[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019af2b9-6db1-7669-b1a8-71b0a5423830.webp[/img]
[color=f26522]Time[/color]: 2nd of Ignis - Evening
[color=f26522]Location[/color]: Tough Tavern > city streets
[color=f26522]Interactions[/color]: 
[color=f26522]Mentions[/color]: [@CitrusArms] Stratya  [@Potter] Olivia [@Lava Alckon] Drake [@Tpartywithzombi] Ariella [@Samreaper] Kazumin [@princess] Charlotte
[color=f26522]outfit:[/color] comfortable fit nothing fancy [/center]
[hr][hr]

Roman let his head thud back against the wall, a ragged breath rattling in his chest. He watched the lethal efficiency of the captain, his own body feeling heavy and useless in comparison. When Sjan-dehk’s gaze swept near him, Roman didn’t try to rise. He just locked eyes with him and gave him a simple nod.

Everything seemed to crest and slow down simultaneously. It gave him quite a bit of insight, not just into the others, but into how these Sailors fought. It wasn’t just practice he was seeing; it was experience, from both the captain and his men. How they fought was methodical, smooth in every motion. Very insightful indeed.

It wasn’t long before the actual guards arrived. Personal guards, but guards nonetheless. Led by one man: Duke Gideon Edwards. He locked eyes with him and again nodded. Roman had never personally sat down and talked with the man, but that might be something to change after this trial business was over. He needed to see where the man stood.

His attention was suddenly pulled to his side by the small glass vial a young woman pressed into his hand, the red liquid catching the dim tavern light. He didn't have the breath to thank her, just the strength to offer a comforting smile. He wasn’t in a place to argue, so he drank the contents. It wasn’t wine, but it smelled very similar to potions he had drunk before.

He felt Gideon’s gaze on him and heard his words loud and clear. He didn’t have to be told twice. Soon, this place would be a trap once again.

The warmth in his belly grew. The girl had quickly snuck away after giving it to him. The uncomfortable sensation of ribs pulling themselves back into place was not something one could ever get used to. At least his instincts rang true; the drink was indeed a healing potion.

Almost instantly, the sharpest edges of his pain began to dull. It wasn't a miracle—his ribs still screamed when he inhaled, and his head still swam with the aftershocks of the concussion—but the crushing weight that had pinned him to the wall lifted just enough. The potion knit the worst of the internal damage together, buying him time.

He gritted his teeth, planting his palms against the rough plaster behind him. With a groan that was lost in the shuffling of the evacuating crowd, Roman forced his legs to work. He slid up the wall, his boots finding purchase on the slick floor, until he was standing. The world tilted violently to the left, then righted itself. He braced a hand against a wooden pillar to steady himself, blinking away the black spots dancing in his vision.

He made sure to lock eyes with Stratya, shaking his head slightly so she wouldn’t try to help him. Slowly, after gaining his footing, Roman pushed himself out the door and into the alley beyond. His strength was returning to him with every step, and he soon found himself supported by three of his men—the three that were meant to be with him.

“[color=f26522]You took your time,[/color]” Roman grimaced as they continued to push forward down the alleyways, twisting and turning to escape the security perimeter that was sure to be erected.

“[color=0072bc]We are aware, sir. Next time we won't all step out of the bar at the same time.[/color]” It was spoken quietly as a jest, but it was a reminder of how quickly things could change in this city.

Rounding a corner, they came face to face with two city guards moving to block off the alley. It looked like they were going to speak, but Roman's men moved faster. They tackled and choked out the two guards with speed and efficiency. Rendering them unconscious, his men dragged the guards into the shadows of the alley before catching up.

Once they were clear of the excitement, Roman was finally able to stop and take a break. He began to plan his next steps.

“[color=f26522]Alright. I need a cloak, and I need to check on something. You three go back to the shop. Grab a case of mead, my monocle, and the music box. Change, and bring a couple extra guys. I'll meet you out in front of the Vikena Estate soon.[/color]”

The men nodded and did what they were told. It was, of course, all code. They didn’t refer to ale as a "case," always a "bottle." Using "case" meant potions, and "mead" meant healing. He didn’t reference a party, which meant the situation wasn’t dire, but supplies were still needed. The other two items were enchanted and had their own specific functions. The last instruction told them to mobilize a few more men and switch to civilian clothes. Charlottes home was a good place to regroup and close enough that's likely where they will end up.

All in all, that should keep them busy enough for him to go check on someone. That much was true. He just didn’t mention that the person wasn’t expecting him, and he would have to use his renewed strength to climb up to a balcony at the Damien estate. The events of tonight were a reminder that he might not get the chance to apologize again.