The gleaming green eyes of the man known more for what he was, than who he was, looked back to the human woman with an attentiveness that would rub raw the nerves; it was not friendly - it was the sort that knew when it was being watched - but it wasn't on edge, at least as clearly as it was earlier. Whatever the reason, Isabeau herself was uncertain, but erred on the ideal of his own self entitlement; the truth was another altogether, in that this man, or truly this beast posing as one, had no love for any of them here. It was not out of mercy or conviction to save this town, but something much more broad and far, far more indifferent. In the scope of things, one could claim it was nothing short of a dispute over territory that brought "The Red" to Waeldeshore and by technicality not be incorrect, yet such an oversimplification was just that - too simplified. There was more involved... far more to this than any one of them alone, be them the heroes or the scourge themselves.

With a sense of acceptance, "The Red" made no attempt to prevent the woman's departure, but it was unclear if his decision for doing so was out of actual acceptance of her offer or the fact that he had unsettled business with the gnome left rather than her. Either way, his eyes left as she did, back upon the gnome as he remained idly standing.

The two, of quite differing ideals no less, looked to one another for a few uncomfortable, tense moments before Tirrarian eked out a rambling reply. The words "The Red" issued were as dangerous as the man himself, carrying a sense of weight in them that made them difficult to ignore, let alone readily give a "good" answer to. Ideologically the two factions were not opposed; no one was in disagreement about the need to thwart demons, let alone any other faces of evil that would likely arise, but one truly had both the mortal, civilized world meeting head on a speaker of the savage domain - neither agreeing about how to do so, or even readily comprehending the other's perspective.

[i]"I... Um, well I'm sure we'll help you. But we can't really do anything this very instant. Maybe tomorrow morning, if you could find some lodgings somewhere I'll stay here with Kayleth and help the wounded. If we meet tomorrow? Or whatever works for you. I'm sure you'll find any one of us if you need us."[/i]

"The Red" proved to issue a firm, albeit subtle nod which proved his agreement.

"Where is it your 'people' meet?" He issued one of his more parting remarks whilst his powerful palm rested upon the worn leather of the scimitar beneath his primal, feline trimmed garb. The almost pad-like palms of the forefinger and thumb toyed with the bronze pommel, of which bore an engraving of a lioness in its weaponized curve; the worn but keen blade itself met along its fuller with a bronze inlay with a similar image.

"I will accept that you, and your others, require rest." His head turned slightly toward Tirrarian, looking lightly over his fur draped shoulder, "But where is it they congregate?"

From one demeanor to another his apprehensiveness and presence of deadly, animal vigor had settled; he was as calm as he was before, albeit just his aura had changed. The radiance of [i]essentia[/i] - the spirit matter that fueled his power both mundane and magical - born of [i]Incarnum[/i] was what could be felt... that unusual knowing and sensation of his demeanor. In a distant way it even correlated to emotion, just as his [i]drift[/i] correlated to the beasts he revered.

[@IcePezz][@Dragoknighte][@The Fated Fallen]