Florent is conflicted. He has come to admire this bow wielding farm girl, as well as lust after her. She is most impressive in her leather armor, and he can only dream what she looks like without the armor. But his recent string of near death experiences have given him an even greater sense of urgency than his raging hormones and pent up ‘lenergie de sexualite’. Sulmia has not outright rejected his advances, but neither has she lept into his arms. Now there is this strange affinity she has for shadows, almost as if she is dancing. He is not certain how the ever vigilant light of Helm sees this practice.
The conflict comes from what he has heard of young maidens expressing their gratitude to the brave heros that plucked them from certain death and torture. Actually, he has heard very little, but his imagination can fill in the blanks. In his head he knows that a long term relationship would be much more meaningful and fulfilling. But his second head is sending stronger, more base level urges. And if he dies on his next venture to the temple, what will long term potential get him. Nothing but a blue ball virgin string of frustrations.
As he heads to the inn and the young maidens, he decides which one of them he should give his pitch to first. He knows he might fall short, but he has to take a stab at it. He laughs at this series of bad puns, and starts rehearsing his story. A few changes to their exploits certainly wouldn’t hurt. Homiletic license, Kalmer would call it. Suddenly the giant frogs they first encountered become young wyverns, and the clerics and fighters Florent and his followers have faced become thrice has many. He decides against showing them the implements of torture they have recovered, but knows that a vivid description of what he saved them from might inspire their gratitude to even greater heights. Them… toegether… his recently post-pubescent mind races and he has to stop to re-adjust his polearm. No, don’t want to be greedy. One at a time…
Thus Florent spends his first night back in Homlette. While going through cheesy lines about “going to face certain death in the protection of all that is good” and “You may be the last beautiful woman I am to lay eyes upon before my eternal rest” he has a nagging concern in the back of his mind. Will Sulmia be the next to shoot him in the back (or worse) by ‘accident’, as the half-elf did? Surely she’ll understand, or hopefully she’ll never find out.