Lex turned his back on the officials and withdrew silently, still visibly angered. He faced the more conversational of the guards, and offered only an indeterminate glare, before scanning the skirmish's aftermath. The one who had asked for healing was conversing with Ceria. He would return to her later. For now, there was one more body in need of searching, and this one had no need of its' equipment. As before, the paladin loomed over it, and began relieving it from anything he could spot. Perhaps they would prove useful to the group, later on.

He first placed his findings neatly beside the body, before moving them along with the rest for easy transport. Gold and silver. A great amount for a thug. Two vials, apparently potions of some sort. Perhaps the warlock could identify them. An axe, of large size and in decent condition, and a cleaved coat of mail. Then... Another vial, this one empty, and bearing the name of Araerys. Lex swiftly placed that within his pack.

Once a stack had been made, formed by the possessions of the caster and his now dead ally, Lex took a moment to consider the two still-living bodies, before squinting slightly, at the sound of Yvah's voice. They had to get moving, true, and only hours separated them before a certain ritual that needed their attention. Grabbing the drifter, he slung him over his unharmed shoulder, and without much of a reaction, attempted to do the same with the human. His expression faintly hardened as the weight pushed against a still open wound, but that did not prevent him from speaking in a voice almost indistinguishable from his usual tone, albeit with a hint of effort. "Gather the bandits' items." he coughed, addressing noone in particular, before moving out with slow and heavy steps.

The merchant glared back at Ulor's haggling. "You lot destroy my wares, cover the area with ice, scare off customers, and spill blood in the marketplace, and to top it off, you think you can scare me off too? Away with you. I wouldn't sell to you if you paid double!"

"Come, now, Hankins," the guard spoke up as she approached the merchant. "I'll clean the area so it looks good as new. Plus, the ice is already melting away. Customers will return in no time." She continued to soothe the merchant's woes as the group, deciding now was an opportune time to slip away, began to follow Yvah to the promised tavern.

The kurjian led the party out of the slums to a nearby part of town. This area certainly was not as well-to-do as where the group had spent the previous evening, but it felt safer, as if one was less likely to run into raging goliaths here. A few odd looks were tossed towards those who carried bodies, and several people muttered quietly or crossed the street to avoid them. Shortly, Yvah turned towards a doorway with an etching of a fairly ugly small dragon-shaped figure that was easily recognized as a kobold. The words "The Homely Kobold" were carved underneath in Common, Dwarvish, Infernal, and a handful of other languages. There was also some writing in Elvish, but it was scratched out, likely with some anger if the jaggedness of the cuts were any indication.

The door opened upon a room that appeared to be part tavern, part meeting place. There were folk of nearly every unusual race from goliath to tiefling to goblin to half-orc. All of them became silent as the door opened, turning to see the newcomers. As Yvah became visible, some of the patrons returned to their discussion in whispered tones while the others looked on with interest.

A tiefling stepped forward, a wide smile on his face. "Aaah, Yvah. Welcome back! Do you mind introducin' us to the new faces? You've certainly found some very shiny new friends."

The scriiiiitch, slaaaaatch sounds of dragging feet followed the party as Yvah pulled the rodent scoundrel behind her. A few more heads turned in their direction at the sound, mostly donning faces of mild shock or disgust as they immediately were met with the sight of a dripping, scarlet catfolk hauling a corpse behind her. Some were were surprisingly nonplussed about the whole affair after their curiosity was sated, which seemed to become a more frequent response the closer they were to their destination. Some, on the other side of the spectrum, had immediately taken off in the other direction. Fetching guards, one might assume. Yvah's pace quickened to send her ahead of the party, keeping within eyeshot.

Once faced with the entrance to the tavern, Yvah dropped the dead weight to the ground and raised her staff toward the wooden portal. A peculiar pattern of rapid pats and hard strikes rapped against the door. A moment passes. Click, slide, latch and the door inches open. A gentle push of the staff sets the door swinging wide open, leaving room for Yvah to heft the mouse man through.

