The beat and drum of a tune in the background willed it's symphonies. The elements beckoned on it as well. The air held a beautiful stillness to it, but shook like it could stir at any care-depriving moment. This world, more accurately this pub was ageless in Erebus's eyes, as ironic as it sounded. It always gave him the same welcoming feeling. Odin had made it the only truly safe place in all of Oak. A positive really, considering Odin was something more gruesome than half the mobs or serial killers around these parts. Strategist only knew this because he'd done his digging into the files. Even if that might've been wrong. It was whatever though, he had met Odin... Briefly.

A bell coined his entrance, the mercenary from GH. Strategist was the name everyone knew, but Erebus... That was the identity. The man took to his seat at the bar, wasting no time in his walk towards it. Truth was, he hadn't been here many times, but the environment seemed alright and he enjoyed that. Especially considering a neutral ally, as stated earlier; Odin, owned the old place. "Scotch. Thanks," He'd offer his order to whoever was behind the bar, or listening. Since the man hadn't really looked up to notice, this could've been male or female, he really didn't care to show any curiosity for all that jazz. Matter of fact, he rarely cared about anything, unless it was cheap and got the job done.

Whatever the case, Strategist's reason for being here? Simple. He wanted to douse the flames that erupted in his head, the fires, the voices. Oh yes... Mr. Cassiel had demons, the worst ones, bad types, ugly ones. And? What better way to shut them up than to alleviate some functionality with a nice drink? He needed to slow himself down anyways. Things were constantly growing weirder by the days for the adventurer, just three months or more ago he was the runt of Grimoire, now he was one of the more valued members. Proving it time and again, one could become strong through hard-work. But he'd slipped as of late, hadn't he? It begged the question, was slowing down even a good idea after all?

He found himself now pondering across such things. He needed to be doing more jobs, yes-- as many as feasibly possible. Even if it did risk his mind or health. His speed had been faltering anyways-- his reliability, which only meant he needed to double up-- take in more. Or else risk being stuck in the past forever. A figment, a memory. Warriors bred ambition, and vice versa. He would not allow himself to dwindle back down the ranks. No. He'd rise past them, this time quicker than ever before. It was the only way. "... I ordered a drink Bartender."