"Warm Smiles Do Not Make You Welcome Here" [Rickter]

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Warm Smiles Do Not Make You Welcome Here"

76 Glade, 121
The Red Dragon Tavern

At times engaging, at times vexing, but wholly enlightening was Brenner's exchange with Talon at Onneifer Airfield. It had been a chance meeting, rather than a carefully curated situation as all their other interactions had been. Coming as it did, after a long day and a few shots of schnapps, Brenner had been more candid with the alleged demi-deity. In fact he'd even been so bold as to address the very rumour of that possible circumstance, and things had become philosophical.

Although he'd felt relatively comfortable for most of the impromptu meeting, his nerves had been growing ever since they'd parted. Had he said too much? Had he put the State at risk? Had he undone all the good work he'd been executing prior? Had he already sealed the end of his week-long delve into diplomacy and politics? None of these answers would come tonight, and so the best he could hope to do was dull the worry. He chose to do so by heading to the East End to resume the drinking that had put him in the situation that currently confounded him.

Brenner entered The Red Dragon alone and scanned the patrons for familiar faces. He didn't recognise anyone outright, but the evening was young and the bar was crowded. He figured he could do a more thorough survey once he had an ale in hand, and so he sidled up to the bar and gestured to the maid who tended.

"Pint of the Zaibach Bitter." He ordered, and glanced sidelong and then upward to catch a glimpse of the face of the tall man seated beside him. He recognised the features from somewhere, and wondered whether he might have been an airman on another vessel until it clicked and, for a split second, the natural diplomat let his chagrin lie out in plain sight. He'd come here in hopes of forgetting Talon, his entourage and all the complicated baggage they'd brought from Kalzasi, yet here was one of the prince's attendants. After all his lauding of the merits of New Atheism and the unlikelihood of divine intervention in the lives of mere mortals, he couldn't help but feel as though some force of fate was fucking with him, at present. Still he collected himself and offered a cordial nod to the figure beside him.

"Good evening." His ale appeared in his periphery, and he reached to claim it. "How are you finding the Brass City?" He inquired with a feigned blitheness, as he drew the tankard to his lips for a draught of the smooth bitter.

[Rickter]

76 Glade, 121

It had been another day for sure, though, today Rickter had been left at the mercy of Tarshenna instead. So naturally, he had a number of drills he had to perform, which by the Gods were exhaustive to endure... and then on top of that she deemed it necessary to provide the wolf with insight on how to handle situations where Talon might be at risk. There was indeed plenty of worries involved after the mob's occurrence on their tour the other day, and the wolf wasn't afraid to admit he was about ready to take action himself at that moment. Nevertheless, despite all the rigorous exercises he'd been roped into, he took what advice she had to give on the matter with great consideration. For as far as he could tell she was one of the good ones to have around, having been there during his second phase of the Argent Hand trials.

If anyone knew how to better handle situations like that, it would've been her, therefore the wolf would remember what she'd told him when that time came again. "For there always will be another" she also warned him, to which he had quietly groaned out of slight aggravation toward just the mere thought. If it were up to him he would just create magical walls between everyone, better to keep Talon in a magical box or ball, than to risk letting someone shoot him within the streets. But those were his thoughts, simple as they were, and even as they are they didn't remain on the day's lessons drilled into his head. No he quickly found his gut wrenching for food after a while, when all his muscles settled and the sweat finally evaporated off his skin. Granted the frame of his structure still felt sore when he moved, there was also a dullness to their ache he could appreciate compared to an hour prior.

Thus he cleaned up and changed within his quarters back at the Embassy, already remembering one of the pit stops that he'd made here numerous times. Now, usually, Rickter wasn't the best at navigating new territory alone... and Zaichaer was fucking big. But never let it be said that if he ever did get lost, he'd be able to find his way to one spot in particular. That place became the Red Dragon Tavern fast, because when his nose first picked up the scent of food here... Never again did he need to look for another place in the city to eat. Thus when he approached the establishment tonight to fill his belly with a good meal, he opened the doorway into the establishment with his eyes alert but also averted for that moment others would see him enter. He didn't wish to stand out at all by the crowd, though, having only been a regular for several days, people tended to still recognize a foreigner when they saw one.

Still he didn't plan to garner any unwarranted attention tonight, like he wouldn't any other, as he only wore a white cotton shirt with no sleeves, with a pair of cotton brown pants over his leather boots. While his runes weren't entirely visible through the fabric, the wolf hoped their glow wouldn't give him away so easily, luckily the establishment was well lit with lanterns and braziers. And so, the Rathari strode up to the bar to greet the woman who ran the place with a small grin. "Helga." He greeted plainly with a more soft rise of his cheeks, the old lady behind the bar turning from the barrel taps to greet him with a raised eyebrow.