A greeting was passed to her and she seemed visibly relieved to see the fiendish visage step into view. "I come in here two years later, soaked in blood and dragging a ratfolk behind me, and you don't even offer a drink?" she snaps her fingers a few times at the air beside her hip, "Where have your manners gone, Racchus?" She seemed oddly stern as she said this, but after a moment of suspense she drops the act and brims with delight.

Ceria, for one, did not relax when she entered the inn, for what she soon read in Elvish and Common as "The Homely Kobold." The inn was anything but homely. Beneath the kobold on the door, the name of the establishment as mentioned prior was scrawled into the wood. Her eyes caught on a line of elvish further down that had been vehemently scratched out. It had been awhile since Ceria had been back in her homeland, but the flowing script seemingly only mirrored the name of the establishment as written above. A shudder ran through the elf's body as she realized at least some in this place were anti-elf.

Anti-elf movements were not new to the world as a whole, but they were fairly new to Ceria who had previously preferred to keep to herself out in the wilderness for a long period of time. On the rare occasions she had ventured into town to trade for supplies, she had not experienced any such racism or hate nor seen such outward displays like this. This all the more reinforced her desire to leave the city as soon as possible. Thankfully the kirjan had at least brought them closer to the edge.

As Ceria was considering turning right back around and going outside to sleep in a tree for the night, her shudder caused her to sway on her feet and to bump toward Daisy's shoulder as she waved at Yvah. Crap, I'm more tired than I thought. The last thing I need is any more of this physical contact business. Her left arm already hurt like hell and any brief brush with something the likes of even the tiefling was bound to set the covered wound screeching in pain again.

Daisy had reason to be supsicious of who was apparently a new member of their party, but now had reason to be wary of the rest. Even a percieved slight or seeing someone who was potentially in the wrong could result in murdering a man without asking questions. This entire continent confused her often, what with its overly violent culture and its clearly rampant insanity, leaving her none too surprised when a guard showed up to take them in. She was almost refreshed by this turn of events. It was sickening. Everything was starting to make sense again. There's no fun in that after -- well, it didn't matter now.

She was interrupted in her reverie by a bump from the one who'd watched her pretend to sleep not even really that long ago. "Oh, stay here and enjoy the fun. I'm sure there's fun. There will be with us around, right?"

The primalist had nothing to offer or add, let alone say to these people or their patrons. If anything she still resented the fact they had been here at all, rather than meeting the objectives of their task at hand; the entire time the cat was busy, off by herself in the slums ahead of the rest of their band. It was almost as though some were pleased to be loafing around, dragging a bunch of senseless goons in their wake to some new pit in this city rather than having just been done with it and pressed on with their tasks.

Arthera had more than enough of this, so much so that her presence was anything but welcoming or talkative. It was not even a scowl that displayed itself on her face, more just vehement distrust and disdain. As far as she found herself concerned, this was just another example of their thoughtlessness in a time of great importance. This entire tavern was nothing short of crawling with every seeming ne'er-do-well imaginable, many of whom she might have mistaken for the very men they were now dragging in here. It helped none at all that another tiefling introduced itself.

Thus far her experience with them was... not particularly endearing. Then again, she found herself only in vague tolerance of anyone else, obviously less or more as it went with each individual.

So it was no surprise she said nothing and only instead kept her hands behind her back and her looming, robed figure mostly still. About all that moved of her were her eyes, of which remained most watchful. She, rather they as a whole, could not afford another skirmish with just about anything at this point and now they waltzed right into what seemed to be a den rife with danger.

Ceria's words echoed in her ears as she made her way towards the tavern with the group. She was correct; they had only known each other for the grand total of a few minutes, and within those few minutes, she had managed to get them all nearly killed in combat. And yet, Araerys was already using collective pronouns. Perhaps she was a bit starry-eyed from previous experiences, believing that the bonds of an alliance in a fight held great importance, enough to merit at least a drink or two together. Ah, well - if anything, she would sit for a short while with this varied group and exchange stories before taking her leave, if they insisted.

