Beau Bergeron wasn’t usually one to let aches and pains take him down. His life was aches and pains, forged in the fires of the Assassins Guild, the swamps surrounding New Orleans being his training ground. The pain of a thousand scrapes, bruises, and broken bones had made him a formidable weapon, but this pain was different. The abilities of the people in this land had perplexed him since his strange arrival, and the scrapes he’d endured in the scuffle with the Brownies, though seemingly inconsequential at the time, itched and burned something fierce. If I never see those infernal things again it’ll be too soon, he thought.
The clearing had given way to more woods and it was with sweet relief that Beau eventually began to see the dust kicked up by an army of fellow thieves and assassins that would be the allies summoned by the Princes. Fortunately they were a motley lot of various species, and none of them were clean or none the worse for wear. Dirty and punctured, Beau Bergeron would be able to blend in with ease. Beau smirked, it was faint but he could feel the echo of the cards, The Blood Arcana, his ticket home. In all his time in this world he had seen many different kinds of magic, but none with the reality bending powers of the Cards he’d witnessed thus far. If anything had the chance to get him back home, he figured, it had to be them, the way they called to him meant it had to be it! At least, that’s what Beau figured as he bobbed and weaved his way through the crowd of miscreants gathering to raid Mt. Isolla.
Beau had long grown accustomed to navigating a crowd with none being the wiser and it wasn’t long before Beau was at the front of the vanguard of bandits lead by Haug Handslayer. Their rank smell doing nothing to hinder the massive breath he pulled in mock celebration. Though Beau Bergeron was desperate to leave, in a sense he was already at home among the bandit horde. A snake in a den of thieves.