This example comes from the Draconian Feast after the Demon Hunts. This accounts for two posts: From Kazimier and Keziah, and display use of NPCs from the guild to build story. - Kazimier did not interrupt immediately. He let the boy’s speech dig himself deeper — watched the pride and cheap Guild-loyalty puff his chest while his pulse skittered beneath Kazimier’s palm. Once Hawk had finished — smug, shrinking, and stupid — Kaz exhaled. A humorless sound. A scoff with fangs hidden behind it. “Predictable and incorrect.” Not loud. Just absolute. “You are reciting a story fit for recruitment posters — not history.” His claws tightened just enough to make the lesser male flinch. “Your Syndicate was not born from righteous revolt against a ‘floundering guard.’ It was born from convenience and disillusionment — by nobles who could not stomach staying where they failed to ascend.” Silver eyes flicked once — marking the listeners — then returned to Hawk. “For clarity: Corinno Rajni did not build your Guild because the Guard ‘fell.’ He built it because he would go no higher than silver armor — and he could afford to walk away while still signing his name as a Rajni.” A beat — cold and calculated. “And for all those ‘good deeds’ retroactively painted onto his treasury-funded vanity project… he died.” If Hawk tried to speak — Kaz rolled straight over it. “Now you — with no time or experience amongst the true Queen's Guard — feel bold enough to claim we abandoned our posts.” The tone dropped to blade-quiet. “That is stupidity, and simply your uneducated opinion.” “We were dragged into political warfare among the higher families while your cadre of founders ran off to play mercenaries and adventure under a banner that became romantic ideal only after their egos got fat on coin and common praise. You inherited their fantasy — not their reality.” Then the turn — the lesson delivered. “So tell me — do you actually believe a Guild born of boredom, ego, and failed ambition is the apex of strength — the only example others” here his head angled toward Keziah without looking at her “should be content to model themselves after?” He leaned in — breath brushing the boy’s ear. “Think on that while you stand here stumbling drunk at a celebration honoring those who bleed to keep you alive — while you've fish boots out of water wheels for coin.” His claws gave one last tightening squeeze — a punctuation — and with that grip he rotated Hawk’s body just enough to square him fully to the Synta. Kazimier’s smile was a thin, cruel baring of teeth — civility wrapped over something feral. “And do not ever confuse the selfish rebellion of a handful of nobles for superiority over those this nation depends upon—behind our restored Queen and Prince.” He let the words hang — not out of patience, but to watch them register. He studied the flicker of emotion across the younger male’s face… …and then he moved. The shift was near-invisible — more instinct than telegraph. Kazimier’s right leg slid between Hawk’s feet and hooked sideways in the same motion, breaking the boy’s stance in one clean jerk. Even as Hawk tipped, Kaz’s opposite arm snapped up — rose-gold bracer catching the exact angle of the fall — and the side of Hawk’s skull met metal at the vulnerable soft point of his temple. The contact was surgical. Enough force to cut consciousness. Not enough to kill. To give the Onyx is touch of credit; it wasn’t as instantenous as Kazimier would have expected. Perhaps thanks to the alcohol previously imbibed, or the wait for the hollow that was between this male’s ears to stop echoing. But he’d eventually go down; body crumpling at the joints. Kazimier released his shoulder and let gravity decide where he landed. Whether Keziah caught him or some sympathetic guildmate dove to save face — it was irrelevant. Kaz watched the collapse with the cold detachment of someone setting down a tool he no longer needed. - The scene had most certainly drawn attention by now, both from members of the Queen’s Guard in the nearby crowd—waiting for retribution—and from some of the Guild members—some concerned, some in agreement, all understanding they couldn’t act without escalating the incident. Everyone else had made themselves scarce for attention. As Kazimier began to speak, Keziah’s eyes had moved back to him instead—having said everything she had to say in response to Hawk’s foolish line of thought. It was an interesting history lesson, when heard from a perspective outside of the guild; the convert had suspected that their ego as a collective was a bit on the fluffed side. Lots of talks of altruism, but she couldn’t help but see the underlying point. It hadn’t made her think less of them, because she understood it. Far more than any attempt to replace the Queen’s Guard for prestige or respect. But, alas—there were always the ideological ones that needed the legend. It wasn’t a long lecture, and before anyone knew it, the Martik Synta was in motion—and Hawk was crumbling. No, not immediate… but immediate enough to get the point across. He didn’t receive aid from Keziah—she stayed perfectly still, save her eyes drifting down after him with an expression that denoted her lack of surprise in this outcome, and likely a good bit of belief in his deserving it—but a Citrine and Emerald nearby had the sense to step in. It wasn’t a save, per say, so much as scooping him off of the floor and removing him quickly to avoid his somehow making the situation worse for them or himself—despite his lack of consciousness. Only once they’d vacated the general area had the convert’s eyes rolled back up to the guard, sighing. “I’ll have it on the record that I warned him to hush…” She said flatly, shrugging slightly before breaking her stance to take a sip from her laughably large mug. Now that she didn’t have Hawk directly in her face, silver had taken a full moment to look over the male’s choice of attire, tilting her head a degree. I’d be surprised if the rest of his Queen’s Guard buddies aren’t comparing him to my kind, dressed like that… She’d thought to herself, shockingly containing the impulse to simply speak her mind. Instead, her eyes glanced to her right to meet contact with a few other Guild members who obviously assumed the rivalry was going to continue. Perhaps they hadn’t listened to her side. The femme simply glared at them until they awkwardly looked away and went about their feasting; the Queen’s Guard appeared to have lost interest the moment Hawk had been laid unconscious. With at least a few less eyes now staring in her direction, the Tamurilian glanced back to Kazimier. This was when she realized she didn’t know how the hell she was supposed to act to not trigger the Martik. There was some question as to why he’d chosen to approach in the first place… which led to the noble simply watching him for a long moment, as if he’d simply tell her if she waited patiently.