[center][h3]Ernst Heller[/h3][/center]

[hr]

Ernst had been sitting quietly, observing the room and its occupants with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. His eyes remained sharp beneath his furrowed brow as he listened to the idle conversations, all while nursing a cigarette. The smoke curled lazily upward, adding to the haze that already cloaked the dimly lit cellar. This meeting, with its strange symbols, unusual characters, and cryptic promises, felt almost absurd. Yet, there was a sense of purpose here—a whisper of something meaningful, buried beneath the eccentricity.

As his gaze drifted across the faces in the room, he couldn’t help but notice the diversity among them: a British man, a Japanese woman, and even an archbishop. It was unusual, to say the least, to see foreigners involved in a matter supposedly aimed at confronting the enemies of Germany. Ernst was not particularly fond of the idea of outsiders playing any role in such affairs, but he also recognized that his was not the time to draw attention to this discomfort. If the Nachtwache truly held answers that could serve his broader goals, he would tolerate their presence—for now.

The uncertainty gnawed at him. He knew his comrades had been murmuring about something big, something imminent. He didn’t know the details, but he understood that he was meant to play a part. The idea of leaving now, returning to his fellow patriots, and taking his place in Germany’s resurgence was tempting. After all, Germany’s redemption required action, not idle talk in a cellar.

Still, the allure of the Nachtwache lingered. There was something about this “Night Watch” that beckoned, a sense that it might align with his cause more closely than it appeared. Ernst couldn’t help but wonder if these people held answers he hadn't even considered yet, answers that could prove useful in a fight against the nation’s enemies—both human and otherwise.

[quote=@Dyelli Beybi]
[h3]Adam Temple[/h3]
As a large portion of the group took off, Temple sat down at one of the tables, his glass of port before him, reaching into his jacket pocket for a silver cigarillo case, plucking one of the slender brown stems from the case and lighting it up.  He took a puff, "Well, I hope our intrepid friends do not run into any difficulties at the graveyard.  Regardless of who or what may be hunting people in the vicinity, the streets are not the safest at the moment."

He paused, taking another puff from his cigarillo before asking the assembled group, "Well since we are still here, who would care to hear a story?"
[/quote]

He reached a decision. Stubbing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, he stood, adjusted his coat, and made his way toward Temple with calm teps. Reaching the table, he ordered a glass of schnapps from a passing server, as the glass was placed before him, he glanced at Temple’s cigarillo and the calm but calculating look in the Englishman’s eyes. Ernst finally spoke.

"Captain Temple, you mentioned a story," he said, his tone steady, almost neutral. "I’d be interested to hear it," He lifted his glass, as if signaling his commitment not just to the drink, but perhaps to whatever came next.