The woman tending te bar nodded to him, leaning forward. Drevayne would likely be able to tell that this Nordic woman was not exactly fresh into life, as her weathered face would show. Though older than many in the bar, she was certainly not older than Drevayne. She appeared in her fifties, and the gods only know how old Drevayne was. "Looking for a room, or are you here for a drink, [i]Elf[/i]?"

------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, Lysander had turned, looking to the stairway. He anticipated that the elder or wizard, as his gait of three legs, one wooden dictated, may come up in the next few moments. He looked to Hargjorn, the Redguard and the Orc once more, his eyes switching between them and the stairway.

Lysander turned his attention to the fliers. He looked up to Hargjorn, then back, smiling under his hood. "Ship for hire, eh?"