Enter: Rourke

"Wrestling?"

The word hung in the air as everyone turned to face the speaker.

"That's hardly a challenge fit for a spellflinger." The stranger continued as he tilted his head and blew smoke into the air.

At the sight of the newcomer, two of the shifters at Zonnos’ mat quickly moved to shield the halfling lord. They took on a defensive stance, ready to pounce at the new arrival.

The stranger began to casually walk towards the audience chamber, parting the veil of smoke he'd just exhaled. His steps filled the audience chamber with the scuffle of soft leather boots. Faint wisps of smoke trailed behind the stranger as he puffed a finely rolled stick of Black Pit Blend.

"Now if it were 'who could burn the most shifters where they currently stand...with a gesture'-- that would be more appropriate." He rambled as he stopped beside Devlin.

From the main mat, the Aerendi elves moved to cover the older halfling. A handful of halfling guards marched towards the front of the mat.

Vago waved the guards off and addressed everyone in the room. "This must be Timothy O'Rourke, a warmage of Karnnath. Another companion of the Captain d’Lyandar."

"At your service." Tim quipped

The guards and elves returned to their usual positions, but their eyes more alert than before.

"And my talents are far more...elaborate than mere wrestling - As I'm sure the wise Popora Boromar already knows." He continued as he bowed his head low. "I humbly request you spare your son and his...entourage this harsh lesson."

He then turned to let his gaze fall on the shifter and marked her with piercing eyes.

From within Rourke's mind came Gian's voice: "You're drunk again, aren't you?"

"Hey, you wrestle him." Rourke thought back.