Tobias makes no visible sign of reaction as Lorielle was struck. He watches and listens to both sides. From Tarquin's demands to Lorielle's plea for them to 'just run'. That thought alone only helps assist the Hyur as another boisterous laughter breaks through after Tarquin. Hidden eyes still yet to leave the form of the other Midlander.
    "I atone," the black-hair man begins as he slowly raises his arms out and up, "it appears that I embarrass my person in the presumption that you were here in the abetment of subterfuge of these fine travelers." Ever since Tobias began to talk to the men, his speech was 'unique'. His words, odd in selection. His dialect not native to Ul'dah, Limsa Lominsa, Gridania, or anywhere else near those lands.
    The Hyur would assume if anyone could determine the origin of his sudden accent, it would have been the green-eyed archer. "But instead," Tobias continues as he slowly walks backwards towards Clavier, "I find merely feeble bandits. Only after the cargo." If there had been a flash of lightning, they would clearly see a smirk that would ooze a feeling of 'superiority' over the men. "So allow me to make one self very clear that even your imbecilic Highlander can understand." words pointedly spoken to the one known as Amadi while Tobias stands now next to Clavier.
    "I. Am. Garlean." Tobias enunciates every syllable pointedly as to make sure he was heard. Suddenly the Midlander strikes in a swift left hook--into Clavier's gut. As the archer buckles over, Tobias quickly bends down with Clavier to wrest the blade from his hand and pulls the jacket that adorns the branded man.
    After Tobias disarms and disrobes Clavier, he pushes the exposed Hyur towards Amadi and Tarquin, but not close enough to be struck by either men. "So, if you have not taken notice yet, opportunity fortunes you gentlemen. You can do right, by the abetment of the Empire, and never spend another moon out in this miserable cold with Gil that lines your every pouch, or..." he pauses to let the previous statement linger, "you can spend every conscious bell peering over your shoulder until the inevitable finds you. And drives the life slowly from your lungs."
    The change in Tobias' demeanor from the norm was that of something more...sinister, taunting even. "Turn so these fine fellows may see the marking on your backside. Clavier, was it? Accommodate these folks as to why you have been branded." With Clavier's sword in hand, the turncoat Hyur taps the flat side of his blade leisurely against his leg.
    This game of subterfuge was more than risky. It was probably downright stupid. A risk that could pay in dividends. Forty yalms.
    "I atone," the black-hair man begins as he slowly raises his arms out and up, "it appears that I embarrass my person in the presumption that you were here in the abetment of subterfuge of these fine travelers." Ever since Tobias began to talk to the men, his speech was 'unique'. His words, odd in selection. His dialect not native to Ul'dah, Limsa Lominsa, Gridania, or anywhere else near those lands.
    The Hyur would assume if anyone could determine the origin of his sudden accent, it would have been the green-eyed archer. "But instead," Tobias continues as he slowly walks backwards towards Clavier, "I find merely feeble bandits. Only after the cargo." If there had been a flash of lightning, they would clearly see a smirk that would ooze a feeling of 'superiority' over the men. "So allow me to make one self very clear that even your imbecilic Highlander can understand." words pointedly spoken to the one known as Amadi while Tobias stands now next to Clavier.
    "I. Am. Garlean." Tobias enunciates every syllable pointedly as to make sure he was heard. Suddenly the Midlander strikes in a swift left hook--into Clavier's gut. As the archer buckles over, Tobias quickly bends down with Clavier to wrest the blade from his hand and pulls the jacket that adorns the branded man.
    After Tobias disarms and disrobes Clavier, he pushes the exposed Hyur towards Amadi and Tarquin, but not close enough to be struck by either men. "So, if you have not taken notice yet, opportunity fortunes you gentlemen. You can do right, by the abetment of the Empire, and never spend another moon out in this miserable cold with Gil that lines your every pouch, or..." he pauses to let the previous statement linger, "you can spend every conscious bell peering over your shoulder until the inevitable finds you. And drives the life slowly from your lungs."
    The change in Tobias' demeanor from the norm was that of something more...sinister, taunting even. "Turn so these fine fellows may see the marking on your backside. Clavier, was it? Accommodate these folks as to why you have been branded." With Clavier's sword in hand, the turncoat Hyur taps the flat side of his blade leisurely against his leg.
    This game of subterfuge was more than risky. It was probably downright stupid. A risk that could pay in dividends. Forty yalms.
