[hr][hr][h2][center][color=00aeef]Sigemund, "Brith-Eater"[/color][/center][/h2]
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The flute was beautiful. A brith had done something beautiful. Purely a bad omen surely. Witchery? Who was to know?

Perhaps he was mistaken to have remained quiet, and allowed this to develop as it had. He sat, contemplating the moment as a table shot through the air and into the guardsmen. The real consequence was affiliation. He had not taken the necessary precautions to separate himself from this gaggle, and the mage's reaction seemed to have made those precautions necessary. 

Hindsight was perfect. 

[i]Crunkc.[/i]

The table drove them now against the far wall. How odd was this magic? This was something to fear. Hrunting was strong but it was only good at breaking poorly made blades and making bad wounds worse.

[i]Pwoofk-k-k-k-kc.[/i]

[color=00aeef]Did he really use witchery to open a window?[/color]

Any sort of plan was out the window at this point— That is to say literally. The mage was a liability but was likely key for whatever venture these potential companions were to accompany him on. What were the circumstances?

The contact was late. The guardsmen appeared in her stead. The meeting had gone poorly, or they had been sold out. They had not committed the crimes described by the guardsfolk. Illegal affiliation suggested something sharply unfortunate. The Goat was in charge, but the Goat had no Dreamer's Draugr. It would be best to not start slaying now in the new homeland. It would be hellish if there were warrants for Wudga Wave Wraith out here. The risk of the Brith keeping embassy here was too great. He would have to have Anne do some looking around.

"[color=00aeef]My name is Hama. I have a ship at docks, look for the skull-head icon across the bow. Only put them down,[/color]" he gestured towards the table and the knocked Guardsmen, "[color=00aeef]if they give you trouble. I figure Anne will try to shoot you if you get too close to my boat. When you see my crew, you'll see them, tell, 'Hama sent us for lodgeworkings.' They should help you out if the damn governingfolk are done searching me. If you don't want flight, we need to get our Witch back. Whatever you intend on us doing,[/color]" He pointed his left hand authoritatively at Vekyzz, "[color=00aeef]I want the Witch with us, if only because the damn thing is clearly strong enough to get us anywhere we may be going. All of us are here for this Riverend individual and I like to keep appointments. I'll be blatant, as I don't like a big mess of lies about me. Bad for morale. I am from the Trident, sorry for the hostilities Brith-Ma'am I don't much like your kin, and I'm looking to use this opportunity to settle my clan South, here, where it's safe from Cats.[/color]"

He watched Vekyzz carefully, drawing Hrunting and positioning himself so that he could cut down the guardsmen if they attempted to recover too fully from their table-bound circumstances. His statements had been firm but his tone deferred to the Goat. He took the briefest moment to put his left hand on the hilt of his dagger, refraining to draw it. Instead he stood with his right arm forward and out towards the guards. This stance was clearly trained, and capable. It was not for sword fighting, however. It looked like he was preparing to grapple, using the sword as the distance boundary. The result that he stood in a rather regal and respectable manner with his right arm bent at the elbow. The real weapon in this stance was the dagger.

"[color=00aeef]Captain's left leg's lame. I'll head up the rear, you all advance through our window and track down the mage. Annabella, I got your name right? Stay with me and help me tie them down? We don't need bloodshed. Just a misunderstanding. You hear that Captain? We just want to mind ourselves and ensure we all have this situation understood. No violence. You fight in a war? How did your leg end up cricked? I promise I won't fight you less on account of it if you step forward from the table.[/color]" It was at this point the Sigemund finally took a breath. He had said more in a brief time than he said in his entire time on the damnable new continent. 

A tiefling was ten minutes from ripping out his spine in an alleyway, a brith with a glowing flute was working on enslaving a new land of humanfolk, and a greenskin with rightly-made braids in her hair was doing more talking than just about anyone in the tavern. Somehow a mage had thrown a table.

It was at this moment that he shook out his shoulders. [color=00aeef]I wonder what they're having for dinner?[/color] He thought of a stag on a green hill, while its herd stood among wolves. Perhaps an image fueled by ego? Or an aspiration? A rightly mess this all was. He put his effort in to make it look like he knew exactly where this was going, but at this rate he was just concerned about getting his meal tickets out and about. He didn't have a crew size enough to do much but scout and purchase land.

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