A Taste of Bitters

The Southern Cross Inn 

''The Southern Cross is what one might describe as a 'traditional' tavern within Crown's Refuge. Though constructed via magical means like most of the freehold, it seems clear that the architect of this inn must have been a former Imperial of Fastheld, for much of the establishment's personality can be clearly traced back to the idea of such buildings being filled with subdued lighting and as many shadowy areas as possible from which one can brood within.'' ''The building itself is "L" shaped, with the main polished-oak bar being in the corner in which horizontal and vertical meet, pushed up against the back wall so that the Innkeeper can keep watch over all of his establishment. Circular tables and high-backed wooden chairs fill the floor space while "U" shaped booths line the walls beneath stained-glass windows and a myriad of trophies and ornamentation.'' ''It is a tavern that has been clearly designed for the Wildlanders of Crown's Refuge, and whatever visiting Imperials may be in the freehold at any given time, having little in the way of consideration for the Syladris but not excluding them from the premises should they wish to try and navigate the floor. The lighting remains dull and subtle - be it day or night – with candles that burn a dark blue flame providing the only means of light other than that which manages to stream through the stained glass windows.'' ''Stairs at the top of the "|" of the inn lead upstairs to the second level, while a trapdoor near the well-stocked bar leads into a basement below, as well as an alchemy lab, oddly enough. The door leading back out into Wolfsbane's row remains at the '-' end of the "L".''

Griedan scratches at his head just behind his ear as he follows Meian, Sandrim, Taran and Evaryn. "What 'appened t' yeh lot?" he asks, biting down on his lower lip as he tries to clear his throat. Eyes stare at the bard's chair floating along off the ground. The mason's eyes squeeze shut in fierce concentration. Jaw clenched, his hands press at the side of his head, and then just as suddenly, he relaxes again.

The door opening once more, just moments behind the mason. This time onto a tall blonde dressed in worn velvets of gambeson and trousers. Though at the sight of the levitating chair, she pauses. "Is there a reason that you are floating, Master Songbird," Celeste asks in a guarded tone. His lucid state does bring a faint smile to her lips.

"We... we w-went to the cave," Meian quietly tells Griedan as she gingerly makes her way inside, heading right for a table and a seat herself. "And... w-well, bad things happened, h-honestly. The t-tentacles got a lot of people, and we a-accomplished nothing e-except getting out alive... mostly."

"Would you care to remain down here for the time being, Taran, or move back up to your room?" Evaryn asks, the chair bobbling for a moment as her attention goes in different directions, but he remains afloat. "He floats because he is too weak to make it up and down the stairs on his own," she replies to Celeste absently, refocusing her attention on the bard entirely.

"I am being floated, Lady Celeste," says Taran gravely, "Because I am apparently too tall to conveniently carry, cannot move anywhere on my own, and the lady was kind enough to indulge my need to see the sky. Please set me down; Meian needs attention, and I may be too weak to move but I appreciate being able to see and hear."

Griedan raises his eyebrows at Meian. "Ten'cles?" he asks, obviously both confused and shocked. "Ten'cles... in a cave?" His gaze flicks to Taran, as though searching the man for an explaination. "I... canna stay fer long. I came t' see ifn Ladeh Celeste was readeh, aye. I... 'ave meh weddin' t'night, an' well... canna put it off ana more." The big man purses his lips. "Take yer res' aye, an' get be'er." He turns around at the sound of Celeste's voice. "Meh ladeh, ifn yeh canna come t'night, we will unnerstan'. May'aps yer place is 'ere."

Sandrim keeps his arms restraining around Taran, nodding quietly to himself. "I still think I could have gotten you down," he says, then grins slightly. "Though, this doesn't seem too bad a carriage, I think."

"Your wedding- oh, Light!" Meian blinks, eyes widening. "Oh, my w-wounds can -wait- for t-that! If... if you s-still want me to come," the girl adds, audibly unsure. The entire group seems to have just entered the inn, Taran floating in a chair with Sandrim holding him carefully in place on it, Evaryn watching the bard in concentration, and the others standing nearby.

