Only after the battle had been announced as over did Orion sheathe his blade, his gaze sweeping over the dead, and the living. As he stood there, looking over the carnage, only when he had locked on the blood did he recognize the pain coursing through his chest. He had been brutally thwarted in the stomach, the hilt of the blade was sure to leave a mark. He winced lightly as his fingertips brushed against his leather armor, feeling out the area that had been affected, assuring himself there had been no internal damage. Which, thank the gods, there wasn't. He was sure he wouldn't be able to stand if that were the case. 

Stepping over the corpse at his feet, Orion moved closer to De, still keeping a few feet of distance apart from the man, but making sure to remain close in case those they had fought alongside turned. Though, something in the way they seemed, relieved, almost relaxed now, made him question that. He watched as an elfess approached those who had previously been bound, and asked for forgiveness for what must have been hard to stomach. The way her voice was calm, and even kept, it reminded him vaguely of his mother, whom had once been a diplomat, before... Well, before he had come into the picture. Though, she had always kept her passionate way of speech. 

Upon the mention of a tree ent, Orion raised a brow in curiosity. He had never before seen such a creature, though he had been told stories as a child. It was beyond fascinating to hear tell of one so close, though he doubted he would get the chance to become acquainted with Olgrif, as the man had called it. Perhaps that would be for the best. His thoughts were broken upon the sound of the old man, he had asked for both Orion and De to come closer and join in with the silver tongued elfess, and him. Wearily, but without hesitating too much to draw attention to himself, Orion stepped forward, stopping when he reached the two. He gave a respectful nod to the man, and turning his gaze to the elfess, he gave a curt bow. It had been a custom he was used to preforming among the elves, his betters. He locked his honey coloured eyes with her very distinct, fading dawn colored eyes. 

When he straightened, he watched as a young woman ran over to the elfess, a wide smile plastered on her rosy face as she stood beside her friend. He listened as the man mentioned a Rakasha, the one whom had freed the hostages. His voice was extremely kind, suitably soft, and calming, especially after the clang of metal that had transpired earlier. Not too soon after had Matthias gone off, further into the tavern, not without leaving a request of them. It seemed fair enough, he had helped create this bloody mess after all. He fixed his mask, readying himself for the task at hand, though he felt strange, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when someone is watching you. A sense that only grows stronger after preforming in Orion's type of workforce. 

Turning his silky eyes to match those of the elfess again, Orion locked them in place, focusing on her light eyes. A smirk dawned on his face, covered by his mothers mask, but still allowing his amber gaze to sparkle. "I suppose your curious as to who I am." His voice carried the accent that had followed him ever since early childhood, elf-tongue seeping through his words. 

"I also suppose it would be rude of me not to tell you." He carefully proceeded to walk around the thick blood on the ground, over to the two bandits that lie dead next to one another. With a grunt, he lifted one at a time over each respected shoulder, the weight was a bit more than he had expected, but manageable. He turned his attention back to not only the elfess, but the group she traveled with. 

"The name's Orion. Orion Duvain." With a gleam in his eye, he trudged out of the inn, smiling through his mask towards the group. He wouldnt mind waiting to get aquatinted with the group, he had a job to do, and he didn't take any task lightly. As he stepped through the door into the cold night air, Orion walked over to the trees nearest to the inn, dropping the two bandits at his feet. He pursed his lips, unsure whether they deserved to be buried, or left to be eaten by the predators within the woods. The thought made him a bit uneasy, to treat any of the dead in such a way, especially after they had put up a valiant fight. He shook his head suddenly, a snarl forming on his face. No, no bandits deserved that much. They didn't care whether or not his father had gotten an honorable grave, so why should he care about their final resting place? He didn't.