“So you would say a wretched foe deserves respect? When they’d gladly run you through with a blade? How optimistic of you.” She dismissed sarcastically, finally removing her hood and sighing as people from the right of her gasped and hushed whispers could be heard because this wasn’t her first time in this town and her reputation perceives her “it’s her, it’s the warkiller” you hear one local say to the other, while an angry drunkard yells “freak” in her direction, thus clarifying why she doesn’t give respect out to everyone “I actually respect knights such as yourself, but respect is not a coin you give easily like you do one for a tanker of mead.” She turns her attention to the bartender “Now, I’ve heard there’s a darkness brewing in these parts and that is why I have come. So I would like a room for the night and some time to question others about anything they might know and that includes yourself barkeep, so if you’d be so good.”

"Right. You can order something yourself if you want." He nods to the plainly dressed woman, a little sheepish. It seems she had to step in after all... He can't openly thank her for it but he is grateful nonetheless.

He finds an empty table and sits down.

"You're a shallow one to dismiss honorable combat. One can respect an enemy plenty well while doing their damnedest to run them through. What, did you assume knights on opposite sides of the battlefield spit at each other?" He shakes his head, surprisingly undisturbed at her appearance. "To callously insult a traveler... Perhaps you should think of why you have not earned their respect."

"As it so happens, I am also here to better this town. Unfortunately for me it looks like you are here for a similar purpose. I have heard of you, you know. And I must say, first impressions are disappointing."

“That is fair, perhaps monsters are more likely to spit than a knight.” She hums gently to herself as she rolls her shoulders, she was not a people person this was true but she was more than up for working with another to achieve a similar goal “Then if that is true, perhaps you will have my apologies for my poor behaviour, I assumed you’d be much like the adoring public.” She said bitterly, she hated always being thought of as a monster, even her father thought her as one so she was very jagged to most “Allow me to offer an olive branch in the form of another round.”

 "Accepted." He nods, easily accepting the truce. He knows it isn't a good idea to make enemies on his first night and if they are willing to co-exist, all the better. He takes another swig from his mug, having gotten used to the taste. Maybe he'd even grow to like it in time. "Warkiller, was it? Not a subtle name by any means but I suppose it's intimidating to some. My name is Fallion." He noticeably left out any last name and title he might have.

“My real name is Gunhilda, Warkiller is my second name and as you can tell my parents had a flare for the dramatics.” She admitted as she left a gold coin on the counter, signalling that she wanted to buy Fallion another round “What brings you to this town?” 

The door to the dreary bar creaks ajar ever so slightly, and a rapid scampering sound of claws on tiles can be heard. Those of you looking towards the doorway for a figure to appear will be met with a blur of red-and-beige scales pouncing for the shadowed areas under the tables near the corner of the room, avoiding any possible source of light from the lanterns above. Gradually making its way towards the barkeep lounging at his counter, the figure makes an annoyed snarling sound. A snout pokes from the underside of a table and immediately retracts, before a not even three foot tall maroon Kobold slowly edges out and awkwardly climbs a stool, clutching a cloak above his face and form as if one would in rain. A raspy, draconic-tinged voice rings out from the stool. “The usual. Scab needs food. Scab will pay,” he says, longingly staring at a single coin before quickly reaching out his clawed hand and placing it down. Wrapping himself tighter in his shawl, he glances around at the assortment of figures, poking a claw at the nearest one. “Fallion? Scab has not heard of you.”

"As is the case with most knight errants, I go where the worst problems lack the right solutions. Doing good deeds for honor etc etc." His tone makes it obvious that he doesn't buy into that part of being a knight errant. "I've heard stories about this place. Unpleasant stories at the bottom of all the other unpleasant stories. I'm not here for honor, I'm here to do something about those tales."

As he spots the kobold, he closes his eyes for a moment. Do not make a scene, he tells himself. Remember why you came here. He opens his eyes again, composed as he answers. "You call yourself Scab? I am new to this place. It is no surprise you haven't heard of me. Nonetheless, now you have."

Scab snorts at Fallion ignoring him, although it sounds more like the sneeze of a small puppy. He about to turn away, but hears the woman - Gunhilda - clink some coin on the counter, and his interest is immediately drawn.

(whoops, posted this before you edited your response in. I’ve adjusted the post.)

“Scab is glad to meet you. Misery enjoys company, or so they tell Scab.” The figure’s cloaked head shifts up and down, looking at the stranger and his companion. “Scab thinks you look new.”

“As am I, perhaps we can pull our resources together then.” she says with distain at the situation but Fallion has her respect, before her attention falls on the Kobold, narrowing her eyes slightly in question “Where’s your pack Scab?” Most of the times she saw these creature, they were a unit and worked together for a common goal 

(I'm going to cook some dinner. Be back in a bit.)

The bartender scoops up Scab's coin and hands him a bowl of food. He nods and steps back, not saying anything as he knows Scab dislikes too much attention. 

Scab shifts uncomfortably, and it looks not unlike a pile of rags falling over. “Trishdale is Scab’s pack. Not many Kobolds left here,” he rasps, and promptly begins ravaging the small bowl he was given, chewing bone and all. He takes out a rusty dagger and picks at his teeth, eyes constantly shadowed in cloak. “You look strange. Scab likes you. Reminds him of himself.”

Then if that was true that meant that scab could’ve been a guide which is useful for information, especially if he’s happen to of seen anything “Hm, tell me scab have you heard of any form of unusual trouble brewing in these parts? I’m willing to offer you another bowl of food if you can tell me anything of use.” She then turns her attention to the bartender “Or perhaps you have? I heard there might be something happening within the Howling Woods”

Scab thinks for a minute, the prospect of gold and food winning his mind. He repeats the rumours that have been circulating (refer to the rumours not pursued in post 1), before silently waiting and extending a tiny hand. ”Scab is thin. Scab needs little food. Gold, though, Scab will take.”

(OOC: @DM - would Scab have heard or seen anything out of the ordinary rumours floating through the town?)

(Not yet. Creating new rumors will take some time, we will try to get back to you soon.) 

(No worries; I’m more than content with investigating the existing rumours, I was just wondering if the background warranted additional information in regards to the preexisting rumors.)

(Likewise with me, I mentioned the one I show most interest with, I would just like to try and get more information on it and investigate before getting into it)

Maeve finally finished off her tankard of ale, sipping down the last of its contents as she paid attention to her surroundings. It was... quite a diverse group of characters that called this place home, that was for sure. Pushing herself up right, with a slight clanking noise and a limp, she started towards the barkeep. Pushing past Grunhilda and Scab, she gave a quite "Excuse me." before reaching the counter and setting the platter and tankard down on it.

Gunhilda tries to determine what type of being Maeve is as she eyes her up silently, waiting the answer of both bartender and Scab, making a mental note to check out around town once she’s got some answers from this tavern.