Lured Into Darkness
Theron quickly picks and moves to a spot immediately next to the half-orc, his own chain mail jingling as much, if not more than the large warrior's. "I believe I am in the same position as Karon. That, and if there's any need for a cleric, it will most likely be in the center of the group", he reasons, his gauntlet-clad hand balling into a fist, one segmented finger after another, its steel clinking quietly.
Before the march forward begins, he unslings his shield from his back, strapping it to his left arm. With his remaining, gauntleted hand, he pulls out some beef jerky from among his rations and begins to chew on it methodically as he walks alongside his companions across the marshy land. His eyes dart from the damp ground to the horizon, from left to right and, with quick glances, up to the sky before returning to what's beneath his booted feet again.
Quite aware of his inability to keep his steps quiet, he calls over to the half-orc in a tone hushed enough not to be considered loud, but audible enough to carry the distance that separates them. "So, you have seen these lizard-folk before? Can they really speak and understand us? What I have heard about them is little, and focused on their beastly aspects...", his voice trails off, but he quickly catches himself. He looks forward more attentively as he speaks his next line in a quieter, somber voice. "I suppose I should refrain from passing judgment before seeing them for myself, shouldn't I."