Isabeau looked like a complete mess and desperately needed a bath, among other things. Still covered in dirt and dried blood, she trudged over towards Tirarrian. Her cowl draped over an arm and her shirt hung loose over her collar bone, exposing a small bit of bandages and scarred skin if one paid close attention as the cloth flowed over her back. She wasn't in a particularly good mood, though it was most likely due to the lack of sleep and or food in her stomach. 

She glanced over "The Red" for a long moment, committing every inch of the imposing brute to memory as he and Tirarrian exchanged words. Friend or foe hadn't been decided just yet, but she needed an idea of what she was working with. So if for some reason she would have to defend herself against the giant beast, she just might survive. She couldn't make heads or tails of him, and so refrained from forming any opinion, looking at him with the same indifference he offered her. At the moment, all she could tell was that he was another entitled male, demanding answers from them, like they were children who did something horribly wrong. [color=darkcyan][i]Pfft ... men...[/i][/color]

[color=darkcyan]"To be honest, we will need all the help we can get if we are to defeat the horrors that plague this land. Now if you'll excuse me..."[/color], her voice was low and strained with exhaustion, her body, barely able to push past them to the door. 

She hoped the tavern wasn't too far from there, walking across town wasn't exactly an option for her. She did remember seeing a blacksmith just around the corner and hoped the Tavern wasn't that far off.

[@The Fated Fallen] [@Dragoknighte] [@The Harbinger of Ferocity] [@Belwicket] [@KazeXDZ] [@boomlover]