<ul><span style="font-family: new times roman;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">"These are new recruits..." he worded his response carefully, leaning closer, "And the... scrolls, and... everything?" he asked, inquiring about a project he'd been working on with Kastien for the past months. </span></span><br/><br/>The Mithral Elf muttered under his breath and nodded, casting a glance towards the crowd. <span style="color: #BFBFBF"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">''We got our ducks in a row, Master Kell, we went to the bitter end to make sure that all is under control.''</span></span></span> Eyes flashed with amusement, Kastien watched the Mage as he pulled Solas aside to speak with him. The man in question who was not of this world nodded his head, deep in thoughts; before he took his leave, exiting through the portal. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, the Elf's icy grays shifted to his companion, Turbertus, a dark expression of some sort clouded his eyes.<br/><br/>One arm holding a tome against his chest, and another arm slowly falling to his side, his digits came to brush across the pommel of <span style="font-style: italic">Ophidian</span> - his blade. The sword was made of a green meteor rock as a power source, Ophidian is a magic infused sword made to smoothly cut through air and pierce through the toughest armor; poison the wounded and call upon the Guardian of the sword - A 9 feet tall, monstrous humanoid reptilian of race named after the sword, Ophidian. When another but the owner is exposed for too long to the sword, it causes him paranoid delusions. The blade, crafted by the Moon Elves, captures the surrounding winds, and as soon as friction teases its edge, Ophidian radiates an icy mist and as it swings it curses its targets; freezing their blood, locking them in place for whatever chosen duration.<br/><br/>Kastien fell in step beside the Carpenter as this last started walking again, gesturing with his hand to mention the location of the food room, indication the only way which led to the Kitchen. When they got to the entrance, The Whistler paused a feet behind Kell, allowing the form of the man named Turbertus to pass as this last hurried inside the kitchen to feed his stomach. With twinkling eyes, Kastien stared past Kell's right shoulder, fixating now a critical gaze on the guests inside the room before slowly shifting his eyes to the Witch. He suddenly felt some sort of an uncomfortable feeling radiating from the Master's presence and the Elf hesitated a moment before planting an assiduous touch of his hand on the Mage's shoulder, whispering, unable to prevent a chuckle from escaping firm lips.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #BFBFBF">''Kell, I have long wondered why you're so concerned with those less fortunate. Whatever resentment you may be feeling now, think about pursuing your own interest. Come on, let's have something to eat and drink, mayhaps this will allow that feeling to.. evaporate into thin air."</span></span></span> Giving the man a gentle tap on the shoulder, Kastien stepped inside the Kitchen, advancing to the table. He raised a leg and placed a booted foot up on the surface of a chair then arched his back as he leaned forward to pick up a goblet of apple-wine, momentarily glancing at the Carpenter.</span></ul>