18+ In the Blood

[DraySedaris]

The moment the group of adventurers took notice of him, things started to go poorly. A small breton woman with a wild look in her eye, followed by a dark furred khajiit, who began speaking rapidly to her, to low for Allesan to make out. All the same, he held his hands out towards the pair, open palms on display. "Please," he said earnestly, "I want no trouble. In truth, I had no idea of this village's troubles until I came across it. Pray tell, is whatever happened here linked to the sickness that ravages the land?"

That much was true, though he had no way of telling whether any of the group believed him. Still, he could do no more, unless they decided he posed no threat. A short while later, a nord, apparently not with the others, approached, striking up an easy conversation, with both the two women and Allesan. He risked taking an eye off the caster, long enough to regard the newcomer, who'd extended a hand and offered some advice.

Cautiously, half-expecting the others to attack when he lowered his arm, he shook the nord's hand with a firm grip. "Well met. I am Allesan, of High Rock. I was looking to make my way to Falkreath, but as you say, it will be dark soon, and I'd rather not risk the wolves on my own." A third member of the adventurers, or perhaps mercenaries, approached, a friendly breton man, in battered armour and robes. He offered them hospitality at the nearby inn, and Allesan nodded cautiously. "I would appreciate that. So long as I'm not considered a burden to your companions."

 

[Harkatti]

Katrina made a sound that was half frustrated snarl, half exasperated sigh, and let the magic fizzle out. She dropped her hands, but her eyes remained on the two strangers. "Trust them if you like," she said shortly to the khajiit. She backed to what she assumed was a safe distance, then made her way to the inn. The crowd of quiet, shocked villagers did little to soothe her nerves, but no one bothered her. In fact, few even noticed her. 'What am I doing here?' She wondered, 'out of everyone I fit in the least. They'll see me as nothing more than a liability, if they don't already.' She almost got up and left right then, if not for the emptiness in her stomach, the disturbingly light weight of her coinpurse. She sighed, drumming her fingers softly against the stained wood of the table.

 

[Simus]

The others filtered back into the town square as Alice gave her report to
Solun. She wished she hadn't saluted him. That was a good way to give
herself away and just in case she'd forgotten this guy might as well have a
big sign above him that says "I used to be a legionary and probably don't
like Stormcloaks." But, of course, it was too late and she'd have to live
with it. Fortunately she didn't get more than a suspicious look. Everyone's
reports could be summarized in "Everyone's gone and we don't know why." When Solun seemed to have some burst of inspiration. "Mines!" He yelled out.
"Follow me!" Happy for any sort of lead, Alice followed at a run along with
most of the others. Whatever questions they had were answered when they got
to the main mine shaft and found it shut and barred. "Break it down!" Solun
ordered. The large orc Unk began to rush forward with his axe when someone
on the other side of the doors shouted at him to stop. This greatly
surprised Alice. She wasn't expecting anyone in there to even be alive let
alone alert and ready. The doors were slowly pulled open and several dozen
people stared filing out. Men, women, children and a single Stormcloak
guard.

He asked if they were gone and Solun gave an affirmative. The man didn't
explain whom he was talking about but it was obvious someone or something
had driven these people in here. The man promised to tell them all about it
at the inn. Apparently it had been untouched and considering the shape
Karthwasten was in that was both likely and welcome. Alice was ready to
welcome both some rest and refreshment and some answers as to what happened here.

On their way there however she noticed a pair of strangers had
arrived. One of them was a relatively tall man in heavy Dawnguard armour and
a full face helmet to hid his features. That made him impossible to identify
in the moment but by his build Alice's best guess would be Breton or
Redguard. The other man was more identifiable. A blonde haired Nord of
surprisingly short stature, several slashed fingers on his right hand, a
massive poleaxe across his back and some of the heaviest armour Alice had
ever seen. A standard cuirass of Stormcloak Officer's scale mail over a
heavy gown of chainmail over what was clearly a gambison of boiled leather.
Three layers of protection would be a challenge for most men to even move in
and therefore be more hinderance than help but this man looked as
comfortable as if wearing regular clothing.

