The doors to the Weeping Rose Tavern swing violently open and Draconian soldiers quickly file in, maintaining a tight formation that creates a clear path from the bar to the door. Tables and chairs are haphazardly shoved, flipped, and tossed out of the way as the weapon-brandishing soldiers yell commands over one another, "Back! Get back! We will use lethal force! Back! Noble Protection, back off 10 feet, NOW!"
The soldiers are similar to the normal roving soldiers of Volaire Town Proper in race only. Every other detail about them is, in a word, intimating. Their armour is polished to mirror-like perfection. Their weapons are edged with gold and silver and seem to hum with magical energy. Instead of favors hanging from their belts to denote rank and affiliation, these soldiers each have a full tabard with rank insignias adorning their breastplates. Even the build and muscle mass of these creatures seems somehow superior to the average Draconian Soldier. Each of their faces are expressionless, emotionless... their eyes betray nothing of what lies beneath.
The most decorated of the soldiers approaches Nymera, stops, and performs a full sweeping bow before her as his gruff voice, almost a growl in timbre, forms a single word, "Milady."
With that, relieves her of the tray she was carrying and shoves it into the arms of the closest patron at the bar. Then he picks her up into his arms in a single motion, turns, and walks with a brisk pace out the door. The other soldiers fall in behind him, closing their formation so as to prevent anyone from following, their weapons continuing to shimmer and gleam in the otherwise dim lighting of the tavern.
As the last Draconian passes through the door, a loud resounding *POP* followed by a rush of air can be heard from just outside the tavern.
Anyone who follows the group outside the tavern quickly sees that they have all vanished from sight.
