Lucien guided the horses to the tavern, having almost been garroted by one of the reins and a lamppost at least once on the ride over.  Upon arrival, he dismounted and walked inside, not even bothering to tie the beasts up.  They wouldn't be unattended for long at all.  The cleric gave a hasty salute to Evelyn, signalling his return, and took a seat near a fire pit in the center of the room that smelled of hickory and alcohol.  Hunching forward, he removed his crossbow from it's sheathe, and cursed under his breath.  The string had gone slack and needed immediate replacement, and that meant finding a fletcher amid the chaotic frenzy the village was in.

	Problem was, he had only a basic idea of what the town looked like, and that basic idea didn't include the location of said fletcher.  For the first time in ages, he was going to have to ride without any form of ranged protection, and he was quite nervous about it.