Most of the party's reaction was minor or nonexistent but the Breton girl
freaked out. She activated some spark magic and shouted at both of them to
stay where they were and state their business. Both of them tried to
reassure her that they were only here to help and the black-furred Khajiit
tried a more forceful approach. It took some doing but she seemed to relent
without really being happy about it. That was a problem. This girl had been
giving off an aura of anxious alertness since last night when Alice had met
her but threatening anyone who startled her could easily get someone killed.
She needed to relax and the best way for her to do that in Alice's mind was
to get to trust someone. When everyone filed into the inn and sat down at
the bar the townsfolk began putting everything back together and making
ready to cater to their reinforcements. Alice sat down next to the Breton
girl and folded her long gloved arms on the countertop, giving the girl a
friendly smile as she did so. "Would you like something to drink?" She
asked. "You're still wearing your anxiety from outside and you look like you
could use one. My name's Alice by the way. I remember seeing you from last
night but I don't think we ever had an introduction."

 

[FelidaePrime]

Tavir paced away as the situation seemed to be concluded, except for the dunmer who was normally stuck to the big argonian's side, sneaking up behind the nord in multiple layers of armour. But the helmeted man didn't seem to want trouble. If anything, he seemed like he'd simply stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. The khajiit left the others to their business, and entered the inn. The people around were in various levels of shock. The beaten up stormcloak was talking with Solun, and she caught snippets of their conversation. Something about people leaving their homes of their own accord, joining some sort of procession.

Tavir took a seat at the bar after helping herself to a bottle of wine from underneath it. "Above my paygrade." She muttered to herself, noticing the imperial woman, Alice, sitting with the crazy breton. She sipped from the bottle, turning so that her back was against the bar. It would be an interesting night, if the two newcomers decided to join them inside. Not that there was anything wrong with interesting. The stench she'd come across when they'd first entered the village, now that was interesting. And they hadn't come across the source. Not yet, at least.

 

[Morbidbread]

Thoras watched, surprised and a little relieved by the flood of people coming from the mines. He'd been expecting a somewhat more grim sight when the doors had opened. He leaned his glaive against his shoulder, and fell in with the villagers, making for the inn, that had been untouched by whatever had forced the locals from their homes. Apparently, the cause was known to the stormcloak soldier, who looked by far the worse of those who'd hidden inside the mine.

Once at the inn, he spotted the argonian, Sothas, speaking with a distraught couple. Soon Solun, Alice, Unkmarog, and the petite breton came in, followed by the dark furred khajiit. She took a seat on one of the barstools,after fetching a bottle for herself. Thoras helped himself to the seat next to her, flashing her a smile. "I suppose there are worse ways to spend a cool evening," he said, "than among friends, I mean." He gave the bottle in her hand a meaningful look.

 

[Harkatti]

Katrina eyed the short imperial woman that had chosen to sit across from her. She'd been with them since they set out from Rorikstead, but they hadn't exchanged words before. It was true, she was on edge, but for good reason. Nothing about what had happened made much sense. Even with the snatches of conversation she could make out from their leader and the battered soldier. Still, it couldn't hurt to accept a drink, in the interests of 'bonding' with her fellow mercenaries. "I suppose it can't hurt," she said softly, "I'm Katrina, by the way."

 

[fellowknight]

"Even if she does miss," a voice behind him said, "I won't. What's your business here?"

Liudolf had to admit, the girl definitely caught him off-guard and he was shameful because of it. He'd been so wrapped up in defusing and dispersing a feud between strangers, hired-killers at that, he hadn't paid mind to the many blind-spots she could hide in. If she'd been in her right mind and pocket, she'd have killed him. Regardless, she certainly had the drop on him now, and at this distance, she was right. He didn't see her weapons, but any move she made would be lethal and there was no way he could avoid it. Nor could she, or anyone within twenty-feet, avoid his retaliation.

Swinging his poleaxe up from his shoulder, he let it fall forward and cleave into the dirt at his feet. Splaying his now-free, disfigured hands, while keeping an eye on the magic-crazed breton, Liudolf couldn't help but brood. "Listen to your friend," he glimpsed her with some side-eye. "Elf. It'd be good for everyone involved." The words slipped from his lips like venom, and he'd hoped the dunmer wouldn't notice his spite; he had a sneaking suspicion she'd enjoy it. He reached a slow hand into his cloak, skipping over his knife, and fetched a slip of stamped parchment-- the High-King's summons. Flashing it over his shoulder, "Just sight-seeing, like the lot of you," he tapped the fading bear-sigil on his cloak, the pinned-up skirt-tassels clicking as he did so. "You might think twice anyway. We'll have plenty of time to get familiar. No need to rush into it."