Evaryn nods to Taran, guiding him slowly to a nearby table before settling him back onto the ground. She breathes out audibly, then looks to Sandrim. "You would have dropped him halfway down the stairs, and then we'd have found ourselves in a very large mess. I do not think he could afford to lose anymore blood." She shakes her head, looking back to Celeste and Griedan with curiosity. "More and more Imperials are finding their way here in the wake of the gargoyles attacks." She gives a nod in greeting to Celeste, "It is pleasant to see you again in a hopefully less stressful situation."

"We could have it here, if you wish, Master Griedan." Celeste steps about the mason. Gambeson bulky from the bandages about her waist and walking exceptionally slow this evening. Her arm remains in a sling cinched up against her body. "Thank you," she comments moments after Taran land and slowly makes her way to the bard's side. A quick, tired grin flashed to Sandrim. "Well, you got him back here, mostly in one piece."

Taran blinks, frowns...sways a bit. "...Bloodstone is calling," he says tiredly. "South...southwest...I cannot go." He pauses, blinks a few times. "Wish you well, Griedan, you and Adri...I cannot go." Tired...and sad.

Sandrim grins sheepishly at Evaryn, before moving around to take a seat next to Taran. Upon hearing the bard's words, however, he frowns. "Calling. Would he be calling for an emergency?"

"Oh, no," Meian sighs softly, glancing Taran's way. "Should s-someone go check on him, see if s-something is wrong?" The group is mostly standing around, though Taran and Sandrim sit side by side at a table.

Griedan bites at his lip again and sighs. "I... dunna know. Would need t' bring all th' flowers an'... food an'... those what are nah 'ere." The large man sounds saddened himself as he places a hand on Meian's shoulder and shakes his head. "No... yeh stay 'ere an' rest. 'S not worth yer 'ealth, aye." Turning to Taran, he smiles wanly the man. "Brother... b' still, aye, an' thank yeh." he says, before turning towards the doorway. "Dun worreh 'bout it, Ladeh Celeste. Will make do, some way er 'nother."

An armored form begins to descend the staircase, sabatons thudding with each step as he arrives into the tavern proper. A leather cloak is worn over his shoulders, clasped at the middle to cover his torso as he begins to glance curiously about the tavern. His hood is down, so the bearded, long-haired Imperial is quite obvious to anyone glancing in the area. He carries a faint smile at the edge of his lips, and begins to walk his way toward the bar. His claymore is sheathed and slung over his shoulder, the ornate hilt obvious above his shoulder.

Evaryn blinks, turning to Taran, "Bloodstone?" is all she asks, before frowning. "Stay here and rest. I will go out to him and ensure that he is alright," she says, looking towards the door. "If you all will excuse me." She nods, and with a faint sense of haste, she heads towards the exit.

"Seems you were right about that, Lady Archon," notes Celeste with a glance over at the Lomasa. Her attention returning quickly to the bard and stopping to stand at his shoulder while others sit about him. "How are you doing, Master Songbird? Master Sandrim nearly pushed me to an early grave with news of your demise." She reaches out to squeeze Sandrim's shoulder and looks over to Evaryn. "I would offer to help, but seems I tore more stitches last evening. A healer was up half the night with me." Her gaze slides away and back to Griedan. "I'm sorry, but... I can't come yet."

Sandrim looks down toward his lap, embarrassed, as the Mikin squeezes his shoulder, then looks up and away, over the others around. When he catches sight of the Lomasa he blinks, looking at him curiously a moment before looking away. "Best of wishes for your wedding, Master Griedan."

"My h-health is more than well enough to m-make it to your wedding," Meian softly assures Griedan, shaking her head. "If you n-need any help with it, I can m-move things, or c-carry things, or... s-something. I promise- it won't be a p-problem."

"It seems I will survive," says Taran, very quietly, to Celeste. "Though recovery may well be slow. I will look on it as time to compose a proper letter to the Prince on the matter." Nothing in her way, Evaryn slides out of the Inn at a determined pace, her cloak floating out behind her. It's only a few seconds before the Archon is gone, disappearing outside.

