The warlord straightens a little as she speaks. If Quintet feels like she is giving a lecture, she at least can be sure that she has his full attention. Something to those embers seems to brighten, stoked fires set to blaze as his interest piques.

"Society is in shambles in the world I know and come from," he says. "The strong prey upon or trample down the weak, and the weak struggle to keep this idea of a society, a pale echo of what it may have been, centuries past."

The chair creaks slightly under him as he shifts, sitting back as he turns his gaze towards the fireplace at the opposite end of the room.