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The interior of the Oakenshield is a mess. Chairs have been thrown over and in some cases smashed by the tread of steel toed boots. Shards of glass clink as a dozen men shift amidst the ruins of spilled drinks and shattered glassware. The men filling the bar, and they are all men are of a piece, gym tough and surly looking. Most of them wear jeans and heavy boots. Crudely forged breastplates glinted beneath loose shirts and weapons and army surplus tactical webbing hang over loose fitting shirts. Weapons are omnipresent, a few shotguns, but more frequently swords or baseball bats.

Barley stood behind the bar, a bung starter in his hands which he was using to keep three of his attackers at arms length, striking savage blows at anyone attempting to climb across the bar. Several guns are pointed at him but it dosen't seem to be deterring him from his spirited defence. Behind him a young woman with jet black hair stands, sheltered by his bulk. Her face is set but not afraid. As Caber enters Barley's eyes snap to the door way, drawing the attention of the thugs with him.


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The bar is filled with attackers, Caber recognizes them as the self styled Ordo Exilium. They have Barley and a woman trapped behind the bar and are clearly trying to take one or both of them alive.
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