Regina slept peacefully, mostly, with her ear to Sakaala's back. For some reason, she always found it relaxing to listen to the heartbeats of others. As Sakaala set her down to go inside, Regina moaned, wondering what happened, only to be picked up shortly afterwards again. As Isabeau was talking to the barkeep, Regina began mumbling in her sleep and trying to shift her position to be more comfortable. The only word comprehensible from her mumbling would be Isabeau's name.

The steady of the two hands met itself to join deep within one of her pockets, clinking ever so gently a few of the small metal discs. They were as cool as ever to the touch, but were warm to one with the knowing how sellswords earned their keep; money from blood. It always perplexed the aging hunter, her expression shifting her attention away briefly as she thought. The vexing notion that in itself it was a worthless thing as one could not fashion a sword of it, could not feed mouths with it, or even use it to perform most any sanctified ritual. But so many died in its pursuit and for what?

She withdrew at last a few pieces of five, their worn surface telling only a fraction of their tale, stepping forward to set them upon the counter with a faint metal clatter. The greatness of her hand and claws rested on them for a moment, her other arm still and lifeless by her side as she looked to the man while he poured the dark drink into a glass and questioned them. Nostrils flaring with a slight exhale, she at last replied.

"No, I have need of nothing more." Sakaala removed her thickly padded palm, sleeve of her torn ebon robe slipping free of the wooden surface. Three aged coins remained where they were, still and cold.

Stepping back, she kept an eye on the man for a moment more, one living and one cold stare all the same. She gauged him, as did she the others here for a moment before turning and walking to the still sundered door; she wasn't about to turn her back without being entirely sure they knew she was just as wary of them as they were of her...

@ArenaSnow@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@vietmyke@Zero Hex

Ionathan may have been preoccupied with his own thoughts, or even the attempt at sleep, so much so that he may not have heard the continuing commotion just below him, the whispering in the halls, the gasps of excitement and awe of the other patrons. Yes, there was a lot of distrust in the area, however they were like celebrities at this point. This very well may have been the most exciting day in this tavern for most of its regular patrons.

Of course it didn't help Jarkson at all. He rather enjoyed his quiet life. Business had been good, business had been easy for a while. But when that wench showed up and erected her cottage just along the end of the road, well, odd things began happening. And his slow and easy business started taking a dive. Regulars started disappearing, the whole town was spooked. There was a time where you couldn't find a dry seat in the house. Now, it was a lowly lit, dive, entertainment was scarce and the food was ok. And if Ionathan payed attention, there were only 6 rooms within the establishment.

Speaking of, shortly after his arrival into the humbly furnished room, shortly after his routinely undressing and creeping towards the door to slumber, there was a rapping at his own. "Pardon me sir, I gots yer dinner." The words poured out in a meek voice just beyond the solid wooden door.

Downstairs, Jarkson glanced towards Ajax. "It seems your friends have covered ya. Whaddya want?", he said, cup in hand, ready to pour another drink. His eyes drifted to the last man standing of the group. A young lad, couldn't barely out of his youth. A knightly looking fellow, his armor gleaming bright, causing specs of light to dance in the rusted room in which they all stood. "And you?" He asked a bit more directly this time. He had barely noticed the little one asleep, until she muttered something, her voice was clearly not something he'd expect, he thought she was but a child. Regardless, sound asleep she was, and so a mouth he didn't have to worry about being fed this evening.

In truth, it wasn't them he worried so much about. The Knights were knightly, sure, generous even and down to the point. The darkly clad woman seemed nice enough, but it was those types he knew to usually be the opposite. The hulking man before him could surely pop a mans head off with a gentle squeeze, so despite the lack of weapons and clothing, he was certainly a threat. But he got the no nonsense vibe from him, and being that he was willing to do work to earn his keep, any thoughts of mischief from this one quickly vanished. But it was the beastly woman who he feared most of all. And she returned his distrust in kind. As she removed herself from the crowd rounded by the bar, Jarkson removed her from his thoughts, but only so much to keep up with his duties. She may have been out of his sights, more so from avoidance of looking her way, but she would not be from his mind. He would just have to sleep with one eye open tonight, if he could get any at all.

