While winding up in a bar felt extremely par for the course in nearly every significant exchange that Storm enjoyed during his many days upon Althanas, this little sojourn felt off. The large port of Etherea was chock-full of boats, and loads of cash or power thirsty folks seemed to be pouring off the water with their own eyes on the Demon Portal.

“Hot cider, lemon, and a water.” The uncharacteristic order was greeted with a surprised look by the fast-moving Dark Elf behind the bar, who was shuffling to cater to an increasingly hostile crowd. Elite Optic, the massive skeleton creature that Storm had narrowly escaped in Lornius so long ago, was already irate at the beautiful elven emissary that Radasanth had arranged.

What the hell happened to the stoic goliath that just did the bidding of his human and -didn’t- put us all at existential risk?

Looking to broker peace, Storm slid between Cazri and the large bone beast, making careful note of the metal trinkets about his shoulders and head. If things got weird, he’d have to get busy fast at keeping the incredibly powerful creature BACK.

“See you’re fast at making friends little lady, everything okay here?” The pompous inquisition was a distraction tort, designed to disarm Elite a bit. Before she could answer, he turned to ask the warrior a bit of his travels.

“And you, not someone I could forget! Storm Veritas, in case you forgot. Cazri seems to have jammed us back together. I presume it wasn’t your doing to try to blow me off the goddamned boat out there in open waters. While I was taking a leak, no less!”

Cazri couldn’t help but smile at the imagery; Elite may or may not have been cognizant of the goings on as he was pulled behind the boat. Regardless, Storm suspected he saw a grin break at the jaw of the large being. Was it a laugh?

“From what I recall, you took off the docks from Radasanth harbor quickly with a largely empty boat. It looked awfully cozy, I’m sure.”

And “sympathy” is in the dictionary between “shit” and “syphilis”. Boo-fucking-hoo.

Storm bit softly at his cheek to stifle his anger. The diplomat in him needed to shine.

“Very well. Bury the hatchet, then.” Storm produced a handful of shining golden crowns from his pocket and laid them on the bar. The previously busy barkeep amazingly found his way to the wizard as if the entire establishment was empty.

“This round, and the next, for me, the big fella, the two ladies and the fella with the sword down there.” Storm gestured to Leoric, who had been calmly sipping at a tall stein, waving him down to the group. “Keep the rest for yourself, courtesy of Storm Veritas. Remember the name.”

Introducing himself to the young looking girl as well, the magician avoided furrowing his brow at her diminutive stature. He was an older man himself; looks alone would betray his power and fury. Perhaps she had some tricks of her own up her sleeve.

“The name is Storm, for those of you that don’t know me. The big fella’ and I have worked together before; if he’s taken you all as company I suspect you’re all competent enough. Cazri here has taken us on as a bundled package, for better or worse.”

“If you’d like me with you, then I suggest we move, and quickly.” He spoke with focus, his eyes sharpening like a falcon as the orange glow of light kissed his face and his drink offered a lovely dance of citrus on his tongue. “Fools will be marching across the plain and setting up camps immediately. We need to get close enough to the portal to see how the camps line up.”

His eyes caught those of Cazri. She wouldn’t have been recommended by Radasanth if she was a friend of the elves. If she was a demon-kin then she’d already be gone. It would have to be dwarves, then. His voice dropped to a whisper as he scanned about him, ensuring he was outside earshot of the common elves. If someone could still sense him, so be it.

“I’ve got a lot of friends with the little bearded bastards. The dwarves here won’t have many allies, but none of us have many other options. The crown isn’t in the habit of sponsoring their rivals.”

Sipping at his drink, he moved his sharp gaze across the little group he had somehow been wrangled into. Cazri said nothing, assuring him his assumption was precisely correct. For now, it now simply came down to finishing their drinks and setting up camp. At dawn’s break he’d want to be up and ahead of the rush.