Liudolf lowered his hands as the helmeted breton spoke up, accepting their standing offer to join the group at the inn. The third female breton retreated to the inn with a snarl about blind trust, her feline companion in tow. With all that, he plucked up his axe and headed towards the inn himself, not expecting his newest fan to make a risky play of her own volition, especially now that his guard was up. But not before he smiled as he dropped his axe to rest on his shoulder, sending a delightful shower of dirt over the dunmer.

Some time after stabling his horse and clearing out his saddle-bags, he entered the inn and took on the smallest room he could find. Essentially a large broom closet, but he wouldn't ask for much, these villagers had been through enough it seemed. He sighed contentedly, as layer after layer of armor came off, feeling light as a feather and more naked than a Riften harlot in his tunic. While his years in the field had made it easier to maneuver in the makeshift suit, saving his life more than a dozen times, it wasn't all that comfortable to sleep in. Even still, it's not like he'd get another chance to relax around these people again.

Coming out, Liudolf took a moment to soak in the room's inhabitants and pick out his traveling companions. A massive Argonian looming over some villagers, yep. The female breton he nearly tangled with, in conversation with a pale, decorously garbed woman, check. He did a double take on her, looking hard for momentary recognition, and ultimately deciding there'd be time for that later. Next to them was a strange dunmer male in stranger robes, conversing with the Khajiit he'd seen outside. Including the bretons still to show, it was undoubtedly a party that would turn heads and draw prying eyes where-ever they went. Let's just hope they're the right ones, he mused as he crossed the room, getting closer look at the remaining pair in what seemed like a serious discussion. They'd separated from the main group, and the group in turn gave them their space. It was clear one of them was in charge, he just needed to decipher which was which.

One was a battered Stormcloak officer, the other an Imperial listening intently. He only caught the last bit as he approached, something about an Olfir being responsible for the officer's face, and the Imperial suggesting they leave in the morning. "Our group" he'd said-- it sounded like an escort, and their trip sounded more like a leader laying plans. Liudolf had to appreciate the irony of being under Imperial leadership, and the odds of his own plopse luck to put him in such a position.

"Missed the rescue, did I?" He greeted, gesturing an informal salute. "Captain Liudolf Aggersen, of the seventh Stormcloak Legion. I'll be joining your efforts to squash the source of the sickness. Not a moment too soon." While yes, his title of captain was still suspended and thus had no official weight, he didn't need to let that on. Couldn't hurt to have some starting respect when dealing with a crowd like this, facing an Imperial no less.

Then to the scarred and tanned man himself, barely guising his contempt with concern. "You mentioned a trip in the morning? You'll find my horse in the stables. Pair her with a cart and she'll haul whatever these survivors need for the journey. Whatever remains. Lads." He nodded a goodbye and seated himself a few tables down, facing the door. He'd taken to spending some rations, nibbling on dried meat and fruit while he cleared his mind and absorbed the chattering noise around him.

 

[FelidaePrime]

Tavir had barely started in on her drink when the nord latecomer from before entered, went to a room, seemingly at random, and came back out, wearing considerably less gear. Her eyes tracked him as he approached Solun and introduced himself, offering his horse and his services. Another addition to their group, and a Stormcloak to boot. A moment later, the eccentric elf took a seat on the stool next to hers, mentioning there were worse ways to spend a night than among friends. She glanced at him, "Oh, is that what we are?" She drawled, "friends?"

 

[TheArgonianDrell]

Aylira smirked at the human as he walked to the inn, he was a bold one, though he seemed as typical as most of his kind, even if he was a little more friendly. The dunmer moved her hands away from the hilts of her weapons. The official seal on the parchment he showed seemed real enough, even if she wasn't sure why he hadn't joined them in Rorikstead. With the rest of the group and all the villagers headed inside, she followed.

Once inside, she caught sight of Sothas, speaking to a couple of distressed looking locals. Their self-appointed leader, Solun, was deep in conversation with the bruised nord who'd been with the people in the mine. The other nord, the one she'd threatened, was approaching them, but she turned away, towards the bar, where the khajiit and her fellow dunmer were sitting. She moved to join them, sitting to the left of the khajiit. "What are we drinking?" She asked, nodding at the bottle in her hand.