Having lived in Bourgund most of her life, Ary was familiar with The Homely Kobold, though it wasn't a frequent of hers. Mainly because of the strange opposition towards elves that seemed to be a subtle thread in the air of the establishment, exhibited by the angry scratches covering the Elvish on the sign. She knew Ceria noticed, though she made no comment about it as they entered behind Yvah. Still holding the wound in her gut (mostly to prevent others' discomfort at the sight), the half-elf was quick to take stock of the patrons in the tavern before letting her attention rest on the interaction between their kurjian companion and the tiefling that approached.

Araerys simply followed the feline's lead and offered the tiefling male a grin, and then a few hearty chuckles at Yvah's playful chiding. Aware that this was wholly the woman's audience, and not wanting to rub anyone the wrong way just yet, she kept her mouth shut for the time being, merely observing and presenting a polite face. There were a few familiar faces in the room, though none that might bring her any more trouble for the day. In a normal tavern, she would have been picking out who her next group of fools might be. But this didn't seem like a normal tavern, and all Araerys wanted in the moment was a chair and a drink.

"Ah, you be knowin' my manners come at a price," Racchus replied as he grabbed a couple of mugs off the back counter, twirled them around, then filled them with some frothy brown liquid. "But for one of my own, first drink is free, providin' you buy a second." He slammed one mug down in front of Yvah, then tipped the other down his own gullet, downing it in seconds. "Now, I won't be sayin' your presence is unwelcome here, but you are drippin' some other villain's blood on my countertop. Seein' as you've got a few bodies in tow, I assume you're lookin' fer a place to hole up a bit, maybe get the clankers off your back, eh?"

Racchus glanced around at those who accompanied Yvah, seemingly noticing them for the first time. "And welcome to all on ya! I'll get you up a coupla nice rooms. Gonna have to charge the hourly rate so early in the day, but you probably won't mind payin' one gold an hour for the lot of ya, right? The fee comes with my personal guarantee that no one down here will so much as glance at your room. Of course, you are free to pay more or less, and my extra services vary by that price too. I suggest payin' the fee, though. That gobbie over there ain't too fond of your forestin' types." Racchus gave a wide grin towards Ceria and winked. "Of course, I think you look right nice. What'll it be?"

At that moment in time, Ceria Verkorcoran felt exhausted. The tiefling had seemingly wordlessly healed her arm near completely. The limb only twinged now and again as she stood with the rest of the group as they watched the tiefling bartender's impressive display of dexterity. When he pointed out an elf hater, she found that she barely had the energy to throw a glance in the hulking brute's way. To call a goblin a "hulking brute" was probably an insult to hulking brutes given how lean and beady-eyed he was, but the intensity with which he scowled at her quickly had her pulling up the hood that she forgot she wasn't wearing since the fight.

The elf didn't even have enough energy to smile at the barkeep's passing comment about her looks. Then again, it wasn't like she was particularly vain to begin with. When you prefer to live in the woods for as long as she had, the idea of romance became almost a foreign concept. At that precise minute a squirrel bounded on to the window ledge; a large chestnut in its paws as it chittered amiably to the room in general. The creature's violet-black eyes spotted Ceria and it let out a tiny squeak of excitement as it leapt off the windowsill and raced over to the elf, scrambling up from her boot to perch on her left shoulder. The elf hid a wince as the little fuzzy being's claws nipped at her recently healed shoulder.

Ceria absentmindedly stroked the little fuzzy's triangular head with a finger as she reached into her coin purse with her other hand. From it she withdrew twenty gold pieces and plunked them down in front of the bartender. "That should be enough to cover at least a few of our tabs I hope," she said softly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need a nap. Don't worry, I'll leave this little fella outside. His name is Chip in case you were wondering." She tucked her coinpurse more securely into her bodice as she strode over to the window and gently deposited Chip into the planter on the other side of the windowsill. She gave him a little pat on the head before she closed the double window panes and lowered a small wrought-iron black bar down over the middle so they latched securely from the inside. Chip looked a little sad as he sat on his haunches and nibbled at his nut.

In the meantime, Ceria had started looking for the way to the rooms but had not yet left the common area.

