No-Tail tilts her head back to laugh boisterously. "Ha! Did he do anything while he was here?" She points up to an empty space on the wall. It looks like something hung there. "He came by to challenge us for our dojo's sign. As it is not here, you can guess how that went. I was off on an errand at the time, or I would have liked to fight him. Few can stand against my Shatter-the-Jade-Tiger Strike." She commits to a flurry attack against mid-air: her strikes are slower than most monk's flurries, but it's obvious that she has a great deal of strength to them: possibly enhanced with ki energy. A monk like Ayollo can tell that her strikes would be exceptionally painful. She grins, "As it stands, he managed to fight off all four of the highest-ranking disciples... but the head priest refused to fight him. Our sensei said he had 'not yet earned the right to challenge a Master'. This set him off something fierce." She pointed at a rock, which had been hit with an open palm attack, leaving an indent in the stone.
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Elsewhere, in the city of Heldren, far from the rest of the characters by at least a day, sits the oread known as Syngman. It was a slow day at the tavern, with a great deal of the boisterous folks that were common there. A trio of musicians played to amuse the crowd. Strangely, the rock-blooded barbarian was not the only strange creature there. In fact, three patrons shared a sort of oddness about them.
The first was a dark-looking man who sat straight in his chair. By his black hair and pale complexion, it was clear that the man was Chelaxian. By his armor: probably one of the nation's infamous Hellknights. The other patrons gave him a wide area all to himself. He drank nothing, his arms folded over his chest as he silently fumed, boring a hole through the table with his stare. He wore his armor, with a bastard sword made of a black metal laying at his side. He gave off a nauseating aura, and was a little hard to ignore.
Far in the back of the tavern, a tan-furred catfolk lay upon a bench on the far wall. He seemed to be unconscious or merely sleeping. A small, housecat-looking male, it seemed. It was clear that he was quite at peace, dreaming about something-or-other. His tail twitched and curled in his sleep... or perhaps not. Every once in a while, one of his eyes would open and he would peek around.
Finally, another human male. It was hard to tell his ethnicity by looking at him, but the messy hair and lightly-shaven face implied that he might actually be of Ulfen descent. While his shoulders were broad, he does not possess the physical might of the northern men. Upon the table in front of him lie a multitude of papers, which he grabs and frowns at periodically. A quill was in his hand, writing into a tome before him. He wore a bandolier filled with potions, and a pair of glasses rest on his nose. Every once in a while, he would emit a very low and somewhat animal-like noise, at one point startling a passing barmaid. He doesn't notice, rather engrossed with what was before him.
