Faction Vettr Nacht | The Confederacy

[Kyyrk]

P L A N ?
​

Happy Birthday, Voph. We got you a present. Thousands dead, and it's all your fault. All your fault.

All your fault.

The words reverberated in Voph's head. They had ever since that fateful day on Geonosis. As he sat in a small out-of-the-way tavern on Vandor, he contemplated his next action. He had already ceeded the throne of the Knights Obsidian to Gerwald Lechner , and had begun pursuing leads to The Eye, its source, and its master. But leads were slim, and ideas even more so. He knew a place to start, but was awaiting permission from the proper channels.

So he waited.

Waited, and sat upon this frozen rock waiting for a sign. Guidance. Anything. Perhaps one day Voph would know what he was doing with his life. But it certainly wasn't this day. He sighed quietly, leaning back in his chair, and looking down at the datapad perched in his lap. Those around him stared and whispered. The ex-Lord Commander, now sitting here in the middle of the tavern. Rumors surrounded his reasons for stepping down, but the man was private enough to not discuss them. Nor did he care. A few brave souls ventured forth to question him, but a blank stare was usually enough to send them scurrying back to their tables.

Voph simply wished to be left alone.

But somehow he knew that wouldn't be the case for long...

Oleander Webb | Open to others...

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[Oleander Webb]

Holidays, as far as Oleander had been concerned, were a waste of time. Or rather, they were the perfect time for a job - people who'd otherwise be separated meant target-rich environments. Good for business, a waste to celebrate. At least he'd operated as such in the before times, back when he could scoff at the mere concept of allies, let alone friends. ​

"You know, if you learned to relax, you might learn to actually enjoy your time here."​

The words had meant little to him at the time, just a jab at his usual all-business self. Now they were a serrated blade twisting in his gut, forever a reminder of what he'd lost and what he hadn't realized at the time that he had. Knowing what he knew then versus what he was condemned to know now was a collection of factoids he soon wouldn't forget and the thought of such facts weighed down on him like a system of worlds. Holidays were pointless until they weren't. And to have them shift from pointless to significance, only to abruptly shift back, was a fate he could wish upon no creature. ​

When he'd entered the bar, he made a beeline for the bar itself, sitting close to - now why did he look familiar? - another individual, keeping an empty seat between the two. "Something strong," he said when the bartender approached to take his order. "Better make that two." His gaze shifted back to the individual in question - seriously, he'd seen that face somewhere and it was going to drive him insane until he found out from where. Once both drinks were placed in front of them, he took hold of one, as if testing its weight before he considered taking a sip, eyes once again landing on the other individual. ​

"You look like chit."​

It wasn't an insult, not intentionally, anyway. He couldn't help it if his words were taken as such, nor did he particularly care. He was just...curious. And about what, he wasn't entirely certain. ​

Kyyrk | Anyone else​

 

[Torgeir Skovgaard]

ZOO CREW - LUPINE - TORGEIR SKOVGAARD​

Location: Drunk Lutgriff​

Tags: Gerwald Lechner ​

It had not been so long ago that the Black Wolf found himself upon Vandor, prowling the forests with his wolf-kin, Astrid, and a friend of hers, Redd. He had taken a mighty bounty in prey that night, and he could almost swear there was still snow in his fur from the night.​

​

Yet, he found himself back on the planet. Albeit, this time he was much more contained, his cloth and linen clothes clung to his body, with just enough give in them to not define his figure too greatly. A raggedy and roughspun cloak of black fur hung from his shoulders, the heels of his leather boots hooked on the stool at the bar.​

​

This time, he was not prowling the wilderness. This time, he was spending the time as he did whenever he found himself upon Skógur Heim. Drinking at a bar.​

​

It was a dangerous loop for the Black Wolf to get stuck in. Especially in celebrations like this. He went to the Tavern to drink, got a headache from the noise, drank more to drown out the headache, which made the noise worse after a few minutes, which he then drank more to drown out. It was a vicious cycle, really.​

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One he found himself in right now.​

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It started in his ears, an ache as the sound took advantage of his enhanced hearing. It then spread to his head, a dull throb at first, slowly building to a pounding knock with every heartbeat. It only got worse as he got drunker. The mead provided a temporary cure, for a few minutes, but when the throbbing came back, the only cure was more mead.​