 

[Simus]

"It's a pleasure to meet you Katrina." Alice said in response to the slightly taller Breton girl's admission that a drink couldn't hurt. She checked a motion to shake her hand. She'd already done one thoughtless gesture today and this girl was still giving off strong waves of anxiety. Normally Alice would invite someone like her to talk about what was bothering her. Just as her father and Aunt Netty did so easily. But it was very clear she didn't trust Alice and had no interest in explaining why. Alice didn't blame her at all for that. She was equally suspicious and the truth was she didn't want to listen to someone else's problems right now. She'd gotten more than enough of that with Hale last night.

Katrina had good reasons to be anxious. Almost everyone in this town had gone missing, three strange men had joined them in the space of an hour and both they and the survivors looked like they'd survived a bear attack. Alice had been fighting down her own anxiety every since they'd gotten here. Their leader Solun didn't have any more idea what to do than she did and she didn't know how to help that wouldn't draw more attention to herself. The people here and the guard captain that had shepherded them to safety were exhausted and scared. Everyone else in their party seemed either just as indecisive as their leader or all too blase about death and dismemberment. She wanted to be home with Jules and she knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. She knew it wasn't a good idea for her to drink when she felt like this. It would probably trigger her depression. But to Oblivion with it. She was out of options at the moment.

"A flagon of ale." She muttered to a barman that had finally gotten around to their corner. "And whatever she'd like." She gestured to Katrina, then put her heavy coinpurse in front of her for the man to help himself. After their drinks came she took a single small sip and then seemed to lose interest in it. She just sat there and stared into the dark liquid, her arms folded in front of her and her gloved fingers gently tugging at their elbow length hems. What were they going to do? Who would they be able to save? Would it even matter?

 

[Morbidbread]

Thoras spread his hands as if the answer were obvious. "Why of course! What else would you call a group of brave adventurers that head out into the unknown, determined to stop a mysterious sickness?" He gestured to the mass of people who were either sitting or standing around the room. "We've already rescued all these fine folk. Don't tell me searching houses for missing people doesn't make you feel a little closer to your comrades?" He flashed what he hoped was a winning grin at her, "perhaps one companion in particular?"

 

[Harkatti]

Alice ordered and ale for herself and indicated to the bartender, or whoever was filling in for the bartender to give her whatever she wanted, dropping her coinpurse on the table between them. "I'll have the same as her," Katrina stated, and the man nodded, returning a moment later with a tankard of ale. She watched the imperial carefully, noting she didn't seem at all interested in her drink. In fact, her mind didn't seem to be on their current situation at all.

"Why are you doing this?" Katrina asked quietly, motioning discreetly at their surroundings. "Don't pretend it's for the same reasons as the rest of us. There's something about you. You're not here for gold or glory." The question was unnecessary, but in her mind, so long as she held the initiative, she wouldn't have to answer any questions herself.

 

[Simus]

Alice closed her eyes and slipped her fingertips under the long hems of her gloves. Before she had sat down at the bar she had stepped into a vacant room and removed her leather armour and helmet. She had stayed zipped up in her black leather both because it was cold in the inn and because she was feeling vulnerable. She wanted to stay covered both for mild protection and for her own sense of security. She simply felt less vulnerable the less skin she showed and in this case she was showing as little as possible. She would eventually get hot however and would need to take her gloves off. That time was coming sooner with the rising anxiety and despite keeping everything but her head completely covered in tight black leather she felt naked.

Katrina was perceptive. Far too perceptive for Alice's comfort. She gripped her hems tighter as she felt the need to explain herself. She wanted to get it over with because sooner or later she'll have to. This girl was definitely one of the bigger liabilities in their group and that ironically made her the least likely to pass judgement. She took a second, much larger swig of her beer and began.

