Cillian let the flow of the city take him, the bustle of the crowd guiding his feet along the rain-slick cobbles until he found himself standing before a tavern. Or at least a building that bore a striking resemblance to a tavern. They were close to the river here, and the roar of it was clear, even above the hubbub of the city all around them. The bridge which lent Greybridge it's name was close, and across it, the Blackwood itself, but now that he was standing in front of a tavern, he could understand Sylvaine's suggestion. Despite the pangs from his stomach, growing stronger as they had drawn closer to this 'Iron Star', Cillian had still kept a curious eye on the men and women that brushed past them. Stepping through the gates had been akin to stepping between ethereal realms, and Cillian had almost forgotten the contrast that existed between those that carved out a life within a cities towering walls, and those that struggled beyond them. It had been rags that had clothed the refugees that had joined them on the road, but on the city streets it was well-tailored cloaks and fashionable corsets. Against the well-dressed women of Greybridge, Sylvaine de Vermeille stuck out like a sore thumb, her weathered leather and wool clothing a world away from the satin dresses, but Cillian was all too aware that she was not the only one who looked out of place. Cillian's mail armour was finely crafted, and in all his travels he had found few blacksmiths that could match his father's skill, but in this city, he felt like a relic from a bygone era. Behind these walls, people could forget the hardships of the world, and apart from the handful of hired thugs that followed around the more affluent men and women that passed the unusual pair, casting wary glances in their direction, the people of Greybridge looked soft. Sylvaine taking the lead and stepping into the tavern itself brought Cillian back to reality, and he followed after his travelling companion, 

	The noise of merriment spilled out through the tavern's doors before Cillian even reached them, and as he stepped through, he saw that Sylvaine had paused for a moment, apparently to soak in the atmosphere. Cillian took the oppurtunity to glance around the surprisingly well-lit tavern itself, and found that the men and women that had found their way here at this time of the day were similar to the ones that walked the streets outside, with a few notable exceptions. The elven maiden and the gnome were an even stranger pair that Cillian and Sylvaine, while the well-dressed man and his scantily dressed companion were a more conventional sight for a tavern such as this. The robed men, speaking softly over their drinks, looked like the type that Cillian seemed to encounter whenever he strayed too far into civilisation, and while he tended to enjoy their stories for a while, he always found them... unimaginative before too long. Sylvaine was clearly happy with what she saw, smiling warmly towards Cillian, and the man from the Caelic Isles smiled in return. 

	[b]"A nice place."[/b]

	Before they could talk more, Cillian heard the door open behind them again, and he stepped to one side as a towering woman stepped past him and into the tavern. She was clearly a warrior, and as she was beckoned over by the elf and the gnome, Cillian couldn't help but raise his eyebrow slightly. The unusual paring just grew even stranger, and the warmth that they greeted each other with certainly suggested that they were more than mere acquaintances. Cillian could feel that all too familiar scratching of curiosity at the back of his mind, but he ignored it for now. They were here for a drink, and for now, it was a drink that they would have. Almost as if she had been reading his mind, Sylvaine was quick to suggest the very same thing, and he didn't miss the theatrical wink that accompanied her offer to pay. Before he could respond, she was gone, moving towards the bar counter near the back of the tavern, and a patron of the 'Iron Star' that Cillian hadn't even noticed at first. The dwarf was dishevelled, cradling a drink that certainly wasn't his first as he sat alone at the bar, and there was something haunting about someone so clearly down on their luck. With no better idea, Cillian decided to follow Sylvaine's advice, and he made his way over to one of the empty tables, making sure he chose a seat that gave him a good view of the tavern, and of the door through which they had entered. 

	Perhaps he had simply been on the road for longer than he had realised, but Cillian was surprised by how good it felt to finally sit down, stretching his legs out as he sighed. While he waited for Sylvaine to return, he glanced around the tavern again, passing the time by watching the others that had been drawn here by the promise of copious drinks, hot food and hopefully good company. He had seen countless taverns in his years wandering, and if nothing else, they were normally good for a few coins in exchange for a song or a story. The dwarf at the tavern had the look of someone that was sinking, and didn't want to be saved, although he saw that Sylvaine was attempting to strike up a conversation regardless, but he didn't look like someone who would appreciate a song. The robed men were more interested in whatever hushed conversation they were already having, and the provocatively dressed women was clearly part-way through a grand tale of her own. The unusual trio still intrigued Cillian, but they also seemed to be content talking among themselves. Thankfully there were plenty of other people within the tavern, and judging by some of the fine clothing he could see as he glanced around, he was confident that he could make some coin, if he needed to. The rich were always the most foolish with their money after all. Yet before he could think too much about it, Cillian felt another sharp pang from his stomach, and he decided that it could wait until after he had had something to eat. Truth be told, everything could wait until he had had something to eat!