@Jon Y @Zero Hex @The Fated Fallen @The Harbinger of Ferocity @Belwicket @vietmyke

Ajax shrugged, satisfied with the current situation. "Don't suppose you have a piece of cloth that might fit me". Make no mistake, he enjoyed exposing his carefully cultivated muscles for all to see, but walking around in his underwear got tiresome after a while. Not everyone was okay with it, which made for more trouble than it was worth, and from the perspective of a prizefighter that cared about showmanship on some level the act of disrobing to showcase his body made it all the more impactful than if he always walked around half naked. "If you're sure you don't need anything from me, I'll take a wineskin for the road".

A vice from his homeland. He needed plenty of harder liquor to start feeling the effects and he enjoyed stronger brews, but there was always the nostalgic attraction to the taste of wine. "A strong wine, preferably herbal aroma. Sweet is better but not necessary. Spiced if you can, it can wait till morning". He listed his terms absentmindedly, as though it were common for a barbarian to discuss taste and aroma in wine. "And, bit of advice, you should relax my friend. We'll be gone in the morning and it'll be as if nothing had happened. Except for your door I suppose".

As the situation began to lose its tension, and the atmosphere returned to something more civil, Emil's tensed muscles began to relax at last. Not that he could do much with the sage in his arms, he wouldn't be able to draw a weapon without casting the woman aside- which would've been neither polite, nor knightly of him. As a result, he breathed a sigh of relief when the barkeep put down his weapon and Ionathan paid for the rooms.

As Ionathan excused himself to go up to one of the rooms, Emil dutifully followed the older warrior, as they entered one of the rooms, leaving the others to drink or make merry on their own. As Ionathan began to remove his armor from his body, Emil laid the sage down on one of the other beds in the room. It was of regular tavern variety, a small, wood-clad room, with empty furniture, and a table, alongside a pair of smallish beds. Ionathan had claimed one for himself, seemingly moving with little accord as he disarmed himself and promptly plopped onto the bed. Deciding the sage would be fine with Ionathan in the room, Emil quietly excused himself- unsure whether or not if the tired Ionathan heard him or not, and returned downstairs.

As he returned downstairs to the others, he only needed to stand a moment before the barkeep regarded him with a gaze, and asked him what he'd like. Emil merely shook his head, and held out a hand. He had had enough for the night, and would merely content himself with relaxing for a moment before he excused himself to one of the rooms to get some rest.

Their would-be-assailant turned ally..? Had taken a seat at the bar and sought something strong, while Ajax requested wine. It amazed Emil how nonchalant Ajax could be about... well.. everything, but he had assumed that after the experiences such a man might have gone through, none of this was particularly new or uncommon for him.

Tarrey continued to survey the scene, various members of the group had seated themselves down, and they all lowered their guard a good amount. A good warrior might take advantage of this, but that would be a foolish warrior. He came to the conclusion he wouldn't be able to do any good, and the best idea was to go back to his room and wait for them all to go to bed. Later Tarrey would go down and ask the innkeep about the situation at hand.

Tarden started throwing his rock up in the air, and catching it with the magnet. What a strange night, and what a strange group of people. Probably here for some sort of strange reason. The more he thought about it the more curious he became. Why would so many dangerous people band together? Clearly it wasn't to do evil, they would be spotted a mile off and swamped by guards and the like. Still, in times like this it was a good idea to keep a hand on your weapon at all times and your faith in the spirits of the land

Isabeau scanned the downstairs of the tavern one last time before making her way up to the empty room. She rested a hand on her belly, as if to comfort the turning of an upset child. The food was subpar, however she wasn't going to complain, it filled her up, and the spirits she shoveled down along with it made up for the taste. Her eyes hadn't caught anyone suspicious looking, at least, not more suspicious than their lot had been. There was one fellow she had spotted earlier, but she didn't see him. Unfortunately, while it may not have dulled her senses, being liquored up had glossed over her suspicions, allowing her to throw caution to the wind just this once.

The bunch ate and drank, and by the end of it all, whether it was restful or not, they were able to to sleep. In nice, comfortable beds, with warm food to fill their bellies, sheltered from the harsh elements which plagued the streets of this poor little town.

