Logan gave a grunt of sarcastic laughter as Lumara wished the divine's blessing on him, and accepted the proffered drink back without fuss. With the flagon of ale safely back within his grasp, Logan stared at the wooden mug for a few moments, thinking about how he was gonna get the blonde one to agree to this haphazard journey he had just signed up on. From what Logan had learned about the mage, he was prideful, and kept his wits about him in a dangerous way. At least he was Plegian as well, that much the dark mage could pick up from the accent. It was a simple matter of talk, then? Again, Logan dismissed the problem to the back of his mind as he came back to reality to listen to Wyvern Lord and her story of how beast and master met. "So I see. You are very close, which is surprising given the... work that mounted warriors do. Stress can drive creature and man apart as well as push them together. I'm glad to see that it is the latter, you see."

Logan took a long drink from the mug, frowning as he reached the end of the alcohol all too soon. That wasn't supposed to happen. Already feeling the effects of taking to much in a span of about ten minutes, the dark-haired dark mage began to speak at the back of Lumara's head, casually informing her of his plans in a slightly slurred tone. "Lumara. I'mma go and... And pick up my tomes and blondie. He's after transport or something, hiring people. Useful for me, and I like keeping all of the information I can acquire in one place, you know? Ah. Yeah. I'll be back shortly." Logan trailed off, both knowing that he was rambling and simultaneously despising himself for it. Remaining impressively straight and balanced on his feet, he wandered back into the inn, dropping the empty mug on the table he had been occupying and stumbling up the stairs. A few moments more and he nearly walked directly into a black-haired fellow with his sword drawn. He figured this was a good as a time as any to confirm where his erstwhile roommate had gotten too. "Oh, excuse me. Do you happen to know where a blonde mage is?"

Vellia saw Talbot near the bar, telling Lumara that they would have to leave soon. Sheepishly, she approached the man she considered her friend. "Hi," she said nervously, reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder from behind. Taking the seat closest to him, she hoped to have at least a short conversation with him. "Um, Talbot? I just wanted to, um, say thanks. Y'know, for everything. For diverting those Ylisseans, and, um, for the music at the camp a while back. And I, um, wanted to say that I'm glad you're on your feet again. Somewhat." Though it wasn't funny, Vellia laughed just a little.

Vellia wanted to curse. She was actually trying to speak to someone for once, and she couldn't bring herself to not stutter. She simply hoped he wouldn't just wave her off, but she wouldn't blame him if he did. She wasn't the most pleasant person to talk to, after all. But she wanted to hear him sing again. Why did she want that of all things? It was so trivial. But something inside of her wanted to hear that again. Then there were the butterflies in her stomach. They made her want to stick someone with her axe. But she made herself smile in an attempt to avoid showing her nervousness.

Talbot was busy eating his soup when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Pain tingled down his arm, but it was not so much as to make him cry out. This didn’t stop him from wincing a bit, however. The sound of a feminine voice made him glance up, and he saw the red hair of Vellia in the corner of his eye. Grinning at her words, he waved her off. ”It’s no problem. I’m supposed to do this kind of stuff for the Shepherds anyway.” he returned her laugh and smiled at her. He was pretty sure he looked strange, covered in bandages and bald as a monk, but… at least he was still himself, right? Wait… no he wasn’t. He wasn’t himself without his lute, and that thief still had it. As soon as he convinced Ambra to teach her archery… he would be able to play as much as he wanted.

”I suppose we’ll be heading to Ferox next?” he asked her, his brown eyes flicking up to her face again. ”It’ll be quite the difference. Now we’re in extreme heat, next thing ya know we’ll be freezing our asses off. Why can’t we travel to a moderate place, where the wind doesn’t chew your limbs off and the sun doesn’t melt your flesh from your bones?” he chuckled again. ”I rather take the heat than the cold, though. If it’s too cold you’ll lose fingers, maybe a foot. You’ll just faint in the sun.”

He chewed on a shriveled piece of potato that had been floating around in his soup, setting his chin on his bandaged hand and thinking about what they would do once they got to Ferox. ”There’s that border that we have to get past, first. I heard Chrome and his men had the same trouble when they tried to get to Ferox themselves. They were attacked by the guards there, I think. I’m not looking forward to that at all.”