​

Just as Torgeir thought he might escape this cycle, just as he thought he might survive without a hangover, everything went wrong. The repetitive, if obnoxious, carols were soon replaced by cheers as a man with a thick man of hair, not unlike a lion, burst in. He claimed to buy a round of drinks for everyone, in the name of the Lord Commander.​

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Though he wouldn't turn down the free drink, it didn't stop the smell that writhed into his nose with every breath, drawing the Black Wolf in for more. ​

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He raised his head, the thick, uncombed mess of hair falling back from the head he hung low, his nostrils widened as he took in the scents of the room. There was no mistaking it, there was a wolf among them, and it was not himself. Rather, it was the man who had just entered.​

​

Rather than ignore this fact, he briefly embraced the opportunity to socialise with another of his kind, turning his head. He raised the half empty glass, filled with the golden-brown mead, and nodded his head to the man, hoping to catch his attention.​

 

[Architect]

C A U L D R O N​

T A G: | Sabine Delacroix | Vytal Noctura | Beric Layne |

His snow covered boots buried themselves in the snow, only to kick it away as he took another step forward.

It had been long, longer than he could remember, since he had set foot off of The Ark. Perhaps it was the first time he had ever left. Who knew? Who Cared?

Wasn't anybody else's business, anyway.

The Universe had a strange way of putting him infront of a problem that needed solving. Always happened on The Ark. He'd never once actually found a problem after being told. The messengers never got to him before he found the problem himself. At some point they eventually just stopped bothering.

Then he lashed out at them. No Inferior should ever assume that their service was not needed, after all, it was not the results that mattered. What mattered was the effort. If there was no effort, then results mattered little. But if there was an effort, then results mattered. Yet even the Strict Superiors knew of coincidence, fate and limitations, the magnificent, if inexplicable, things.

They found themselves most familiar with them when talking to the Inferiors, strangely enough.

But no problem worth the Universe's intervention should be left unattended.

Turquoise eyes stood in contrast to the dark, if brightly-coloured, snow that he waded through. It was as if his irises were plucked from the very night sky itself. They looked upon two figures in the distance, feminine in nature. Powerful too, if he could take a guess.

It took merely a minute for the Pixrunduresasa to close the distance, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

In his hand, he held a teacup, missing it's saucer. It was plain in design, rather amazingly ordinary, actually. The mellow liquid within still steaming as he stood, put a hand on his waist, and took a sip, looking over the lake. His clothes seemed entirely unfitting for the occasion, a suit and trench coat, with boots more fitting for fashion than trudging through trenches as one might be expected to in the snow.

"So, this is that catastrophic lake? What was it called again? The Kettle? The Teapot? Something like that, I'm sure. I'd offer you some tea, but I'm not quite sure how I got here. Or when I got here. It's evening, right?"

The man's voice was calm at first, slowly picking up in it's eccentricism as he delved deeper into the sentence. His eyes never deviated from the lake, except for one glance he gave to one of the women, and both of the women at the same time.

"Oh, pardon me. I haven't introduced myself. Architect, Pixrunduresasa Superior in charge of maintenance, design, redesign, and general construction aboard The Ark. Pleasure to make your acquaintances."

He was, without a doubt, a strange man. One of many mysteries, at that.

 

[Arthur Lee Prescott]

Tags: | Gerwald Lechner | Torgeir Skovgaard |

While one might not expect to find a Colonel in a bar to celebrate Christmas, it was a far better, and far more festive, alternative to Arthur's usual holes. Definitely better than a casino, where he'd likely spend the month's earnings gambling on machines, or against machines that were rigged to send him home broke.

Occasionally, if he managed to keep away long enough, he could afford one of the nicer casinos that only cheated him most of the time, and let him break even. But that was very rare, and most of the time he was lucky to leave with half of his budget.

Funny, how all the consistent gamblers were the ones who had all the skill of a bantha trying to balance on a stick with one paw. That is, shit poor luck.

But that shouldn't distract from the festivities.

Beer in hand, waving in the air as his arm wrapped around a compatriot's torso, joining him in carolling. Except, the carol was completely off-beat, off-time, off-pitch and honestly a completely different song.

The only thing that he allowed to interrupt his merriment was the good old Lord Commander of the Knights Obsidian. Well, he had to be good atleast. The last few definitely didn't buy rounds of drinks at some bar that honestly wasn't that notorious. Especially for a crowd that was too drunk as it was.

Hell, the last few he didn't even remember. The Knights changed leaders more often than Arthur changed his underwear. Which was a bad comparison, but the point was there.

