Haserus watched as the Breton rose to confront him. He watched as he gave a speech, a speech that would surely ignite emotions around the room. He couldn't help but smirk. So the bloke was undead, a man whom had died centuries ago. Was he supposed to be frightened, intimidated? He held eye contact throughout, his brow furrowed as his gaze met Valerions. This guy thought himself to be something special, something unique. Nothing Haserus hadn't seen before. He had fought the undead, his presence had resulted in their final resting place, the ground that they stood upon when facing his legend.
You see, Haserus cared little for rousing speeches, he cared little for what others thought of him. By how the Breton reacted, he could presume he knew of his legend, despite how little the man may think of it. He straightened up, his pectorals tensing. He released his grip from his sword. Although he wasn't shocked, he considered it extremely unlikely that somebody would actually confront him on what he said. He released his grip, smiling, when somebody else rose.
"Enough! This one doesn't care if you think we are babies with straw dolls, and this one does care if you are some soul-sucking undead spellcaster! This one is ready for both of you to sit down, and for the sake of the Divines quite your senseless rambling. We are all here to fight, we are all here to work together, and we are all here to put an end to the Dragons. The Greybeards and the Blades will lead us. We will coordinate as a team. The Dragons may have one individual leader, but even he would have a the Dragons hunt together. This is not some nordic Bard's tale of fabled legend where adventurers come to garner great fame and honor..."
Haserus stared at him, listening intently. He took the words in, and they rushed about his head wildly. This was someone who was ready to work as a team, it reminded him of his companions of old. The ways he referenced everybody as a team, the way he made the team sound like a unit, not a band of people who had randomly arrived. Haserus stared him in the eyes, he spoke like a true warrior. He did not confront him directly, but he spoke to the group as a whole. The more he took in how this creature spoke, the more he actually felt inclined to listen.
"We are here, to Survive!"
Haserus smiled, then he openly laughed.
"That is very true," He spoke, nodding his head respectfully, "However, I must address another issue."
He turned to face Valerion, whom had confronted him seconds before the species of Cathay had opened its mouth. He smirked, staring directly at the Breton.
"You say you are undead, however, if you are indeed undead, then you have died once before." Haserus smiled, his gaze not faltering, "The issue I have here, is that if you have died, you are indeed killable. You see, people!" He turned to look at the others, arms outstretched, "You may listen to the person whom has already died, or you can listen to a man who has slain many undead before him!"
After the sentence he paused purposely to stare Valerion coldly in the eyes. This person did not intimidate him, not remotely. If he had been killed once, it proved he could be defeated.
"I called you misfits, yes I did. However, there is one pure, simplified reason for this. We will not fight in union. What use is a shield wall if you cannot count on the person beside you to hold it? Nothing! Now, I may not have proven anything to any of you, that is of course in person, yet I will happily oblige to do so."
Haserus smiled, stepping back towards the door.
"I fully believe in what the cat man spoke of, however, to prove myself, why don't I and this... Undead... Step outside for a true test?"
As he spoke, he stared at Valerion coldly, his fingers toying with the grip of his sword. He was not one to be confronted, nor was he one to be made a mockery of. This thing may have lived for over two centuries, but his speech had proven himself killable.
"Or is he afraid?" Haserus finished, his chest puffing out as his eyes faltered not from Valerions.