Kiernan/Mag/Ophion
In his youth, he would not have dreamed of returning to the Tenements. Ophion Barnard was noble through and through, one who fought to climb out of the Tenements' grasp. By thirty nine, he had hoped to settled in the Nobles District against once more successful. But he was not there yet, there was business to finish, questions to ask in this part of town. He was thirty-nine now and still digging for clues about his family's murderer. By Faram, where did the time go? So long, in fact, he sometimes remembered the massacre was not yesterday.
Dealing with bards and informants, he frequented musty dive bars more often than he would have liked. Tonight, he finished up a quick drink with a hooded man. Unhelpful, no new leads. He ought to return to his usual source of information. His meeting was cut short by the bar's destruction. A part of the neighboring establishment came flying into the wall, sending patrons and dancers through the air.
He grumbled a swear under his breath. This city could not survive alone. With the world crumbling around him and the clock ticking away, Ophion took this as a sign to move. He adjusted the hilt of his sword, hoping that the situation was not dire enough for him to need use it.
Upon exiting the building, he spotted a stray rock soaring towards civilians on their way to evacuate. Despite all his posturing of a cold, heartless man, Ophion would not allow children to die so helplessly in front of him. Not tonight at least. He aimed a spell at it as best he could through the heavy mist, shattering it to smaller pieces. They nodded thanks and continued on the way, and his gaze followed them for a minute before returning to the mess around him. With the debris blasted out of the way, he noticed two Fighters Guild do-gooders, both Cerelia's friends.
"Hm," he scowled bitterly at the other man. "It's you." But he would have to save bickering for another day as Ophion eyed the hulking shadow of whatever was causing the attack.