"Again, Wolfie?" The raisin cheeked woman teased with a tilt of her head as she finished pouring the beverage, the mug brought over to the bar delicately as she placed it down for the customer to his right. Rickter forced a polite smile then and that caused her to chuckle, for the woman knew how much he loathed the nickname she'd given him. But she was nice, and how could he tell her not to call him that? Especially when the food she made here was better than anywhere else, hell, the Kalzasi Embassy was damn near bland compared to what she made here.

"I'll take two bowls?" He requested with a raise of his eyebrows, his tone elevating to curious uncertainty near the end.

"Try again?" The owner teased with a fold of her arms, her chin elevated higher even with him taller than her.

"Plates?..." The response garnered another raised eyebrow from the woman, before the Rathari shrugged humbly with a hint of a smirk. "Please?"

"Comin' right up, have a drink til then?" She inquired as he eased onto the stool in front of him, his elbows gently rested on the bar as he leaned onto them for support.

He nodded with a glance at the cabinet behind her, quick to see that she hid the inclination to smirk. "Whiskey?" Helga didn't look surprised in the slightest, and thus turned to pour him a glass a moment after. The wolf watched her briefly before his eyes wandered, apprehensively, about the place to see the patrons within. It was a full house tonight, tables packed throughout the lobby for sure. When his eyes returned forward to Helga she had already finished, and brought the glass around to rest it in before him. "Thanks." He paid her appreciatively as she nodded, before heading into the back to tell the cook to prep a meal for him.

It was as Rickter lifted his glass to sip on his whiskey that another came to sit next to him, someone he didn't plan to look or interact with so quickly until... "Good evening." The sound of his voice nearly made him jerk, mostly because Rickter didn't expect the man himself to do the greeting. Plus normally when someone greets you in that manner, there's such formality to it that it implied a possible sense of business to Rickter. Regardless of what he thought on it, however, the gulp of his whiskey went down hard as the glass was rested back onto the bar a moment after. The wolf had seen a nod out of his own peripheral when he'd drank, but now his eyes were fully on the figure of Commander Dornkirk. Huh... Did Talon not go to see him earlier? The wolf could only wonder how that went, since he was a bit preoccupied with Tarshenna's drills to worry about it at the time.

Nevertheless, this was probably the first chance he'd gotten to see the man off duty, and though Rickter was only technically on a break, they were both men who weren't occupied by the daily duties. ""How are you finding the Brass City?""

"Been quite a trip so far..." The wolf remarked almost a little introvertedly with his eyes slightly averted, his expression reserved but painted with a friendly gaze, the wolf's eyes merely avoided line of sight with Brenner's as they conversed. "I will say though, I've found my favorite spot for grub." He admitted with a modest gesture to their environment, before Rickter raised the glass of whiskey up for one more sip. After a clear of the throat from the burn, the wolf glanced over to Brenner once more, admittedly a little curious about the man sitting next to him. "How about you? Looks like you're done for the day."

"Common" "Synskrit"
"Rickter"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"That I am." Brenner acknowledged with a sharp nod, placing his heavy stein back down on the bar top and wiping at pursed lips with the back of his hand.

"Actually I just left the company of your..." His eyes darted down for a moment, as he tried to conjure a word that felt apropos and not overtly insulting. He landed upon: "...master." He uncurled his slender fingers from the handle of his tankard, and let his hand fall to the damp, worn wood of the bar top.

"I'd stopped over to check in on my ship at the airfield, and His Royal Highness was flitting about the airspace, so I figured I'd pop over and say hello." The keen canine senses of the Rathari would likely pick up the faint aroma of a more potent spirit on Brenner's breath than the rich ale he was currently imbibing. He'd shared a few shots of Gelerian schnapps with a few of the other officers, and even offered a nip to Talon from his flask. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to use the flask again since Talon's lips had touched it, and so the journey from the airfield to the tavern had been a dry one and he was far from drunk- Just a hint more comfortable than Rickter had seen him in his professional, political capacity.

"I'm actually off tomorrow for the first time in ages, so I thought I might indulge in a pint or three and see if any of my mates were about." He sat upright, and craned his neck to check the room once again, coming up empty. "Alas, they are not, but the night is yet young." He observed with a slight shrug.

"So, um..." He returned his attention to the Rathari and cleared his throat, "I suppose, if it's no imposition, I'll just wait here." He paused for a moment, trying to come up with something innocuous to broach to seem friendly.

"Have you..." He rapped his fingers against the wood of the bar, absently- a nervous tic. "...found any worthwhile recreation here, apart from the culinary delights of the Red Dragon?" He inquired, "Taken in any sights? Made any friends?"

