While Magnus didn't like to consider himself an overly violent type, Sheo's suggestion to find and snuff out the problem before it came back to haunt them was something he was inclined to agree with. They were up to their necks in trouble already. Assassins, a trail that took them far from home, and little direction towards solving this mystery besides a journal and a fancy necklace. He had to wonder what precisely they'd do after getting to the destination written within the book. Kill whoever was responsible? Try to capture them? If the one shepherding all the attackers was even there when they arrived, Magnus wasn't sure how he'd react. He'd lost his home and entire livelihood, and nearly his life. Naturally, he was angry, but more than that he wanted to know why.<br/><br/>Why him? Of all people, a blacksmith in a relatively small city was an important target to further whatever goal the assassins had? It made no sense to him. He could almost understand why certain royalty had been targeted; political killings were a distressingly common act among the less agreeable noble families in some kingdoms. But it was people like him, the commoners and outsiders, whose deaths seemed absolutely senseless. What advantage was there to killing people with humble wealth, or even none at all? He recalled the words of the man they had extracted information from, and considered what the truth behind all this was. He wagered they would find out if they made it to their goal.<br/><br/>Nodding in agreement to Sheoldred's first statement, he opened his mouth as if to speak. When she continued, and directly addressed him, he silenced himself when she displayed a very potent example of maternal protectiveness. When the bull's horn was crushed beneath her grip, he visibly cringed and made a distressed noise most comparable to a squeak. He knew full well that his skull - among<span style="font-style: italic">other</span>things - was not nearly as hard as a bull's, and he cared not to find out how much force his body could take if the Oghren happened to be angry with him.<br/><br/>"I...I'll keep that in mind," He murmured, a hand idly patting at the metal gorget around his neck. It was more an instinctive attempt to tug at his collar, but given that was hidden beneath layers of cold iron and leather, he instead just ended up nervously patting at the armour. "But I don't think you'll have to, uh, worry about that too much. I try to be polite, after all." He had absolutely no intentions of causing Atisha any distress, but now he was more than a little worried of accidentally doing something that might be upsetting. While he doubted Sheo would really cause him too much bodily damage, he knew full well she could.<br/><br/>The return of Avis was wonderfully well-timed. He cleared his throat and quickly brushed a hand through his hair to try and regain some semblance of charm. At Sheo's mention of the armour, he raised an arm to show off the sleek black plates, smiling a little bit. He was quite proud of the work they'd done together, and he still felt very chic wearing the suit. It was starting to feel a bit heavy now that he was drained, but it was nothing that demanded immediate disrobing. "With both our skills put together, we could probably outfit the whole group. This is some of the best quality iron I've ever seen," He half complimented, half boasted. "Should opportunity arise, I'd love to work with her again on something like this."<br/><br/>But the time for showing off was over, and it was now time to summarize the events as much as possible. "Right, right, skull smashy. Some fellows showed up and decided to cause a mess. They were led by a man calling himself Lason Divino. Ardur had an encounter with him before," He paused, motioning with his head towards where the swordsman was seated. "He threatened us, a lot of us, claiming he has an army. Apparently, he thinks Anora stole his sister's name." His expression grew steadily more agitated thinking back on it, and with a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes before continuing. "He spoke like he wasn't working with those assassins, at least not closely. But he knew about them, and he knew about us. If we see him again, then we're going to make sure he can't go through with any of those threats."<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Bellant's arrival prompted Verigan's attention to shift towards the dragon. "Well, maybe he wasn't as lost as I thought," He quietly mumbled, tilting his cane a little as his other hand came to a rest on his hip. The two elves had a small exchange of words, and he refrained from being too interrupting. One would think his flashy outfit and spooky headgear would be an interruption by themselves, but things moved along well enough. When Atisha started to move, Verigan offered a tip of the hat as a departing acknowledgement towards the man with the golem, not knowing if they were coming along or not. If so, then it was a convenient greeting as well.<br/><br/>As they neared the Wounded Bull, he idly wished he still had a nose. And a stomach, for that matter. Nostalgia for flesh was luckily short lived, and he merely strolled into the inn alongside the others. Atisha was off to clean herself up, so his focus went to getting them a seat. One of the wall tables was a good enough choice for him, so he walked over to it and seated himself, removing the hat from atop his mask.<br/><br/>Whilst resting, he placed his cane tip-down on the ground and held both hands over the head, channeling some amount of power through the catalyst. He was directing his carriage, as well as some assistants that had been near his booth in the market, to clean everything up and move away. He was very subtle about the whole thing, merely humming a casual tune to himself while directing the undead manning the vehicle from across town. He moved them to the stables to 'rest,' though they hardly needed it, in order to keep up appearances and prevent anyone from prying into the supplies he had within the carriage.