Talbot seemed to look depressed for a moment after she had mentioned the music, but he quickly jumped to the subject of Ferox, saying he'd prefer to keep in the heat more than the cold. For Vellia, it seemed the opposite. She missed the nip of the cold; somehow, despite how harsh the cold could get, she was surprisingly comfortable there. Here, however, there was sun, and more than enough of it. She had been sunburned more than she would appreciate since she had arrived in Pleigia, and wanted to be in the comfort of the frosty north again.

"Y'know, I think I'll actually be more at home up there. But, um, then again, I'm from Ferox, so . . . " Vellia trailed off. "And don't worry about the guards. If it's the Feroxi ones you're worried about, that is. If there are Ylisseans, maybe a different story, but if I could show the Feroxi guards my fighting style, there'd be no doubting I'm one of their own. They'd have to let us through." For once, Vellia was confident enough about something that she was able to say a full few sentences without stuttering. She felt a wave of pride come over her. But she knew the second the subject was changed again, that stutter would come back. What's worse was that there was a question she was itching to ask that was bound to make her stutter to the point of unintelligibility if she didn't focus.

"So, I know it sounds foolish, but . . . um . . . would you mind singing again on the trip to Ferox? If it would help, maybe I could . . . try to hum along with a little bit of a harmony? I can't guarantee anything good, but . . .um, I can try." What was she saying? She couldn't hold a tune to save her life! She decided she had finally gone loopy. Yep. That had to be it. Completely, totally, utterly loco. She'd lost her mind, simply because she wanted to hear a guy sing. Vellia almost ran off in panic. Then she was overcome with the urge to slap Tal, she was so full of emotions. But she restrained herself against everything her emotions were driving her to do. Then the worst thing possible happened. . . .

She blushed.

Vellia had embarrassed herself. At least that was what it felt like. She simply hung her head for a moment until she felt the blood in her cheeks cooling. Then, when she was sure the red had gone, she looked back up to Talbot, trying still to smile, but it was probably just a goofy looking sheepish grin. Why on earth did she have to be so blamed awkward?

Talbot listened to the woman speak about the guards. So… they were safe? That was good! At least they wouldn’t have to fight in the freezing weather. He was pretty sure that if they actually spilled blood, it would freeze before it hit the ground. He returned to his soup. It was almost gone and he had a full stomach. The spoon dipped into the broth again, and carried the liquid to his mouth. The broth was good, but it was the meat which had no flavor. They would have to fix that… Oh well. At least they would be going to Ferox, where there were probably more living things over there than over here. Maybe he could get his hands on some venison!

Vellia spoke again, asking him to play his music on the way to their next destination. He blinked in surprise, glancing over at her as she spoke. Talbot was confused when she had her head down, and he couldn’t see her face. Was… this some sort of joke? Maybe she was smiling and he couldn’t see it? But when she looked back up at him, her smile was sincere. What...? What? She wanted him to sing? Usually people tell me to shut up when I sing. he thought, rubbing the back of his head and looking away. ”Uhm… sure, I guess. I’m sorry if I seem uncertain, it’s just that I don’t get many… song requests. They usually tell me to quit yapping and howling, that I’ll just attract coyotes.” he returned her sheepish smile and laughed a bit. ”So, it’s a big change.”

"I'll give you three seconds-"

Zaino's head turned to the stranger who had had the scandalous woman on his lap, giving him a look full of disgust. He said nothing to him, merely pointing down the hall and purposely misguiding the man. Whether or not the man stuck by, he turned his attention back to Ambra, throwing his sword back into the sheath. He sighed, about to continue where he left off until he looked in her hands and saw that his shirt had been all patched up and cleaned. She's pissing me off... "I'll ask one more time; can I have my shirt back?"

---

"Hmph," Xanxus scowled at his friend, lowering his hands to his sides. The sight of the stone making contact with the back of Darrian's head and his reaction had managed to defuse a good bit of his irritation. The stone had exploded upon impact, and to Darrian, the pain must have been excruciating; he began to look around the proximity for more abnormally sized stones, disappointed when there weren't anymore. "Shame. No more stones. You're spared of the additional brain damage from your birth."

Ambra continued to grip the shirt, keeping it close to her and making sure that the edges would not be yanked on. Zaino could very well have leaned over and pulled on it if she did not keep pressed against her. Someone showed up and asked if he had seen a blond mage around. Blond mage… where had she seen a blond mage? She didn’t think she had seen a blond mage—the only one that she saw was in bandages, and then this one seemed to be one as well. What’s with all of this talk about mages? she thought. Do we really have that many mages?

