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As annoyed as the Badlander was at Ezlan, he couldn't half help the smirk that crept across his face as the Caerbean got his ass handed to him. It had been long since Eomer had watched a bar fight like this, longer still since he found one he had enjoyed this much. Moving sideways a little he went and leant casually against the bar, guiltlessly rooting for the opposing guild's members as they went at him. To Ezlan's credit however, he did far outlast what Eomer would've expected given the circumstances. Two days and Ezlan had done very little to merit respect in the Badlander's books, but this was one of them.

With a slightly guarded gait, Eomer approached the unconscious body of the Caerbean, initially apprehensive of some sort of retribution being inflicted upon him on his comrades behalf; even if, arguably, the guildsman in blue had done far more damage to his own men than Ezlan had. Quite to the contrary however, as one of them assisted Eomer in recovering the stunned seaman, so much so as to help him in getting the body into a reasonably comfortable position on Eomer's back for the walk back to the inn. It was difficult with Eomer standing a little shorter, but manageable with just Ezlan's ankles trailing along the floor behind Eomer as he walked. The thoughts plaguing the Badlander's mind presently lingered in the guildhall they had left.

[hr]

Back at the Muddy Ghoul, Eomer could be found alone at one of the tables farthest from the group. Alcohol in hand, and a couple empty containers lay before him. A few of his shoulder muscles ached from carrying the sailor. Alcohol dulled the pain a bit, but it wasn't enough to quell his nerves about what was to happen next. What were they to do now, given they hadn't recieved the blessing of Dagston? Were they to carry on anyway, and sully the Guild's names even more than that display just had? Lacking in the usual coordination and fluidity of his movements, Eomer managed to slam the tankard hard into the table, surprising even himself with the noise it created. Glancing up to see if he had managed to draw attention to himself, he noted the rather battered girl with raven hair. From his position he couldn't see the badge proudly pinned upon her chest, however the Badlander managed to just about make out the word "Maddox" as she spoke. For some reason that word, or was it a name, Eomer wasn't sure, stood out. For now though, he returned to his booze. If he could remember what the word was, and if it were important, he would deal with her.