"We will look into it," Ourias says, the seriousness in his tone and demeanor belying his youth, "I cannot promise results, but I can promise that we will do what we can to get to the bottom of this plague and bringing any behind it to justice." The blond knight clad in scale armor turned to his tiefling companion, "you have questions or comments?"
Ourias notices the quiet and is bothered by the cold and the damp. As he sets up his bed roll to sleep for the evening, he kneels beside it in silent prayer. Abadar, Judge of Gods and Men, I feel so vulnerable away from your walls. Grant me and my companions the strength and endurance to see justice served. When he finishes praying he feels the comforting healing coming from Sam. "Thank you, I feel that soothed more than just my flesh," He smiles at her. He the follows the sound advice of Lars and lays down.
Clad in finely polished armor a sturdy young man enters the inn, his emerald eyes scan the room and settle on the “Help Wanted” board and the honey haired woman in front of it. As he begins to head over, the woman peeled away from the board and headed to the bar. Standing before the wanted poster nearly jumps of the board at him. Inspecting the poster he sees that interested parties should meet with the Sheriff here today. Smiling a half smile the young warrior pops his neck and rolls his shoulders back. He runs a hand through his sandy hair then settles it on the hilt of his sword, feeling the leather he gives it a reassuring squeeze. Turning to once again face the room he heads to the bar, “Mead, please, if available if not Ale will suffice.” |