severed his ties with them immediately. As was such, he kept his involvement with most of his major skirmishes to a minimum. Although, this did not stop him from, occasionally, drunkenly and loudly boasting at taverns about his smaller kills where he preformed daring feats that could be, and probably were, impossible. He knew the Order prided themselves on their image, and he did not want to tarnish it out of pure respect, despite not fully agreeing with their policies: specifically, the alcohol related ones. As little as he knew about the finer details of the Order, he owed them his life, for they had given his life purpose when it had none, and, not only that, they had provided him with a steady stream of income. For this, he was eternally grateful towards them, and he provided them with the loyalty that only a Dwarf could muster, and, with his unquenchable lust for battle, he was sure sign up for any job available no matter the danger. He would see his life to the bitter end for the sake of the Order, but, as far as he was concerned, he was still due in this world a while longer. With a track record to prove it, along with many scars, no beast or man had yet matched his prowess in battle, and he fully intended for it to continue this way. If there was anything out there that could best him, he had yet to meet it.
As this was such, when Theodore called for volunteers to the front for a mission that even he had deemed as foolhardy, Gavlan had already began marching to the front of the room, gleaming battle axe in hand, before Theodore could even finish his statement. Gavlan, looking at Theodore, could tell that his new captain was thankful. Gavlan had met him the day, before, and, as far as he could tell, this Dwarf was certainly unique. He had known many Dwarves in his lifetime, but this black armored one had a strange aura about him that even he could detect. Although, he was unable to fully determine why, he had taken an, almost, instant liking to Theodore. Looking at the rest of the rag tag bunch that were to be his brothers in arms he could only think that they had a lot of work to do to prove to him that they were worth their weight. He felt a hand on his back, as Theodore patted him roughly, thanking him for joining his mission. Looking over at the aged face of his new friend and captain, Gavlan gave him a nod of approval.
"I don't care what kind of mess we're going into, I'll make sure we get through it alive." Gavlan made this vow to Theodore, and he was going to do everything in his power to uphold his promise.
The day of their excursion came quickly, and Gavlan was none too disappointed to finally be leaving the city, with its cursed walls making him feel boxed in. As far as he was concerned, if Humans wanted to feel like trapped animals, then they could go right ahead and keep that lifestyle up. He had helped Theodore the night before, and had provided him with everything his memory could recollect about the surrounding areas, along with many maps he had drawn over the years. He had also visited about thirteen different taverns in the city with Theodore, subsequently emptying each out with gusto. Gavlan didn't like the constant bar hopping, but if Humans couldn't keep up with the demand of two Dwarves thirsty out for any liquor they could get their grubby mitts on, then they shouldn't have bothered opening that day at all. He could tell that Theodore thought very little of the porter they were demolishing, but he could also tell that Theodore was, at least, happy enough that there was any booze at all. Gavlan had also imparted Theodore with a little warning and rumor about the mines they were to traverse their way through.
"There's a reason those mines were abandoned, Theodore. When more than fifty Dwarves suddenly go missing without so much as a trace, then you know there's something hideous lurking in the darkest pits of that cobwebbed, old path, and if I so much as catch a whiff of it, I'm going to track it down and kill it." The rest of their journey, he was less concerned about. He had maimed and slaughtered countless undead, before, that had wandered far from the master's influence; however, he had never killed a necromancer, before, but, by the earth mother, did he relish the thought of lobbing off their spell slinging hands and shoving his fist down their sourcery weaving throats. Dark magic that could raise the dead was something that he found absolutely repulsive.
Gavlan prepped his brown pony with everything he would need for the journey, which, of course, included a lot of alcohol, and his tried and true battle axe that was shinning fiercely in the Sun's rays, as if to show its excitement, as well. Gavlan then spent all of one second pondering whether he should keep the ropes he was given by Theodore, or to make more room for the whiskey he had bought the previous night. The rope was quickly discarded in favor for the tastier option. "Can't get drunk off rope." Gavlan muttered to himself before taking a long draft from his flask. He then gazed at his burdened, and slightly shabby pony.
"Well, you're not much to look at, ya' mule, but ye'll do fine." Hiking himself over the saddle, he made his way towards the gathering outside the city gates. Carefully steadying himself as to not fall off when his pony halted, it had been a long while since he had rode on horseback, he met with Theodore and provided him with the sufficient maps they would need in order to properly make their journey in a quick manner. Gavlan was unsure as to why Theodore had written Foxfox on one of his maps, but he paid it no mind. Slowly, the other recruits started to pile in, their journey about to commence.
Before they set off, Theodore addressed his company, again, giving everyone a sharp reminder of what their cause was, and what their duties were. With that, he was off, everyone following close behind. Gavlan was proud to see that the Dwarf would hold no objections to his own plan, just as any captain should. The city disappearing into the haze, as Gavlan's pony cantered onward, he reminded himself of the pledge he had given Theodore, and he also allowed the excitement he felt towards the mission to ramp up. Gavlan knew that soon he would be in the thick of swathes of undead, fighting for his country and his brethren. He had a hard time concealing the slight smile that crept over his face, and he knew that his comrades wouldn't understand his love for the chaos of the battlefield like he did, but he couldn't help himself. It had been at least a week since his battle axe had tasted anything except the sweat off his back, and he was more than willing to try and satisfy its unending thirst. Letting himself go and leaning back on his pony laughing heartily, Gavlan shouted,
"First undead we see is mine to send rattling back to its whoreson grave, just so we're all clear!"