[center][h1][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5157586][color=MediumAquamarine]Arin von Astastel[/color][/url][/h1][/center]
Arin was more than astounded that the ragtag bunch of misfits were able to leave the village without being stopped to be questioned by the guards considering all that had transpired during their brief stay. He had hoped that the dragonborn used a bit of ingenuity to settle things amicably with the innkeeper. That hope was, however, immediately dashed the moment the potman ---all too excitedly--- asked whether Arin and his traveling companions were a group of man-eaters. When asked where in the nine layers of hell he got that idea from, he explained that the innkeeper was told by Vuthaternock that “his friend ate the body.” The potman didn’t have a clue what body the dragonborn was referring to, but this lead the innkeeper ---who knew nothing about Greenwings, Vuthaternock’s wyvern--- to believe that one of the dragonborn’s companions was a cannibal. Which, much to his dismay, included Arin.

[color=MediumAquamarine][i]Gods. Why did he have to word it like [b]that[/b]?[/i][/color]

It was almost as if the dragonkin wanted to cause more problems, sow chaos wherever he treads. Like it was part of his nature. The only reason he didn't cause more destruction was because he couldn’t be bothered to do so.

The elf questioned why Vuthaternock disposed the body without finding out what was going on first. All he had to do was talk to someone and this weird mess could have been avoided entirely. He was rash and lacked the most basic of communication skills. Then again, he didn’t strike Arin as an individual who put stock in savoir faire. 

Arin regretted many things, and he was starting to doubt how well he’d be able to work with the members of the group. A deliberately ignorant princess who throws a fit when her view is challenged in any degree; a dragonborn whose diplomatic skills rivals that of a knife to the gut; a she-wolf who lacks self-control and is better off released into the wilds than being allowed to wander in civilization. At this point, Arin was just waiting for Callista and Ernestus to do something stupid or disappointing. 

Despite all that, there they were, outside of Timberholde. Not a single guard in sight. Perhaps the innkeeper decided that it was more beneficial and less dangerous to let the wondering cannibals leave her home village as soon as possible than to report them to the authorizes and have The Dancing Badger forever be known as that inn that welcomed cannibals. A problem out of sight was a problem out of mind. They were someone else’s problem now.

[hr]
Arin was struggling to keep his eyes open when the group got ambushed by the undead. He was spared being thrown off his horse like Rynn was because his horse ---Rosemary was her name--- was just barely composed enough not to buck. It did not prevent her from booking it, however. 

Rosemary galloped quite a distance away from the ambush by the time Arin was able to slow her down. He petted and consoled her with a soothing voice until she was more receptive to his commands. 

From behind, he heard the panicked noise of another horse getting closer to him by the second. It likely followed suit when it saw Rosemary dash into a random direction. Arin waited for the horse to appear before pursuing it with Rosemary. After a few minutes of chasing, Arin caught its reins and slowed it down. He spent time calming the horse down as he did before. 

Just when he thought he could return to the group with the runaway horse, he caught sight of yet another one running off into the distance. The elf signed. The first chance they get, he is going straight to bed.