[i]The man turned sharply towards the Legion scout, his slightly long and artfully messy, scarlet hair spinning as his head snapped towards the scout. His warm, orange eyes scanned the scout over, and it was understandable that he wasn't exactly the most trusting at the moment; he was just attacked by two different immortals, and was beginning to think that the place was a magnet for the ageless. His orange eyes were narrowed in suspicion at the Legionnaire, his red, titanium gauntlet gripping the grip of his seven foot long, crimson greatsword tightly. The greatsword was drenched in still-dripping blood, falling on the dirt path with a soft "pitter, patter". It didn't help that he had been in this situation before, with the Knights of Galnor. Asked to join a group of knights, before he was brainwashed into believing a foolish ideal and tricked into murdering hundreds of innocents, all done by the hands of immortals. It really was understandable that he did not trust the current situation, not one bit. However, he did not immediately attack the scout, instead waiting for anything else he might add.[/i]