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Over the course of the journey back to the camp, you find yourself walking alongside Schni. You didn’t know any members of this band well, but Schni especially was an enigma to you. Even as lethal as she was, compared to the others, she seemed out of place. There was a casual-ness about their violence that she seemed to lack …
“Joseph, you’re staring at me. Is something wrong?” Schni asks.
“No, I was just thinking!” You quickly answer. “Would you mind if I asked you something?”
“Depends.” Schni says, her voice assuming a more guarded and prickly tone. “What are you asking?”
“It almost seems … if you don’t like killing.” You say.
“Ah, is that so?” Schni relaxes slightly. “I don’t.”
“Strange for a sellsword.” You point out.
“True, but a knife doesn’t choose to be sharpened.” Schni replies.
“I don’t understand what you mean by that.” You say.
“Perhaps someday you will.” Schni tersely replies.
You think on Schni’s words for a few seconds. “Are you saying you didn’t choose to be a sellsword?”
“No, that I chose.”
“... So you didn’t choose to learn how to use your knife?” You take Schni’s silence as a yes.
<span class="mu-i">Why didn’t you just learn how to live another way?</span> You almost ask. But you stop yourself. It was a stupid question to ask. Other than the life of a sellsword, you only knew your one trade, butchery. And you wouldn’t call yourself an especially skilled sellsword. The truth was, this world wasn’t a kind enough one where a young girl would have her pic of mentors to teach her a peaceful trade.
>Where did you learn to use a knife then? (Charisma check)
>You seem to dislike killing, but I don’t see you frowning in battle.
>What do you think of the rest of the Band then? They chose to be killers.
>You won’t say any more. You think you’ve learned enough for today.
>Write-in