[Rickter]

Warm Smiles Do Not Make You Welcome Here

76 Glade, 121

The wolf's head slightly nodded forward in response to the commander, hearing him acknowledge that he had indeed been relieved of duty for the evening. Not a bad thing honestly. When they were back in Kalzasi he would probably do the same, take a load off for a couple of days before he'd have to resume his usual regime. Drills and training for days. He wasn't thrilled with the concept but at the same time, it gave him something to look forward to once this envoy business passed. Then the man remarked upon where he had last came from, and of course, Rickter had to sip from his drink to hide the amused twinge of his lips. Having slurped nearly too much from inhaling, when he heard the term master implied, the wolf lightly tensed as he swallowed hard for a moment.

With a clear of his throat, he was able to keep from having to hack up a lung, and he quietly sat the drink down with a somewhat baffled expression. "That so?" He managed to inquire for the sake of conversation, right as the woman Helga brought out a platter with several dishes placed on. As she passed the bar she came near Rickter's part, her arm already lacing to transfer the meal from the tray to his position. A hint of surprise surfaced in his eyes when they fell to glimpse at what had been provided, as the smell of garlic and sage wafted into his nostrils immediately. Simmered bison meat with a bed of diced leeks rested toward one side of his plate, with a small bundle of grapes on the other, as the commander continued to indulge in the story.

Rickter quickly looked to attempt to thank Helga but she'd already mosied off, toward a table amidst the center of the tavern lobby, and so he simply turned back to face his dish with a humbled grin. "I see..." He remarked softly above the general buzz of the crowd, his eyes only on Brenner for a moment before he looked back down at his food. Listening further to the man speak, the wolf took the liberty to indulge in the first bite of his meal, using the fork and knife provided to trim a morsel from the meat on his plate. The meat was firm to chew but the flavorsome juices extracted were delectable, as the taste of butter and garlic accompanied his taste buds before the flavors melded into the delicacy that became this meal.

He about nearly groaned in delight from just the sheer joy of experiencing it, had he not a current guest present to converse with that is. Even when he was off duty Brenner seemed to still look stiff, though different in comparison to how he looked in a work uniform. It was a stiffness within the shoulders when he held them up, a habit that Rickter noticed and began to accompany with pride. Somewhat a still grey concept to him that was, but nonetheless, he had recognized it within other people well enough. As he sipped his whiskey further to make the travel of food down easier, Rickter's eyebrows peaked momentarily in response to questions that followed. His buddies had yet to arrive it would seem, so he was only here to wait and see if they'd be about. Rickter could understand that well enough, he often liked to hang at the High Hopes when he was in town, though having moved into the palace he'd found less time to frequent the place.

"No imposition at all," he regarded with his eyes on Brenner with a hint of wariness, "you're free to sit where you choose after all." He then added with a gentle shrug as he glanced back down at his plate, his hands already working to cut off more of a sliver this time as he listened. Then came the questions. Recreation? Well... The change in environment hasn't dulled things for him and Talon, that had been for sure, but the few tours that the wolf had been on had proven interesting. "Certainly..." He remarked lightly almost in a casual sense, possibly due to Hannah rubbing off on him too much; as he didn't quite know. All the same, there was a truthful euphemism hinted in the sardonic tone he emitted, having remembered the tour with the Reconciliator and how that went not long after.

"You could say we're trying." He added then as the remark followed with an amused grin, before his eyes rested on Brenner once more without direct eye contact. "Talon's got a peculiar way of making friends though." Now in regards to Zaichaer itself he had to think, as the cultural differences between their cities were quite profound. "I will say, the facilities of your institute here are pretty astounding, I've always found technology something interesting to study." Yet there was the implication that he never had, though Rickter wasn't prone to share such intimate details of his life to strangers.

"What about you?" The wolf then inquired to Brenner thoughtfully, before his eyes averted back down to his food once more. "What's a traditional day in the life like as a Zaichaeri? I'm curious as to how you grew up to join the military here." He admitted before he gave in to his impulses and started to bite into the sliver he'd cut, as a bald-headed man came out from the kitchen to hang his oil-stained apron near the doorway. As he approached the bar to start prepping beverages, Rickter's eyes lifted over to Brenner once more as he listened and chewed.

"Common" "Synskrit"
"Rickter"

"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

The prince's pup wasn't particularly friendly. Brenner had sort of expected more of a panting exuberance from a canine hybrid, but he'd known snarling mutts before and many dogs were protective of their owners. As friendly as Brenner had been, he didn't doubt a feral Rathari might sniff out the scorn he worked so diligently to conceal behind a mask of cordiality.

The Air Commander elected to chalk the brusque beginnings of their exchange up to the arrival of Rickter's meal, which he seemed to regard with slavering relish. Brenner smirked to himself and turned his eyes back toward the rows of bottles behind the bar, as if there were aught of interest to be found amidst the shapes of the bottles and the art on their labels. He might have been trying to decode some cipher for how diligently he surveyed the scene, when in truth his primary goal was avoiding eye contact with the creature at his side. His eyes remained fixed there, though he shifted some focus to his periphery as Rickter favoured him with a few complete sentences.