Griedan shakes his head at Meian and pushes the door open, though he's not moving through it just yet. "No Meian, yer 'urt. Stay 'ere an' get be'er. Dunna wan' t' 'splain t' Kael why I let yeh kill yerself." With a sigh, the glowing stonemason gives a long last smile to Celeste. "Dunna worreh 'bout it, meh ladeh. Light Guide yer path, aye."

"To seek his help on this matter," Celeste looks back to Taran at his words. Her hand slips away from the mage's shoulder to give a hitch to the sling, the Mikin stepping to the bard's side. "Kael's hurt too," she says to Griedan's words. "I am sorry, master. Give my best to Mistress Adrianna, and should you change your mind... there is a temple here." Celly, Sandrim and Taran are at a table, NOrran at the bar and Griedan in the door. Others are standing about, I think.

"Kael's h-hurt worse than I am," Meian confirms softly, drooping slightly at the forcible reminder of that. "...I w-won't go if you don't want me t-to, though, Griedan." She turns away, pacing over to the table to pull out a seat and sink into it as well, carefully. Long distance to Voreyn Zahir: Celeste Mikin laughs. True

"My, it's quite busy in here," speaks Norran aloud to himself as he blinks at the exiting woman, shrugging his shoulders and turning to make his way toward the bar. He easily makes his way past other patrons without seeing a need to push, before finally reaching his destination and leaning against the bar, striking up a small conversation with the barkeep and keeping a cheerful grin.

"We might want that help, if we can get it," Sandrim says. "Surely, he could bring help enough to defeat that thing." He rubs his forearm. "Just, whatever we can get, now." He looks aside at Taran, frowning. "Or, whenever we can do something to help what we can get."

Adrianna enters the inn, her black cloak billowing about her as she hurries in, only to be stopped as she nearly runs into Griedan. She looks around the room with concern at the sight before her, "What...happened?" she asks.

Clink. Jangle. Clink. Jangle. Down the stairs comes Voreyn Zahir, still dressed in battle gear with her Chain at her side and jangling against her thigh as she moves. She pauses midway down the stairs, blinking in surprise at the sight of so many people gathered. Nevertheless, she continues down until she reaches the foot of the staircase and pauses once more to glance over the crowd again.

Griedan sidesteps just in time to avoid being run into by Adrianna, and puts a hand to her shoulder as she enters. "I came t' get ladeh Celeste fer th' weddin'." Griedan tells her. "Seems what that there was... people got 'urt las' night. Yeh... yeh should go see t' Taran, aye. 'E is 'urt preteh bad." Using his free hand, he waves her towards the seated bard.

"Yes, but I don't want to see another of my friends not return. We are able, we can perform the last rites for Jehann," Celeste says and reaches out to rest a hand lightly to Taran's arm. "If that is alright, Master Songbird." The other rests in a sling against her body, fingers curling to the material. "I was suggesting a change of locale, if if you wished, Adrianna. There is a beautiful shrine here."

Taran looks over as Adrianna becomes visible, expression somewhere between relieved, ashamed, and very, very sheepish. "A great deal of extremely bad luck, Adri," he says, just barely managing a normal speaking volume. It drops back down into the near whisper he's used all day, eyes half closing. "I am sorry that it will affect your wedding. Yes, Celeste...Jehan needs that, but his body should be taken back to Fastheld, if it was recovered."

Sandrim looks up and over to Adrianna, looking at her a moment, before he looks to Taran and frowns. "Was it recovered?" he asks. "I... don't think it was. I don't remember anyone carrying him out." He scuffs a boot on the floor. "A fine grave, that," he adds, darkly.

Blackfox quietly slips in the door, taken aback by the crowd here and slipping off to the side, remaining as unobtrusive as she can.

The Zahir's gaze lands on Lady Celeste, although her expression remains pleasantly neutral. It takes only a few more seconds for her to locate Norran among the bunch and she winds her way through the crowd, careful to not to push, toward the Duke at the bar. "Good evening, your Grace," she greets to Norran as she draws near enough to be heard without having to raise her voice.

