After a few short moments of relaxing and controlling his breathing and body, Benjamin immediately relaxed, feeling the anger melt away with the help of his god, Setveo. 'Breathe. Relax. Let it wash away. Be the wind. Be the water. Be the earth. Be the sky. These do not anger. Even when--," he was interrupted suddenly.
"What is your name?"
Benjamin's eyelids fluttered for a second and then opened. He stared at some point on the floor and gave a deep exhalation of air, one last release of any anger or frustration. He settled again in the chair more comfortably as he spoke to Nazgrul, again, keeping his eyes on the floor or some random points around the room. "Sorry. I needed a moment. I am Benjamin Leedak, General of Setveo's Bringers of Justice." Ben's head canted to the side, chin up as he spoke to Nazgrul, and while he wasn't looking at the half-ork, the manner at which he held his head somehow conveyed that he was speaking to and paying attention to Nazgrul. It was rather odd. Noticing those present, Benjamin took in who was here. Two dark elves, a sky elf, a half breed elf most likely, a human that was speaking with Fitch. 'Fucking Fitch'.
'Thank you Setveo for once again testing me,' he thought severely. Setveo was a good who, despite his stern visage, appreciated honesty…and didn't mind a little sarcasm… He felt the eyes of the other human on him for a moment and in turn glanced over in the direction of his feet, trying to get a brief read on him. After a moment he was interrupted by another THUMP THUMP and Benjamin moved his gaze to the door for a second, then back to the ork. "And who might you be, Monk? And may I ask of your race?" He could feel a calmness about this one, focused and centered energy, practiced and disciplined. He was some sort of monk or priest, but judging by the fact his staff didn't seem to be simply for walking, he got the impression that this was no priest or preacher.
Eyes still ahead, he studied the monk a little more. He was fairly large by most human standards, a little broader than most, but not really as large or stout as most orks. His energy appeared to be mostly positive. He had a good feeling about this one.
After staring heatedly at Benjamin for a moment, he snapped his gaze back towards Temer and snorted, forcing his frustrations out. 'We'll talk again later,' he thought and then realized Temer was talking. "-nting me to the washbasin, but it's na' needed." Temer continued on and Fitch paid attention. "Can't win either way. Can't beat the health benefits though." Fitch wasn't disgusted at the condition, it was just a matter of what he was taught about your armor, body and weapons representing you, on the battle field and off of it. But Fitch wasn't as confined as others, and not as judgmental. He understood that every Ascended had their ways and he was not to judge them. At least this human did not stink. Yet…
"Better to be clean and healthy, but each has their way."
"I don't suppose you know anything about our employer worth mentioning?"
Eyeballing the table for a moment, getting hungry again, he decided against another course and focused on the question. He spoke louder than before, anger still simmering, so that all in the room would be able to hear him if they just paid the slightest attention. "I know of Marcurio Deltran. I've not met him, but he is fairly well known around this area. Most of all for being the 'Merchant Saint.' Most merchants here are cut throats, no better than thieves and criminals. They come and go…mainly going to jail. They accrue their fortunes through bribes, threats and some business. Marcurio, he is different. We'll just leave it at that."
Fitch sat back down and relaxed, moaning at the comfort, a moan that sounded more like an annoyed growl. "There was the Fall Fish Riots, back a few years. While it was an actual riot by the people who were near starving as fish and livestock was held from them by merchants, who drove prices higher and claimed there was nothing to sell. People rioted against the merchants when they found out this was all a ploy to make money. The merchants actually planned this, and in the midst of the rioting, several of the more hungry, lower rung merchant families and groups staged full out assassinations on the top merchants and their families or affiliates."
His eyes went to the door as another THUMP THUMP could be heard. "Marcurio was the only targeted member to survive, and his swordsman out there is supposedly the only reason that the family made it through the night. Some say he threw Marcurio into the basement and threatened the family if they didn't go in after him. But. They lived. Anyway, after things calmed and over the course of the next 4 or 5 months, high level members of those families were either thrown in prisons, or banned from the city, or just banished. Reports came in though. That those people were killed. Brutally. No matter where they went. Or where they hid, they were found and killed. Every person who had a hand in that whole fiasco ended up dead, publically dead. With the upper echelon of merchants dead, and the murderous upstarts in chains or graves, Marcurio had time to cement his place as top merchant. And. Here we are today."