There weren't many other bumps in the night, no one else crashing through the doors or scaring the bajeezus out of the barkeep and his patrons, which was a relief for Jarkson. When all was quiet, he actually gave thanks for their arrival, for the coin donated that evening would be enough to keep them going for a while longer. To the point that when a friend came down to question the happenings of that evening, he merely replied with "They be good enough people for me, and as long as they don' question the food, or trash the place again, they are welcome back any time. You might want to go with em, though. I dunno what they be up to, or what they up against, but that beast lady was pretty mean looking, pretty serious as well. I'd wager where ever it is they're going, they'll need what help they can get."

The rest of the evening had been pretty quiet. And as the sun rose above the hole in the wall tavern, hope crept in through the window panes, and soothed what it could of the hearts that beat within.

Isabeau was up quite early, and already downstairs. Sat snug as a bug, reading at one of the tables, her legs crossed at the ankles, her feet resting on the chair beside her.

The manner in which the monster of a woman mended the door was not without noteworthiness, for the same nails, rusted and aging as they were, found themselves employed yet again; whereas Diagorides' immense strength and precision ripped them clean from the wood they had been struck into some time ago, Sakaala's own pushed them back. From outside in the dark evening, ducking under the overhang, she settled the door and its stripped frame back into itself, taking each nail from it first. Satisfied with it being sufficient enough, she wedged each of the small metal spikes into the few slots that had not been mounted before, driving each rough nail firm into the wood with but only her immense palm. The force, strength and concentration needed to perform the feat was no issue for a creature such as her, but the intensity she did it with - the dedication in its application - spoke greatly as to her current frustrations.

It was not long after she returned herself to the interior of the building, one arm as limp as ever and the other's huge palm and digits flexing ever so slightly as she relaxed herself, content that the door would hold. Not a carpenter in any regard, her closest knowledge being basic woodwork and bowing, she was sure however that unless the inn was burst into once more, it would hold against the elements and patrons to come for some time. Walking to the corner not far from the fire, the leonine figure removed a bed roll from the side of her pack that Regina seemed to keep herself to.

The disfigured warrior shook it out once, water skittering into the flames and dispersing before she rolled it once more - this time the inside out. Cleverly, she bundled it together and set it to the back of her neck as she reclined, eyes watching the bar and its patrons; her sizable sword, by the standards of men, rested against her lap to which her hands fold over with the lame arm beneath the other. It was the sort of posture that threatened, even while asleep. One that clearly presented itself not to be disturbed and moreover, not trifled with...

She slept as light as ever and awoke periodically throughout the night as the instinct in her wished to keep a watchful eye about. It came and went with the few hours that passed, but the old ranger turned sorcerer never let on she was anymore awake or asleep than she really was. It struck her a bit odd however, as dawn drew nearer, that the first to return from their rest was this would-be assassin, but this was no greater concern; she feigned sleep as she had before, left to think to herself and concentrate upon the events of the day prior and what all was to come based upon the so little they knew.

@ArenaSnow@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@vietmyke@Zero Hex

Regina woke with a yawn and a stretch before looking around. She saw Sakaala and Isabeau, both of which made her blush slightly at being the first familiar faces she awoke to. After climbing from the Lioness's pack, she lifted herself to sit on the table Isabeau sat at, pulled her pack in front of her, and began pulling out strips of jerky for breakfast. "You actually waited." she said after a bit, looking at Isabeau. "Why?" She waited for Isabeau's answer before stretching her neck. "I want to talk about why you left." she said finally. "About how I felt about you." She sighed again, shaking her head. "About how I still feel about you." Her eyes revealed the amount of desire and caring she had for the taller woman. "When you left, I felt betrayed. I thought you were gonna wait for me. But you were gone before I was awake." She sighed, looking at the table.

Ionathan began to rouse from his bed, thankfully he had slept well and he felt like it. Due to the fact he was the first to get to sleep, Ionathan woke up earlier then the others and began to go about his usual routine. Dressing in his Gambeson and brown trousers he then started to shave using a shiny brass bowl as a mirror. While shaving his mind turned to the group, it was inevitable that they would face combat soon and each of them seemed to be formidable but he pondered about Ajax. While he did have superhuman strength Ionathan wondered how he would combat foes that were well armoured and well trained. Realising that Ajax would not have come this far if he didn’t have some kind of strategy against such foes this train of thought soon was forgotten as he finished shaving his face feeling as smooth as a cold steel.