"You're right." She said. "There is something about me. I don't need the money and I've experienced far more fame and glory than I could ever want. I could give you a lot of nice sounding reasons for why I'm here. Honour, duty, desire to help and do kindness. But the real reason? Fear." She turned to Katrina in her chair. "Fear of losing my husband or father or aunt that's also my stepmother or my siblings. Fear that I'm going to fail at something I can't recover from. Fear that I'm not strong enough. And in the case of Karthwasten? Fear that I'll be recognized for the murderous witch I am. You might have heard of the Karthwasten Massacre or the Karthwasten Incident. A Stormcloak commander loses control of a band of mercenaries after they help her unit retake the town from the Foresworn, she fails to physically restrain their captain, they get into a brawl and people start to die before the mercenaries turn on each other. She was court marshalled by Galmar Stone-Fist and found innocent of any wrongdoing but it poisoned the army's reputation in this region and made every dealing they had harder. The people most likely want that commander dead." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for the final part. "I'm afraid I have to tell you something Katrina. I am that Stormcloak commander. If you or anyone else needs a reason to abandon me in that mine that's a pretty good one." She took another swig of her beer. That was easier that she expected. Now the entire room could extract the cost from her. But, that was the point. The depression rushed into her hard and cold and filled her with shame for what she let happen. It didn't matter what happened to her or what these people did to her. She deserved whatever they did. That's why she spoke up. She gulped down her beer, set it down and simply waited for judgement.

 

[DraySedaris]

Allesan stepped into the building the others had gone to, the inn that seemed to have been elected as the group and the surviving villagers resting place for the night. Seeing no threats, the former dawnguard reached up and removed the full face helm that he'd been wearing most of the day. The scar on his face, the crude sigil of a blade through a circle, became clear for all to see. A few people stared, a couple whispered comments to one another, but no one outright asked about it. Few ever had the courage to do so.

After several moments had passed a harried looking man approached and hesitantly asked him if he could take his order. He requested a bowl of stew and a tankard of water, which was brought to him after a short wait. As he ate the warm food, he watched the strange group settle down, engaging in conversation with one another. The man who'd approached before had emerged from one of the room, sans his multiple layers of armour, and began speaking with an older man who seemed to be in charge of the strange group. After finishing his food, he approached, "You do not know me, but our goals seem to align. At least in some way. I would offer you my blade, at least until we find whatever is behind this plague."

 

[TheArgonianDrell]

Sothas watched with half-lidded eyes as the tavern began to warm, and tension began to ease out of the air. People were still worried, for their loved ones, about the possibility of the return of those who'd stolen them returning, but they no longer eyed the group that had 'rescued' them with open suspicion. That was, until the imperial woman, Alice, he thought her name was, started to speak. Not especially loudly, but it was quiet in the tavern. Quiet enough for voices to carry. He listened from a short distance away as Alice relayed her tale to the anxious breton and anyone else within earshot.

He didn't need to know her well to tell that, even though she'd been found innocent of wrongdoing, the events at Karthwasten still weighed on her. Movement elsewhere in the room drew his attention first, an armoured man he'd not seen before stepped inside, removing his helm to reveal a scarred face and blonde, curly hair, and second, a few of the inhabitants of the village leaving their seats to approach the table the imperial sat at.

None of them looked particularly pleased with the revelation that she had been responsible for infamous Karthwasten massacre. But Sothas didn't believe for a moment that one's past should dictate their fate. He moved to stand next to where the two woman were seated, his bulk between them and the approaching men, who suddenly seemed a lot less sure about their next moves. "Sit down," he suggested, "have a drink."

 

[HurrHobo]

Unkmarog had already emptied two tankards of ale, and started enjoying his third one. He let the table support his weight, his left arm resting on it and the other had its fingers wrapped around his tankard. Though his eyes wandered around the tavern, his focus was completely dedicated to his drink. He was, after all, a simple orc with simple goals.

Unk let out a loud belch that briefly filled the cozy air of the tavern. The orc's silly grin on his face was almost heart-warming to watch, as if he was oblivious to the trouble that was taking root in Karthwasten and perhaps the whole of Skyrim.
"To my new friends!" he bellowed and raised his mug high in the air before emptying it.

 

[Rafen]

Beren kept his distance from the others as they congregated at the small tavern. He'd had his doubts about the village for certain, and been pleasantly surprised by the discovery in the mines. But...questions still nagged at him. Who or what had forced the people of Karthwasten to up and leave? Why had these few folk been left behind? And why did the small imperial girl look so gods damned nervous?

The former mercenary had kept an eye on her ever since they'd set out, and he'd noticed several things. She didn't talk or act like some adventurer or random sellsword. There was an air of hard earned experience about her, and she wasn't nearly callous enough to be a blade for hire. Also, the way she addressed Solun, the man who'd all but admitted to being a former legionnaire, screamed of military discipline. But they didn't act like they knew each other.

