By the time Damian had returned to his room he discovered that more time had passed than he thought. Figuring he could chat with the weapon-smith later, the man made himself a cup of tea, made his preparations for the trip then simply went to bed.

The next morning the group would find him waiting patiently leaning against a pillar. He didn't speak too much, outside of small greetings, the man more preoccupied with his thoughts, though that train was derailed the moment Arteus and the representatives from the church arrived. He didn't hide nor tense, hiding most thoughts behind a blank look.

[i][color=00a651]'Well, this is it then, best make the most of it. Be good to see Aulbach and the others at least, see what they know about current events...'[/color][/i] In the end he thought it better not to burn any bridges just yet, offering the smallest of nods in greeting to them before turning his attention to their, and now his, illustrious leader.

He'd admit, the artist in him was impressed by Arteus' sense of aesthetics for the spell. It broke a smirk out at the thought before pushing off the pillar, joining the group as they were greeted by other acolytes.

That smirk dropped like a stone the moment he heard of murder, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as they were lead to a waiting room. Leaning on a desk Damian dropped the bag beside him, listening with one ear while rummaging through the bag for what he needed.

A long sword strapped to his hip, what looked to be a harness for a pair of hatchets placed on his lower back, covered by his jacket and a long machete placed on his other hip. Double checking his other pockets and satchels he found nothing to be missing, feeling ready he closed the bag and looked back to the others.

The man had gotten a quick look at their supposed newest member before she and the almost feral woman who brought back the makara egg set off to who knows where in the city. He had felt the small pings from her attempts to enter his mind but he paid them no heed, while he doubted that was the ceiling of her mental fortitude pings of that level weren't enough to worry about.

What was enough was the mention of Miasma from the young minstrel sitting on one of the couches, the young feline Belua being the first to comment.

[color=00a651]"Until we know more Miss Namista we can't outright say if its the cause or not. On the other hand however, the odds that it's connected are far more likely. Arteus-"[/color] He called out. [color=00a651]"you give me a few hours and I can figure out what's really going on."[/color]