Meian exhales slowly, running a hand through her hair. "No," she says softly. "I w-was pretty sure he was a-already dead, and I d-didn't even think I c-could manage Taran, let alone a c-corpse. It... it wasn't an e-easy choice to make, no, but I think he's s-still there."

"Yes, I don't believe I would be walking now if it were not for him, Taran," Celeste says softly. A faint smile to her lips as she steps to the side to allow Adrianna closer. "We can hold a vigil for him when you have recovered enough from your wounds." This aimed to the general table, perhaps to encompass them all.

"Ah, I hope you've fared well? The ride was a bit long, but enjoyable, none-the-less," replies Norran with a quick grin toward Voreyn a few moments after his converation with the barkeep ends, giving a nod toward the group of Imperials. "It seems my suspicions were right. I suppose Northreach bored them. I don't see why the Regent would settle a bunch of people in a township for their protection, then let them run off into the wildlands just because said township happens to be near the border. But oh well, I won't presume to understand," continues Norran with a shrug, looking back to Voreyn with a renewed grin. "And I don't think there's much need for titles, here, none of it matters outside the Empire. It might also be a good idea not to rile the locals."

Sandrim looks up at Adrianna, tilting his head slightly to one side. "Adri," he says thoughtfully. "Adrianna? Griedan's bride?"

Griedan stands in silence by the doorway still, watching the others. He looks down at the silver plates over his forearm, marveling perhaps at how it reflects his light-gifted white aura. He gives a somewhat distracted nod to answer Sandrim's question.

"Aye, Sandrim," says Taran, softly dry. "This is Adrianna. That she is not hitting me with something for upsetting her wedding plans, suggests I am hovering in Death's doorway letting the chill in."

Adrianna takes in a deep breath and looks from Griedan to the others taking each in in turn then going to Taran's side, "So long as you're all safe," she says with her brows drawing together in concern. "What did this to you? Why did nobody tell me? I was so worried when nobody was in Northreach," she blurts everything out at once as she kneels down beside the bard and begins looking over his wounds. She doesn't even seem to notice anything else going on around her at this point.

Celeste winces to Adrianna's words. "It happened last night, dear. There was no time," sighs the Mikin, drawing her hand away to comb her hair. "I am sorry that I cannot oversee the wedding, Adrianna. Perhaps a few days to allow him to recover some?"

Voreyn looks thoroughly amused by Norran, and she offers him a cheerful smile as she draws near the bar and moves to stand beside Norran. "I like titles, your Grace. What am I supposed to call you otherwise? And I cannot at all presume what the Regent was thinking; I have to assume he knows what he's doing. In the meantime, I'll worry about my House and such." She smiles again and leans against the counter, turning to gaze out on the gathered. Her smile melts into a slight frown as she observes the going on, the solemn milling, and the injured among the group. "What /have/ we wandered into, Norran?" she inquires quietly, muttering beneath her breath to the man.

Sandrim nods slowly aside to Taran, then looks at Adrianna. "It was... a monster in a cave," he says quietly.

For lieu of anything useful to add to the myriad conversations going on around her, Meian just puts her arms down on the table and her head on her arms.

Griedan watches Adrianna closely. Infact, he looks like he's positively staring at her, a slightly worried expression on his face as he bites at his lips. "I... s'pose what that w' will 'ave t' schedule it 'gain, aye." he says, wincing. "Jus'... time."

Blackfox steps forward and puts a light hand on Meian's shoulder, bending low to speak quietly to her, "Are you well?"

"I am very sorry, Griedan," says Taran quietly.

"I'm tired," Meian murmurs to Blackfox quietly, voice heavy. "I'm r-really very tired."

"Norran is the only name I have I could really call my own. I've never met anyone else with it," chides Norran, glancing back over his shoulder toward those gathered. "I can't say. They seemed to have gotten into some trouble or another that probably would've been far better dealt with by the guard, but such is their way. I saw a few of them rush in here the other night with wounds. Soldiers' tasks should be left to soldiers," comments the young man, shrugging his shoulders again and looking back toward the bar. "This place is nice for a vacation, however. No duties to worry over, no-one staring at me and stumbling over their 'your graces', no having to teach freelanders their proper manners."

