[b]"It will get more interesting quickly enough."[/b] Masef noted coolly, a guard's sword in hand. They'd taken down the guards too quickly for him to put it in blood and a quick glance showed burrs and nicks in the weapon from shoddy care. It wasn't that impressive of a weapon to begin with, but the care it was shown made it of little use or interest to Masef.

[b]"But this one yet breathes. It's possible we might find some more information, such as where these vultures have Brand's possessions, where his body lays and who specifically led the attack on him. If he know such things."[/b] 

Masef seemed calm about the whole thing, eerily in control as he ticked off the things they might eke out of the man he was standing over. Of course, there was the impulse to simply slit a throat and be done with it, but they could always slit a throat now or later. If carefree Masef was like this, it was perhaps a sign of just how far Harold had gone when he or one of his minions decided that Brand of the Nightwood deserved anything but a life of peace after doing so much for the local area. It'd pained him to see Bosfyrd this...gray. Dulled, oppressed.

He wasn't entirely pleased to see all his siblings; step in as he might to save the drow from an attack on the flank, Masef was not entirely pleased to see a kinslayer back among them. It was Kazahk all over again; he walked in, started a fight and everyone else wound up dealing with the inevitable. Where they were already planning to do something, it might have gone off more silently, without rousing the entire town -- already some peeked through the windows of the tavern, saw the damage, and scurried away and Masef didn't blame them. They were not going to be alone here much longer. A quick check of the guards and their possessions yielded coin, dice, alcohol. 

But before they could do anything else, they had to see the old man properly buried. 

[b]"Emma,"[/b] Masef called out, [b]"Leave here screaming. Tear your dress a bit. It was a disagreement over dice, and we tried to stop you from fleeing. You barely escaped."[/b] he dropped a few on the floor, along with coins and cups to make it realistic, [b]"we certainly weren't welcome here. Don't lie about who we were."[/b] He was doing her a favor, in a sense -- she was surely a witness and they'd probably harm her if they thought she was at all friendly to the people that did this to local guards and holding back. Qazar made a noise of disgust, in his head, while noting that Masef was so soft-hearted that he'd care for some peasant girl that was unimportant in the scheme of things. Pious bleating and would-be heroism.

[i]Shut up, old fiend.[/i]

[b]"This one, we take with us."[/b] He toed the inert form of the guard he'd kicked with the same boot that did the kicking, his eyes gleaming darkly.

That made Qazar cackle. It made Masef frown.