As the little group made their way from the more tolerable part of the city to it's slums a sickened sneer came to Tagorn's face, he silently thanked the nine that he at least had his mask covering his face. Tagorn had come use to the smells of the long since dead, battle fields soaked in blood of the fallen, burning bodies, even the rancid odors that always shrouded the shrines of Namira. But there was a smell that always succeeded in making the Bosmer sick to his very stomach, and it was of poverty. Honestly the smells of the poor, sick, and weak was enough to irritate Tagorn but to be surrounded by it like he was, well needless to say it took all of the Wood elf's strength to keep from gaging or ripping out the throat of the nearest beggar. Luckily for everyone around him it wasn't long till his attention was grabbed by a voice beckoning for the human leading the group.

When Tagorn turned his gaze to the voice he was greeted by the sight of a Khajiit nearly tackling Kayal. [I] Great another reason to stay longer in this crap pit. [/I] Tagorn thought to himself as he silently watch the exchange between his crewmates and the Khajiit, who was apparently was named Nalla. Tagorn felt he was about to explode until he heard the Renrija-Krin brought up. [I] So there is a point be hind this after all. [/I] He thought with a very slight smirk. He again remained silent as Kayal filled Nalla in on the info. Tagorn had almost drifted off into his thoughts of killing beggars again when Nalla ask who he was. Though he was in no to put on his little act he smirked before taking a slight bow. "The ever faithful Tagorn at your service my lady."