At the sudden change in atmosphere, Jarrod himself couldn't hep but chuckle at the decrease in tension. "Well, I guess you're not exactly that bad then if all it takes is to trip you Zenov." The masked man picked himself up and dusted his cloak. Continuing to stand on the table, Zenov turned his masked gaze on them all.

"I see there are jesters in my midst. A rare commodity, but not unheard of. Very well then." A sudden shift in the air. Something wasn't right...turning around, all of Jarrod's humor immediately plummeted to the ground at the sight before him.

He was everywhere. Twenty, no fifty of him. One for each individual. At least fifty Zenovs had materialized in a mere heartbeat, each one of them holding a blade of pure silver energy to the neck of each person in the tavern. Women, men, and children. No one was spared. Seeing as time was still frozen, none of them could move as well.

The only ones still untouched were Jarrod and the rest of his comrades. Gritting his teeth, the swordsman glared up at the masked man. "You bastard..."

Zenov shrugged off his words. "Now then. Let's see how many people I have to kill until you start taking me seriously. Would you like that gamble?" He turned to the one who had tripped him now. Angelo. "Should I start with your parents? Or maybe your sister instead." He said this calmly, as if the lives of a few people didn't matter to him.

Before he could do anything stupid, Jarrod placed a hand on Angelo's shoulder and shook his head. It was fairly obvious that this guy was out of their league both in power and skill.

"Guess those reports were right after all," Jarrod muttered.