[sub][center][color=palegreen][b]Accept the inn request and head up the east road[/b][/color][/center][/sub]
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	Cold. 

	No matter the time of season, that's what it always seemed to be in Naveroth. Not even the mug cupped in the elven woman's hands did anything to warm her up, weak as it was. Dreary as the place was though, there was [i]history[/i] here. Beneath the bog swamps and gray pavements were stories of battles long gone, of other civilizations lost to time, of heroic deeds long forgotten. Even in dull town like Cullwath, the city constantly whispered its own history, the architecture weaving its own tale. One could literally walk the streets and see the different ages of the town, of the Empire. 

	Of course, all that traveling left Caoimhe dangerously low on funds. She was about to ask the innkeep for any jobs before that curious medicine man came in again. The two briefly talked, and Caoimhe managed to overhear about the situation with the mercenaries. She wasn't the best doctor and the job probably was more of the medicine man's speed, but the roads of Naveroth always remain dangerous despite the patrols. Perhaps she could at least offer protection services. 

	But then some commotion seemed to drag the doctor's attention outside before Caoimhe could even get up. From the sounds of it though, it seemed like another Black Beak altercation. There was some shouting, screaming, then the all-quiet sound of death. 

	Caoimhe wisely decided to finish her drink first before getting anywhere near that situation, though the last dregs were splashed against her shirt as someone "accidentally" knocked into her. She didn't deign to turn, though she could hear the snickering well enough, as well as a low muttered "knife-ear." The elven woman very carefully put her mug down and went upstairs to don her armor and gather her equipment. Once she went back down in her full battle regalia, the room quieted down just a bit, though she could still feel the glares. She told the innkeep she'd take the job patching up the mercenaries, who only grunted in response, seemingly more interested in cleaning the mug she just put down despite a line of others waiting. 

	Taking that as a contract signed, Caoimhe began walking out. 

	Someone slapped her ass as she walked, followed by the sound of cheers and then quieted down by jeers as they insinuated how someone could find her attractive. Like all the other times before, she told herself to keep walking. Spit landed close to her feet as she took the final step out. Like all the other times before, Caoimhe ignored it all with practiced grace and barely repressed shame and rage. 

	Once outside, the ranger found the bloody scene outside the inn to be much more comforting. It was an environment that she was used to and had control over. With a practiced eye, she scanned the situation.

	Two bodies, a man and a woman, lay dead. The man, who looked like he was ready to charge in and save the merchant presumably, died from a blunt weapon to the head, and the woman, probably the merchant, from a slit throat. Looking at the crowd that pretended not to notice anything and from the heavy boot prints in the snow, it seemed safe to assume that the Black Beaks were involved. A shame, but someone would clean up the mess eventually. 

	Curiously, the third body was that of the medicine man. It was hard to tell through his garb, but he appeared mostly unharmed and was only unconscious. Likely didn't intervene too much, and from all appearances seemed to be a capable doctor and so, a valuable asset. Still, he wouldn't survive too long out in the cold regardless of who he was. With a huff and puff, Caoimhe managed to heave up the shorter man and deposit him inside the inn right on the doorstep. She quickly retreated before any assumptions could be made.  

	Done with her good deed for the day, Caoimhe made her way up the east road, intent on finding those mercenaries. Once she got out of the city, she drew her bow with practiced ease and kept careful watch on her path ahead.