While the shaman seemed wise enough for someone trying to buy a drink with pigs' teeth, he lacked the wherewithal to read the room effectively. He infuriated Douglas, who lost his place very quickly. The barkeep's admonition was met with returned ire from both Shinsou and Storm, both gentlemen who had grown tired being lectured to about what the fabled Brotherhood should or should-not be up to. It didn't surprise the wizard for a second when Shinsou started popping off at the mouth, frothing with a booze induced fury about the best laid plans.

The notion of a battle here and now in this absurd little chamber positively delighted the electromancer. Glancing about the place he made note of the mostly wooden architecture, which offered littler metal for him to leverage to his advantage. Irrespective of this, lightning was reasonably agnostic from this range.

Showtime, baby. Probably steer around of the lightning to avoid vaporizing these plebeians. The monks have mighty magic, but I doubt they could bring back friends from being char and dust.

Storm quickly popped back from the bar in a nimble hop, sucking the last few drops of ale from his hand while smiling and straightening his waistcoat. Douglas saw this nimble maneuver as his eyes widened, watching with terror as a buzz of blue-white energy began to bleed from Storm's right hand in a humming haze. The wizard's hand appeared to grow larger by the effect as the aura sizzled and snapped to life.

"You'll want to go now." Veritas wickedly cackled as he counted backwards from three, giving the overstepped bartender a few moments to dash. The rapid waddle of the terrified Citadel employee was incredibly amusing, his doughy frame bustling with a fat fury for the door. He was given only a moment.

...but an example must be made, rube.

With a casual extension of his hand, Storm fired a thundering crack of electric mania from his outstretched palm. It was a reasonably gentle effort, but enough to either kill or seriously maim the bartender if it hit him just right. The mortal was rocketed forward into the door by the modest burst, an audible groan resonated as the kitchen door broke at the hinges and pulled down at an odd angle. Douglas was out, but likely alive, a scent of burned hair beginning to waft from his back, where his shirt and vest had been incinerated.

Storm couldn't help but smile, considering the notion of reaching back to the bar to refill his stein.