Walking downstairs eager for breakfast he saw Isabeau sitting by a table which Ionathan saw as an opportune time to catch up, he was very interested to hear what she had been up to since the Waeldeshore incursion. Picking up some leftover bread from yesterday and a small block of butter Ionathan began to make his way to Isabeau.

"When you left, I felt betrayed. I thought you were gonna wait for me. But you were gone before I was awake."

He froze on the spot, he knew that question was best left between the two and him butting in would be improper. Turning away from them he pondered where to sit, Sakaala looked to be still asleep so sitting next to her might arouse her from slumber. Deciding to sit at a different table Ionathan sat down, buttered the bread and started eating as quietly as possible. He thanked the heavens that he remembered his dining utensils. Eating without them would be so uncivilised

@Belwicket @vietmyke @AdamantiumWolf @Zero Hex @The Harbinger of Ferocity @IcePezz @The Fated Fallen

Tarden slowly made his way down the stairs. The bandits from last night had assembled for breakfast, and for that reason were probably in an amicable state, but he still did his best to act inconspicuous. He strolled over to Jarkson "Morning,"

Jarkson looked slightly on edge, but not as much as he should have been for the potentially hostile company in his inn. "Morning Tarrey, can I help you?" he spoke in his happy and upbeat tone, not in the hushed whisper Tarden expected.

Tarden looked over his shoulder meaningfully at the group. Jarkson caught his meaning, "They're a bit odd, but they don't mean any harm. Really, honestly." Tarden kept his reservations. "I'll have a plate of whatevers going, please." he said to Jarkson

With a plate of eggs Tarden made his way to sit near the door, if he needed to escape he wanted it to be easy! He started tucking in and inspected the door. It was still largely in one piece, miraculously from looking at the large man who bashed it down last night, and the remaining parts would be an easy fix. Tarden shouted across the room to Jarkson "I've still got some glue from my last job, I'll patch up the door after breakfast, for a friend." Jarkson nodded to him from inbetween helping residents at the place who were coming down for their own food.

@Belwicket @vietmyke @AdamantiumWolf @Zero Hex @The Harbinger of Ferocity @IcePezz @Jon Y

Ajax awoke in a good mood. He'd had his fill, he'd slept under a roof and in a decent bed for the first time in a good long while and he slept long and undisturbed by angry locals, assasination attempts, assorted emergencies or any other pain in the ass that required a solid fist to fix. It was a welcome change of pace for him. There was still the matter of his clothes, but a quick look at the available coverings for the bed gave him a suitable piece of cloth, nice and tough, that he could fashion into the type of robe he enjoyed wearing. Or rather, that he could have someone else tailor into a robe for him.

And that was how Ajax spent his own early morning. Jumping out the window of the establishment with a ball of cloth under his arm, looking for the nearest tailor in town and "convincing" him to create the outfit. It wasn't hard. It was early, the man wasn't expecting business till at least the next few hours and he was scared witless by the scarred giant offering physical labor in return for an outfit that seemed more fitting of a harlot than a warrior. Hoping to not offend Ajax in some way, the tailor did the quick and easy work in return for the cutting and hauling of plenty of lumber to spare himself an afternoon's labor.

And so the door of the inn slammed open from a not gentle but certainly contained shove, creaking most uncomfortably under the new abuse yet holding steady, and into the inn walked a now conspicuously dressed Ajax looking mightily satisfied with himself. "So, what's for breakfast? A good meal is a must before an adventure".

Isabeau's eyes slowly trailed from her book over to where Regina stood. As each new person entered the room, it became abundantly clear that there was no escaping this, at least not with her dignity or integrity in tact. And no matter how she worded it, what she had to say would make her seem like the lowliest creature on earth. The guilt stricken rogue carefully set down her book and scooted towards the hin.