He was pretty sure the last one had substituted for all the changing by shifting their structure more than anything else. One day he was working with them trying to find some relics, then they were gone on a mission to be politicians. Then they launched that Inquisition, and suddenly he was working for them rather than with them.

It was damn confusing.

They needed more like this bloke, buying drinks for the honest soldiers who got paid decently and blew it all at casinos, or drinking.

He raised his drink to the man, joining the bar in a hearty cheer for the man, before swiftly returning to their carolling.

 

[Kyyrk]

I N T E R R U P T E D
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Voph didn't look up from his datapad. He was reviewing an ancient text on the Jedi search for Abeloth some centuries back. It wasn't exactly what had happened to the Knights Obsidian, but one never knew what may reveal itself. He was vaguely aware of the individual taking a seat beside him, but it was of no concern who came or went at this bar. As such, he was vaguely aware of the individual ordering a pair of drinks, one presumably for him. But Voph's attention was grabbed when the man stated perhaps the most obvious statement shy of the sky being blue.

You look like chit.
​

Voph visibly paused, looking up from his datapad slowly. He looked like chit? Was the man really that bad at starting conversation, or had he well and truly not seen such a thing before? The face that stared back at Oleander Webb was one born of war. Jagged scars and clean claw marks adorned his face as relics from bygone battles. The blindfold upon his brow masked even more scars, the nature of which only Voph and the Maker knew. The obsidian colored robes shrouded obsidian colored armor below, giving Voph every bit the appearance of a seasoned warrior.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

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[Anora Vahn]

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Attire: [xXx]
Tag: | Rixa Numeck |

---------------------------

There was a roll of the eyes and a loud scoff from Anora when the subject of her and Rixa's bet came up. It had been a bad night for Nora - heck it had been a bad week or so by that point, and yet it had also been the start of this unlikely friendship between the pair. Granted, the night had not ended so well, as the others of their little rag-tag clan had decided to step in, but right now that was neither here nor there.

"Tyran is going to kill us when he finds out we've left." Not because they had stolen his ship, though that didn't help. No, there were other factors that she and Rixa were ignoring at the moment. Dangerous risks, but oh well. "Well, he'll try." she added with a smirk, clinked her glass against Rixa's, then took the time to tip the glass against her mouth and upend it. Only once the cup was empty did she separate from it and set it back against the bar as her gaze shift back to her companion. "Was that your way of rekindling our bet? Because the idea of you getting plastered and attempting to sing along with these carols - especially since you don't know the words, sounds like an evening that no one should miss out on."

Oh yes, she was absolutely game if it was back to the drinking contest.

 

[Rience]

VANDOR
Beneath the Frozen Sky

The Hunter was always fond of Winter.

Though the temperature was certainly unkind, the season was one that provided good memories. For as far back as Rience could recall, the months of cold and frost were kind. It was during this season, in fact, that he first encountered his partner. It was during this time that he first entered the Southern Systems. And, at present, the time of chill had seemingly brought a degree of normal to his life. Though the years had been long, and change had come to Rience and his mate, the time spent together steadily bridged the gap.

Now, just like when they were a young couple, an opportunity was taken to just be themselves.

Of all the things to do this day on Vandor, there were two possibilities that appealed. For Rience, his preference was the taverns - where music, laughter, and strong drink flowed freely. For Cordelia, riding on a sleigh together was far more appetizing. Ultimately, a compromise was made: before riding off into the moonlight, Rience procured for them a fresh vessel of warm cider from town. A taste of the tavern would be with them as they rode the night away.

"Tell me," Rience asked as their voyage began. "I'd never have guessed you'd prefer a sleigh ride. Is my cologne just that good today?" His jesting words were coupled with a smile - and the draping of his arm over her shoulders. She was cool to the touch, even underneath their shared fur blanket. A testament to how much the years had changed her specifically.

But, her vampirism had its perks. For example, the cold never bothered her, anyway.​

Cordelia Malkavian​

 

[Oleander Webb]

​

Ander would never claim to be an eloquent speaker. Or really a speaker at all, there was a reason his trade had been in assassination, not sales. Nevertheless, the temptation to recede into the barstool was even more prevalent as the individual's head rose to face him. The face that stared back at him war-torn and battle-hardened, put the scars that speckled his own face to shame. And while the figure before him was armored to the nines, Ander's own person was shrouded in leathers, an entity meant for the shadows over the front lines.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." ​

"Uh--Yeah." He took another sip of his drink as if to wash away the wave of awkwardness that Oleander seemed to just about exude. Just thought I'd let you know, ha ha. A tight-lipped grimace was hidden behind the mug as the thought crossed his mind, promptly dashed away before he could make even more of a vocal fool of himself.

