This inn was under her standards. One might question why a draconic lorekeeper was in a roadside inn, rather than with her kin. The question would go answered by only a cold, blue gaze and a soft snarl. For Iorciar was not in the mood to answer such questions.
Nor was she in the mood to interfere in the developing situation in the bar. She didn't know the reasons leading up to it, but soon enough, several drunks were slugging at eachother.
The half dragon took a deep sigh and grabbed her cup. Don't get involved. No matter what, don't get involved. She'd get a headache from it, no doubt. Calm, just be calm and don't get involved.
She wanted to down her drink and head to her room, until one of the drunks bumped into her, making her spill the wine over her robes.
And she had no spare sets. She took a deep breath as a second brute proceeded to assualt the first one resting on her shoulder.
Alright. Fuck calm.
Her eyes lit up slightly, she rose to her feet and wrapped her arm around one's neck, pulling him down and choking him, punching the other one square in the face. The drunk slumped down to the fight and the angry half dragon looked around, snarling softly as the second one also dropped from her grip. "Alright. Who else
wants some?!"
