Ringmaster - "I have. He understands my stance he simply doesn't agree with it. Problem is he's likely to rough up one of my bar patrons now after he gets a bit too sauced. Keeps on doing that after our conversations. I suppose he will until someone finally bests him."
Nodding to himself, Falthor reached to his hip where a rusted looking sword hung almost unceremoniously from a leather strap. As he ran his thumb over the amber on the hilt he became surrounded in a thin, obscuring mist. To those gathered in the bar, Falthor disappeared from sight. Hidden under the mystic protection Carnwennan, Falthor tried to weave his way towards the sullen elf.
For a few minutes that seemed like all the elf would do, but after a couple more drinks in, the man began peering around the bar, looking suspiciously around. Falthor got the feeling that the elf somehow sensed he was being watched. He looked angry and confused.