At his threat, the humans had swallowed their pride and quieted down. Satisfied, Garash released the one he'd been holding and returned to the bar to finish his porridge. There were only a few spoonfuls left, since he'd wolfed most of it down already. He noticed that a new patron had entered the inn while he wasn't paying attention. This one seemed to him like it must be an elf. Having never seen a true elf before, he didn't notice the minute differences indicative of a wolf Anithrope.<br/><br/>Suddenly, there was a scent he recognized, and he turned to watch the door just as two Demons came in. They called out that they were looking for some object, and the inn fell silent. It was music to his ears. The Demons promised not to attack if the object was swiftly returned, and Garash narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe in the concept of Demons with compassion. By his logic, there were only three reasons not to fight: first, the opponent is too strong; second, a fight at that moment sounds tedious; and third, you've been put into a good mood. And it seemed to him like if they didn't get said object in the span of a few seconds, they had no reason<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>to fight. If it came to that, it would be two against one. More, if he let one escape to call for help. Whether or not someone here had the object in question and would give it over was something he couldn't afford to bet on. Freedom, in his life, had to be fought for.<br/><br/>He heard a shrouded woman mutter,<span style="font-weight: bold">"This is serious! If they want the object, it could be worse than I though,"</span><br/><br/>This drew his attention only for an instant, before:<span style="font-weight: bold">"Let's search them!"</span><br/><br/>Garash was up and on them in less than a heartbeat. He used the element of surprise to rush the littler one, since he seemed more likely to run off for help while Garash was engaging the big guy. He pulled back his arm and bent his fingers appropriately, ramming them with unmistakable murderous intent directly into the smaller Demon's eye sockets. His fingers were long enough they should have made it to the brain, but, for good measure, Garash grabbed the Demon's shoulder, tore his fingers free, and smashed the poor creature down onto his knee cap, finishing the motion with a ferocious elbow jab to the back of his neck. Dying, dead, whatever, it dropped like a rock.