Neverwinter Forest Welcome to Downtown Coolsville! Population: us.

"Frankly I don't think we even got each other's names," though it was just as likely he too had forgotten. You could only meet so many people before something about them decided to slip between your paws, like a trout or a slug or a couple folk he knew. Anyway. "Tuathal Blackthorn. Not usually one to drop my family name but from the air of things I reckon you've heard the name before."

There was something easy in Mal's demeanour, and a sense Tuathal got from his approach to this recruit, that he wouldn't be too tough a guy to listen to. "I like to think I've got survival down pat," he shrugged, "and I come from a big family, so I know well enough how to carry my weight." It seemed a pretty sealed deal, then. And if Mal wanted more, Tuathal would give what he asked. He knew how to hunt, to fight, not so much to negotiate or counsel, but against the elements, and in a winter like this, how much did the arts impress?