Roland

Roland's shoulders slump as Verglas makes her remarks and flies off in her new skin. Seems the Firekeeper was busy elsewhere today. Roland's head hurt and grinding his teeth together didn't seem to be helping any. He throws his cloak over his shoulder and turns to Maxis.

"Easy there, lass. Easy," Roland says, holding his hands out in front of him, palms out. "That's the wrong tool for the job if I've ever seen one. A hammer's for pounding good iron and bad people. If you want to hit something, I understand. If you want to punish her, I get that too; the gods know my ancestors slaved in the fields back when the world was still green. But that child down there," Roland continues, pointing to where Verglas is floating down to the wreckage, "she's not one of the Oppressors. She's just a stupid little girl dressed up like one. Firekeeper help me, my brothers and I used to play 'Heroes and Elves' back when we were knee-high and didn't know any better. That's all she is Maxis. A fool-child that doesn't know any better." Roland takes half a step closer, eyebrows raised as he looks for any sign that his words are having an impact.

"Maybe we could teach her, yeah? You and me? With words, I mean. I've known some folk to respond better to words than hammers," Roland says, forcing a tight half-smile. “In the meantime, what say we grab whatever’s left of that gear I dumped all over the mountain? When it starts getting cold later tonight, might be you’d rather hit me with that hammer than her.”