The warrior turned back to her and demanded that she give his shirt back. Ripped from her thoughts, she shook her head vigorously and held the fabric closer to her—if that was even possible. ”No!” she hissed at him, trying not to wake up the fat man that was on the floor. If he did wake up… no, she wouldn’t want to see that.

---

Darrian grumbled at Xanxus, rubbing the back of his head. He really tried not to appear to pained, but he was afraid that the expression was beginning to creep on to his face. Yet, he still couldn’t believe that he had thrown a boulder at him. Not a pebble. Not a bottle. But a boulder. Luckily, there was no blood. Though, the hurt struck him down like a bolt of lightning, and it was only by mere will that he had been able to get up again.

”You must be sick in the head,” he coughed. ”You just hit me with a rock the size of my own head! You nearly killed me!”

Logan's glassy expression remained intact, it's reasons dual-fold. One, the dark mage got the distinct impression that this was one of those exceptionally annoying constantly-angry-driven types. The second reason was because it was the only expression that Logan could make that seemed remotely like he was not drunk. Cursing his dulled senses(A potentially fatal problem for mages) he staggered in the direction that the man with the naked blade had indicated, making sure to keep a hand on the wall to his right to steady himself. The dark-haired man grimaced as he felt one of the doors in this direction, steeling himself for what lay inside.

Four rooms and half as many sets of exposed genitals later, Logan began to suspect that the black-haired swordsman may have mislead him. The now full haze of drink clouded his head as the thoughts struggled to connect, leaving the now slightly wary mage standing in the empty doorway a room that belonged to two muscular men, both of them crowded in the single bed with just enough room for a person to cram between them. With a frown, he stumbled out and began to retrace his steps from earlier in the morning and heading directly(stumbling only twice) for the room he had vacated in the morning, barely sparing a spiteful glance at the black-haired man playing the dangerous game of intimidation.

He pulled open the door, noting the big man who stank of blood was also present, and appeared to be after the same thing that Logan was. "Ah. You. If you want him up, there's a simple way to do it." With a purposeful stride, the dark mage slid over to the bed, knelt down beside it, focused, blinked once, focused again, then reached up and pinched Laius' nostrils closed.

Seeing the curious man enter, Kalar started to pull out his sword until he began to speak about a more proper method to awaken his client. The man got onto the bed and plugged the client's nostrils. With a rush, Kalar whipped out one of his steel swords and put the blade to the man's neck.

Release him now if you want to still claim your life. Do not mutter a word or reach for anything. Simply get away from the bed.

He had heard the noise of the man entering several doors and closing them before ending up here. Now, he was trying to kill his client! No way in hell will that happen. Not unless he paid in gold after the job was done or had a good reason to.

NOW!

There was a moment or two as Logan froze, before removing the pinch(but leaving his hands in the position). The dark mage then turned, very slowly, with an expression of disgust, his lips pulled back as he spat the words out. "Are. You. Stupid?" There was a second of sarcastic contemplation, before he continued at a snails pace, as if talking to a particularly slow child. "If you block a person's nostrils while they sleep, they either wake up, or they're already dead. I've done it before, had it done on me, it's proven to work. Now, blondie seems to be breathing, and you are taking the worst approach to waking him that I've seen in years. So, if you're done playing as the idiot of the century, can I continue, thug?"

I have also seen many people die. Too many die. Many from a blade, many from poison, and some from such a simple thing. If you have seen what I have seen, wouldn't you be cautious?

Seeing that he was releasing the nostrils, Kalar slowly brought down his sword, but just enough to allow the man to move away, but close enough to swing if need be. He had to make sure his client survived. He had been contracted to keep the noble alive and that is what he will do, no matter what the brat did. He had hired a bodyguard and he got one. Kalar would not die for him for all the money in the world is not worth it, but at least he will do his best to complete the job. That is all that mattered, getting the job done. That is what his honor has left him, after being tarnished on that one day. The day his life returned to its chaotic pattern.

Now, please, move away from the bed to the other side so he doesn't wake up with a man next to him. I do believe he would prefer a woman, but as there is not one in here at the moment, I do believe seeing a man would be traumatizing. I still need him for information.

