Chartose came to the group after a very hard week of escorting and saving damsels of various degrees of ill-repute. Usually by this time of year he'd reserve an inn until Saffra just for Tricia his scream raptor's sake, as the lizard didn't really care much for winter. Going into Fridgemount did not seem to help with her disposition any, even with the canvas-tarp and some spare blankets draped over her for a bit more warmth he knew this was going to be difficult for his stead.

Still, he'd left Becker back at the local inn to watch over the tavern-owner's things, since finding room and board for a dog was a much simpler task than for an uncouth charr mercenary and his scream-raptor.

He shifted uneasily in his saddle as he approached the foothills of the indiga mountains, the many coins of pieces of mildly-valuable metals jingling in his battered old pack as he glanced across the party that lay before him. Moon Fey ([i]'Elf'[/i]), a drow night-elf ('[i]elf[/i]'), half-elf ([i]elf[/i]'d again), ork (bacon), yet another slightly less fancy drow ('[i]elf[/i]'), and a smattering of about a quarter-dozen humans for racial-equality and/or cannon-fodder.

For a long minute, he considered trying to compliment Svaarick on making a good entrance, but quickly decided he was already well-aware of it. 

Despite all these very observant eyes, the idea of summoning Becker to his backpack with a fresh load of warm blankets was still fresh in his mind as a stiff breeze ruffled his fur. Otherwise he'd have to start a fire, or worse -share a tent.