Just as Yaroslav had seated himself the Skayleigh said in a booming voice that we would not be teleported and would travel on foot, Yaroslav had no problem with this as he was very familiar with the dangers of a misused teleport spell. He was about to voice an agreement when he saw out of the corner of his eye the Skayleigh moving slowly toward him. Yaroslav began to consider whether an Andred battle mage dying at the hands of a Skayleigh in front of a menagerie of adventurers and Elven Royalty in a tavern in Riverhope would be interesting enough for bards to make quips about years down the line when the Skayleigh extended his hand in greeting. 

"Don't worry. It's not a carnivorous plant that will snap close and crush the end of your arm once you touch its center. I've always spared this kind of action for mage apprentices on the battlefield." The Skayleigh said in a voice barely concealing displeasure then followed with "Where my family has been decimated..." with his voice a low rumbling growl. 

Yaroslav knew the Skayleigh could easily crush his hand, he had seen hundreds of Andred’s men die at the hands of the Skayleigh, but he also knew that the Skayleigh were not monsters so he did not hesitate and sat his small hard in the center of the Skayleigh’s palm and locked eyes with the man as he said calmly. “Thank you for the greeting. I hope you fight with the same vigor as those I have faced in battle.” 

Before the Skayleigh could reply the young mage woman across the table called out a greeting to him. "Hello, Yaroslav. I am Alice Peerbane as I'm sure you heard, Andred are you? How are the arts over there, I confess I have never been long in those parts." She had a Vrettonian accent, something Yaroslav had heard many times from both friend and foe. Yaroslav assumed that this obviously astute young woman had noticed Yaroslav’s predicament and jumped in and broken up the awkward situation. He turned his attention away for the Skayleigh and listened as Alice continued "At the very least I can't remember the brooding school being officially recognized, though I know it was well practiced among many mages." 

At this Yaroslav gave a chuckle and replied. “Yes I am from Andred. The arts there are full of stuffy old angry men and woman unwilling to change or try anything new, but we get by.” He shrugs his shoulders. “As for the brooding school of magic I am considering trying to get it officially recognized and opening my own Guild as Guild Master. I would invite you to join but it will probably be a rather dreadful place.” He smiles widely as he unsuccessfully tries to deliver this joke dryly. “Do I hear a Vrettonian accent? It has been awhile since I have travelled that way, are the arts still as antiquated as always?" he says with an almost playful badgering tone then takes a bite from a small loaf of bread with a rather thick crust.