Quinn looked about the room, sizing up all the newcomers. From his stepbrothers, Masef, Sigur, and Varzuhl to the intoxicated guards, the hunter's quick eyes took it all in. Six guards to the apparent four of Brand's wards. [i]Actually five...I think...[/I] The elf thought with a frown, eyes accustomed to tracking game may have seen the crimson locks of his younger stepsister, Lysandra, before their owner ducked away into the inn's kitchen. The odds weren't bad, quite good for them actually once you factored in the liquor. He had seen Sigur completely overwhelm twice that many by himself. Varzuhl was a genius with two blades in hand. Masef had a style all his own, combining the strengths of two homelands. Finally, if she was actually there and not imaginary, Lysandra would've secured them victory with her complete mastery of those strange roped weapons of hers...

However there was the issue of secrecy, ending any confrontation with it intact, as well as maintaining the safety of the others in the inn. Also adding the fact that Brand's elven stepson was currently unarmed didn't exactly help either. To better keep up with his disguise, the elf had left all his weapons in the bundle now definitely out of reach at the bar. [i]Definitely a tactical error...[/i] Quinn chided himself, his palms closing around the end of the cask set down before him. 

The analysis ended in a flash however. The latest patron to visit the Scuffed Boots was one that the elf thought he'd never see again. Kazahk stepped into the inn with a purpose, straight from memory. Quinn remembered the issues they had as children growing up, probably one of the few consistently rough experiences he'd gone through. That all ended when Kazahk and Brand almost came to blows, heated words were said, and another stepbrother ended up in the ground. The two elves had not seen each other since. However if there was a positive outcome to all that, it was that he could better appreciate the good times and the siblings who were still alive and well. 

With a knowing look, Kazahk showed that he still had his hand to hand skills, skills the Drow would frequently use to best Quinn on many sparring matches. [i]Well at least some things don't change.[/i] In the confusion of the throw as well as Kazahk's bold reaction, the tavern's living room devolved into utter chaos. [B]"Gut that sootskin!!"[/b] were the rallying cries of the two guards sprawled on the floor. At once, one of the four guards still standing advanced with his blade half drawn towards the dark elf's left shoulder. A half full wooden cask of quality elven brandy to the head kept that particular guard from closing the distance. Wooden splinters, wasted alcohol, and the guard himself toppled to the ground in an unceremonious heap. 

Without waiting for a reprisal from the others, Quinn flitted to the front of the bar, looking to put himself between the rest of the guards and as many patrons as possible. Along the way, the elf archer glanced at his siblings, hoping that they were on their way. Once he reached the bar, Quinn caught Kazahk's gaze for a split second before swiping the elven curve blade from its sheath. The elven fighter kept his stance towards the guards mostly but also kept his sight on the Drow. [i]Whatever his plan is, it's probably not good...[/i]