[center][h2][color=999999]Thurin Stoutarm[/color][/h2][/center] 

Thurin huffed and puffed as he ran down the stairs, his black beard billowing behind him as his short legs pumped furiously. He'd need to head back upstairs at some point to get his boots and armor. Well, he didn't need to. Dwarf feet were tough as the rest of him. But it would surely be the smart thing to do. He'd risk bare feet now though. His mount had been a fine steed over the mountains. He wasn't one to leave a comrade behind.

Thurin burst into the stables past Ofnir and rammed through a lone undead wight like a freight train, bashing it into the ground before gathering his scrawny steed, as well as Vamyr's horse. He lead them out to the front of the Inn and told them to stay there, giving them a hard look and a wag of his stubby finger before making it back upstairs, pummeling a few more undead before getting his things set in order, and heading downstairs again with his items under his armpits. "[color=999999]Right! Let's go horsies![/color]" he told them. He placed his items on his horse's saddle, then grabbed their reins. 

He lead them over to the rendevous point where Calariel was stationed. His breath came out steamy puffs, and he looked over the two mounts very carefully to make sure they were in good condition. Seems Ofnir was right about that as well, blasted wizard eye. "[color=999999]Oi Elf! Ye see anything?[/color]" he called up. He hoped she wasn't as blind as she looked.