The room was dark, with only a torch on the wall to illuminate the room, coupled with a slight green glow from a heavy wooden iron framed door on the side. The walls and floors were made out of old bricks covered in mold and filth, and there was a quiet dripping noise coming from outside the door reminiscent of a sewer.

There were five men in the room. One of them was Lord Greymoon, a gray haired, slightly wider and older fellow than the rest of the men in the room who was sitting in a chair, but untied. He wore some extravagant darker emerald robes with beautiful golden embroidery and green gems, and a thicker black winter coat over them. The damp room was much warmer than the cold outside, and his face carried a reddish tint. Although he looked a little weathered from being dragged there by the rest of the men, the noble refused to look weak in the gathering and sat with his face held high, eyeing the other men distastefully. 

In front of him stood a more narrow figure, a High Elf with snow-white hair down to his shoulders. The elf was wearing a thin, black and gold trimmed long silk coat and a red shoulder cloak and a white baldric. From his belt at his waist hung a longer leather scabbard adorned with polished bronze that concealed a sword, with only its silver handle visible.
Behind the elf stood two other men. One was an extremely thin figure wearing a collection of worn, flea-ridden ragged clothing consisting of a worn, brown linen cloak, shirt and trouser; his head hidden behind his hood and hands covered in bandages. He carried a bandoleer across his torso, carrying no small amount of slotted knives and sharp objects, with a curious, small wooden device attached to his left wrist.
The other two was a dark robed man with slick, black hair; Sevarian, and a shorter, bearded and more stunted looking figure; a dwarf. The dwarf, called "Smokey", was wearing a white sweater, with a leather belt full of various vials, explosives, iron grenades, incendiaries and dynamite bundles. Unlike the others, he was mostly leaning against the slimy walls, looking a little uncomfortable as he held his legs together.

"You expect me to cooperate with you?" Lord Greymoon said, sounding insulted as he glared angrily back at the High Elf.
"You have deceived me, lied to me; you have robbed me of my property and killed my men. Do you think I will just forget that?"

The High Elf crossed his arms while he listened to the human noble, before taking a step to the side as he circled around Greymoon.

"No... but I would not have you forget that I could rob you of so much more either." Sherpa said, before throwing a glance at Greymoon.
"You know well enough how our little struggle has gone so far. You are losing on every side. If I had wanted you dead, I could have had it so. At your current course, you are heading straight for oblivion, Lord Greymoon; an inevitable demise. I am offering you an alternative, and yet you are questioning me?"

Sherpa stopped, turning fully to face Lord Greymoon again.

"I know I have caused you loss, but I am ready to recompensate you for that. I am headed for a bright future of profit and wealth. If you choose to stand by me, we can cease this pointless conflict between our two factions. I do not wish you ill, my dear Lord. In fact, I am grateful... "

"Grateful? For me falling for your deception once?" Greymoon interrupted, looking more red than ever.
"You have no faction, no house, foul sir. You are a rogue, a thief and a liar. Whatever honor you had, you sold it when you sided with the Scourge. I am no fool. I would never side with a man who has forsaken his land, his home, his honor and even the very redemption of his soul."

A chilling silence fell over the room after Lord Greymoon had finished talking. Smokey looked around him, seemingly slightly worried by the look of his eyes, but the two other men next to him seemed unmoved by the recent events.
Sherpa didn't say anything for a while. Instead, he threw Lord Greymoon a chilling gaze, but the old man refused to flinch.

"I've long since severed any ties with the false king... " Sherpa said with an apathetic voice, as he took a few steps closer to Lord Greymoon.
"But I have not forgotten the things he taught me."

Suddenly reaching down for his blade, Sherpa unsheathed it and brought the tip swiftly up to Lord Greymoon's chin, stopping only an inch away from his skin. Lord Greymoon gazed down at the blade that was being held up to his face. It was a one edged, elven sword with a razor sharp tip pointing up at his skin. The side of the blade carried a set of runes carved into the surface. It looked like it was made out of steel, but it was hard to tell from the slight blue tint of the metal.
As the blade hovered mere inches away from his skin, Greymoon could feel an unnatural chill licking his face despite the rest of the room being warm. The blade seemed to emit an aura of unease, and Greymoon could feel a slight irritant on his skin as some of the runes on the hilt glowed in a weak, green light.

"I am still a knight of ruin, and if you choose oppose me, human, I will destroy everything you hold dear. For all your experience, you still do not know what true suffering is. A fact that I could change."

"Lord Silverlion." The door of the room was suddenly opened, as the assassin Donald walked into the room, clad in black leather armor, cloak and hood. 
"Toby and his hirelings were wiped out. Your brother's allies are searching the Inn as we speak. This place is compromised." 

Donald reported, before pausing to gaze at Sherpa who was holding his blade towards Lord Greymoon's throat.

"Sire?"

Sherpa gazed back at Donald's puzzled figure, before retreating his blade from Lord Greymoon's face and returned it to its scabbard much to the relief of the old man. 

"Already?" Sherpa asked as he raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. The elf cast a look to the rest of the men in the room, before he turned his attention back to Donald and walked up to him.

"Leave a trail for them to follow to this room."

Donald gazed at Sherpa, as if the assassin wasn't sure if the High Elf was being serious; but there was no sign that Sherpa was joking, and Donald had no desire to ask again. Nodding, the man then turned away and headed out of the room. Sherpa turned to the rest of his men in the room, motioning for them to exit as well. Following after them, Sherpa suddenly paused to look back at Lord Greymoon who was left behind in the room.

"The decision is yours, Lord Greymoon. You will bleed. But how much you will lose will be entirely up to you. Think about our little conversation." Sherpa said, before he left the room and slammed the door shut. A lock was turned as the door was locked behind the group. 
As they left the room, Sherpa's group had walked into a longer sewer corridor with a filthy trench running in the middle.The place was mostly lit by the green light from the water reflecting in the walls and roof around them. Sherpa's group headed took the opposite route of Donald, who was following the sewer tunnels back towards the Inn.

After a small walk, Donald finally reached the stairs leading into the Inn's basement. Pushing the makeshift door hidden away in the wall slightly open, the assassin gazed into the basement. There was no sign of Sharon's group down there yet, but he could still hear them stomping around above. Retreating back into the sewer corridor, Donald left the secret entrance slightly open as he headed back towards Greymoon's room, making sure to leave some ever so slight footprints in the slimy floor as he went.