Celeste clears her throat and leans down to whisper to Adrianna. Her hand falling to the bard's shoulder again while she speaks to deliver a reassuring squeeze.

Sandrim smiles softly, before standing up and starting to walk toward the door. "All of you, take care," he says. "I'm going to head out. Just for a little walk."

"Aye, you are hurt," Blackfox says quietly, "And we were up late into the night. You need more rest."

"Light guide and protect you, Sandrim," Celeste calls out and turns her attention back to the healer with a faint smile. "If you wish, that is."

"On the other hand, no having a leg to stand on when they demonstrate the lacking of manners, either," Voreyn replies to Norran, still watching the group with her brow wrinkled in slight concern. "Perhaps they didn't all run out to face death or disaster? Maybe it came upon them; such things happen you know, Norran, and not everyone gets to vote on whether or not they want to bother with a problem. Perhaps I--well, no. If I ever wanted to see daggers in anyone's eyes, now would be the time to interrupt. I think I'll stand by you and watch."

Adrianna stands and oh so gently wraps her arms around the injured bard, "You're alive, that's all that matters," she says softly. "We can..." she trails off as Celeste whispers to her, "We could, if everybody is well enough," she says with a nod. She turns to look to Griedan and motions for him to join them.

Griedan shakes his head at Taran as he eventully pushes away from the door and approaches. "Yeh've nothin' t' b' sorreh 'bout, Brother. Ne'er yeh mind ana o' that, aye. I'm jus' glad what that yeh're 'live." One of his mailed hands comes down to rest upon Adrianna's lower back. "aye, I guess w' could, but what 'bout th' others waitin' in Northreach?"

"I s-should probably get some rest," Meian murmurs lowly to Blackfox, "y-you're right. I know I s-should get treated too, but the w-wedding... we've ruined everything r-really..."

"Upstairs," says Taran quietly. "Go upstairs, Meian, and sleep. The sooner we mend the sooner they can wed without feeling bad about it, and I have enough on my conscience this week." He makes a face. "...I will have to wait and be floated, I think."

"Send them to Light's Reach, Griedan... if they're freelanders, they should be able to pass. Sadly because of what happened before, I fear that any nobles would be waylaid, but they can attend another ceremony. This one is for you and your betrothed." Celeste's voice becoming more livened at Adrianna's assertion. "We would only need a few moments, and I promise a grand affair another time. But for now, you wish to be wed." She then turns to Taran, lowering her voice to whisper to the bard. A quick glance to Meian. "There is always tonight, and a temple that could be used."

"Things are a tad more...evened, here, but that grants in our favor, as well. While we have no title to defend, we also have no title to uphold. I can match any of them in fire and fury, title or not," points out Norran, not seeming to have any reservation with lightly nudging Voreyn with his elbow. "Come now, what fun is there in that? Even they should be tested, from time to time, but I suppose it'd be best not to. As for whether it came upon them? I've two reasons to disbelieve," states the armored Imperial, raising one obsidian-covered finger, "Firstly, they are always around when there's some sort of meaningless trouble. Too many coincidences, at this point, and two...that mage that got banned from the tavern nearly /told/ me so much. Although she won't be too happy to learn I hadn't been ripped to shreds, as she was led to believe. A wildlander hasn't so much as glanced in my direction, let alone noticed me, /let alone/ attempted to cut me down." He pauses, then, reaching up to stroke absently at his face. "Maybe it's the beard?"

Taran blinks at Celeste. "...Aye, so there is, if we can but get to it," he says. "Adri? Are you willing? T'is a fine place. Not Imperial, of course, so probably a bit less than official...but a placeholder, perhaps?"

Adrianna blinks as she looks between Taran and Celeste then nods, "May I finish looking ye over first though, make sure ye're alright?" she asks. "There is time to see to at least ye and Meian and Lady Celeste, aye?" she asks.

