The fist fighter's announcement didn't move Tony, it only made him more suspicious. The only thing more suspect than a nutjob was a magic nutjob. Not that the girl (If he could say that; magic always made things weird) was necessarily insane or magical, but talking about dead people and demons tended to point towards insanity, and there was a good chance that magic was also involved. But he could accept that she might believe that she could hear the voice of the dead demon lord, he'd met plenty of people say that they could hear dead people, so that didn't bother him. If she was telling the truth, that would be bother him a lot, but that remained to be seen.
There was still something that bothered him, however, and that was his prospective teammates. One of the problems was that he could count the humans on one hand, and even then he wasn't sure they really were human. There was the fist fighter, the young knight, the man that introduced himself as Jason, and the crying girl. But with the presence of the spear wielding demon, that opened the situation up for all sorts of trouble. Any or all of the humans he'd counted could be demons, crafty lot as they were. The only one he could actually count on not being a demon was a lizard man, but that wasn't saying much.
Many people had an immense hatred of demons, and although Tony was not amongst those numbers, he'd lost a fair few friends fighting the demonic hordes. This gave him a slightly negative disposition to them, but that wasn't the main problem. The main problem with the group were that they were just eating this up! For all the things the demons had done to his fellow soldiers he at least believed they were realistic or cynical enough to not just believe some random possibly insane stranger who claims that they're talking to their dead leader. Tony himself wasn't exactly one to mind either but half his regiment didn't give their lives so humanity's last hope could follow the first random guy (or girl) who claimed to have a way to beat the tyrant. He wasn't against the idea, he too didn't have any options, but he was starting to get annoyed that no one pointed out the absurdity of this situation.
Tony stepped out of the shadows to where the group had begun congregating.
"Well look at the sorry lot we have gathered here." He said, walking confidently forward.
He took a moment to look around at the misfits gathered together. A demon that fired beams and various assorted persons of varying degrees of scruffiness. This was the group of misfits he expected. Well, he wasn't quite expecting demons but he hadn't been planning for any worse.
"I'm all for following a random stranger on an adventure and off a cliff or wherever it is you're supposed to go," He announced. "But I'm not biting the hook just yet."
He began slowly walking towards the monk girl, taking long, measured strides.
"I don't know about the rest of you," He continued, eyeing everyone in the group. "But when some nutjob starts telling me she can see the spirit of a dead schlub, I start turning the other way."
He stopped just in front of the girl and crosses his arms, staring resolutely into her eyes.
"So you're telling me that you're channeling the spirit of a dead man." He began. "When the only dead men I see are these god forsaken rotting abominations."
He gestured at the shuffling zombies pointedly and recrossed his arms.
"So I'm going to have to ask you to tell me again; why exactly should we trust what you're saying?" He continued. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't have any qualifications to call the shots around here."
There was still something that bothered him, however, and that was his prospective teammates. One of the problems was that he could count the humans on one hand, and even then he wasn't sure they really were human. There was the fist fighter, the young knight, the man that introduced himself as Jason, and the crying girl. But with the presence of the spear wielding demon, that opened the situation up for all sorts of trouble. Any or all of the humans he'd counted could be demons, crafty lot as they were. The only one he could actually count on not being a demon was a lizard man, but that wasn't saying much.
Many people had an immense hatred of demons, and although Tony was not amongst those numbers, he'd lost a fair few friends fighting the demonic hordes. This gave him a slightly negative disposition to them, but that wasn't the main problem. The main problem with the group were that they were just eating this up! For all the things the demons had done to his fellow soldiers he at least believed they were realistic or cynical enough to not just believe some random possibly insane stranger who claims that they're talking to their dead leader. Tony himself wasn't exactly one to mind either but half his regiment didn't give their lives so humanity's last hope could follow the first random guy (or girl) who claimed to have a way to beat the tyrant. He wasn't against the idea, he too didn't have any options, but he was starting to get annoyed that no one pointed out the absurdity of this situation.
Tony stepped out of the shadows to where the group had begun congregating.
"Well look at the sorry lot we have gathered here." He said, walking confidently forward.
He took a moment to look around at the misfits gathered together. A demon that fired beams and various assorted persons of varying degrees of scruffiness. This was the group of misfits he expected. Well, he wasn't quite expecting demons but he hadn't been planning for any worse.
"I'm all for following a random stranger on an adventure and off a cliff or wherever it is you're supposed to go," He announced. "But I'm not biting the hook just yet."
He began slowly walking towards the monk girl, taking long, measured strides.
"I don't know about the rest of you," He continued, eyeing everyone in the group. "But when some nutjob starts telling me she can see the spirit of a dead schlub, I start turning the other way."
He stopped just in front of the girl and crosses his arms, staring resolutely into her eyes.
"So you're telling me that you're channeling the spirit of a dead man." He began. "When the only dead men I see are these god forsaken rotting abominations."
He gestured at the shuffling zombies pointedly and recrossed his arms.
"So I'm going to have to ask you to tell me again; why exactly should we trust what you're saying?" He continued. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't have any qualifications to call the shots around here."