He watched, sipping from a passable mug of ale as the grizzled soldier who'd arrived with the dawnguard, approached Solun and introduced himself as a captain of the stormcloak army, before offering his services. An interesting development, but not as interesting as the confession that burst out of the woman named Alice.

Shocked, Beren nearly dropped his mug. He knew he should have been enraged, or at the very least righteously annoyed. He remembered the brutal fight with the Forsworn, and the blood-mad butchery that had followed, how quickly it had spiraled out of control. He glanced at the small crowd gathering around the table, saw the large argonian very deliberately take a stance between them and Alice.

If he wasn't careful, things could spiral out of control. Just like they had before, just with more innocents caught in the crossfire, and mercenaries that he couldn't rely on to have his back. Reminding himself that he wasn't that man anymore, he slowly approached the table, giving the argonian, Sothas, a cautious nod as he did so. "I think it's safe to say neither of us are innocent in what happened that day." He spoke gruffly, his voice just barely carrying past those gathered around the table. "But I also think it's safe to say we're not the same as we were back then, eh?"

 

[Harkatti]

Katrina stared at the woman silently for some time. She could sympathize with the fear of loss and the fear of somthing you'd done, right or wrong. Underneath her gloves, the breton woman's burn scars itched furiously. She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to tear her gloves off and scratch. "Fear." She said bluntly, glancing up as several of the surrounding villagers, and their own companions left their seats. Uneasiness fluttered in her chest. 'Danger. Get out.' Her instincts screamed, as the strangers drew closer. "Fear, I can understand." The small crowd closed in and Katrina's throat tightened as unpleasant memories began to push themselves to the front of her mind.

She stood abruptly, almost knocking her chair to the floor in her haste, leaving her drink mostly untouched. "Thank you," she said tersely to Alice, even as she backed away from the former Stormcloak. "For the drink." Though at that point she was looking for the nearest possible escape from the common room, which seemed twice as crowded as it was. An empty room caught her eye, and she was making for it an instant, slamming the door behind her and slumping against it, struggling to get herself under control.

 

[Telleroftales]

Solun leaned back in his chair as the nord man, now lacking his layered armour, approached. His words were cordial enough, but there was no missing the contempt in his eyes. The former legionnaire watched him with the gaze of a man used to assessing others. The nord had obviously seen his share of combat, perhaps recently. While his offer of aid seemed sincere, Solun wondered if he'd be trouble down the road. Had he been sent by his superiors to keep an eye on the band of sellswords? Or was he joining of his own initiative. All questions that would be answered later.

The Stormcloak officer he'd been speaking to excused himself, wandering off into the crowd. A crowd, Solun noticed, that was forming around his fellow imperial. He wasn't sure what she'd done or said to warrant such attention, but he noticed Beren and the argonian, Sothas, taking up positions nearby, just as the flighty breton woman fled to an unoccupied room. The former officer of the third legion sighed. It seemed he would have his work cut out for him, if he was going to be leading them for much longer.

He stood and joined the group around Alice, Sothas, and Beren. Most of the villagers were focused on Alice, and none seemed happy. The last thing they needed now was a fight, and he didn't relish the thought of what would happen if obviously capable mercenaries went up against unarmed peasants. "Is there a problem here?" He asked, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. "I'm sure everyone is a little on edge after recent happenings, but we'll all need a good nights rest if we're to walk to Markarth in the morning." He glanced at every one of his companions, a warning in his eyes.

 

[FelidaePrime]

Tavir threw her head back and laughed at the first dunmer's suggestion. "Nice try." She nods towards one of their newer companions, the orc, who was in the midst of toasting the group at large. "Why don't you ask him to share? " She tilted her head, "though on second thought, he'd probably be more inclined to share the pointy end of that sword of his rather than a drop of ale." Her ears pricked up at the at a familiar voice that just barely cut through the soft conversation of the tavern.

The imperial woman...what was her name? Alison? Alice? Yes, Alice. That was it, had just confessed to being the stormcloak officer who'd been involved in some massacre in Karthwasten years ago. The atmosphere in the room changed from friendly if a little wary, to wary, with a hint of hosility. "Well, well," Tavir muttered to herself, adjusting her grip on her wine bottle, the better to use it as a makeshift club, if need be, "this should be interesting."