Griedan looks between Celeste, Taran, and then finally to Adrianna again. "'S up t' yeh, Adri. It doesna ma'er t' me much where we're wed, s' long as I can call yeh meh wife, but fer yeh, I would like somethin' special, what makes a great big deal an' fuss o'er yeh." AS the woman is preoccupied with bandaging Taran though, he shrugs, saving it for later and turns back to Celeste. "I could go get th' rings from Night's Edge, aye, with yer permission." If he hears Norran over the general din, he doesn't really show it.

Voreyn looks amused once more and chuckles, shaking her head. "I do not think the Wildlanders are particularlu`stile, Norran, unless you prove yourself their enemy. Not favoring those they seem to adore is not necessarily going to endanger you, either," she replies to the Duke, turning to look at him instead of those gathered. "Wait, someone was led to believe that you would be ripped to shreds?"

"And Kael," Blackfox says to Adrianna, "He is injured as well."

"I'm n-not sure where Kael is," Meian says quietly to no one in particular, though she remains where she is, head down on her arms.

"They're in my jewelry box, Griedan." Celeste pulls her hand away to draw out a singular key and holds it out to the mason. "If they're not there, please let me know. I requested that a friend gather a few items and he may have grabbed the wrong ones. If so, then I've rings for now for you both. Kael? I believe he may already be there. He was helping Varal there last evening, and he may have remained in one of the tents there."

Adrianna looks up to Griedan and smiles, "Aye, it doesn't matter to me, so long as ye be my husband," she says taking her attention temporarily from Taran and moving to hug the stone mason if he doesn't protest. "I am willing, but be careful on yer way there, aye?" she asks squeezing him tightly.

"It seems so, perhaps some out of control rumor, or she was a very active imagination. She was apparently seriously led to believe that we'd be killed if we ventured out here. Now, even if I was drunk at the time, I'd remember causing /that/ much of a situation. She wouldn't tell me who, though, just that she was 'sworn to secrecy'. So it's probably one of those overdramatic ponces," notes Norran, giving a vague gesture toward Celeste's group. "But I've no proof. I do not /begin/ to know what goes on through any of their minds, that Lake woman included. She could've been stark raving mad."

Griedan accepts the key from Celeste, holding onto it with a firmly clenched fist. No way it's going to get dropped. He accepts and returns the hug from Adrianna warmly, holding her tightly. "Yeh look beau'ful in yer weddin' gown, Adri. Will b' th' bes' night o' meh life." Leaning in a bit further, he whispers something softly into her ear.

Taran closes his eyes. "...I am sorry," he says. "But...may I beg the assistance to return to my bed? I wish to be awake for the wedding, and my stamina...seems to have been drained out of me. Or to the basin, if any have the patience; I could rest there also."

"I cannot say I know either, although I have to imagine that such a breach of diplomacy would /surely/ have reached the Regent's ears, would it not? I mean, in your four hands you managed to upset the balance held between Fastheld and the Wildlands, and without even having to lift a finger." Voreyn pauses to shake her head and sigh dramatically. "I would think that a group of beings upset with you would've had the decency to approach the Regent about such matters, yes? I credit them with that modicum of civility, based on how matters have been handled admirably so far. So would it not make sense that unless the Regent sets a decree or some Imperial official informs you, and everyone else, that such a rumor is not plausible? I suppose not everyone can use that process of deduction, however." Another glance is cast toward the group and Voreyn shrugs before crossing her arms over her chest. "Ah, well, hopefully we can simply have a drink and relax. Say, where /is/ Milora?"

"Of course, Taran. And with no Jehann to bear vigil over you, then you will have to make do with Vhramis and myself." Celeste steps away and gives a quick wave two wildlanders. "Could you give me a hand and I can see to an ale or three for you both," she offers and nods to the bard's chair before looking back to Fox and the others. "How are your wounds, Blackfox? And I've not seen our syladris' friends today, do you know if they're alright as well?" A quick glance to the snuggling couple. "Send word here when you are ready and I will see that your brother and myself will be there."

