The Multi-Dimensional OC Bar

Graham noticed the new stallion that walked in, but for the time being, opted to focus on his chat with Ician. He nodded to Ician's armor. "So, you're a part of the royal guard, I take it. What do you do with them?"

After a few minutes, another visitor, a griffin of sorts walked in. Her front part was of a crow, her back part of a snow tiger, and she had a polished, bolt-action rifle with a scope strapped to her back. "G'evening!" she said in a weird accent. (Russian accent.)

"Oh, I'm their Head Strategist. Tactical planning... administrative tasks on occasion." He too noticed the new visitors, but opted to remain silent.

The newcomer mumbles to himself, "why must everywhere be so damned bright?" he sits in a secluded corner, darkness seems to pour our of him and envelope the immediate area. He pushes the hood off of his head and pulls the mask down away from his snout.

"Oh. Well, that actually sounds a tad.. Boring, if you don't mind me saying. But, that's coming from a more, 'hands on', kind of fellow, so-" Graham cut himself off when he did a double take at the newest, Russian, visitor. He gaped at her for a moment before stopping himself, remembering that it's impolite to stare. "Ah... Yes... What was I saying... Ah, right; I'm a more hands on kind of fellow" He said, unable to concentrate, due to him stealing glances at what he considered to be a strange sight.

The female gryphon made sure her gun was secure and walked to the counter to make her order. Just before the door closed behind her, those who were looking at it could see houses in ruins and what looked like sandstorm that's about to happen. She ordered some vodka, threw in some rusty coins and opened the bottle. "Cheers." She said to nobody in particular and sipped her vodka. "Ahh, that's some good stuff..."

"I can't say I'm not all that hands-off myself. Or hooves-off, in my case. I'm not a bad fighter." Ician's gaze was similarly trained on the Russian-accented visitor.

"Oh, don't get me wrong; I wasn't claiming that you were incapable of fighting. I was just refering to your job. I can't imagine that you see a lot of action when you're on-duty" Graham said. When he noticed that Ician was also looking at the Russian new-comer, he leaned a little closer and whispered so that she wouldn't hear him. "Have you ever seen anything like that?"

"I'm going to see quite a lot of action now. And there are a few perks of being in this position." He leaned closer as well and whispered similarly, "Never. What's that... thing on her back?"

"I think it's a gun of some gun, like the one I have" He said as he briefly pulled out a blunderbuss pistol from under his coat, before putting it back, "but larger. I'm not sure though. It's not like any gun I've ever seen..." He said while examining it from afar, cocking his head to the side as he did so.

"Oh, like flintlock pistols. I don't get to see that very often." Ician says. "The Royal Guard is still mostly melee-based, unless you count the Battle Mage Divisions... usually I see that only in the Navy and in the hands of pirates."

A seat next to the griffon and the pony becomes wreathed in a shadow and the black stallion appears in it, "pardon my intrusion, but I believe I may be able to explain."

Ician flinched for a moment, then stepped back calmly, a telekinetic grip manifesting itself around the hilts of his four swords. "Who are you?"

Graham flinched when he heard the voice behind him, but didn't grab hold of his weapon. Instead, he turned around to face the stranger. "If you could, that'd be delightful. I'm actually quite curious." He said, without a hint of distrust, in contrast to Ician.

"Ah of course. where are my manners?" he gives a mocking bow, "Phantom Tears is the name to which I answer. I am a recent addition to the, guhk, Power Ponies..." he turned toward Graham, "I believe it is some kind of sniper rifle, a popular tool for assassins."

"Sniper... rifle...?" Ician looked briefly puzzled. "So it's a tool for far-range assassination..." His grip tightened ever-so-slightly around his swords. "I see."

"Oh, assassins. Reliable chaps, if you need them; though they tend to not stay loyal if you treat them like common mercenaries." He said, not really thinking. "Anyway; do you think she's an assassin? She certainly doesn't look like it."

"Yes, though some more advanced armies use them as well in special forces squads."

Ician eyed Graham suspiciously for a moment, then turned back to the Russian-accented one and continued whispering, "Who can say? Looks can be deceiving, after all. I'm certainly no judge. Behaviour, on the other hoof..."

"Why do you not just ask her? I am sure she would prefer that than the three of us whispering about her in the corner."

"Well..." Ician looked between the two of them. "Who wants to go first?"

Graham stayed silent for a second, before getting up and going towards the Russian. "Excuse me, miss; this question may sound a tad strange, but you wouldn't happen to be an assassin, would you?" He asked, as if he was asking about the weather.

The female griffin stops drinking vodka for a second to look at Graham and his group. "Nah." She said. "Just a survivalist." She then looks at Ician's armor. "Well well, guess some of the Celly's forces are still alive.. and proud to show what they were a part of. You didn't see much combat, did you?" she asked Ician.

Graham gave a satisfied nod to the Russian's answer, then took a step back to allow her to speak with Ician.

Ician raised an eyebrow. "This must be another case of those alternate-universe things the Bar likes to throw at us." He stood up straight. "I have seen a fair amount of combat in my time. Recently won a campaign off the Eastern Sea."