"'Necessity is the mother of invention,' as they say in the Imperium, and Zaichaer's attention to technology is borne of need." Brenner would have shuddered to think what state the State would be in without their march toward progress.

He sipped at his ale, pondering the question posed. The buzz of the crowd behind them underscored Brenner's silence, as his tipsy mind worked to marry candour and the diplomacy his current position demanded of him in such mixed company.

"For me and much of Zaichaer, daily life is about service and community. As a bachelor, I live with my family when I'm not on a tour, and as long as I'm in the city I'm on duty in one way or another." He glanced over his shoulder, at a rowdy exchange between two of the other patrons. "For instance, all of us who serve the State are tantamount to constables in Zaichaer's borders. If a fight broke out behind us, I would be entitled... indeed obliged to intercede. I can make arrests, or even determine whether extreme force is warranted in a given situation." He turned back to the front, and shifted his gaze to the feasting beast man at his side.

"My father encouraged both of his boys to serve and we were enrolled in the Battle Academy as soon as we were of age. My brother Stefan had to place his focus on the family business after a short stint as an officer, but I was free to continue on the Course of Honour. And what of you?" He inquired with a cant of one eyebrow,

"What is your official position in Kalzasi? Are you considered military, or... just some sort of private bodyguard? It was probably in one of my briefings, but I can't for the life of me recall."

[Rickter]

One thing Rickter had noticed about this man is that, unlike most of the people who'd usually eye him in some way, this one in particular deliberately kept his eyes off of him. It honestly conflicted the wolf to the point of intrigue, as there were never very many who averted their eyes the way he did. Others that have were usually out of spite or intimidation, but this one in particular beheld a different look in his eye. It started to unnerve him just a little as he focused more on his meal, not inclined to pry to deeply into this man since they were of two different origins. Talon was right about one thing, the people here had such harsh views here.

Yet it wasn't going to spoil his good meal, and so he listened attentively as he indulged in his meal further, nodding along in part with the bit on necessity. Not that the wolf was much of a historian. But he did understand that things, like the Warrens and the Astralar Mountains, were all necessary for Kalzasi to stand together and unify. Sure things weren't perfect there, and though times grew tough, the locals would power through together time after time. He'd seen it growing up after all even within the fisher community, how integrated family structures were as the next generation grew into the society it was today.

There may have been pride in him because of that, or perhaps it was the reassuring warmth of his bandmates as he continued eating and listening. He'd already downed three-quarters of the meat had been consumed, as well as one of the few leaks provided. Of course, he hadn't touched the grapes, only slightly grimaced at the sight of them when he did. But as he looked back to pay further attention to the commander, the wolf's eyes rested slightly warily on him as the bartender in front of them pulled a mug from the shelf. "'Necessity is the mother of invention,' as they say in the Imperium, and Zaichaer's attention to technology is borne of need." The bald-headed bartender placed the empty mug on the counter first to close the shelf door, and took a second before he moved the mug toward the tap to fill it with ale.

""For me and much of Zaichaer, daily life is about service and community. As a bachelor, I live with my family when I'm not on a tour, and as long as I'm in the city I'm on duty in one way or another." As a couple of rowdy patrons bantered toward someone who passed their table, Rickter glanced to notice it had been a Siltori woman from the color of her hands. Talon had the same silvery pale tones as well, so it was easy that the wolf would've recognized it. However, his mind centered back to Dornkirk when he continued, as he couldn't help but gulp quietly in regards to what he was soon told. "For instance, all of us who serve the State are tantamount to constables in Zaichaer's borders. If a fight broke out behind us, I would be entitled... indeed obliged to intercede. I can make arrests, or even determine whether extreme force is warranted in a given situation." No sooner after he finished that sentence their racial comments swiftly died out, as the mood of the room seemed to change when everyone felt inclined to relax.

It was a sudden transition for Rickter but he felt... okay with it really, the meal wasn't finished yet and he still planned to leave with a satisfied gut. "My father encouraged both of his boys to serve and we were enrolled in the Battle Academy as soon as we were of age. My brother Stefan had to place his focus on the family business after a short stint as an officer, but I was free to continue on the Course of Honour. And what of you?" As Brenner had taken to answer the questions Rickter had inquired, the wolf had finished the rest of his meat in punctual time, having drank the rest of his whiskey down to help the expedite process. With a satisfied look in his eyes, he half grinned toward Dornkirk before the bartender brought the mug over toward the bar. "What is your official position in Kalzasi? Are you considered military, or..." Rickter looked down at the mug that was placed next to his plate, his eyes wandering to see the brown eyes and whiskered face of the bald man standing before him. "Just some sort of private bodyguard? It was probably in one of my briefings, but I can't for the life of me recall."