"What're you studying?" He said instead, tipping his mug slightly in the direction of the datapad. Anything to distract from that blunder of an observation he'd made previously. His other hand slid the second mug across the bar, within reach of the other. "That's yours if you want it."

Kyyrk ​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal Noctura's eyes slowly panned to the side toward a man that had appeared nearby. Insane? He'd hardly done anything worth believing that. Eccentric, however, certainly. After all, the man had asked if it was evening. The Nightmother wondered whether the dark of an absent sun should not have given such away as self-evident. Eccentric, then. Someone eager to make conversation even if the topic appeared to make no sense. Easy to dismiss someone of such a nature, but then Witches did not follow the well-trodden path of most in society. Dismissing curiosities got you killed.​

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"The Cauldron," the Pale Witch responded after the man introduced himself by his title or position. "Are you aware of the danger presented by it or the mountain it seems to isolate from the world?" The man was no spirit, and she did not feel a captive soul screaming to be free of its possession, but this did not remove many other possibilities. There was no need to be dismissive or hostile, but neither were there cause to be too free with information or presumptive they were here to help them in any way.​

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"I am Nightmother Vytal Noctura of the Solanaceae, Nightsister, and Speaker of Spirits. There are whispers of great danger here this evening, as you seem already aware, Architect of The Ark." No need to be rude either. The man had introduced himself, it was only polite to do the same.​

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Tag: Sabine Delacroix | Beric Layne | Architect​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Kyyrk]

S E E K
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The man attempted to hide from the awkwardness he had created by taking a gulp of his drink. Further, he hurriedly changed the subject. Seemed the man really was little more than a bad conversationalist. Voph humphed quietly, and looked back to his datapad. The screen would appear blank to any who looked at it conventionally, such was the nature of a Miraluka's property. But that did not stop the man from inquiring as to what Voph was reading. And offering him the second drink.

Voph frowned at the drink for a moment, before picking it up and taking a slow sip from it. He contemplated the man's request for a moment, then set the drink back on the bar. "I seek answers to a riddle. One that has plagued my mind for months. Any source that may lend aid, I intend to seek out. Any rhyme that may resonate, I aquire to better understand the harmony of the problem, and the melody of the solution."

Oleander Webb

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[Jan Beroya]

TAG: Beric Layne
SECONDARY: Vytal Noctura | Sabine Delacroix | Architect
WEARING: X

Visions.

She had pegged the dreams for what they were - visions. Whispers from something on Vandor of all darn places. But they were strong - vivid.

She was curious.

So a shuttle from Naboo was boarded, taking her to the frozen home of Kod'yok. How quaint.

The night was magical as she stepped off the shuttle - as if the Solanaceae had gone overboard with conjuring pretty things. But that was not why she was here. Knowledge meant power. And she had to know what had caused the visions and whispers.

So she rented a sleigh.

Drawing her fur coat tighter around herself, she then started out in the direction of the volcano - following the whispers.

Before long, she reached the mountainous crater. Picketing the sleigh, she started the long trek to the top to find the source of her funny feeling. It definitely wasn't the sickening signature of the Light Side. But she still couldn't place it and she needed to know why.

 

[Cordelia Malkavian]

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Tags: Rience ​

Attire: [xXx] ​

To see all of the things that Cordelia has seen throughout her lives, Vandor had never been a place she had much time for no matter what time of the year. That didn't mean the idea of drinks, drunken songs, and the lights didn't appeal to her; far from it in fact. Only one person in all of the galaxy had ever been privy to the knowledge of this soften spot the redheaded woman possessed. The Lights, and not just the ones that decorated the sky for that matter. The twinkling orbs that littered buildings, houses, and the like, Delia loved it all. Even now, in this second phase of existence she was still quite taken with the view of it all.​

​

But...the air was perfumed with the scent of heated blood. The alcohol that tainted the veins of the living acted as an amplifier, demanding Delia's attention even when she did not wish to pay it any mind. It made her jaw ache and her throat burn in an uncomfortable way, and because of this she had stuck ever so much more closely to Rience to help keep her rooted. The last thing anyone needed for this holiday was a bloody rampage brought on by one of her kind. Normally, she wouldn't care for such things or think twice, but she was indeed soft for this time of year.​

