"You of course don't know, but I'm in search of the last remaining members of the Zim clan. We were vanquished by the Oni demons that have besieged our kingdom and the survivors scattered across the world. I wish to reunite my clan and lead it to regain our honour and former glory, and once and for all eradicate all Oni, from their most powerful warlords to their unborn children in their mother's womb."
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"And by 'great' you mean..." Sheng throws a conspicuous stare at Max's flamboyant hat, while he finishes the tea.
This catches Ignatz' ear. Stormclouds darken his brow, and he bounds toward the flashy mage, coming to a sudden stop close enough to Max that his intent to intimidate is obvious. Despite his comic antics (which Max undoubtedly observed) he makes quite an imposing figure: Nearly two meters tall and over two hundred pounds, yellow eyes blazing and bushy sideburns and worn tusks, a mark of his orcish heritage, protruding from his frown. He wears plain, patched breeches with scuffed, ironclad boots. He wears no shirt under his fur-lined cavalryman's jacket. It's a fine, ornate coat, though one of the sleeves has been torn off below the duster and it's not particularly clean. His hat, however, is pristine. He keeps the white ushanka perched high on his head, the strange crest (a monstrous skull with symmetrical horns and fangs) displayed proudly. "Vhat vas dot hyu said? Hyu tink my clothes are... 'uncouth'?" He's just a touch more terrifying than he is ridiculous. For the moment, he's forgotten completely about his promise to help this Evan fellow."...according with the latest trends in male fashion" says Max. "Not here in Daunton, of course, people here favor the utilitarian look. Charming, but uncouth."