Logan's dull snarl of slightly drunken anger muted any reply he was going to give, before the dark mage sat back and scooted around to the other side of the bed, taking the chance to groggily stare down at the blonde mage. With practiced ease he withdrew the Thoron tome, placed it on the bed, and then glared up at Kalar. "Well, if you don't want to kiss the princess to wake him up, I suggest you tell him when he wakes naturally that I know of a better mode of transport for his lady friend and him than a man on a horse." There was a pause as Logan thought out the next part of his statement, and reluctantly added: "It's many men. And women. On horses. And a wyvern. A group. Safer than traveling alone. And an added bonus the wyvern rider is welcoming of me studying her mount. There's also another mage, wrapped in bandages. Again, safety, and I'd like to be able to access this man's tomes on the ride. More things to observe, you see."

As if his rambling explanation had actually made sense, Logan's glare remained focused on Kalar, seeing what the big man's next move would be.

"Quit your complaining," Xanxus scoffed, bending over to pick up a medium-sized part of the boulder that had broken off from the impact. Like before, he tossed it at Darrian's head, this time chuckling. It was only with his friend that he would ever casually laugh like such; in truth, Darrian was his one and only true friend that he had. Every other person who knew him were expendable, or people who tried to suck up to him for his attention, or worse; people who tried to use him as a stepping stone for their 'success'. Those were the types of humans that he really despised, but to him, it was just another thing on his grand list of dislikes. "We've got some sheep that need tending."

---

Out of all the things that Ambra could've said, she could've provided a reason as to why she couldn't return the shirt. Perhaps it was because she wanted to clean it more, perhaps one of the buffoons had coated it in a poison, or perhaps, another reasoning that only this woman could craft on the spot.

Instead, "No!" was all Zaino had received, and the simplistic one-syllable response had been enough to make him burst laughing. He truly hated this woman. "And why's that?" he asked as his laughter died out.

Seeing that the mage was backing away indefinitely, Kalar sheathed his sword, now aware of what kind of warrior the man was. Looking back to the blonde brat, who was still asleep, he sighed. Since he was not awake, it came down to him what mode of travel to take. Traveling in a group was beneficial, as he would not have to constantly be on alert. However, he did not know who they were, their motives, their history, and if they would be dangerous.

Where did you get this invitation? Do you know who they are? Their past? Conflicts they are in currently? I will not take my young mistress with me if I do not of such things. For this moron, I do not know. It is up to him. But, I have been given the task to bring my mistress back to her homeland. And I will not expose her to any trouble that may cause her harm.

He found a chair and leaned on it, as his feet started to hurt after standing and walking around for a while. He needed to know these facts. Also, the blonde man should wake up by now, for he may want to here of this. Deciding to take some matters into his own hands, he stood up and grabbed the chair and smashed it to pieces on the bed where the brat was laying. The crash deafened Kalar's ears for a moment while splinters went flying. That should wake him up.

A moment's thought provided Logan's bleary mind with the answers, although not in the most logical or even sane way. "Oh, from a young woman who sat on my lap and offered me a ride on her wyvern. No idea, but they don't smell like blood and decay so they probably aren't bandits. Again, no idea. Well, the mage said that they were on the run from the..." Logan's voice trailed of as several things clicked into place at once. "...They're She-"

He was very rudely interrupted by the sound of shattering wood and a large chunk of chair hitting him in the face. With a yelp of pain, Logan doubled over, clutching at his nose as involuntary tears welled in his eyes. After a quite a few moments of gasping anger and agony, the dark mage glared up at the assassin-turned-bodyguard. "I block his nose and you threaten to chop off my head, and then you break a chair on him and it's all okay!? You stupid hypocritical oaf! You, you-." He kept stuttering, utterly appalled as his nose began to leak blood.

"This moron can HEAR you."

Laius growled from his position in the bed just before the mercenary smashed a chair over his bed, nearly hitting him in the process. Nope, it was official. He regretted making the choice to speak to these gentleman IMMENSELY. First, he was halted in his endeavors the night before by the dark mage. It was rather hard to return to your room with some volptuous barmaids when there was a strange dark mage curled up in the corner of your room like some kind of cat. Then, when all he wanted to do was sleep into the morning and shake off the dull throbbing caused by the alcohol he had consumed the night before, he was assaulted by the mercenary whom he hired the night before. Honestly, insulting him and then trying to bludgeon him awake? He was beginning to think this man's odd habits were caused by some kind of head wound by the way he acted. The fuming prince sat up in the bed he had rented, now covered in wood splinters and nose-blood from the dark mage who had been hit by the flying debris.