The bartender nodded toward the mug as though it were a free gesture or something... which the wolf started to question, but hadn't the time to fully follow through with the intent. "Nothing as fancy I can assure you." He immediately deflected as he looked back down at the mug given to him, as the bartender had already walked on to make the next set of drinks that were ordered. The wolf looked apprehensive but he couldn't trace anything with his nose in the brew, for just the smell of wheat and honey tickled his nose. Admittedly the whiskey might've slightly dulled his senses a bit, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the container at all. Having observed that in just a moment, he resumed gazing around Dornkirk when he went on to elaborate further with his answer. "In Kalzasi, our military is composed of several branches. It's a bit complicated to explain honestly, but, where I fit in, I'm a Knight of the Argent Hand. In short, I am a personal bodyguard to Talon and his family." He didn't wish to overindulge on the details regardless of complexity, because deep down the wolf was suspicious of sharing such information with an enemy.

Well, potentially. Just because there existed differences that made them seem antagonistic, the wolf had to bear in mind that what these people built their nation off of... was machines. They feared magic. So they chose a different route, and through science found another means of deliverance. Rickter had no way of knowing the history of this place, nor its suffering, but since their arrival, he hadn't been blind to the lingering oppression felt in the air. "I will say though," he then regarded with a minor aversion of his eyes before they focused firmly on Dornkirk with a steadfast gaze, "it is my responsibility to act and carry out actions on behalf of Novalys, and though I would never pray it came to such an occasion, I would not flinch if I were to carry out an order on their behalf." There resounded a sense of praise in his tone when he admitted this, as the wolf looked down to the rest of his meal to see only two of the leeks were left. Although, he remembered that his throat felt dry after finishing off the bison.

And then the reflex kicked in as he felt the need to drink, thus his eyes defaulted to that mug of ale left on the bar for him. Was it really just a free drink? Perhaps Helga meant to provide it with the meal and just forgot? The wolf still wasn't sure on the matter, but nonetheless, he lifted the mug by its handle to raise it toward his lips.

"Common" "Synskrit"
"Rickter"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner took to watching the barman going about his work, and arched an eyebrow at the smooth-pated fellow when he seemed to indicate Rickter's next drink was complimentary. His lip started to curl into a snarl, but he trilled his lips and shook his head to dismiss the sentiment. It was a busy bar, and Rickter was a stranger to this man as he was to the city at large. He looked human enough at the moment, so perhaps the man just didn't realise he was serving a free drink to a mongrel. He couldn't really fault him for it. Besides... Brenner was too at ease to get riled up by something so petty.

He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt awash with all too welcome relief from the stresses of the Kalzasern visit. It had been an anxious few weeks since he'd heard he'd be assigned to a new role outside his usual jurisdiction. He'd had to do a few seminars to prepare, and the visit was very high profile and high stakes. The eyes of all Zaichaer were upon Talon and Brenner had been regularly in the statuesque prince's orbit. Opportunity was a double-edged sword in Zaichaer and, while this gig might bring further renown to the Dornkirk name, it might instead bring shame if he were to disappoint the State. Zaichaer was a wondrous place for its favoured sons, but even a patriot of Brenner's fervour was aware that that the glorious State could be hellish on those it disfavoured. He'd seen titans of Zaichaeri society tumble from their pedestals and crumble to dust- dragging down the repute of their whole dynasties, as well as their own. Even after a few shots of Gelerian schnapps and a couple of ales the underlying anxiety still lurked. But now, for whatever reason, that pall had lifted and Brenner felt tranquil for the first time in weeks.

Relaxed as he was, the Air Commander turned his eyes toward the Rathari at his side and looked at him- really appraised the man. Pity, he thought... Rickter would have made for a handsome human. His features were strong and masculine, not unlike Stefan's... A thought crossed his mind. He'd pondered the question earlier but had deemed it too impolitic to broach, given his present position as a diplomat on behalf of the State. But now, he was finding, he was just too relaxed to care.

"Let me ask you something..." He began, raising one hand to stroke his chin as he squinted slightly to examine Rickter's face. "Does it hurt?" He reached for his ale and took three copious gulps, before slamming it down and realising his query may have been overly vague.

"I mean when you, um... Morph? Transition? Whatever you call it. I've only seen you people in one form or another. I've never witnessed what it looks like going from girl to guinea hen or..." He looked Rickter up and down with a cavalier sneer, "...man to dog or whatever. What's that like?"

