[center][b]Gawain Rochilde, 'Wonderman of Vasili'[/b]
[b]Orwen Sudernlan, 'Brown', 'Woden'[/b][/center]

Gawain was rested in peace, closing his eyes, thinking of the God of Light and his peaceful grasp on the reins that lead man through life. But he was rudely awoken by Karen, who had sneaked her way around the inn and was now suddenly dragging her finger across Gawain's cheek. It had been.. some time since he had been met with a womans caress, of any kind, even as light as this. He was quick to react and opened his eyes, obviously startled, and moved to the left, almost falling into Sarah before he caught himself. He then raised both his hands in Karen's direction, as if to stop her from advancing any further. A reflex movement, if anything at all. He listened closely to Karen, not being able to control his hearing anymore as if it were, that's how seductive she sounded. [b]“Assassins walk a path of shadows, away from the light of the lord.”[/b] he simply stated, with a dull voice, more or less blinded by Karen's appearance and voice. He attempted to straighten himself out and raised himself from the bent-back position and placed his hands back at his side. [b]“I.. I'm sorry. I cannot judge you. I shouldn't. Perhaps God has a distinct connection with you, that allows you to walk this path, or perhaps you are not a believer. I shouldn't bother you with my faith.”[/b] He bowed his head as a sign of respect, simply wishing for Karen to forgive him for his ramblings. He still hadn't settled into the group, and judging from the company, he'd take some time to do so.

As soon as he'd look back up at Karen, his face seemed a bit more relaxed and he even pushed out a smile. It gave him the characteristical 'Gawain' look that everyone would soon see more often once he'd grown accustomed. [b]“I am afraid I've already had dinner tonight. I have been staying here for about a week, already. I was simply on the fence about the Consano. It seemed like a warriors group, not fit for priests like me. But I figured, any man is a man.”[/b] He smiled softly, before his smile faded. [b]“Or woman.”[/b] he added quickly before his smile reappeared. The societal differences between the man and woman were different in every part of the country, he recalled. But if she was, indeed, an assassin, she probably wouldn't care much about this. Rather, she'd be happy to be a woman. Seductiveness came a long way, as well as the fact that nobody suspects a maid entering a room to clean. [b]“I.. appreciate the offer, miss..?”[/b] he asked, obviously asking her name.

[hr]

Meanwhile Orwen was still in discussion with more or less everyone else at the same time. As Buxton retorted with a ridiculous attempt at mocking Orwen's origins, he simply started laughing. He took a full minute to recover from his laughter, before he retorted to Buxton. [b]“Ah, Buxton. Clever as always! Yes, I am from Southarbour, and yes, I come from the slums! Good of you to repeat this well known information for all to hear. It's often I meet a knight who feels the need to push others' origins down their throats, simply because they feel they are better than others. I had not anticipated you to be like these knights. It seems you are [b]exactly[/b] one of these knights. Well, rest well, lady Buxton, knowing that this man, who grew up in the slums, with lesser blood than you, now has more money, and a bigger castle than you, as well as a private army that matches that of your Cliffton Guard.”[/b] He smiled heavily at her, as if he were only joking, and he was obviously once again not impressed with the petty attempt at insulting Orwen. He knew for a fact that most of the natives of Vahili had heard of him, and the foreigners might even know him by name. And if they didn't know, then they would know now that Buxton had opened her annoying loud mouth again. But his face suddenly turned serious again.

[b]“Surely a shame that Cliffton never sent us any prisoners. I could've given them purpose, rather than rotting in prison. Man learns a lot from rowing in a boat, and at the very least man learns more than they do sitting in a prison cell. Perhaps you can, one day, try rowing a boat. It builds character. Remind me what you did in Cliffton when the Temple of the most holy Sol was desecrated? Last I heard, the culprits were still not caught, right? Not to offend, good lady, with all due respect! Surely a blue blooded woman not unlike yourself be able to capture these people. Just a thought.”[/b] His words were sharp as steel, atleast, so he thought. He attempted to let the woman know that he, Orwen of Sudernlan, was not a man to be messed with. Regardless of lineage. Many things can happen before someone even sets foot outside this tavern, that much Orwen knew. And one of those things was a dagger in the neck, for simple reasons like insulting those with influence. But he knew Buxton better than this. Her uncle, the king, owed Orwen several amounts of money. Wars against the Dawnish pigs were expensive, and although Orwen supported the wars for one reason or another, he wouldn't give the king money for free. The death of Buxton would surely be a good reason for the king to implicate Orwen and strip him of holdings and money, so it'd be better to simply leave Buxton alone, or atleast duel her verbally. As long as she stayed her hand, things were fine.

