Tanks are commonly mentioned in most rpg's. They aren't very versatile, they really only have two basic uses. Stop shit from getting fucked up, or fuck shit up, and if they are good, both. Tanks are most commonly used on the front lines in order to pull aggro from the enemy. Generally speaking, enemies find it hard to attack the little guy when there is a big hulking sum-bitch trying to stop them from doing just that. Think of them as kind of a melee based cock-block.

At first I was surprised, then I was happy. I had a tank, my very own damage buffer. Someone who would be willing to put his life, err, lack of life, on the line for me. I think I like Sir Walter, he's so kind and helpful. He did save me a few times after all. I can tell me and him are going to be good buddies. Sir Walter is indeed a good friend. (Yes, I know I changed my mind pretty quickly, but we all do it, don't judge me!)

After listening to Sir Walters story, a plan began forming in my mind. I think I can manipulate this big scary zombie to help me out a bit. Walter, I call out, would you mind accompanying me on my journey. Of course, he responds, it is my duty as a knight to help out my ward. That grinds my gears a bit, since when am I his ward? Am I fucking helpless all of a sudden. Alright, let's be rational here.

Sir Walter, have you consulted a mage about your little problem? Well, no, mages are pretty rare and I doubt I could afford paying one to help me. Fuck I think, are mages that rare? No wonder those fuckers kidnapped me. They saw a perfect opportunity to make a buck and I walked right into the trap like a dumbass. Anyway, back on point. Walter, I say, what if I told you that in return for your service, I, a mage, would be willing to help research your problem a bit?

Walters eyes light up, suddenly he pounces, I rear up ready to defend myself from his attack. And he's hugging me, this big bastard has his bloody body press against mine. Great, now I need a bath. I really should figure out water or cleansing magic or something. The plumbing in this world seems almost non-existent. Walter looks me dead in the eyes and proclaims, I Sir Walter, of the order of the dove, shall protect and aid you in all my capacity, so long as I live.

Ignoring the contradictions in his statement. He's not exactly alive now is he? I respond, in my most formal and reverent voice. Which is to say, semi-serious. I state that I, Justin, shall accept his servitude and that I will aid him to the best of my abilities. There is some more hugging, all of it initiated by Sir Walter of course, and then we shake hands and make a game plan.