A Call to Arms

Tara studied the map intently as the Challus spoke, and her eyes darted quickly back and forth with precision that spoke of her experience. Scenarios flew through her head, several impromptu plans materializing and disintegrating before she arrived at the same conclusion as Raptt. At this, her jaw clenched.

"Black ops, I take it," she muttered to herself grimly, well under the nervous tittering of the tavern. "That is my specialty these days, after all."

The healer finally returned McKenzie's salute, then nodded firmly and raised her voice to be heard. "Tell General Vepr that I'll take care of the mission. Also tell him that I'll be taking your advice about Malisitin Port."

With that, the Challus saluted one more time before turning to leave the bar. Tara wasted no time watching him leave. Her eyes shot back to the drunken officer she'd just reprimanded, and she left him with a glare that lived up to her newfound title perfectly. She then turned Vivienne's new location. The shift in seating surprised the healer somewhat, but her answer lay in the necromancer alone. Tara cut her way across the room to stand at the end of the booth.

"Get lonely, miss?" she asked with the simulated coyness that reminded Vivienne of her failed attempt earlier.

"Afternoon mam" Pyro stated, giving a quick salute of the Zarakian army. "We were just speaking while you were...otherwise occupied..." he stated, his eyes darting brifly to the drunkard at the bar and then towards the map Tara had been given. He then allowed the blue petals of the flame rose to turn more of a reddish orange color. "If you wish I will leave you two to your conversation once more..." he stated, draining his glass and moving to stand.

As he got to his feet he placed the rose into the glass he'd just finished, as his fingers left it it seemed to wilt, the petals falling into the glass before the entire 'rose' collapsed into itself, leaving no trace that it had exsisted, not even a soot stain on the glass.

Among all the goings on in such a busy body place as the local pub, there were still people not entertained enough to ignore the rather large, dark-skinned figure than slowly limped through the door. The man was very tall by stature and very muscular. His dark brown hair casted a dim shadow over the worn eyes. The man couldn't have been more than 25. His right leg seemed to have gone through a shredder what with all the make shift bandages that the injure person carelessly applied to the injury. Despite his condition he still was stopped at the door by an equally built bouncer. "I'm sorry sir," he said in his intimidating voice, "But you can't bring that in here. Only military personnel may carry weapons into the establishment, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave it with me, or to find somewhere else." Said the worker, staring at the sheathed blade slung on his back.

The man looked upon the bouncer through his mangy brown hair, he said nothing before looking forward and taking a heavy limp step.

Still the bouncer placed a firm hand on his chest in order to stop the newcomer. "Without warning the man took the blade, sheath and all, from his back and withdrew the mighty weapon just far enough for the hilt to pin the bouncer to the wall.

The bouncer was shocked to have been overpowered so easily. Even more shocked to see such fire in the stranger's eyes. Though he saw such power in his eyes, his face still remained as stoic as ever. "Sir, Please!" he bargained, with a hint of desperation "I'm only doing my job"

The stranger stared at the man, his expression telling little of what he was truly thinking. After several long seconds of unease, the man loosed his pin, letting the jagged and chipped blade to slide back in it's sheath, but keeping his grip ever firm on the worn sword.

Vivienne grinned up at Tara showing sharp teeth. She liked this woman's attitude. This could be fun... as long as it didn't lead to jail (or worse). She tossed her head, making her short black hair flip to the right with a catty swish.

"More like got bored. Shall we continue where we left off?"


---

Before the strange man who had entered the bar could realize what had happened, McKenzie's bodyguards were at his sides with swords drawn. McKenzie took quick, heavy, pointed steps up to the tall figure, meeting his gaze.

"Not a smart move, citizen--walking into a weapons-prohibited bar and producing a weapon... You might want to give me your name and what your business is here, friend, if you know what's good for you. Wouldn't want things turning nasty 'round this establishment."

The mysterious man's eyes looked back to the guards that were now prepared to skewer him like a piece of savory meat. The tension in the air was palpable and the silenced seemed to go on for days. Finally the newcomer conceded. He may be daring, but he was not stupid. The guards did not waiver, even while staring into the fire that burned in his eyes. The kind of look a wounded coyote gets when defending his last morsel of food.

He grudgingly thrusted the sword, sheath and all into the leader of the battalion's chest. Knocking him back a few steps.

The captain grabbed the blade and withdrew it from it's carrier for examination and laughed at the condition of the sword. "Fhuahahaha, Stranger, this is hardly a blade to cause such a commotion. What do you do hope to accomplish with a sword such as this? Kill your foe with technis?" The captain proceded to laugh at his own cleverness, at which point his subordinates joined in.

The stranger said nothing still. His teeth gritting in frustration, or perhaps in pain from his injuries.

Rece looked at the guards, and the man causing the commotion. He was almost thankful to the stranger. McKenzie had nearly locked eyes with him, at which point he would likely be thrown so severe punishment. That was no good, his record was all but nonexistent as it was. He was in a bad spot.

Rather than holding his head up with some smart remark, as he normally would, he was content to slowly sliding from view. But there was something keeping him at the bar.

Tara...

Could it be that she wasn't so harsh as he was informed? Not to mention the rumors being confirmed by her cold manner of speaking, as he had experienced.

But, more importantly he was interested in the woman accompanying her. Yes, the woman dressed so darkly and suspiciously. Something was going on, unless Tara just had some strange interest in these sorts of women. A thought that set Rece's imagination alight with glee.

No no, now wasn't the time for fantasies. What was going on, in reality? The more he thought, though his lack of common sense made his assumptions quite ludicrous, the more interested in finding out he became.

Tara already knew he was present, so there was no point in hiding from her. But, so far McKenzie hadn't seen him. So the large man slipped into the booth just beside Vivienne and Tara's. The creak of his armor was audible, though nothing compared to the loud voices of the tavern, and his scent of alcohol was conveniently masked by the atmosphere of the place. It was a bar after all. Hopefully, all this made him inconspicuous enough.