[b][center][h3][i][color=#17c311]Cyneburg[/color][/i][/h3]
[color=#17c311]Location:[/color] Crossed Swords Tavern
[color=17c311]Interacting with:[/color]N/A[/center][/b]
Whilst every other member of the team and more had at least roused themselves from slumber awhile ago, Cyne was busy not doing that. Beds were really nice, even cheapo inn beds and her body had decided to hold her hostage there, despite any desire she may have had to get anything of note done that day. It wasn't even as if she was having uncharacteristically pleasant dreams or anything of that sort.

However, even the deepest of hibernation trances could be interrupted. For instance, by the soft, but distinctive splash of a formerly quite full tipped-over chamberpot releasing its payload onto a disgruntled inn-owner. Or perhaps said inn owner yelling and retching as if possessed by a demon of illness.

Even with all the noise, consciousness did not come quickly. Nor was it welcome, for with awareness came the realization that it was cold, and one did not have the bulk of a bear to better bear its brunt. The noise outside didn't sound like the kind an attack of undead, beasts or orcs would unleash, so she would wrap her bedcloth around herself tighter. Another 5 minutes and she would get out of bed. For sure.