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So she had been all too eager to agree to the sleighs. A ride out, away from the crowds was perfect, and she had accepted her mate's terms and allowed for him to bring a touch of the taverns with them on the trip. However it wasn't until they were seated and at least underway before Delia exhaled slowly and relaxed in her seat. She took the time to breathe, lengthy and slow breaths to clear the air in her lungs that still lingered from the central area, and it was during this that Rience had spoken to her.​

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Delia smiled, and even laughed softly at his tease as she settled beneath his arm. The cold did not bother her as expected, but that did not mean that his warmth did not appeal to her. "Yes," she answered him simply at first, but continued. "And I would much rather have you to myself for a while before I have to share you with the badly tuned crowds loitering about the taverns." It was by no means false information, every word of it was true. It was just missing the pieces about her wondering how many people she could kill and how quickly she could do so before chaos erupted in her wake.​

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Yes this, being out here with Rience, was much better for a plethora of reasons.​

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[Oleander Webb]

"Was that the riddle itself or is it simply better to vocalize in verse?" The ghost of a chuckle tugged at the edges of Oleander's voice as if trying to bring light into an already bleak exchange. His eyes slid to the datapad, curiosity neither killed or satisfied as he took in the blank screen, not nearly invested enough for dismay.

Another sip of his drink drove the otherwise preoccupied mind through a short silence, puzzling the answer he was given and what wisdom he could possibly contribute. While he was neither so bold nor so old as to pull a 'back in my day', both a boon and a bane of being an entity out of time (and only recently restored to the land of the living) meant his collection of knowledge was always just a bit skewered, outdated but not yet so much as to be antiquated. "Well, I s'pose finding either a melody or harmony would mean to start at the beginning. Find the score and then find the key."

Kyyrk ​

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

TAG: Eenia Vahn

He smiled at her elation about snow.

After Korriban, she had been the only one that had been able to bring one to his face in the days that had followed.

She then took off in the direction of the Drunk Lutgriff. Dimitri sighed, a smile still on his lips. Ever since she had learned what he was, she had been looking for reasons to see it in action, albeit subtly. This was one more such instance.

With a step, his movement blurred as he caught up with her.
"My dear, showcasing my prowess is not my idea of a relaxed night." he chuckled as he fell into step next to her. The time of being a full fledged Sith Lord Energy Vampire has long since passed. All he wanted to do now was lead a carnage-free, relaxed life while the most active he would be was to teach the ways of the Force.

He accompanied her into the most famous tavern in Frosthall. It was warm and jovial inside, drunken singing already underway while people laughed and talked. A flushed server made her way towards them.
"What would it be, dearies?" she asked them with a smile.
"Only a tankard of mead for me for now." he said and then looked at Eenia. "What would you like, my dear?" he asked her.

 

[Aela Wren]

TAG: Pravus Cruento
WEARING: X

Her grey eyes narrowed at his comment of her not needing a blaster to off someone.
"I can test that theory on you if you don't shut it." she sneered at him, but her eyes said she wasn't serious. She still followed him into town.

It did come as a surprise, however, that he had splashed some credits on this trip. She was quite confused when he dumped a keytag in her hand and told her to meet him in the foyer in 20 minutes. But her scowl was back when he told her about her admiring herself in the mirror with his boyish smirk.
She grumbled a "I'll throw you with a mirror, Moof-milker" before heading to the rented suite.

She let out a huff in the room. Not because of irritability, but because he had splurged so much for her. It wasn't the high-end Scarif luxury, but this room must have cost a pretty penny regardless. She almost felt bad for giving him grief about the dress. Almost.

She needed a drink.

She turned the room over twice trying to find something. Who the kark doesn't keep booze in their suites. She was back to wanting to hang Pravus. She felt entirely out of place in places like this. Thank Hoth that 20 minutes passed quickly enough. She all but ran out of the room.

Meeting up with Prav in the foyer, she refrained from scowling at him.
"You really went overboard this time." was all she said.

 

[Cord Starfall]

Tag: Open
Wearing: X​

---

The Pirate Witch sat at the bar down free drink after free trying to ignore the annoying singing. She wanted to slink off to far away place to be alone in her drinking. Yet she was trying to make an effort to be more open and approachable as a Master of the Knights Obsidian. No point in letting everyone think you are crotchety old wretch that hated the holidays because it only drummed up memories…..She took another heavy drink of her mead. She didn’t want to think about them not now because this was the time of year, she missed them the most and if she thought of them too long, she might break out in tears.