As soon as the argument was done, Orwen simply stood back and listened to Buxton's attempt at a motivating speech. It was clearly just an [i]attempt[/i] because, according to Orwen, a good motivating speech needed a promise of wealth. But she simply offered cheap food. No soldier would get motivated for a bit of scraps from the tavern owner. No, when Orwen were to motivate his personal band of slave-riders, he'd do so with bags of money! That motivates a man. Ofcourse, Orwen had no experience with motivating a ragtag bunch of old guys, and some young ones that thought fighting cannibals was going to be fun. 

He simply shrugged and headed for the wall, quickly writing down his name. [b]'Orwen of Sudernlan'[/b] in a particularily neat looking writing, especially for someone from the Southarbour Slums. He didn't bother to get food and simply headed upstairs, taking the key from the door, entering, and locking it. He had had enough of these peasants and would-be knights for the day. He would lay down on his bed and get some rest, atleast until the would-be knights woke him from his bed at night.

[hr]

As for Gawain, he simply listened to the ongoing discussion. There was no clear victor in the discussion, though. Both sides took jabs at eachother, and while Orwen's points seemed to focus on simply saying 'yes, you are right about me, but I don't care.' Buxton didn't exactly seem like the woman who would let someone like Orwen get to her. That was simply an impression, however. Gawain crossed his arms over eachother, showing that despite his lack of soldiering, he was somewhat muscled atleast. He listened to lady Buxton's speech, and couldn't help but feel like [i]this was it.[/i] He smiled as she told them to grab food and looked at Karen instantaneously. [b]“It seems lady Buxton and sir Chester have already taken care of dinner. Thank you again. Perhaps another time?”[/b] he said, smiling at her again. His mind was taken off of the woman's trade, namely the trade of dagger and cloak. It must've been her voice and face. Never the less he was still struggling with the idea of the crowd he had gathered in. An assasin, like Karen? But she looked so.. normal, compared to the others. If she was a assasin, what were the others? Gawain's eyes glanced over each of them, attempting to think of what they were. When his eyes reached Sarah, he couldn't help but feel different. What if she wasn't the normal lady she seemed to be, but rather a dangerous individual who was here to sabotage the Consano? Surely, she wouldn't be. [i]But what if..[/i]

After Orwen, Gawain would quickly step forward and fill in his name. It was the handwriting of a priest, beautiful in it's own way, but more suited towards religious texts. [b]'Gawain Rochilde.'[/b] There. It was final now, no going back. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, relaxing himself. He would walk back towards the others, simply stating, [b]“I need to retrieve a companion. I shall be back in a few minutes.”[/b] He hadn't exactly[i] asked[/i] if he was allowed to bring a companion, and the way he worded it might've even made it sound like he had a wife. He walked out the Kevil Arms again, and walked through the mud. It was raining again. Finally, rain. Gawain liked the rain, it was cool, cold on his face. He just hated how it made his hair all sticky from the fat he used to smear in it. Whatever, that was side effects. What mattered now was going to the house he'd been staying in.

After atleast thirty more minutes, Gawain would return to the Kevil Arms. He'd take a quick look around and see who was still there, drinking and eating. Shortly behind him several ticks were heard. [i]Tick, tick, tick, tick.[/i] A large dog was trailing behind Gawain, walking into Gawain's hand with it's head, prompting the man to quickly ruffle and pat the dog on it's head. It was a black and white [url=http://safebooru.org//images/196/cbce7f731a271e0946bae34a757c682206c0af66.jpg?196028]husky[/url], large in size and appearing rather muscular, although most of it was covered in fur. [b]“I am sorry. It took me more than a couple of minutes, but I cannot leave the Crossroads without Bravery here.”[/b] he said, smiling genuinely while looking at the dog, who looked back at the man while panting heavily. It seemed like the dog was a lightpoint in Gawain's life. The dog comically shook his fur, ridding himself of the rain. Gawain simply smiled at the people in the tavern still and raised a hand to them. [b]“Now I shall be retiring to my room. If anyone has need of me, I will leave the door unlocked.”[/b] [i]Ofcourse they didn't need him.[/i] They were battle hardened, well trained men and women. And he was a priest. What could they possibly want? He slowly walked up the stairs, the dog following him closely, before heading into one of the available rooms. He took the key and headed inside, the dog once more following him, before he closed the door and put the key in his pocket. Slowly Gawain inched closer to the bed before dropping himself into it; it had been a long day. The dog simply curled up at the foot of the bed, and went straight to sleep. Gawain.. he barely got sleep, and simply waiting to be approached in the night by either sir Chester or lady Buxton. He had hoped it to be Buxton - she seemed far more friendly to Gawain than Chester had been when he threatened to shove the sword up his ass.