"That's nothing to worry about, sir. In fact, you don't look half as bad as you probably think! I will hold on to some of this bread until you start feeling peckish. Just let me know when you would like one." A quiet hearty chuckle replied Young Salvyn's words, oh how wrong he was, odd how the mood took such a brighter turn in mere moments.
Humans are fickle. But that's not always a bad thing. He detered the curious young man's efforts to peer into his visor with an innocuous glance to the side, a game he had played many times and long mastered months ago.
But a sudden glimpse in the wrong direction. That was when he saw the face of their fourth member in the cloudy noonlight.
...The stiches, the split face, flesh as pale as a cadaver's and the tell-tale signs of golemetry etched into the very skin of the creature. "By the maker...." He hushed.
...
...
...
It was then that a wisened man broke the silence by opening the doors and welcoming them inside. Just as well. Had they lingered any longer, he might have began to question the horrid events that must have led to such disfiguration. But This was yet the time for such.
As the three walked in, the armored man trailed behind, guarding their exit. Likely in quiet contemplation throughout the walk. But it was hard to tell what he was thinking, and only till they reached the study did he stop looking over his shoulder.
"...It would surprise me a great deal if none of you were curious as to why a stranger summoned you to an organization you've never heard of." This Doctor LeStrange was right. He was curious. Though he could fathom the motive behind all this, since it was surely not chance that brought them here.
He watched quietly and just stood there as Salvyn promptly asked the question that was on everyone's mind. The room curiously got brighter. Eliciting yet another
"Hmm." from him. However the young man's companion quickly chimed in, tearing attention towards himself and asked, nay,
demanded, that everyone introduced themselves first before anything - while he himself strolled from the bar to one of the many bookshelves that lined the room just to sit down and ignore them once more. The boy was a bit more rude than the knight had expected.
He had a feeling the two young men already knew each other, through the subtle scowls thrown Salvyn's way when he wasn't looking. Then he looked at the stiched-up individual, quite certain there would be little comfort for that fella in introducing himself first either. And Doctor LeStrange had already given them his name.
"Very well," He suddenly spoke after not having said anything for quite awhile, though not too glad to be asked of this way, still he remained formal and calm. Perhaps an abrupt moving of things along would ease the building tensions in the room. Raising his right hand, he lightly punched his breastplate with his knuckles with a resounding metal clang.
"I am Ser Gregory Sullivan. Knight Pontiff of the Templar Order." The red cross of his society was etched into the pauldrons of his armor.
"I have come to see for myself your Order and what it stands for. And if our goals align, you shall have my aid." Simple, direct and clear cut. This was how Templars introduced themselves, for their Order was not one of shadows, but rather, a well-established domain in the eye of the Britanian public under the scrutiny of her majesty. Even if what they truly did was not declared. Still they would not hide their pressence from the people. Prevention is better than cure and Reputation sometimes proved to be just as vigil as any guard against the darkness that lurks among men.
