Gaela was about to react to the hard grip on her shoulder when Fiona stepped in, turning the drunk’s attention onto herself. The mage winced and moved the wine bottle when the two began to brawl. It was unnecessary, being on her own so much Gaela had learned how to deal with most men who got handsy. A little shock was usually enough to deter them but it was too late, punches were being thrown. When Nolan retreated in humiliation, Gaela nodded her thanks at Fiona but could see clearly that she had her own share of ale, perhaps contributing to her own aggression. The altercation was small, thankfully, and the innkeeper did not seem too upset by it all. 

Turning her attention to Kirella, “As I was saying, before we got interrupted. About your soul gem research...”

Before they could get settled back into conversation, the door burst open and shouts rose as Nolan led a band of armed locals into the tavern. The big orc wasted no time pulling out his shinies and to Gaela’s horror began swinging the deadly swords around in the crowded confines of the inn. It did not take much to get the others involved, chaos swirling around them as chairs were flung and mugs went spinning through the air. Grunts and screams of pain accompanied the flashing steel and the healer sighed inwardly. At least with this group she would never be out of practice. 

Knocking back the rest of her bitter wine, she reached down and scooped up her knapsack and other bags, hooking them on and snatched her walking stick. Turning to Kirella, she shouted above the din and beckoned her forward, “I don’t know about you, but I’m out. Once stupid and ale get together, the night is ruined.” 

Using her stick, she shoved one stumbling, bleeding man out of her way. He was not hurt bad, just a superficial wound from what she could see. Pushing her way forward, she barreled towards the door, just in time to get knocked aside by Fiona and Nolan who were locked in combat. She hit the wall and huffed a breath out, pushing herself up as her river blue eyes flashed with annoyance. Gaela considered a spell, perhaps a bright light to blind the fighters for a moment but not harm them so she could make an escape. She ruefully decided against it, they would likely turn on her for casting magic and she would be in worse trouble. 

Whacking one local on the head as he lunged for her in a blind rage, she made her dash out the door and into the cold night. The mage took a few deep breaths before turning to see the struggle between the redhaired warrior of her party and the lout. It was too late for him, she saw the life fade from his eyes even as she raised her hands to provide a healing spell. Once they were dead, that was it, she did not dabble in necromancy. Brushing her hands together instead, she walked over to them. 

“Fiona, you’re hurt,” she stated rather than asked, putting her hands on her ample hips. “I can help you if you like.” 

Looking down at the dead Breton she sighed through her nose and muttered, “What a mess.”