[Rickter]

Warm Smiles Do Not Make You Welcome Here

76 Glade, 121

The wolf seemed to contemplate for a moment the notion that possibly made him feel so calm right now, generally he would've been accustomed with it through the Bond but this felt different. And sure enough when he lifted the mug up to raise it for a sip, he tasted nothing peculiar from the flavors his nose had traced earlier. True relief seeped in then, and he couldn't help but notice how docile his nearby acquaintance had grown also. Perhaps it had just been that time of day? His reasoning wasn't entirely questionable, and yet...

A curious groan came from the wolf as he lifted his eyes from his beverage, drawn back toward Brenner as he seemed inclined to inquire about something in particular. He started with, of course, something just about any curious person would ask. Though, it certainly took the second bit of elaboration for the wolf to have caught on. The moment he realized that the commander was referring to his Rathari heritage, the wolf looked to him briefly astonished before the rest of his mind caught up with him. Of course. He's been their chaperone since they arrived, after all, it would make sense that they knew he had that blood running through his veins. Whether half or whole it probably mattered little, what the officials here likely classified as 'animals' if nothing else. Admittedly Rickter had to keep the pit of his stomach from wrenching a bit, as he experienced a moment of revulsion carpeted by the mused turn of a grin.

"Well Commander, I'll tell that I don't shit where I eat first." He remarked with a gentle tip of his mug, before taking the plunge with a hearty gulp of the ale. As he imbibed the substance the flavors were coated with an earthly blend in their tone. Though somewhat different from what he was accustomed to, the wolf hardly thought anything of it when he lowered the container back down. "But I will say this much..." His face grew rather grim toward Brenner then, as if the experiences were so horrifying, that an upstanding military man such as him couldn't even begin to fathom. "You feel every part of it, throughout your entire body." As he set the mug back onto the bar he started to feel dizzy suddenly, and his skin started to grow pale at the surface.

Discomfort quickly dissolved the grizzled features he beheld before, as the wolf's eyes bulged in sudden alarm from what he felt taking hold over him. All of sudden his nerves felt hit with this cold wave that washed over him, sapping the very warmth of the air from his skin as he lost sense of perception momentarily. He was woozy and not in the good old-fashioned tired way either, and as he felt the cold seep deeper in he realized something. He could no longer feel any magic. The runes that softly glowed beneath the fabric of his attire had lost their glow, as the wolf quickly took to shove onto his feet away from Brenner and the bar. His insides felt cramped suddenly, and the cold penetrated to his core now as he felt his consciousness begin to slip.

"I can't- I can't-" Panic exploded within his mind as he reached for his forehead in sudden pain, his instinct to lash out with water met with only a buzzing numbness that ached and throbbed within his head. And then he tumbled on down.

----

As Rickter quickly grew to pass out onto the tavern floor none within the room seemed to notice, in fact, not a single person in that room was intent to even look. And once Brenner had the opportunity to see why, he would find that every patron in that lobby had their gazes completely averted. Once the Rathari had crumbled onto the floor, the bartender from before came around from the bar to approach the fallen man, as a Siltori woman with silver hair and her hateful eyes rested on the poor bastard. "Well now, that went easier than expected."

"All thanks to you," the woman remarked with a cross of her arms as she glared toward Dornkirk, "if you hadn't kept him busy, then we would've never had a shot." The bald-headed man was next to look toward Brenner, and when he rose back to a full stand after inspecting Rickter, the lean-muscled man dipped his hand into his pocket to pull out a pouch.

"Sure, pin it on the innocent guy, everyone loves that." He remarked to his companion before he pulled out a small pouch, to which he threw toward Brenner with the expectancy that it would be caught. "Thanks for doing your part, soldier. We'll take over from here." As he said this to Brenner the bald man gave a generous smirk in turn, as a hooded man shorter than him entered the tavern to approach them.

"Common" "Synskrit"
"Rickter"

"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Is that right?" Brenner smirked, "You 'Don't shit where you eat', as you so delicately put it?" He considered that claim for a moment. Once again, his state of relaxation lent to greater candour than he'd have otherwise exerted with a member of the delegations he'd been charged with charming on the State's behalf,

"Perhaps that saying has a more literal meaning amongst a race with bestial tendencies, but amongst my people it typically suggests that one shouldn't mix ones business with ones pleasure. Can't say as I've taken on much of the latter, lately." He shook his head, chuckling unkindly into his last gulp of ale and gesturing for another.

His sneer fell away suddenly, as Rickter's expression turned grave and he described the shift in an enigmatic, but still somehow harrowing fashion. Brenner shuddered, his skin crawling at the thought of what such a condition must feel like.

"Ghastly." He muttered, watching the bald man pour a fresh flagon for him and fumbling with his coin pouch to ready the appropriate token for the forthcoming drink. He heard a catch breath at his side, and the panicked, shallow panting of a creature in distress. Rickter knocked the coin from his grasp in his flailing alarm, causing Brenner to turn narrowed eyes upon the Rathari- finding him in apparent distress.

