[b][Kresnik][/b]
The dhampir studied the elf throughout, noticing the shudderings and, soon after he had finished speaking, the subtle twinge of his right eye. However, he placed such an observation into the very darkest and deepest places of his mind. The elf had begun to speak once more, always the verbose fool. Kresnik arose with him, listening. As the elf had finished, his lips became a very deep frown. "A hero I am not," Kresnik began, his tone loathsome and his voice still that dark pitch. "And regardless, I do not need much for supplies. I have more than enough to handle those [i]hags[/i], ten times over if I must." As Kresnik explained himself, he followed the elf's gaze to the bar and noticed that people had, indeed, begun to flow back into the tavern and that the gory mess he had produced was being cleaned by the young girl he had saved. His eyes were no longer lit by those hellish flames and were thus replaced with a gentle glow of kindness and compassion. "If I must, I shall voyage to Hell and beyond to make sure no child suffers the [i]darkness[/i] that plagues us all. If that means I have to confront an army bred by [i]fear[/i] itself, then I shall... no matter how much I want to curl up and die." Kresnik sighed. 

He began to walk away from the table, towards Bruce and his bar, his strides powerful and graceful, like that of a massive jungle cat. His gaze lingered upon the sharkman, his confidence visible as he squared his shoulders and raised his chin, his body relaxed despite what belied such a comfortable posture. His long white hair danced behind him as he made his way there, like flames born from the heavens, his coat following suit in its tattered state. The gentle clicking of his sword-and-sheathe beat itself gently upon his leg, joining the rhythmic pounding of his heavy boots and its clinking steel. The dhampir also focused his magic power to his throat and to his eyes. It did not take him long to make it to the bar, and when he stopped and leaned upon the bar with his elbow as support, he kept his keen, lavender eyes upon the sharkman, his eyes gazing into his. "[i]I would like a glass of brandy,[/i]" Kresnik began slowly, speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. His melodic voice held a strange power, for it was nearly hypnotic. "[i]And perhaps a meal. An entire chicken with a side of potatoes, mashed and buttered, and with an apple cobbler for dessert.[/i]" Kresnik gave a coy, nearly innocent and friendly smile.