[b]Constance[/b]

"Don't you want to know what's in the box, river-daughter?" the man asks, placing his other hand over yours so that you cannot fully release the box into his care, even as he lies half-sprawled on the ground. His hair is loose and tousled without that silly farmer's hat, but his expression is serious and the depth in his eyes is older than the mountains. He looks at you intensely, and you feel that even you might drown.

"Don't you want to know what task I set for you, or are you too busy starting fires before you're ready?" His tongue is sharp, and Cath mews and kicks him again, causing him to look a little chagrined. "That was cruel of me. Your companion was not lost lightly and she is a strong knight and safe yet. Still, you need to ask. Don't expect me to just give you everything you need. Don't expect that from anyone. Ask me why I'm here."

[b]Robena[/b]

"Robena Coilleghille! As I live and breathe!" The effected formality lasts only as long as it takes the Lady Sandsfern to rise from her chair and lift you, for all your weight, with one arm into a hug. Her fiery hair flows past her shoulders and a little brushes past your nose and catches in the fur of your bearskin. It smells of cloves and ash. 

She shifts her weight and, hug done, she leans into her stance and hurls you bodily across the Fox and Stag's common room, a chair crumpling beneath your landing. She picked a spot away from the other patrons (now crowded near the bar), and nowhere near the barrels of ale, an intentional choice if ever you've seen one. Her words rush after you across the room "What gall, to greet me here! Did you not return to my tower and offer your loyalty? Were you not anointed as Lostwithiel's new champion? What have you made of yourself, girl?"

She takes a firm stance, legs planted, expecting you to stand and rush her. 

[b]Tristan[/b]
You've never been to the Fox and Stag before, but you can guess that it's not the usual custom for one of the patrons to hurl another halfway across the room. Not least because you did not see anywhere near enough carpenters in your arrival to maintain the supply of chairs in the face of such matches. 

Also, the one flying through the air was obviously Robena, that knight who was competing in Lostwithiel ere your departure to hunt the badger (and greater things). The other appears before your eyes to have hair of fire and scales of blazing crimson adorning her neck and hands where the skin shows unarmored. She was sitting and having a drink from a large horn when you arrived, notable in her beauty but another in a long line of strangers. You did not see Robena walk in while you were preoccupied buying your beers. You now hold two, one in each hand, balancing them carefully as the tavern shakes from Robena's landing. The handful of other patrons are cowering near you and the various casks. The owner (a tall, heavyset woman with brown hair tied back in a long ponytail that falls past her shoulders) has an exasperated look on her face but seems in no hurry to risk herself trying to intervene.