The practised theatrics of Sylvaine de Vermeille were impressive, and would not have looked out of place on a theatre stage, but it quickly became clear that beneath the grey skies, with the howling wind all around, the woman did not have a willing audience. The crowd of peasants and refugees were a bleak group, and their numbers had swelled as Cillian and Sylvaine had travelled through Flontane Forest, joining the steady trudge that travellers knew all too well, driven forward by a dozen different causes, but all with the same goal. For whatever reason, it was to Greybridge that this crowd was drawn, and Sylvaine's theatrics were now standing between the crowd and their goal, and that is always a dangerous place to be. Cillian's head turned at the first cry, trying to make out the crier in the mass of drab clothing, but as more voices joined the first, it quickly became clear that he was woefully outnumbered. Someone knocked against Cillian's shoulder from behind, but Cillian did not stagger, his feet already squared in the black mud, and by the time he turned to look back at the crowd, he was met with blank faces and wary glances. Not wanting to risk the situation turning any more ugly, Cillian took another step away from the crowd, and turned back to the plumed hat in time to hear him hiss at Sylvaine, clearly also wary of the crowd trying to take matters into their own hands. Deciding to seize the initiative, rather than risk Sylvaine attempting to negotiate even further, Cillian quickly closed the gap, reaching into his coin purse with his most charming smile, and pressing ten Lordlings into the plumed hat's hand. 

	[b]"Thank you, friend."[/b]

	As the unusual travelling companions were ushered through the gates, Cillian allowed himself a smile as he stepped into the city. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, he let the noise of it swell around him, and he could swear that he could hear the city's heart beating beneath the hubbub, a steady rhythm beneath the chaotic noise. Sensing that Sylvaine had joined him again, Cillian opened his eyes and turned to look at the woman as he stepped further into the city. 

	[b]"That was a good story. A shame that your audience did not seem to appreciate it."[/b]

	In truth, Cillian was only half-listening to his companion's reply, the tether doing what it could to tie him to reality, but he was entranced the the city around him. Cillian's own hometown may have seemed like a hovel compared to the scale in which he now stood, but he was far from a naive farm-boy. He had walked along the streets of the grand cities of Andred and Vrettonia but there was something about the dark buildings that loomed all around him, the grotesque gargoyles that seemed to leer from every rooftop like monsters lurking in the shadows, that was beautiful to Cillian's eyes. The throng of men, women and children that filled the streets seemed to wash over the pair like waves, but they seemed to part around them, although whether that was from a wariness of the armoured, pale-haired man and the wiry, midnight-haired woman that had just stepped through the gates, or simply the natural flow of the city, Cillian did not know. Feeling the gentle tug of the tether calling for his attention, Cillian glanced across at Sylvaine as his mind raced to catch up with what she had just said. Finally back to the present, Cillian found himself laughing at her words. It seems that her theatrics were not too far-fetched, but that it had been against the city that her father had fought, not for it.

	[b]"It is perhaps wise then that you were not rewarded too greatly!"[/b]

	From what time he had spent with the Vrettonian, he was hardly surprised when her next suggestion was calling for a drink, but it still caused Cillian to frown slightly. A quick glance upwards, hunting for the sky through the looming buildings that rose all around them, and Cillian could see that despite the grey clouds, it was still daylight that struggled to reach the streets below. The longhouses of his homeland were no stranger to mead and ale, but from what Cillian had seen, anything that Sylvaine did, she did to excess, and if they did find their way into a tavern, he doubted he would be able to get much discussion of their onward journey done until at least the next day. He considered his next step for a moment, before tentatively attempting to steer Sylvaine elsewhere...

	[b]"It is perhaps a little early to..."[/b]

	The darkly clad woman waved away Cillian's concerns as she cut him off, and Cillian decided that some fights were not worth fighting. Despite her unassuming frame, Sylvaine had a heart of a wildcat, and besides, it was an increasingly difficult proposition to argue against. They had been on the road for days, and a proper drink would certainly not go amiss. Besides, where there was drink, there tended to be food, and Cillian's stomach growled at the mere thought of it. Resigning himself to the idea, Cillian looked around their immediate area, searching the market and the surrounding houses for sign of a tavern, or at least someone who might be able to point them in the right direction. 


[hider=Save Water, Drink Beer]
Search for a tavern (Perception) = [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/20544]6[/url] + 1 = 7
[/hider]