Zaccar payed little attention to the conversation that happened near him. His only interests were the fact that the rather tall woman in the crowd was a demon. A peculiar site to find a demon wanting to aid in the destruction of dragons. He noted to himself that he would keep an eye on her, from the little he remembered of the three year journey to reach the city in his wandering, he had ran into his fair share of demons and his dealings with them, left him with little trust to have one by his side in the daunting task that would be presented to them by the king. He left the two talking fighting his way through the crowds to reach the castle and see the king as many other undead would be doing. Some got out of his way just by looking at what he carried. In honesty though he thought what he carried was modest, with the only true thing showing his strength being his shield. The bow was merely a tool he found necessary to take on certain foes and had crafted to bring those who were airborne to a fair fight along with gathering a decent meal.

Despite his armor having fur on it, he felt rather cool within his protection and wore the armor of Ural with pride, at least knowing that he had had the title of knight to his name before loosing everything to the curse that branded him.