Hatred/rage/spite/fury - agony The wash of emotions that roiled behind me was nearly potent enough to send me to my knees. The rage and hatred was vile and foul, a thick and choking miasma that drowned out many of the other emotions - which in this tavern had rapidly become fear and nervousness, shot through with undercurrents of anger. Anger that paled in comparison to the brew that emanated from the man behind me -

At least until the agony and scream erupted. I heard a weird sizzle, almost like bacon popping in a pan, but lacking the scent of heat and cooking meat - then the sharp tang of copper flooded my nose. Blood. I spun around to see my would-be assailant falling to his knees, one hand clutching desperately at the other. The injured hand was somehow coated in metal, and I could see where drops of blood had fallen to the floor.

The agony/pain/terror made bile rise in the back of my throat. I almost didn't hear words spoken to me - a murmur, noise that filtered in one ear and out the other. My stomach heaved as the pain tore through my mind and emotions, drowning out everything in the tavern except for the unrelenting agony and the mind-numbing panic. I fell to one knee, catching myself before falling over completely as I forced myself to steady out my breathing. Trying to mute the feelings that were thundering through my head, pounding through my chest.

Blearily I focused on the man in front of me - and the emotions cut off as he passed out. I let out a gasp of pure relief as the excruciating pain and the heavy fear vanished as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto his side, his good hand still clutching at the ruined one. With my own uninjured hand I tentatively reached out and touched the man's neck, checking for a pulse. My relief intensified when I found it - reedy, weak, but steady. I slowly forced my way to my feet, staggering slightly.

The intense emotions had run me ragged, and even in their absence recovery wasn't immediate. But I had my own emotion fueling me at the moment - resentment mixed with disbelief. I didn't know just what the absolute Kholis-taken hells was going on here, or what the 'brotherhood' was that spawned such deep emotions, but now a man's hand and life were ruined over it. And I had been dragged into the middle of it. I'd tried warning someone and then been attacked by him - and then again, if the actual target of his fury had not intervened.

I needed answers. And the white-clad man who had done this, the one who had walked outside, he was my only chance for those now. Everyone who remained in the tavern was staring at me, and I didn't need to be an Empath to feel the fear, shock, simmering anger in those gazes. "M… Make sure he gets to a healer. He still lives." My voice was shaky, unstable and weak as I spoke. Leather trod across dusty, blood spattered wood as I stumbled out the door into the streets.

Immediately my eyes swept around, to see the white-clad man. He and his companion seemed almost to be waiting for me - maybe from what he'd said as he left, the words I'd lost in the wash of the agony. "What… The Kholis was that all about?" I rasped out when I got over to the two of them. I normally was more polite about this but at the moment, my own arm was hurting and I was still recovering from the man in the tavern's emotions. I was a bit too off-kilter to really be polite.