Cyrendil would not leave the town undefended, as the rest went to the stables to no doubt steal a wagon and run off, he would stay to make sure the guard was in place enough to sustain itself for the time being. The centaur attempted to swarm into the small town grunting in their savage tongue and striking at anything that dared moved.

But as sudden as it started the raid faltered, the guard finally getting organized enough in the chaos to made a wall of defense and the centaur had no choice but to retreat. Cyrendil watched the damage, half the homes were ablaze, civilians who happened to be outside at the time lay dead and bleeding into the snow. Including, he was sure, the ones who were killed by his 'party', his nose scrunched up at the thought.

Seeing that the guard would have it covered, he went to the stables, a few horses strong and a cart were already missing. He saw a few left that were in a condition to be ridden, searching around the now empty section that someone had once occupied, he found ink and a quill jotting down a quick note to whoever owned and ran the stable.

"The Vigil has need of a horse, It will be kept very comfortable and safe on it's journey and returned promptly and unharmed as soon as possible. If you require compensation for this one horse, take this note to the Vigil Hall outside of Wayrest, and you will be compensated accordingly. -Vigilant"

He folded the note and placed it where one could easily find it, taking the time to saddle one of the horses he mounted up and made haste towards Camlorn.

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Arriving late he spotted a few of them lingering before shuffling themselves off into the inn. He would have missed them save for the many blood stains from the wounded in the cart, which had already dried into the wood. He pulled his traveling hood down, and made his way with the mare he rode to the stables. Usually Cyrendil wasn't to fond of riding, he had preferred to walk. Because when times became more travel than food a horse was hard to keep fed.

But this silver mare had bore him with haste to Camlorn, and he patted the side of her neck before dismounting. He would keep her, he had decided. And walked her to the stables, asking the boy there to take good care of his horse. Before moving towards the inn his party would no doubt be in drinking again. It was loud as he opened the door stepping inside and finding himself a seat ordering from one of the roaming barmaids to bring him a mug of water and some bread.

He took a breath and closed his eyes, pulling back the long travelers hood so his golden hair could be free and Cyrendil rubbed his temple. More than once on the ride up he had considered leaving, what use of it to save a batch of rotten fruit? He cast his glance to the party, a jumbled assortment of bandits, addicts, people whose concept of honor was thinner than a harlot's dress. He shook his head looking back at the table, when the maid brought him what he asked for, he thanked her and took a bite of bread.

His elven ears heard Gaela's plan and he tilted his head to listen more, still chewing on the tough stale bread.