"I waited more so because there is no sense in leaving without the artifact in which I've come for. But I do owe you an apology, and an explanation at the very least. You and I are from two different worlds, Regina. And whatever it is you feel for me, I can only assume is based on infatuation or lust, but it is not reciprocated. I needed to carry on with my work, and I didn't want you or your friends involved in my so called betrayal of Genevieve, so I left. Also, I figured it would be best to end it before you even had a thought there was ever a chance at anything even beginning. So I am sorry for how I made you feel, and the circumstances of it all. Now as soon as breakfast is done, I am leaving. It is up to you whether you accompany us or not." her tone was even, calm and unobtrusive. And her volume was not entirely hushed, but she was careful enough that those not paying close and careful attention to her words wouldn't be able to discern them. And without any other words, she rose from the table. It was a simple matter but a hurtful one. but there was no other way to go about it, at least not one that she could come up with.

"I will see what is cooking for today" the barkeep nodded to Ajax, his crisp and freshly pressed face was content with the business and paid no mind to anything else. It was still quite early so their party was the only that had emerged thus far.

In the early morning, a shut of a door was what awoke Emil from his slumber. One of his companions had left the room shared by a few members of their party. Emil scarcely remembered the rest of the night. He stood there for some time before retiring to bed, thoroughly exhausted from the events of the previous night. Realizing that he might be one of the last to wake up, he quickly pushed himself out of bed, and hurried to ready himself for the days events.

He swapped his clothes from yesterday with a pair of similar clothes from his ruck, and pulled his mail and plate armor over. He grabbed his sword and slung it and his ruck over his shoulder, and proceeded down the stairs, the light jingle of his mail and plates rubbing together sounding like bells as he plodded down the wooden steps.

Downstairs, he found some of the others- including Sir Ionathan speaking to their new... companion-would be assassin-etc, apparently another hero of legend. Which Emil found incredulous, heroes of the same tale fighting amongst one another. Thankfully, today seemed to be civil at the very least. Emil himself didn't feel quite right entering a conversation between old friends, and instead sat off to the side.

Regina looked down, an obvious sadness about her. Isabeau wasn't gonna give her a chance. She sat still, brooding on it for a few minutes before looking back towards Sakaala. I don't have a chance with her either. she thought with a sigh. She slid off the table and walked towards the bar. "Got a target I can borrow?" she asked, tapping one of her daggers. "I gotta take out some frustration. And a mug of Dwarven Ale if you have any." Her drink of choice when she was feeling down. She was trying to distract herself from her sadness, knowing perfectly well she would have to deal with it eventually. She was half-tempted to levitate herself onto one of the barstools but decided against it as she didn't know where the target was, if there was one. Most bars had one, or so she thought.

Tapping a thick finger upon the grip of the sword that laid across her lap, the old mercenary stirred none more, content to listen to all the activity that began with the others rousing; they weren't subtle, she noted that much. Her ears, as relaxed as they were in spite of the conversation, picked up each and every word shared - be them the two women at the table or the two men at the bar and of course the distinctive clatter of the knights. Albeit there was... something new, something that smelled not only different but sounded the part as well. She was privy to the scent the night before yet then it was mingled with the rest of the inn's - the smells of smoke, liquor, men and fire - but now? Now she had a figure to attach to it.

And one yelling, at that.

"I've still got some glue from my last job, I'll patch up the door after breakfast, for a friend."

Sakaala opened an eye at last and the blood icing glare she gave was a stark reminder she was as much a beast in the flesh as she certainly appeared to be; the good eye lingered on the man of brown and orange, whose garb was bound about him barring the thinnest portion that revealed his eyes. It moved as he did, tracking, watching as he crossed not more than a few feet away from what were the enormity of her feet, his hands busied with a wooden plate topped with eggs. It was then she chose to rise, having waited until he set about inspecting the door.

"That is one way to awaken someone." The fallen regal remarked, her great palm sheathing the sword across her back where it hung without a sheath.

Limp arm resting at her side, she looked him over for a long moment before turning her scarred, mottled face away to examine the dwarven innkeeper then the rest of her company as they were preparing for the morning. More patrons, those of the other rooms arriving now in part, she returned a glance to Tarden with the deadness of her blind eye. As polite as she was keeping to herself, she made it clear that shouting at break of dawn was not her ideal...

