The town is still quiet. The buildings here are smaller and a little more spread out, though in places they bunch up, creating narrow alleyways.
*Breaths the cool air in and smiles to self* "All my troubles are behind me now. I don't have to worry any more." *Continues her walk slipping in and out of some alleys.*
IC: *Blake rides in on a grey friesian. Looking around he sees Tall Wymond leading Tasha's horse. He rides up to Tall Wymond*
Tall Wymond raises a hand in greeting. "How can I help you?"
"Greetings. I wish to board my horse, if there's room? And do you know if there are any available rooms in that inn?" *Points at The Gift Horses Mouth.* Blake has a soothing voice, that puts a strange easing mood about him.
The town is still quiet. The buildings here are smaller and a little more spread out, though in places they bunch up, creating narrow alleyways.
*Breaths the cool air in and smiles to self* "All my troubles are behind me now. I don't have to worry any more." *Continues her walk slipping in and out of some alleys.*
As she walks, she sees a boisterous group of armored men and women headed towards her.
Tall Wymond raises a hand in greeting. "How can I help you?"
"Greetings. I wish to board my horse, if there's room? And do you know if there are any available rooms in that inn?" *Points at The Gift Horses Mouth.* Blake has a soothing voice, that puts a strange easing mood about him.
"O' course. We 'ave a few open stalls. I'm not sure. 'Ead on in an' ask. I can take yer 'orse now, if ye'd like."
*Breaths the cool air in and smiles to self* "All my troubles are behind me now. I don't have to worry any more." *Continues her walk slipping in and out of some alleys.*
As she walks, she sees a boisterous group of armored men and women headed towards her.
*Quickly steps into nearest alley, to watch them.*
"Greetings. I wish to board my horse, if there's room? And do you know if there are any available rooms in that inn?" *Points at The Gift Horses Mouth.* Blake has a soothing voice, that puts a strange easing mood about him.
"O' course. We 'ave a few open stalls. I'm not sure. 'Ead on in an' ask. I can take yer 'orse now, if ye'd like."
*Swings gracefully form saddle. Hands him the reigns* "Thank you." *Heads for the Gift Horses Mouth.*
As she walks, she sees a boisterous group of armored men and women headed towards her.
*Quickly steps into nearest alley, to watch them.*
There are nine of them, four men and five women, of varying ages and sizes. As they walk along, they talk to each other loudly and sometimes push one another around. One, a bony man with a severe-looking face, appears to be the leader. Periodically, he yells at them to pipe down.
*Quickly steps into nearest alley, to watch them.*
There are nine of them, four men and five women, of varying ages and sizes. As they walk along, they talk to each other loudly and sometimes push one another around. One, a bony man with a severe-looking face, appears to be the leader. Periodically, he yells at them to pipe down.
*Stands quietly, waiting for them to pass, and willing self not to be seen.*
There are nine of them, four men and five women, of varying ages and sizes. As they walk along, they talk to each other loudly and sometimes push one another around. One, a bony man with a severe-looking face, appears to be the leader. Periodically, he yells at them to pipe down.
*Stands quietly, waiting for them to pass, and willing self not to be seen.*
None of them seem to notice Tasha. As they draw close, the leader's temper seems to snap. "SILENCE!"
The rest of the group is suddenly quiet.
"Sorry, Flintedge Finger," says one, a large, bulky man with an eyepatch over his right eye.
"Won't happen again, sir," adds a straight-backed woman.
"No, It Will Not!" Flintedge Finger shouts again. "Am I Clear?"
"Aye, sir," says a young, smiling man, almost before the leader finishes his question. The rest quickly chime in their agreement as well.
"Good. Now, let's get back to the barracks before Dalibor throws a fit."
Anders nods to him as he enters. "Welcome," he says, in his strangely accented voice.
"Good evening. Are you the owner of this establishment?" *Blake asks, making full eye contact with Anders*
Anders meets his eye. "No, I just . . . Well, I can't say I work here, because he doesn't pay me. Anyway, you'll want to talk to Randel." He points at the balding, pot-bellied man, who is currently pacing angrily along the back wall.
