The primalist had nothing to offer or add, let alone say to these people or their patrons. If anything she still resented the fact they had been here at all, rather than meeting the objectives of their task at hand; the entire time the cat was busy, off by herself in the slums ahead of the rest of their band. It was almost as though some were pleased to be loafing around, dragging a bunch of senseless goons in their wake to some new pit in this city rather than having just been done with it and pressed on with their tasks.

Arthera had more than enough of this, so much so that her presence was anything but welcoming or talkative. It was not even a scowl that displayed itself on her face, more just vehement distrust and disdain. As far as she found herself concerned, this was just another example of their thoughtlessness in a time of great importance. This [i]entire[/i] tavern was nothing short of crawling with every seeming ne'er-do-well imaginable, many of whom she might have mistaken for the very men they were now dragging in here. It helped none at all that another tiefling introduced itself.

Thus far her experience with them was... not particularly endearing. Then again, she found herself only in vague tolerance of anyone else, obviously less or more as it went with each individual.

So it was no surprise she said nothing and only instead kept her hands behind her back and her looming, robed figure mostly still. About all that moved of her were her eyes, of which remained most watchful. She, rather [i]they[/i] as a whole, could not afford another skirmish with just about anything at this point and now they waltzed right into what seemed to be a den rife with danger.