@ArenaSnow@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@The Fated Fallen@vietmyke@Zero Hex

Ajax strolled through the establishment and sat at the bar, eyeing the foreigner draped head to toe in colorful cloth. Nothing against him, really, it just bothered Ajax a little bit when things he broke were put back together in his presence. Even when he specifically hadn't tried to render them completely unusable. It felt wrong, if for no other reason that he had become accustomed to his touch, so speak, being rather final. His life had quite literally depended on it for many, many years. As he waited for his meal he focused his attention on the little spat between the tiny psyker and the so-called assassin turned ally.

Acting as though Regina wasn't right there, he adressed Isabeau. Primarily because the issues he saw were on her end rather than the halfling's. "You know, children aren't my thing but you should try to enjoy yourself before heading off to die. Food, drink, good company, whatever else you want to do. Following a duty is fine but it should not be all there is to life".

Tarden looked up from his delicious eggs and rashers and saw the few eyes he had drawn from the mountain of muscle and some sort of spirit of nature. Apparently shouting in the morning wasn't the best idea, had they been drinking last night and now have a hangover? That would explain why someone would just break open a door.

Tarden subtly contemplated this strange nature spirit. Being so large, wouldn't she have trouble getting through doorways? She could only be described as hideous, though he had seen stranger people in his travels. He shook his head and finished his meal. Standing up, he headed up to his room and back down again with various mixtures and materials to fully mend the door, grabbing a flagon of mead on the way

There was deep truth in what Tarden witnessed as the leonine figure was what could only be described as disfigured and hideous; obvious tales of battle that hadn't set well. It was remarkable to imagine just what could do such a thing to a monstrous being as her, but any veteran of strife would not need even dwell on the telltale scarification. They were distinctly the old wounds of blades past, men's blades at that, as they had not the keening of an elven sword or the crudeness of orc steel. Fitting was it however, seeing that monsters were often a thing to be vanquished. Whatever case the beastly mercenary's was, she wore it on her sleeve.

And wear it she did as she kept her eyes upon the bound man as he departed for a few moments, turning her attention now to the barkeep, her looming figure neared the wooden counter and tapped a deathly claw upon its surface. She knew she had his awareness before, but the mithral armored woman wished to inform him she had need of something. For now, she feigned disinterest in the exchange between the three at the table of their former enemy, instead looking in the time she waited to the knight who conducted himself with all the dignity he had before. In his own way, Hepburnberg impressed her as he sat, buttering another side of his bread while remaining quiet and to himself - just as he had been earlier on this day.

She watched this for but a moment, before acknowledging the dwarven man as he was undoubtedly aware of her presence now.

"Do you have boiling water, tavernkeep?" Sakaala said, her mighty tone far softer and less forceful than the night before.

The powerful upper half of her relaxed as she exhaled, muzzle flaring ever so subtly when she finished her words. She strove, in part now because the environment was less tense, to avoid making herself any more a menace than she already was. She did not need to emphasize the point she was as seasoned and as serious as she looked - their imagination would do the rest, surely after the brief and silent exchange she had with the cloth-bound man who returned from the upstairs. His hand wrapped about the worn metal of a flagon of mead, but he never ceased moving, proving to pass her by on the way to the door.

@ArenaSnow@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@The Fated Fallen@vietmyke@Zero Hex

Regina frowned as she looked at Ajax. "Are you calling me a child?" she asked angrily. Standing, she glared at him, ready to pull out her daggers. She wanted to, but knew that she couldn't beat the man. "I am no child, brute. I am a Halfling. Get it right." Reaching in her pack, she pulled out another strip of jerky, chewing at it angrily as she waited for the barkeep's answer about a dartboard.

She glanced at Sakaala as she approached the bar, calming herself as she imagined what she looked like under her- Goddammit! I have got to stop that! It's way past time for me to be more mature and not focus on getting all the pretty girls naked with me! She sighed and shook her head, looking up at Sakaala's eye. She was curious about the tale of how she lost the one eye but figured Sakaala would share that if she were comfortable. She didn't know if she should ask as how everyone - well, everyone except Ionathan - seemed to be in a bad mood.

She took another glance at Isabeau with a sad sigh and a frown. Her thoughts wandered to her bardic lover from the east and she almost missed the barkeep's response to her question. Looking at him as he spoke, she gave a nod and hopped off the stool.