Adrianna looks up at Griedan and bites her lip and whispers something in his ear before squeezing him tightly one more time, "I will see to these people here, and ye be careful in yer travel," she says softly, kissing him lightly before letting him go and turning her attention to those that are injured.

"That's why I didn't believe her for a moment, even told her directly afterward she was being lied to. But little can get to her, lies or not." Norran blinks for a moment, before glancing back upstairs. "I think she's still sleeping, perhaps out riding around. I can't exactly recall."

"I was uninjured last night, and the wounds you healed for me before have given me no trouble," Blackfox nods. "I am in your debt. Keiresa and Aeseyri were well enough when I saw them last night, but I have not seen them today." She moves to help Meian, "I will go find Kael for you if you wish, but let us get you upstairs, aye?"

Griedan releases Adrianna reluctantly, accepting the kiss and giving her one of his own on the cheek. "Aye... I will b' fine." With that, he steps back and turns around, The armored, glowing stonemason angling for the doorway.

"Please," says Taran quietly. "Though I can *not* imagine Vhramis has nothing better to do with his time than look after me."

"Was a work of the Light, but thank you for the kind words. There is no debt to pay with your valor last night," offers Celeste and stepping behind the two wildlanders as they move to heft up the bard's chair. Though she steps aside to allow Fox to help, if she wishes. "That is good. So much blood last night, it was hard to tell who's it may be." She gives another hitch to the sling. "Light willing, this will be gone soon enough." A soft growl to the Mikin's voice at the infirmary. Once the chair is aloft, she walks just behind to allow it to pass up the stairs without incident and waiting for Adrianna to follow before she does as well. "Vhramis will stay because his friends are here, Taran. And some are very injured."

The Southern Cross (Second Floor)

The second floor of the Southern Cross is a fairly conventional affair consisting of a wide wooden landing that leads into one of the various private rooms that the tavern offers to people that wish to live in a somewhat unconventional home rather than a town house. Clear-glass windows rest at either end of the hallway, overlooking the street below, while the occasional explosion or haunting musical chime can sometimes be heard from behind the often locked and triple-reinforced door of the Tavern's owner, one Garrett Hawklight, a somewhat eccentric mage.

''Looked away in one of the multitude of rooms, a group of friends have gathered to tend to wounds and speak of brighter days. The silver lining is that of whispers of a bedside wedding.''

Taran - once laid out flat on a bed - not only does not move, he's panting lightly. As if sitting upright had taken a lot of effort. "Thank you," is a barely audible pant. Meian makes her way slowly and carefully up the stairs, with Adrianna's aid. "My right thigh, my left shoulder, my right hip, my left arm," the girl tells the healer quietly, bandages in the aforementioned places. "Nowhere else."

Blackfox helps Miean into the room, gently settling the woman down, "How can I help?" she asks Adrianna.

Celeste tugs a chair beside the bard's bed, lowering down into the chair. They've moved off into one of the inn rooms. "Shhh," she coos the bard and reaches out to brush tendrils of hair from his eyes. A burly wildlander makes his way out of the room, grinning like a cat who ate the canary and haboring a shiny. The noblewoman having divested one a ring for his help. "Remain calm," she says to the bard and looks over to Fox and Meian as they enter.

Adrianna nods at Meian's explanation as she escorts the mage up the stares. "I will see to those," she says softly, then looking over to the others with concern she asks, "Where is everybody else hurt?" she ask. "Who should I see to first?" But before anyone can answer she's already going on. She looks to Blackfox, "If ye can get her to a chair or a bed then I can see to Taran," she explains, "Then who next after him? And what happened?"

"Seen to today, Adri," says Taran quietly, eyes closed. "Meian needs help...I only need rest." Which he seems to be getting, at least a little.

Celeste tries to tuck the sling closer to her body. Though the amount of bandages about the Mikin's waist really hasn't lessened in the last few days. "Rest now, Taran," she replies in hushed tone to the bard.

"I d-do... need a bit of help," Meian admits, finding herself a chair, "and I h-haven't been really seen to at a-all, but I can walk."