The out of towner’s comments on the actions of his so-called compatriots brought a pause to Bucren, as if such a reality where one’s own neighbourhoods weren’t eager to cut your ankle so they might better escape the same threats seemed a strange thing. It had always been so in Boravia, from what he could recall. Any life he had before it seemed as fluttering as an uneasy dream. “Each man for himself, I suppose. Isn’t it the same everywhere?” He simply answered that vaguely. No one had faith, not in each other and little for outsiders.<br/><br/>There were murders uncounted in Boravia, though Bucren tolerated the fact that the man before him wouldn’t know that. He wasn’t asked any question about the fog or the murder so Bucren didn’t offer any comment back, though he did learn the man’s name. “Welcome to Boravia.” He said after the greeting, toasting his cup to the man with a dry grin.<br/><br/>He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Xavier drawing his sword when it came to the issue of the girl at the door. Bucren kept his own sheathed for the moment, not intending to use it until absolutely necessary. It seemed an art form in Boravia though, one’s ability to escalate to the point of violence or conflict when it came to any sort of dealing, to push until one blinked or backed down. Or it was met with the clash of iron. Everyone walked that fine line between life and death in Boravia so the bluff didn’t count for much, unless one followed through with the threat. As much as Bucren hated the gypsies and wished them ill, he never came to blows with them. And why should he now? And why shouldn’t he? Sheep followed the norm.<i>But at most Bucren was a black sheep if anything, aloof, yet stuck with going with the tide.</i><br/><br/>But now there were others.<br/><br/>He wondered if little Pias would go toe to toe with this outsider over the door. Well the man’s boldness could be commended. Bucren only followed his example, moving a few steps ahead, not drawing his sword but watching Xavier’s back by eyeing down the companions of Pias. Try and intervene, he dared them. But there it was, the offer of gold to be handed over, as the locks nearly came undone. Did they really have to hold the individual by their balls over the roasting pit of death just to evoke a little coin? Let them in and once in safety, Bucren was certain they would happily pay. “You see? All this heartless bullshit for a bit of coin-“ Bucren started to sneer at the other gypsies, until he saw who it was at the door.<br/><br/>Now there was certainly something amiss. This many fair maidens in Boravia all on one evening? But he found he could neither speak or move when those piercing eyes locked on him, if but for a heartbeat. A heartbeat was all it took. His tongue felt stuck to the top of his mouth, while his arms stayed limply at his side, as if full of lead.<i>He was put in a trance, though the urgency and truth of the figure behind him was wrought all in his eyes.</i><br/><br/>He couldn’t speak on it though, not even to warn the others. He couldn’t even react, even when the coins were thrown at him, but the moment they struck his chest and slumped to the ground, the spell seemed broken. He gasped, as if breathing for the first time and looked down at the pouch.<i>Yes, all for these coins.</i>He bent down to fetch them but it was the wrong move. He jerked his gaze up when he heard a very unmanly cry for Pias, who was seized by the strange enigma. As much as he hated the little shit, this wasn’t a fate he would wish on the poor man.<br/><br/><i>Vampire!</i><br/><br/>Xavier acted first. Bucren had the same instinct, albeit a few paces behind. He quickly moved up, though every second seemed fleeting and precious.<i>Too slow</i>he felt. And yet he must. Xavier saved Pias, though by dismembering his arm, and Bucren brushed past to slam the door shut. He immediately turned to put his back against it, using his weight, before remembering to slam and bolt the many locks. He immediately moved away from it next, expecting the vampiress to come barging through again. “Now you saw more than a murder.” He commented to Xavier.<br/><br/><i>You exited and came back in. That’s five gold coins a head</i>he wanted to say to Pias. Yet remembering his childish scream Bucren felt pity for him. Now he was missing an arm, poor sod. “Put some swill on that.” He said, referencing Xavier’s own advice, leaving the care of the wound to others, like Pias’ friends. Maybe he’ll learn how selfish they are if they don’t help him, as they seemed content to let him die. And yet he and Xavier would probably go thankless for this deed. He gave Xavier a nod though when the other man met his eyes. He did good, acting so decisively. And took the risk to help another. It had been a while since Bucren saw such charity. It almost…shamed him.<br/><br/>“Vampires.” He told Xavier soon after. “Something must have stirred them. I swear she sounded just like any maiden from this place. Or even like Mad Mary…” He shook his head, running his hand over his face before looking at it. He hadn’t even drawn his weapon. He was getting too complacent. He grabbed at the pouch of coins the woman had thrown at him, upending it on a table and letting whatever contents, whether they be real gold or not, spill onto the table. Vampire gold. It was probably cursed.<br/><br/>“You and your compatriots seem to be bringing this storm, rather than the other way around, I’m starting to think. Mine just kick me out. Perhaps we should trade?” He offered up a sardonic grin. “First Ismark knows them, and now this.” He loosened his sword in his scabbard. He was definitely using it next time.