As he turned away to leave, the party seemingly intending to question the assailants elsewhere, and dispersed his illusion into a viscous red mist with a sweep of the hand, Ulor briefly gazed into the obstinate merchant's eyes, hissing "So be it, then. You shall know fear." Moving away from the stand, he then promptly forgot about the man, growing absorbed in the quandary of how else he could procure an offering for the immolation, preferably in good condition and at a less blatantly bloated price. Ah, they would be heading towards the city cathedral - assuming this dire place had only one cathedral, as cities ought to - later that day. Surely something of the sort he sought would have been available around it, or, if all else failed, inside it. He could, for instance, make himself pass for an acolyte at the ceremony. His guesses would surely have been as good as the knowledge of anyone but an esoterite...

At that point, his thoughts were interrupted by the group's arrival at their apparent destination. Some sort of inn with a Kobold, of all things, as its insignia. And a homely one, if the writings - some of them scratched over, but he could not read those anyway - etched below a depiction of the creature in question were worth anything. One wondered whom this sort of designation was supposed to attract, but Ulor had seen far worse as inns went, and thus stepped without much reluctance. One crowded space was worth another, after all. Indeed, for the moment none of the motley folk assembled here had charged towards him swinging a weapon, which was already an improvement over the street. That impish figure with the tankards who seemed to be acquainted with their feline guide, presumably the innkeeper, did seem eager to defer them to the services of his hench-goblin, but that was nothing new among the profession.

Conveniently enough, the elf, at whom the goblin's evil looks had been directed, was swift to be cowed into paying what might have more than circumstances required, but that was none of his concern. The less came out of Ulor's own pocket, the more he would have in store for such cases as the inopportune banishment of the octopus. Leaving her to fiddle with some critter, which was presumably what their kin did most of the time, he swept over the occupants of the room with a glance. Various figures of suspicious appearance, now that he thought of it. But this tiefling seemed intentioned to fulfil his share of the bargain, which, in his words, included keeping unwelcome attention away from them, if paid well enough, which he apparently was. If he failed to, he could be- But no, better to ensure he would not fail beforehand.

Reaching for the innkeeper's mind with tendrils of twisted dream, Ulor spoke, his words resounding both aloud and within the tiefling's thoughts:

"S^Se^ee^e t^to^o iⁱt^t t^th^ha^at^t t^th^he^e e^ey^ye^es^s a^anⁿd^d e^ea^ar^rs^s o^of^f t^th^he^e m^ma^anⁿy^y r^re^em^ma^aiⁱnⁿ a^aw^wa^ay^y f^fr^ro^om^m u^us^s. S^St^tr^ra^ay^y nⁿo^ot^t f^fr^ro^om^m y^yo^ou^ur^r t^te^er^rm^ms^s."

Not surprised by her best-of-friends' friend, and not having much money to contribute, Daisy stood idly by. She could always sing. She'd done it here before. She knew she confused people here, with their strange views that tieflings were only fiends - turns out there are denizens of the feywild that have much the same...arrangement with humanity. She didn't know the story behind it, but people usually believed her if she told them she was from there instead.

She was also none too surprised by the goblin. Any other part of the town, she'd have assumed he wouldn't have survived. Regardless, as Ceria began looking for the rooms, Daisy took her by the hand and flirtatiously winked at...the goblin. "You're not for needless bloodshed, are you? I'd hate to think we were on opposite sides in that regard." A sigh. "And I don't know what to make of our new compatriot yet. I hope you are willing to work together with me for safety in numbers if she or the crazy one...err...the crazy lady - I don't discriminate against the differently-religioned - were to be...problematic." As she continues to speak, Daisy's voice becomes more of a song. "Hopefully, my paranoia on this matter comes to nothing and we can all be the best of friends, slaying all the monsters together."

Chip chittered furiously and banged his nut against the glass that produced a faint tapping sound as this green woman grabbed Ceria's hand. Meanwhile, the elf in question had not expected being grabbed so abruptly and swung her other (right) hand around in a hook intended to bash whoever it was who had grabbed her. Her punch was aimed at about head height for the goblin whom she had expected had made a move on her.

Fortunately, the punch sailed inches past the tiefling. "What are you doing?" she hissed, freeing her hand to gesture at the goblin who may have seemed slightly more agitated at the extended commotion. "Are you trying to start ANOTHER fight?" Her voice barely cleared whisper status as the elf turned heel and started toward the staircase before she remembered the barkeep hadn't actually given them any room keys yet. With an exasperated sigh, she turned back around, folded her arms, and stared pointedly in the male tiefling's direction.