For reasons he didn't understand nor particularly care about at the moment, he was not inclined to act. Whatever his personal biases, Brenner had been charged with the safe and comfortable conduct of Talon's entourage during their time in Zaichaer. He may have been off duty at the moment, but that didn't come into it since he was present and capable of acting. Unwitting to the arcane manipulation clouding his judgement, as far as Brenner was concerned he simply didn't care enough to help. He was, however, annoyed that his coin had rolled behind the bar. He wrinkled his nose and produced another, only to find that the barkeep had discarded his drink and was coming round the bar to approach the fallen Rickter.

He regarded the bald man curiously, and turned his blank eyes toward:

"A Siltori?" He looked on in confusion, but the sight of the silver haired elf seemed to pierce whatever veil had been cast over his mind. He wrinkled his nose and pinched the bridge of it, shaking his head to clear his mind, belatedly processing the offer of coin as the proferred bribe plopped onto the floor under his barstool.

"What? No." He blinked hard, and tried to force himself to focus. "No, I cannot allow that. The Kalzasern delegation is here under the protection of the State." He reached for his side-arm.

[Rickter]

For obvious reasons she had to keep a very low profile, even before she ever made her way into the establishment. Zaichaer was a different battleground and while she could deal with most of her enemies, the one that was planned to be bagged tonight wouldn't be easy to handle alone. Eadra was never the one to stick her neck out for gambles such as this, but if what she heard from one of the new members was true, then by coming to this exact premises she would be seeing what was referred to as a 'ghost'. She kept her hood on after she slipped in through the open doorway, keeping to the wall as to prevent any notice of her entry, as the few gentleman in front of her sauntered their way toward the table. Marko had found a spot for them within the back recesses of the lobby, tucked within the corner to where nobody hardly looked, that is unless you were sitting at the bar watching the opposite of the room.

The gingerly man that awaited her had already enjoyed a few rounds with Barley and Larkin, as the Siltori herself found the chair nearest her roguish companion. His hood had been receded to reveal a tangled nest of dark hair, with elongated ears suggesting another Elven heritage within his blood. Yet from Larkin's nose on down the black of his cloak covered him, Barely himself looking rather dressed in attire consisting of a cook as he cracked fingers underneath a thumb. "You made it." Marko murmured as Eadra quickly sat upright in her chair, her eyes darting away from the table toward the lobby in general. "What do you see?"

Her eyes flicked from a few of the nearby tables to scour those sitting there, but when they shifted to discover what sat at the bar, her shoulders then stiffened as she slightly tilted forward. "Are you shitting me?" Her voice snapped lowly beneath the general bustle, with a sudden glare in her eyes toward the two men across from her.

"What's wrong?" Barley tested as if he suspected this might be her reaction. "Didn't think he'd be here?" Eadra took stock of herself as her eyes rested upon the stoic stature of the bodyguard who served the prince.

"I'm telling you right now, feels like a ghost seeing him up there." Marko weighed in nonchalantly with a point of the finger. "If I'd known you guys knew that man, I would've told you about them arriving sooner."

"You never did elaborate on ghost though." Barley started to make small talk to which Marko agreed, which Eadra could only growl half annoyed as she looked to Larkin.

"So believe or not, there was this guy who came in all the time. Loved the food here, used to be a private investigator. Though the older boys back home would say otherwise."

"Yeah, whatever," Eadra intervened with a sharp look to Barley next, "we are doing this then?"

"Small price to pay if we can't pull it off," Barley murmured back as Marko seemed to quiet down with an awkward grin, "but think of how happy them other blokes would be. If we told them that we offed one of the prince's boy's, surely we'd get in good for something like that." Eadra scoffed in regards to Barley's ambitions here, as typical as they were she shouldn't have expected more. No... If she did this, then it wouldn't be just for the money or the reputation... She wanted that bastard to personally pay for what he took from her.

"Alright." She finally gave a stern agreement after a bit of silence, the bald-headed man across from her nearly snickering when she did. "If we're gonna do this, then we better make it quick and clean. Got it?"

"Music to my ears, baby." He quickly remarked with a brief swig of his ale, before the man rose onto his feet and made a beeline for the kitchens. Larkin looked to Eadra with reluctance but in seeing how determined she became, remained ready so that when his part came into play, he would be flawless with his aim in those moments to come. Eadra lessened her fixation on the two talking men at the bar, and after stilling her quickened breath for a pace she relaxed calmly within her chair. She knew what she had to do for this. She wasn't entirely prepared for it, but she knew how to handle that well enough.

