Closed [Silverwine's Tavern] Five pieces of silver (Garron)

[Smithis]

34th of Spring

It was a wonder to see them so casually. Even if it was in fact their Trazen, they had no place here. Not here; not in the Crimson plaza that still glowed hot with grudge against their kind. It was a symbol of a kingdom they seemed to fight so hard against as of late. And besides, Smithis couldn't help but notice a certain lack of their attendance to Trazen of the other clans. He wasn't offended the Sultros Trazen went by without him witnessing a Pitrius – gods no! It was probably a good thing in the shorterm, but in the longterm one could think nothing else but treachery against these hostile creatures. Yet here they were, strolling the Crimson plaza. Crimson like his arm, and his father's before him! The man knew better than to provoke argument with their kind, especially on the day they were to be revered – but what were they doing here anyway?

His mother being a Pitrius made others think he was just like the silvers, yet the only thing it truly meant was that he was more alert of their deceptive ways than most would ever be. Pitrius were not to be trusted. Still they needed to be present, and for that their numbers needed to be subjugated – either that or a crimson-worthy man needed to be appointed as their palearmed leader. The chance of the latter happening was rather slim, and everyone knew how well the former failed to work time and time again.

There were five intruders. And he would follow them until they split up. Separate it only took one Isur on average to take down another, but five well timed could bring down a dozen before answered, maybe even two dozens if they were associated with the Tower. The Pitrius seemed to have come for simple pleasures, but things were never what they seemed, and Smithis had long learned to watch and collect before he acted. Focused on following the five, yet staying out of their attention, he'd start passing by people he knew. Whether they were his own clansmen or any other color besides gray, they didn't matter to him and if only for a moment that'd make him feel like a proper Pitrius. It was in such foul spirit that he followed them into Silverwine's. Of all places to come provoke conflict, this would've probably been the best for the lot. There was little more easily agitated than a drunk Isur. Sitting a few tables away from them, he'd wait and see if they did anything out of the ordinary. Even time was a resource, so naturally he couldn't watch them however, but for as long as he could – he would.

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

No time of day was too early for a good drink. This was especially true in the case of festivals, and there was no time more festive than the Trazen. A time where all of this mighty race could gather together and just forget about their differences for a few days, Garron had always looked forward to Trazens, and at this time especially in light of recent events. The young warrior was not always up to date on current events, spending too long training and working to be able to cock an ear to hearsay, but what he had heard was troubling. Non-Pitrius visitors not returning from the Silver City, Lord Pitrius no longer attending the council, it all bore some terrible signs. Garron was grateful for the opportunity to forget about such things. This was the Trazen, the day of the Pitrius Trazen no less, and it was a time to celebrate and be joyous. And like many Coglias, Garron’s idea of celebration began with a good drink. Slamming his mug down onto the counter in his gauntlet-clad fist, Garron smiled satisfactorily as he finished another good daft. His cheeks were not yet flushed with liquor, though in a bell or two they well could be at the rate he was going. It would not progress that far however, as Garron was far more wise than to get drunk on this day and with his profession. Hopefully his uninhibited nature would be as tranquil and respectful as his usual self, but just in case it would not be a good idea to risk it. Especially with Garron’s muscle, which was easily a good deal more than the average Isur already. Well, non-Coglias at least. That day of the Trazen had made him realize just how strong most of his clan was, and it provided him a goal for which he should reach outside of his own family. It was a humbling experience for the warrior who thought he pushed himself to his limit, but by no accounts was that a reason to give up. It was a reason to ask Wysar for even greater motivation to keep pushing, and then do so until he had nothing left to improve. The sound of more visitors entering the pub caught Garron’s ear, and as his green eyes swiveled around to look at the newcomers his brain registered what they saw in an instant. Five Pitrius had come in, headed straight for the bar beside where Garron sat. The Coglias knew better than to keep looking and returning his attention to his still empty mug. While he liked to forget about inter-clan politics on these days celebrating family, that did not mean he wasn’t quick to remember when things like this happened. All of the Pitrius were about his age, which meant they were filled with the feeling of invincibility and likely carried all the prejudices of their clan in their hearts. Walking into a bar of semi-drunk non-Pitrius would only stir up trouble. What were they thinking? Were they trying to start something? There were five of them, each one drawing confidence from the other four, so on top of the invincibility of youth there was the group thinking. If things went badly, they would not end well for those involved. Garron looked deep into his mug as the Pitrius moved closer to the bar, unaware if they were attracting attention from the other patrons or not. Probably, this was Sultros after all and the two clans were close to hostile at this point. Though it would be nice if nothing happened at all. The Strongarm wasn’t about to start something, but he was keeping his ears open lest someone else decided to.

[Smithis]

The five, as they were now dubbed in Smithis' head, took no hesitation from sitting by a lone Coglias at the bar itself. This might've been their Trazen, but he still couldn't respect their lack of awareness. They were likely sons of someone important, every last one of them.
The young Sultros sat far enough from the waitresses that he figured no one would get to him soon. He wasn't in the mood to drink anyway. A server found him anyway, and like a beetle pried her hands open before him. Perhaps it was meant to charm the male population, but such things barely affected him in current state of mind. Raising his head he'd shrug in confusion.
„What'll it be?“ then he'd finally realize that he had no place occupying a table on a night this busy if he wasn't indeed in need of service. „One house special should do for now... I'll let you know if I need more from you“ then he'd gesture that they were done, earning himself an offended stare from the waitress. He knew he wasn't the most polite here, but she could've handled it better. No matter, there was plenty of time to rectify things later.

While he was distracted, someone else had already served the five. Four were as merry as they could be on clearly hostile land, but the fifth eyed the green eyed giant eagerly. „You should ease on that Silverwine, Mokir“ one of the four pointed to what seemed their ringleader. He was halfway through his mug and they'd been served but a moment ago. One would take more time to count a chime than it looked like he would take to drink his liquor. „Don't worry my friend, a true Isur can take his drinks! No Pitrius can fall before crimson alcohol!“ then he'd nudge his head towards the static Coglias „What's with this one? A mug or two of that brown smut too big a sip for you?“ then he'd add with what seemed to be disdain „Came to lick their boots even at the Trazen of your superiors!“ and with that Smithis already expected the green one to be upon them. If Smithis lacked purpose, he would've dealt blow in wake of the silver's last words.