"If a problem arises, at least this time there is no question as to who is to blame." Arthera uttered under her breath, unrelenting eyes shifted to their cat-woman. It was provoked by the unfolding ordeal of Ceria and Daisy, especially the notion that another fight might break out as result. Instead, Ceria hurried off and disappeared, leaving the rest of them where they stood.

Unamused, the tall figure closed her eyes and drew in a long sigh, left to only herself in thought briefly as she awaited her opportunity to get on with this. They were being charged at the least busy time of day added coin, but at least under the "promise" they would not be interrupted or disturbed by any of the riffraff that plagued this place. At least that much the psion knew she could trust, as the man unquestionably had a business to run. Letting your patrons get the better of your word was how you lost customers and swift at that.

"And if I had wanted to have hurt you Daisy, I would have done so a long time ago." She commented, albeit this time with knowing audibility, "So the only issue we face is the one where we should probably see our enemies off rather than drag them around as we seem to be making habit of."

She passed by Talionis and Travos, boots falling in step and paying no mind to the goblin, disappearing up the stairs thereafter without another word; there was nothing to be added to this and her patience was taxed more than her mind or body were. Perhaps one day they would understand the reality of the world they lived in, but she had no high hopes. Rather, she did not even care one way or another if they ever did learn, provided it did not get her killed.

Two bodies fell, landing in what would be an exceedingly uncomfortable position for them, were they conscious. There was no characteristic sound of broken bones or dislocated joints, not that the paladin would particularly care either way. An inconspicuous writhing of the shoulders indicated that Lex was somewhat relaxed, now that the group had reached a somewhat safe area. Speaking of which, despite being noticeably calmer, numerous dead-eyed glances being continuously cast around the room revealed that he was still very much alert and awaiting further conflict. The inn he was lead to did not seem to house the best of characters, and Lex was already suspicious of the patrons and their intentions. The barkeep, though, seemed to be a different matter altogether. Although the man visibly narrowed his eyes, examining the latter as he conversed with the group's feline, something told him that if the party was desperate enough to rely on anyone in the immediate surroundings, it would be that tiefling.

Lex walked over to the keep, and after examining him with a vacant stare, he slid an additional five gold at his general direction. A few seconds passed, and the paladin remained immobile. Then, without so much as a word, he returned to the two battered heaps and grabbed them by their overshirts, lifting part of them off the ground. Still fixated on the barkeep, he simply waited there, perhaps expecting the apparent owner of the establishment to present the party's keys.

Araerys wasn't much too intimidated by the goblin's mug, all too accustomed to getting strange stares whether or not she had done something to elicit them or not. It was part of the territory, especially one like Bourgund where one encountered all types of travelers, and the landscape of company was perpetually changing. It did seem to spook her elven counterpart, however; Ceria suddenly jerking away from the group might have urged more glances their way, and Ary, feeling obliged to make this as painless as possible, moved from behind Yvah to take a place next to the feline at the counter.

"We're thankful for your help, sir," she said sincerely, "How much more is needed to cover the group's safe stay?" Her hand found belt pouch at her waist that contained her coin and fingered it idly. She wasn't really one who enjoyed parting with her money (then again, who was?), but today was proving to be an exceptional day. Still, Ceria had already put down plenty of gold, as did the paladin, and Ary was hoping the difference that remained wouldn't be too excessive. As she waited for the barkeep's answering, the woman tried to catch Ceria's eye, and if she did, she would offer a little smile and calming eyes.

Yvah took the beverage and let her eyes loom over it for a moment. "Ah, we meet again, old friend," she mouthed wordlessly. She had a feeling that would be something she'd say often in this town. With a wince, she poured the bubbling drink down with markedly more struggle than her tiefling counterpart. A moment of silence passed as she allowed the alcohol to settle, or rather burn its way into her, before it was broken with a, hic! Yvah was certainly no tavern dwarf.

