Martel flashed a warm smile - it was perhaps strange to see a vampire able to show proper, positive emotions. He took a step back and spread his arms, bowing politely and sighing like he had been expecting Kobe's question. "Well, my young compatriot. Allow me to take the stage and provide proper introductions then! You are in the presence of His Grace, Martel Griffonsbane, the 1st Duke of Blackwood, Master Bard Extraordinaire, Magna Alumni, 1st Blademaster of the Order of Golden Dragon, Wielder of the Weave, Teller of Tales, Feller of Foes, Singer of the Songs, Planeswalker of Great Renown, Shatterer of the Black Seal, Slayer of Arioch, Wielder of the Black Blade." He straightened up and motioned at the large black sword at his back. "This here is Stormbringer, the Black Blade, forged by the Chaos Gods many eons ago. In mine hands he has gained the title Bane of Arioch." The black blade seemed to hum in approval to the old vampire's words.

"I hate to brag - heh, nay, that would be a blatant lie. I am a horrid braggart when it comes to such things. Then again, after centuries of adventuring these titles have piled up." The man chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Perhaps all of you would appreciate a drink or two? On my tap of course! Today all the drinks are on me!" *He did a very... bardic... flourish towards the collection of drinks and towards the counter. "After all, very few people tend to be able to stomach my songs and stories with a dry throat!"

Darksoul laughs, deep and loud. "Order of the Golden Dragon? Ha! What do they know? Golden dragons are the most selfish monsters you could imagine. They care for nothing but growing their hoard." He nods at the mention of Stormbringer. "You have a formidable weapon Duke of Blackwood. Where did you get your Arioch Bane? From the gods themselves?" He drains his drink, and grins, bearing his draconian fangs. "My blade Souleater is just as powerful, but he has no story to tell. Forged by the Gods of Death, my sword drinks the blood and souls of those he fells. I am Darksoul Shadowwings, champion of Xertanos, God of Slaughter, Deity of the Dead and Undead alike." He bows to Martel.

Mixing things up never hurt, even if it could spin and turn violent.

The undead were all over. The old gentleman was the first patron who interested the vampire, old as young and as young as old, in the realms and dimensions and planes and minds and lives Kobe had witnessed.. Kobe was going to make his decision, but he contemplated a little more. This old codger was charming, but it had no affect on him. Kobe could stand becoming talk and play and study. He learned it over one hundred years.

But, while the other man who had enough knowledge to speak of these things and then bow to the codger, he could join the two if they were up for it. Perhaps Martel did not want any, or did he have some? That confusiom Kobe's instincts engineered meant he wanted inside of the singstorm-bringer's mind, or at least was one of the titles that sounded easier to be with.

"I see you're quite the celebrity my new friend, the codger who is merited by all," said Kobe licking his lips only once. His back elevated his neck, then his neck was bent. These muscle and born shifts usually looked naturally... mainly because they were. His eyes were as blood shot, meaning only some because he was holding back. "I do not know what people would do with you. You are this hub. I would like to rest with you and a friend or two of mine. . . "

He was entering his mind. Martel should become relaxed, but vigilant. He moved a shot of whisky towards the man, and it not matter if he picked it up or not. It would be sweet he hoped. Now inside, he saw Martel was very strong, he could feel it. But, fixed eye-to-eye while what was going on was like two people speaking. And Kobe spoke... "Give me a weapon. Sharp and steel. Or a gun. Give me a weapon. Give me a weapon."

For just a brief moment Martel's jovial attitude faded. He glared at Kobe, all the warmth gone from his eyes. He pushed the whelp from his mind - in this case literally. Still, he did not draw the black blade. He just have the young vampire a glare of disapproval before looking curiously at Darksoul. "Ah, you must be from a fifferent plane of existence than I, for where I hail from the gold dragons are a true force for good. Aiding the brotherhoods of palafins in their divine duties." He gave Kobe another small look, now back to his warm smile. "I would suggest you do not try your tricks again. For I do not tolerate tomfoolery of any kind in my presence. If a weapon you wish a weapon you shall have." The old man placed a dagger on the table, it was made of silvered steel, with a priceless ruby as a pommel.

"You do not tolerate tomfoolery Martel? Then why'd you come to a bar?" He laughs. "A different plane? I've visited others, and I've met gold dragons here. They had the attitude of a toddler. Although, that might be because they hate me personally." He bears his fangs in a ragged grin. "What is such a storied warrior doing in a bar? Shouldn't you be off, completing feats of legend?" He looks at Kobe. "Mental tricks? Best not try those on someone who'd be more then willing to cut you down for trying." His burning white eyes flare, and he chuckles.

He tentatlively observed Martel. Kobe hurt his feelings. The intentions of the psychodelic rape was to produce a golden weapon, or perhaps an ancient one. The nobleman represented himself well, Kobe concluded. He had responded with a word, and he was angry which rooted from embarassment and confusion. Kobe spoke only under his breath, only to tease Martel, and shut his trap until Shadow took a shot at him.

"Oh Hey! I'll put you in the grave! You will be the new spirit among the foggy haze...!" he said and then said more while he created a mental connection with a gem he kept in his pocket, and something that could not be pilfered from him. Soon, a piercing cold swept over the bar and every one become affected, be it they witnessed a wind so freezing that only the devil could have the skin to apreciate it. He supposed Martel wanted no more, so he looked at Shadow.

"You like that? I like the Leprechaun movies. They're fun, how about the wind?" and he grinned.

Martel was a calm man, in some ways he was a kind man, even gentle if need be. But this... This was just getting on his nerves. He did remember the old days and fun 'cock waving competitions', seeing who was the strongest or smartest or fastest, but this? This was bothersome - not for him personally, but more or less pulling the entire rest of the inn to it? He glanced at the dragonborn? Dragon? with a tad bit of an un-amused smile. "Alas, much like many old curmudgeons I prefer to be the one doing the tomfoolery, not being the target of it." The cold didn't affect his undead form in the slightest, he seemed just disinterested in the young fool now - after Darksoul seemed like much more decent company. "You flatter me with words, young one. I like it. Bars tend to be places where people are willing to hear my stories and well, sometimes I just prefer to escape mine Ducal duties for an hour or two. Heh... I have completed many a feat worth Legends, thank you very much." The Duke adjusted one of the many rings decorating his fingers and shrugged his shoulders. He pried off a gem from one of them and shattered it on the floor, unleashing a very high level dispelling incantation to dispel the cold caused by Kobe's magical item.

Darksoul doesn't seem to notice the cold until Martel dispels it. "Feats worth legend? I've slain full grown dragons with my bare hands. I've fought with specters of death, I've dueled liches and walked out." He stares Kobe down, his burning white eyes searing into the soul. "I'm already dead, mortal. You couldn't put me in the grave if you had an army. Your cold breeze is nothing compared to the chill of death." He takes in a breath, and breathes out slowly, the air around Kobe becomes icy, and his glass gains several layers of frost before shattering. The cold seeps deep into his bones, into the very soul.