Book One, Chapter Four, Post Twenty-One

Seeing Flynn clearly looks like he can handle himself in a fight but lacks a real weapon, Roland approaches the man. "You look like you know how to swing a sword. Truth be told I'm teaching myself to use this." He gestures with the scabbarded longsword in his right hand, "But I don't quite have the hang of it, and I feel you will get better use of it than I if there is trouble tonight. Just… try not to break it. I would really like it back." The way he says the last part implies that it has more value to Roland than just being a sword.

Flynn takes the offered blade and tests the weight in his hand. Satisfied, he slides if through his belt to keep his hands free.  "I thank you, lad." He glances and frowns at Roland, recognizing him from the manor. "That fire of yours is a dangerous toy. I don't take kindly to being set in fire."

Roland ignores this comment and instead  begins speaking to the rest of the party, loud enough they can hear him, but otherwise trying to keep his voice down. "Clearly someone doesn't want the High Lord's plans to succeed. And if what various members of this group have found so far are anything to go by, whoever is working against him are quite an unsavory bunch." He pauses briefly, seemingly uncertain, before continuing, earnestly and with growing confidence. "I can't speak for the rest of you, but I've had more than my share of trouble lately and have still never seen anything like that attack. Yet, I also feel like we must do something about it, almost like we were all gathered there for a reason. And even if, as is likely, that is foolish self-aggrandizing on my part, it's still the right thing to do. I appreciate that all of you are willing to offer aid as well, as is Lady Arabella, and I'm sure the High Lord will as well when we wake him.

Terrence joins the cheer. “You had me at ‘Clearly someone doesn't want the High Lord's plans to succeed.’ Let's slice up some villains!”

Flynn looks at Terrence. "Let's not start a fight we don't need to. Apothecary said we need to trade a favor for the cure. If you owe her one, then we get we want without loosing our blades."

"I meant slice them up metaphorically. With our repartee. Is my breath okay? I threw up a lot recently."  Terrence breathes into cupped hand then inhales through his nose, trying to test for odor.