Othniel Moto-Moyo and Jasiri
The Seventh Rose
Severe misgivings struck Othniel as he watched the exchange between the two women and the inn's workers. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt certain. He adjusted his staff and growled faintly, keeping half an eye on the women as he ordered a pint of ale. When he returned to the table Jasiri had taken - the bird was sitting on the back of a chair, his feathers ruffled with agitation - the lion-man swallowed half his drink at one gulp and turned his gold gaze on his companion.
"How much of that did you see?" he asked slowly. The traces of a snarl edged his rumbling bass voice.
Jasiri shrugged. "I only heard, for the most part. It's hard to see over all of these heads. This inn is much too crowded."
In no mood to complain about the conditions, Othniel launched right into a brief explanation of what he'd seen and heard: how the blond woman's hand had glowed with a strange orange color and how a symbol in the same hue had marked the fight she had stopped; how the inn's staff had trembled with fear when the redheaded woman had looked at them; how the redhead had looked into the eyes of a man who looked like a seasoned warrior and frightened him as easily as Othniel would a child.
Jasiri looked twitchier than ever. "This pale woman must have authority," he said. When Othniel gave him a questioning look, the bird added, "She said 'our guild', and 'my establishment'. Maybe she -"
He stopped in midsentence, following something with his eyes. Othniel turned to look as well. A tall - by normal human standards, at any rate - slim man in dark blue robes was weaving through the crowd, moving straight toward the two women. A large blue squid was floating off in a different direction, possibly toward the drinks counter. Jasiri watched the latter for a long moment, while Othniel kept his gaze trained on the blue-robed man. The first word that came to Othniel's mind when he saw the other was 'wizard'. Suddenly it felt like the entire inn was alive with magic.
"Um," Othniel's keen ears picked up the sound of the blue-cloaked mage talking. He sounded jittery, as though he was trying to he his words out before he realized how foolish he was being. "Hi. Thanks for the drinks. How are you today, other than the fight happening, of course?"
"Pft," snickered Jasiri. "That idiot's going to get himself killed. Give me a sip of your ale, would you?"
No special action.