"Get ooooout." The groggy mage hissed at both the mercenary and the dark mage, although his ire was very clearly at the property destroy more than the nose pincher. He grabbed one of the lumpy pillows that once laid under his head and raised it up to fling it at the dark cloaked imbecile. Unfortunately, his rage got the better of him and the pillow combusted from the sparks of magical energy that danced of his finger tips. He flung the flaming pillow at the man before reaching for a second to do it again.

Darrian knew that Xanxus would try and hit him with a rock again. He avoided the medium sized stone, but not by much. Why Xanxus liked to hurt him so, he didn’t know. And frankly, he didn’t want to find out. His words made him grin, and he nodded in agreement. ”Soon, they’ll be begging for their lives. Soon, the ground will run red with their blood.” he chuckled, mounting his horse and gripping the reigns. He was still in excruciating pain, but he wouldn’t let it show too much. Not in front of Xanxus. He had to earn his respect. ”Come, let us resume our hunt.”

---

Why? Ambra was caught off guard by the question. Of course, she knew the answer to it, but she didn’t actually expect him to ask. Her blue eyes gazed up at him, the frown plain on her face. ”Because I don’t want you to die. I don’t want anyone to die. First Helena and then…” she bit her lip, looking away. ”We’ve lost too many people. You know that you can’t just leave by yourself…” they would leave soon. She just had to stall him a bit more…

After hearing the chair being smashed and he could not hear a thing, he turned back to the mage with a smile on his face until he saw saw the mage's. It had been smacked with a piece of the wood and now his nose was now spurting out blood. Also, his client was awake and pissed at him. Well, what a predicament. A flaming pillow was heading towards him. He dropped down to the ground, trying to avoid the main mass of the thing before another followed. He got back up and slowly moved away from the bed, his hands up.

Now, look here, I did not hit you with the chair. Be glad of that. Also, you have a decision to make. This mage thinks that he and you can go with a group of Shepherds or Sheepfuckers, I do not know nor do I care. It is up to you.

Turning to the injured mage, Kalar spoke to him.

For you...go look for a healer. Most people have them. If need be, I can fix you up, but I do not think you would like my methods and I do believe you really do not like me now. To save some time, either go a looking, or I will go myself looking. Up to you. In fact-

He moved towards the door and opened it up to yell out:

WOUNDED MAGE! NEED A HEALER! WILLING TO PAY! PLEASE HURRY! LIMITED TIME! MIGHT DIE IF NOT TREATED SOON!

He soon felt some heat from his hair. Reaching up with his gloved hand, he started brushing it and saw several cinders flying off as well.

Well, shit.

He walked out in a calmly fashion, went down the stairs and went up to the stables. Finding a water trough, he dunked his head underneath to stop the sparks from igniting or getting out of hand.

"Wounded?! I can't-. You!- I just- I can't- but you!-" Logan continued to stutter, his face turning even paler from the always unwise cocktail of rage, drink, and blood loss. In his mind there was a puzzle, there were no edges, and each piece was individually singed and they were all the same damn black color, and they all helped not at all to explain the logic behind this disastrous two minutes. "It's a damned nose-bleed! How have you killed enough people to smell of blood? How have you killed people? Do you just stare at them until something unfortunate happens and help them? Then, I don't know, bath in their blood!?"

As the man left, and Logan's words fell on deaf ears, the dark mage glared at his unwilling roommate, feeling even more light-headed than before, again due to the currently gushing state of his nose. "Shepherds offered a group journey somewhere, and I'd appreciate you coming along if only for your tomes to study, rather than your lovely business partners."

"I do know I can leave by myself. Just wa-"

Zaino cringed as he crumpled to his knees, his hand slamming against the side of his head as the painful headache resurfaced. There it is, again... He growled, nearly lurching and keeling over before he retained his balance, getting back up on to his feet. He looked down at Ambra with his right eye between two fingers, scoffing and turning to face the side.

As much as Zaino hated to admit it, it was his best bet to travel among a group, especially if they had to go back into hostile territory to reach their destination, despite him not trusting a single one of them. He wondered, would he ever be able to, if they were even alive for that long? The amount of time he had already been with them served to puzzle him. "Fine; return my shirt, and I'll consider sticking around. Is that enough for you?"