Suddenly, there's no music. The band stops playing for some reason that isn't immediately clear. There's someone moving through the crowd with determination and calm; they part as if by some silent cue. The shot gun in his hands might just be incentive enough to jar everyone from their panic.

It's the owner, placing himself squarely between his patrons and the offending quarry. His shotgun is cocked and aimed at anyone and everyone posing a threat. This includes Lord Vayan and his people.


"Drop your weapons!" His voice carries over the sound of violence, solid and as unforgiving like a blow to the gut. "NOW!"