Sipley wasn’t a fool, anyone here might have the interest in eliminating her, and that was why every move made in the small inn was recorded in the back of her mind. She made note of every person who walked through those doors after her and scrutinized every face for familiarities. So far, her suspicions were subsiding, but she remained tense. Afraid to be caught off guard, Sipley drank nothing even though her throat was aching for the bitter taste of ale. Her mood only continued southward when notified that the masterminds behind the Crimson Company were unknown. Perfect.

“How do we know that a bunch of insecure old men are gathering a bunch of threats and [i]shleek[/I].” Sipley pretended to cut her own throat with her finger, drawing an invisible line ear to ear.

Despite her wariness, Sipley knew she would join the Crimson Company anyways. It was too good of an offer to pass up – think of all the potential gold. Not to mention that she has been lacking fun for awhile, and with a bunch of oafs traipsing around the country, well, it should provide some entertainment. Mostly out of habit than actually feeling threatened, the silver-haired woman fiddled with a dagger in the holster strapped to her thigh.