"Yknow I'm the one that gets on people's backs, right?" She plays coy, but she's not as good at the game as the barkeep. Yvah seemed for a moment, almost wistful, staring past the wall behind him. Knuckles clacked against the surface of the bar to a staccato beat only she could hear. A meaningful glance made its way to Racchus after the knocking, at which point the stool next to her was occupied by the half-elf.

"Unless you're opening a tab, that's safe enough." Yvah nudged Ary on the shoulder, turned toward her with the familiar sunny, reassuring composure.

With that, Yvah composed a gleaming coin between her fingers and flipped it through the air to land roughly in front of Racchus. "The big guy needs a stiff drink. He almost died today," she said with eerie cheerfulness. "And we'll be needing our keys. Ten hours." A furred hand outstretched, just covering the golden, gilded coin she just offered, open and ready to take.

As she waited for Racchus to shuffle through to get the keys, Yvah leaned past Araerys to address the other elven member of their company. "He won't bite, promise," she reassured Ceria and glanced over to the goblin attempting to look as uninviting as possible, directing the comment.

@corneredbliss@Turbowraith@Mistiel@JBRam2002

As Ceria played with her newfound rodent friend, Racchus chuckled quietly. "See to it that ol' Chip there stay outside the bar, Missy," he enjoined Ceria. "Can't have the Health Inspector shuttin' us down now." With her 20 gold lying on the counter, Racchus raised an eyebrow. The following warning from Ulor combined with the extra gold pieces raised the eyebrow somewhat higher as a smile toyed at the corner of the tiefling's mouth.

At Ary's comment, however, he spoke up again. "Ah, now that would be tellin', lass. The more you pay, the better the service I'll be sellin'. Think what you've paid is enough? Then go ahead and take the keys." Racchus reached behind the bar and produced a pair of cast-iron keys with a large wooden tag on them. The tag had the logo from the sign stamped on them, along with the numbers 1 and 3. "If'n you think that a little more sharing is in order, you are free to be addin' to the pile. I doubt any here would stop ya."

When Yvah spoke up, Racchus let out a guffaw. "Yvah, you come back after all this time and ruin my fun, eh? Take the keys then, and I'll be holdin' onto yer gold for ya. Best rooms in the house for one of my own, and I'll be sure none on them boys be molestin" ya. Here that, Boys?" Racchus suddenly raised his voice, and the tavern fell deadly silent as every patron hung on the barkeep's dictation as if their lives depended on it. "These here be honored guests! You will lay down yer lives before anyone enters those rooms without my say-so!" The crowd muttered their acknowledgement as the sounds of the tavern picked up again. "I suggest you be headin' on up, now," Racchus added. "Ten hours are bought and paid for. Oh, and Fuzzball. Good to see ya again."

In the time that it took Yvah to finish the frothy liquid, Araerys had replaced the hand on her wound and had made quick gestures with her free one, casting the healing spell on herself and immediately feeling its effects. Her attention was much sharper and the discomfort had completely gone, and she was rolling back her shoulders in a stretch as the hiccup drew the half-elf's attention back to the feline. It elicited an amused chuckle from the woman as she placed a hand on Yvah's forearm and repeated the spell, assuming she was in need of the help, as well. Then, remembering her words to the elf, she motioned for Ceria to reach out an arm, which Araerys took and employed the healing spell once more. When she was finished, she leaned over the counter and took the keys from the barkeep with a grateful nod.

"A warm thank you, sir. And let's see... Another round for Fuzzball over here," she said, jokingly taking a glance at Yvah from the corner of her eyes. The nickname was probably something kept between the two, but Araerys felt at ease playing with the girl. Then, nodding towards the paladin to indicate: "And a mug for this fella and myself, if you please." She took a gold piece from her belt purse and laid it out on the counter before turning to offer up the keys of the rooms to whoever wanted to take them. Some might have thought she was being overly familiar with the group much too soon, but that was just the way she was. Most of them still hadn't introduced themselves, and probably still didn't know her name, but Ary wasn't going to be shy after sharing a near-death experience with the lot. "Here," she announced to the rest of their company, turning her body sideways and holding out the keys with their tags in the palm of her hand. They were free to be taken by whomever. "I'm sure you'd all like some much needed rest... Thank you, once again."

