"We'll sleep in a barn, I don't give a damn," Yantz declared, clearly tired of the unfortunate news of no rooms. Cyrdic had to agree with him, but the big Ostlander was a bit too sullen and exhausted to show outrage at the moment. He simply blinked and tried to remain upright, or he felt as if he would topple over. Camilla seemed to take her exhaustion differently, and Cyrdic did a double take when she outright attacked one of the pompous knaves at their table. 

"Ach! Damn bitch!" the fallen young man cried, trying his best to regain his footing and composure, grabbing at the table to lift himself back up again. Camilla's knee met his nose and his head snapped back, and he toppled like a pole-axed ox. Cyrdic stepped forward, hoping to halt the fighting if he could, maybe by threatening the lads. However, it took less than three steps for him to realize that he was now running on autopilot, and he was thinking like he would in a normal situation. But this wasn't a normal situation. They'd gone to hell and back and these lot were simply being greedy. 

One of the men made his way around the table and punched at Camilla, only for his forearm to be plucked out of the air by a strong grip from Cyrdic. Even exhausted, he outclassed the merchant's son in strength. His other hand grabbed him by the shirt, and with a twist of his powerful back, he launched him over two tables, causing a flirtatious serving wench that had been entertaining a reikland mercenary to squeal and drop her drink. The lad ended up hitting the door and disappearing into the streets. Despite the show of strength, Cyrdic had been slow at the toss and he turned around to get a fist in his gut. 

He grimaced, his aching ribs now flaring in pain. But his headbutt brought his opponent low in an instant. Camilla cursed them for fools and wretches in Tilean, challenging them over the table as if it were the last bit of sustenance in this world. Cyrdic stepped over to stand beside her. "Get the fuck out." he said evenly. Yantz appeared beside them, a knife in his callused hand. He seemed on the verge of true violence, and the malice in his eyes along with three of their number down gave the young men pause. It was when Skaldi punched one in the groin and an inhumanly high pitched squeal echoed that the others took their belongings and ran. 

"My father will hear of this, scum!" one of them called, and those that couldn't walk were dragged out. Cyrdic actually gave a laugh at Skaldi's surprise attack. He'd been short enough to walk through the tables without being noticed. "Nice punch." 

"I'm sure the lad thought so." Skaldi replied, and he hopped up on one of the open chairs. The others sat down with him, and to their surprise a few gold coins had been left in their opponent's hasty retreat. Cyrdic had never been the thieving type, but they weren't coming back for them, and they seemed well off to begin with. He slipped a few into his coinpurse openly. "Vodka," Skaldi told the shaken tavern wench. "A bucket of it." Unhooking a bronzed ring along his fat finger, Skaldi gave it to the wench. She went from frightened to aghast at the payment. 

"That should keep us for the night, I think." The Dwarf said. 

The Innkeeper approached, warily intrigued by the sheer destruction wrought by them in just a minute of conflict, yet most of the tables and chairs seemed intact. Gaining an idea, she fixed her hair and pulled her bun tighter. "You sure know how to handle yourselves, I'll give you that." She said. "How's about I hire you on as bouncers, if you have no other obligations here?" Cyrdic turned to her, and shared a look with Camilla. 

"Need a cook?" Skaldi asked, smiling wide to reveal a few golden teeth between his mustache and beard. 

[@Penny]