Looking at Frellon's obvious excitement and joy from the mark, Contragh could not help but grin and shake his head. "I'll never understand the pride and joy you hold in the marks you get from being wounded, they simply act as a permanent reminder of a failure or mistake." In truth, Contragh had simply accepted the healing and had be done with it. The quicker one healed, the quicker they could fight, and they quicker they could fight the quicker they could perfect themselves and hone their skills. Staring at the discarded sword Contragh realizes it would probably be a good idea to return his sundered axe to the bin so that it may be fixed.*
Pardoning himself for a moment he runs back *to the discarded shaft and blade in order to return them to a bin. Returning to Frellon he sighs and plops himself down on the ground, turning his head towards Frellon he says "Tell me Frellon, why do you think Baz'Auran is sending us ALL to the disk? Certainly we would have to be there to defeat the beasts of chaos, Haramhold and Rumel to craft the world we claim, and Llasser to feed our loyal subordinates. But what of the likes of Jongo, The Weaver, and Rosellia? They would seem to be in danger more then they would be useful in providing anything. I know that Baz'Auran has a great and mighty plan that will make me feel stupid upon seeing it, but it does not make me stop wondering why?"