Once the keys were freed from her possession, she turned back to find that Racchus was quick to provide them with the mugs, and after lifting her own in a sincere salute to the two beside her, she downed the ale with the ease of the tiefling himself. It was obvious she wasn't a stranger to the stuff, and it's warmth comforted her as she slid off the barstool and made to follow the group up to the rooms. Curious as she was about the rest of them, she figured she might as well recover tonight under a paid-for roof while she could. But she kept to the feline's company for good measure.



@Ms Ravenwinter@Turbowraith@JBRam2002@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Mistiel@Ermine@Oraculum

Ceria's cheeks flamed once more as now the half-elf laid a hand on her arm. Did she have a "Touch Me" tablet on her back or something? Why was it that all these social types were so touchy-feely? As Ceria snatched the key with agility from the half-elf's fingers, she couldn't decide if it was more unnerving to be the center of attention for one of her own kind or a woman who was a curious mix of plant and succubus. The latter almost made Ceria giggle out loud. While she had seen an occasional succubi suspect in her self-imposed exodus from her homeland, she had never actually seen a confirmed succubus to compare to the charismatic tiefling. Her imagination kept trying to conjure Daisy in an almost comical black-and-pink number jumping out at men, hands raised in mock claw-like gestures, a viciously mocking sound that might've been a growl or seductive purr issuing forth promptly causing the men to simultaneously pee themselves and lean forward entranced.

As Ceria made steadfastly for one of the rooms upstairs, already starting up said stairs, an odd image assaulted her of both Araerys and Daisy approaching her arms outstretched, absurdly pointed toothy grins on their faces. The weirdest part was that she had no immediate urge to run. As confusing as that skewed fatigue-laced scene was, the pure-blooded elf was the first to reach one of the rooms and put key in hole and enter one. Much to her dismay, she saw the room she got was set up for two people. Given the size of the building they were in, she surmised that it did make more sense to force some people to double up. A queasy feeling came over her at the thought of having to deal with any of the women in their party at the moment. Araerys she was admittedly curious about and wouldn't mind asking for more information if Ceria herself was indeed going to - even inadvertently - sponsor the new girl's inclusion in their already huge party. Yvah struck her as oddly mischievous and a bit scary. Arthera might very well choose to yell at Ceria for hesitating in a life-and-death situation earlier. Daisy was certainly pleasant enough to talk to, but after their recent fight combined with Daisy's peculiar wording downstairs, the elf didn't quite know what to think about Miss Bubbly. Ceria wouldn't mind if she had to bunk with one of the men. She randomly wondered if Ulor had traded his man bits for arcane knowledge given how disinterested he was in everything and nearly everyone. Lex wasn't hard on the eyes, but neither was he quite her type. A far more welcome image of that human from earlier skidding across the ice, aiming a shot only to bury it in her shoulder set her nerves aflame. Her recently healed shoulder tingled a bit at the memory. Boy, he was a looker and she would have done anything to go take an hour long archery lesson from him.

Ceria set her dungeoneering pack and bow down on the foot of one of the two beds (thankfully across the room from each other). She slung her quiver of arrows, counting out the five she had used today. She remembered each vividly: the first two being clean misses, the third and fourth being fired together with respectable success, and the last one thudding deep within the now only unconscious drifter's spine. She wondered if he would wake up paralyzed and if their party would be able to heal any permanent damage that that arrow had caused.

The elf tiredly flopped onto the plain beige bedspread like a fish out of water. Oh how she wished she could just run off and go hunt monsters solo like she used to. Without Arthera, without Lex, without anyone....it would be so simple just to pack up and flee. She grunted in annoyance as a stray fly flew in front of her face, bringing with it the images of Daisy, Araerys, the general, and, weirdly enough, Ulor's pet 'okto-puss" as he called it. For a creature of nature, poor Ceria was still not as well-versed in the lore of the sea as she would have liked. It was perplexing why she should feel so responsible for Araerys given how little she knew about the woman. Her stare up at the ceiling and the hanging candelabra that dangled from its stucco surface continued.