Idling as he had been, his eyes perusing the common folk as they went about their deeds for the day, "The Red"'s mind wandered. Not far, as was expected of the man and his caliber, remaining ever suspicious and watchful of those near and far, particularly the sorts who were visibly armed - such as Richard when he returned once more, errand loyally fulfilled. It was all waiting of the sort that he reviled, in that it lacked purpose; had these so called adventurers not been prepared already?

"The Red" reminded himself that these were but civil folk and had need of things other than the nature of their person and the skill that came with it. They came with their strangeness in many regards, as not even one of them carried a bow - a weapon of incredible reliability in the wilderness - but opted for fantastic and complex machines with moving gears or burning sand. Even the daggers bore beneath his scimitar were purposeful; one for flaying, another a tool and yet another an actual weapon, and even then these others could suffice in this as well.

It was more than he wished to contend with, the all of it.

Awaiting the green eyed woman's return in spite of this, "The Red" proved to shake his head softly in disbelief at the woman - purchasing a basket of fine, ripe fruit. However, he proved to miss the event between her and the oft drunk swordsman that was the greed and glory hungry Robert - his attention ripped aside by the half elf who prove to raise a hand.

The beast tensed and his lip nearly tugged at its corner in the threat it wished to issue; one that the body of a mere mortal man could not duplicate. The grimace, either way, was a clear sign of his dislike for the limb crossing anywhere within faintest reach of him, but to both of their fortune, Ionathan was quick to return it to his own person, posing a question instead. The tension eased lightly, in that the gesture had not only ended, but that the other man's behavior was not as initially threatening as it had first appeared.

[i]"My good man forgive me for intruding but I was just wondering if you have any supplies?"[/i] He said, proving to rummage through his pocket and produce a handful of coins, all of varied values, motioning with them while he continued, [i]"If money is a problem I can easily be of assistance."[/i]

While "The Red" understood the gesture, beyond a doubt, it struck him as strange. It was an apparent act of good faith, but such kindness, by a representative of the kingdom no less, was something he had never experienced. Typically, guardsmen were attempting to [i]kill[/i] him - the last great event the king's men had been involved in including "The Red" was the hunt for a beast that had seemingly murdered a man in cold blood, dragging his still bleeding corpse into the wilderness after the blindside that was the attack. Unbeknownst to them it he was no average man but a minor diabolist, yet that mattered not.

What mattered, in the now, was that the dark haired man with the dense emerald stare seemed... genuine.

To prove a point, of which he agreed to in his own conscious, the large man drew up a hand and picked a single silver piece from Ionathan's hand. Looking over the piece, holding it between the two of them as they stood there, the druid spoke;

"This can do me little good outside of here." At first the words appeared condescending, "But this," He motioned toward Ionathan with a subtle movement, not losing his focus, "Can do ample good."

"Consider what you do now with your coin wisely, half blood." Setting the piece back down in the palm of the half elf with a clink, he stood back and returned his powerful arm to his side at rest, "I will fare well enough in that which is nature's domain; ensure you can as well."

A strange sensation pulled at the hairs upon the hackles of the wilderman - something unrelated to him or the guardsman, sarcina in tow. Demeanor changing briefly, he became erect in stance and glanced around, eyes wandering the crowd; to Ionathan, some strange turn of events and personality appeared to come over the barbarian in front of him. The sort that appeared like an animal on edge, watchful of an attack. To "The Red" himself, something stirred the ambient [i]Incarnum[/i] - the spirit energy - of this portion of the town folk like a distant but powerful void among much neutrality.

There was a darkness, a sickness to Waledeshore, a corruption born of demonic energy that would linger for perhaps years to come, but this was different; this, wherever it was, felt like the steady, creeping increase of ill tidings.

"Our enemy is afoot among us, somewhere."

[@Jon Y][@ArenaSnow][@IcePezz]