She tapped her hand her hand on the bar signaling the Tender to draw her up another drink. The faster she buried the thought of them in alcohol the faster she might be able to partake of some of the various festivity and make people think she was a sociable person. Another fleeting memory passed by her and she downed another brew demanding her next, and then her next. Cord was fastly trying to bury herself in oblivion and as she did so the singing around her seemed to get slightly better like most things got better the drunker you were.


The memories of her wife and children began to slip away for the time. She even began to hum along to some of those Life Day songs, the ones she used to sing with her children a really long time ago. It was funny of all the things Cord things Cord was open about in her life being a sith, Jedi, witch, and even a pirate, even willingness to talk about the evil things she did. She always kept her family to herself the one thing she had not opened up about in a really long time to anyone. This was no time for regret or pity, it was a time for revelry, so Cord took another swig of the mead and even began tapping her feet to some of the songs being sung.

 

[Kyyrk]

M U S E
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"If only I could be so lucky." Voph took another gulp of the offered drink. "No, such a task would require knowledge I do not have. An answer best serves a question. But even that I do not truly posses." Voph mused quietly to himself as he stared blankly at his mug. How best to answer a question when you do not know where to find the answer? How best to answer a question you do not even entirely understand? Voph sighed quietly.

"Hypothetically speaking...If you were tasked with hunting something that you had never seen or encountered before, where would you start? The only knowledge you have of your quarry, the destruction left in its wake. And when you seek information on said quarry, you are told repeatedly that it does not exist." Voph looked at the man for a moment. Inside, Voph was almost kicking himself for confiding in a stranger. This was his burden to bear. But then, he was growing desperate. His search across the breadth of knowledge contained within the CIS was returning no results. It was nearly time for him to depart to seek answers elsewhere...

Oleander Webb

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[Oleander Webb]

"Well," a tight-lipped smirk held back a short chuckle but only just. "It'd depend on how much of a mess I'd be willing to leave in my wake, I guess." He shrugged. An added bonus of meeting his dietary needs, his victims' memories served as dinner and a show if he was in the mood to pry. But that was a boon he couldn't imagine the other having access to, nor something he was about to expand on in detail. "Memories are a funny thing. Get access to them, the truth tends to reveal itself. The Force help you if they've been tampered with, though."

"Other than that...might be a hint that whatever you're searching for isn't meant to be found." Another shrug, another drink. He gave the other another once-over, once more taking in the armor and further solidifying that he'd seen this dude before somewhere. Maybe he was important? Maybe not, though, Oleander was drawing a blank. "Or whoever you're talking to is lacking incentive. Or has just enough incentive, I guess. I dunno, reasonings go both ways."

Kyyrk ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

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LOCATION: Drunk Lutgriff
WEARING: HO HO HO
TAG: Torgeir Skovgaard

There was much celebration when it came to the news the Lord Commander was buying everyone a round. Naturally, unless the news had traveled quickly several would not be aware that Gerwald was the new Lord Commander of the Knights Obsidian. He certainly did not dress the part, then again there was not really much of a dress code. Gerwald had always been a more casual person regardless of how many times others tried getting him to dress more formally. He smiled at the thought of how some of them might react had they seen him now. The lupine would have likely been nudged away from the public house had Naedira been there in person, but she was only there as the ring allowed her to be, and even then she was force ghost.​

​

Gerwald looked at the golden liquid in his glass. While others drank, the wolf thought about the events which had brought him here once more. It had only been two celebrations ago that he had made a pact with his sister Alwine to reconcile. That had led to little as she had followed those who exited with Scherezade to join the Agents of Chaos. It was still heavy with him that his sister was now fugitive wanted for the attempted murder of a Viceroy and the wife of another Viceroy as well. Breathing in, Gerwald finally took his drink, draining the glass in a gulp.​

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He looked away long enough to see another. The scent was unmistakable, another lupine.​

​

"I have met someone close to you, a sister? Your scent reminds me of her."​

​

It was an odd way to start a conversation to any that would be a bystander, but for Gerwald it was nothing abnormal. The man was a lupine like he was, and Gerwald knew he would have caught his sent as well. They both knew what the other knew long before their eyes had ever met.​

​

Gerwald looked to the barkeep.​

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"Another for my friend here."​