Thus she let out a soft sigh as she allowed the general rhythm of the lobby to vibe, and tickle her senses to where she could slip her aether within the air, and gradually reinforce on a particular feeling that lingered to the mood. There were many frequencies as it was a vast majority of melodies and tunes, but the Siltori had learned how to hone in on the ones she needed. There. The resounding satisfaction of knowing that a long day has passed, many of them here felt this because of the labor they toiled through tirelessly. It was a feeling that she could amplify through the use of her Mesmer, and the groundwork she laid in prepping the stage for their capture. She watched as the commander that the bodyguard was with chatted with one another, the two earning a slight look of ire as she focused back on her current obligation.

She needed not to just ease the mind but stop them at least temporarily, too many witnesses to the scene would've left a trail in their wake. Thus one by one the tables near theirs began to feel the incremental shifts of her tone, as Eadra's head rolled back slightly to reveal a looming smirk within her lips. She was in control of this situation, she knew she could manage it if she just took her time. Table by table the heads of the other patrons began to droop, the conversations slurring down until finally people just sat in their chairs, their shoulders slumped and their heads rested forward from her influence. That was when Barley moved in from the kitchen with the towel thrown over his shoulder, after likely finding a to keep the bar owner away once he exited. "The poor bastard." She then mused as she watched her prize reluctantly accept the drink that was made for him.

Eadra suspected his suspicion as they only had so little to go on, apart from what they knew about the prince alone, even his consorts were hard to dig up dirt on. The fact this one came charging in to save him meant they were important to one another, and that was reason enough for Eadra to finally take revenge for Gershin. Uncertainty hummed within his rhythm as she remembered it did before, and she focused on the bodyguard just to give him that nudge of encouragement. It's all right, just a friendly gesture. All that was what it took and then poor Rickter imbibed in that beverage, before he found the chance to even remark or retort back to Brenner over their conversation.

He would've enjoyed himself more than likely, entertaining the differences in their expressions and so on, had he not been taken down by the dose of Abjinurium with a sleeping agent. Having watched as he fell to the floor, Larkin and Marko stood up with Eadra as the Siltori herself strut forward to admire their handiwork. "A Siltori?" The commander noticed with utter confusion on his expression, the Elf near mockingly spat in disgust from the notes in his melody. It was enough to make her glare in spite toward the both of them, and spite being the only thing her heart had room for.

"Well now, that went easier than expected." Barley mused as he leaned against the bar with a fold of his arms, Eadra's grin practically being from ear to ear as she looked to Commander Dornkirk once more.

"All thanks to you," she then remarked with a lace of aether, "if you hadn't kept him busy, then we would've never had a shot." There was some merit to this but she also wanted the implication to sink in, so that Brenner may always question his role in all this in one way or another.

"Sure, pin it on the innocent guy, everyone loves that." Barley remarked as he fished out the coin pouch from his pocket, giving it a firm nudge with his arm to toss it in the commander's direction. Yet the pouch hit the floor beneath the barstool and, for a moment, it seemed as though the good Zaichaeri intended to resist them. The thought alone amused Barley but Eadra, she certainly wasn't happy to see even such a small act of rebellion.

""No, I cannot allow that. The Kalzasern delegation is here under the protection of the State." He then reached for his sidearm but the moment his hand went there, a brief flash glimmered at his waist and he soon clutched air. A click followed as Marko seemed to catch it from Larkin's sudden throw, the rogue then pulled his hood over his head while the gingerly merc pointed the pistol at Brenner.

"I don't think you want that." Eadra quickly answered him in turn as she stepped a bit closer to him, her eyes focused on Brenner as if she were appraising him then. "You want this thing dead as much as we do. That's why you're wiling to let us go, so that we can dispose of it, and you only have to pretend he didn't sit here." She then laced more aether out with her words, her grey-toned boney fingers gradually rising to brush underneath the chin of Commander Dornkirk. "Take the body." She said this so calm and casual that it could've been the easiest phrase to miss, yet Larkin did not hesitate to step forward and kneel down to grab the bodyguard by his arm. With Marko's help the two were able to lift Rickter's upper body, the ginger sparing a few complaints to how heavy he was during the process, before Larkin seemed whisked away by aether visibly warbling in the air around him.

A minute later and the rogue then returned with a resounding whir in the air, his body zipping out of nowhere as if he'd traversed from a different space. "Just go with her on this one, you wouldn't want to anger the lady." Barley remarked as he shifted off the bar to move closer toward the group, as Eadra then spared him another annoyed glare before focusing on the portal that opened.

"Alright, time to go." Larkin remarked as the portal finished constructing, and a dark crimson red ring formed in the air to generate a hole. Darkness remained on the otherside but air could be felt blowing out of it, along with the musty smell of damp wood and rust. The others didn't wait to cross through the portal's threshold, Barley being the first to go with Marko following behind. Larkin waited until Eadra finished her work on the commander, which the Siltori then walked back to join her companion, before they crossed over one after the other; with the portal swirling to a close after them.

"Common" "Synskrit"
"Rickter"