[center][h2]Morgan Thrainsson[/h2][/center]
[hr]

Most of the events that had transpired had been lost on the vampire, as the dark depths of unconsciousness had assured this. However, as the escorted group made their way into the inn and Ixion gave his thanks, Morgan would stir on the red hooded assassin's shoulder. It wouldn't be a violent wakening, nor would it be accompanied by angry words. Simply, the assassin would feel his ally stiffen suddenly and go limp once more. However, this would not be due another lapse of unconsciousness, but merely because the vampire was trying to recognize what had transpired. [i]'Where am I?'[/i] From his shouldered perch, the sniffer could not see where he was, or what he was doing there. But, thanks to past experiences, he would quickly place the missing pieces into the missing puzzle. 

The surge of energy around him, both from guard, ally, and now new strangers filled his inner eye as his enhanced senses picked up the stink of sweaty patrons, the bitter stank of beer and other alcohol, and the general sounds of inn behavior. A gloved hand made its way to his temple where Ixon's dagger pommel had so accurately struck him. It was still sore, but not as much as his pride. [i]'What struck me?'[/i] His confusion mingled with a injured dignity. Even though he was fairly new at being a vampire, it wasn't usual to be taken off guard in such a way that he was instantly removed from combat. 

Any other inner reflection was interrupted by the corporal's "friendly suggestion:"

[b]"Don't leave the city without notifying the Ducal Guard for the next few days, sirs; we may have more questions concerning the murder of this... Blue?"[/b]

A slight tug of his upper lip couldn't help be issued in the form a sneer as he saw the guards walk past his newfound companions and out of the inn. [i]'Wanderer's curse upon those miserable...'[/i] Morgan's disgusted thought drifted away as he slowly moved his arm moved, from a limp, hanging position to begin propping himself upward. The action would be non-threatening, and a basic, universal signal that he was well and awake, and very much wanting to be placed back on his two feet. 

If Ixion complied, the vampire's balance would be questionable for a moment, but his footing would be found quite quickly. A rush of blood hit his head with a slightly alarming wave, causing a covered hand to reach instinctively to his head. But, with the passing moment, Thrainsson would lean slightly against his staff with a reassuring confidence. Making note of the penin's negotiations with the innkeeper, Morgan's scarlet eyes would lazily scan the room. In all truth, it was like any other inn that he had seen in his travels: full of those with drink and those who found merriment with those who had drink, mixed with those who liked the intimate  atmosphere that inn's often provided. 

However, the woman with the electric blue hair, as well as her companion, caught his undivided attention. His talent began to zero in on them, trying to absorb as much information their souls could tell as the vampire made observation after observation. Wasn't it odd that they made such a room of happy people subconsciously uneasy? What were they doing here? Why were their eyes so strange? What was growing on the woman's face? Morgan had heard rumors of a terrible disease, but with so many rumors flying about and no real detail about what was truly the face of this disease, the sniffer often waved the whole issue away all together. However, an immediate prejudice was placed on the pair as Morgan caught glimpse of their shining silver badges. He had seen them before, though he didn't remember where. [i]'It does not matter though,'[/i] thought Morgan, eyes narrowing under his mask, [i]'Those who hold a badge are all under the same banner.'[/i]