Welcome to Gaia! ::

Selce's brow furrowed as she remembered. Her hand dissapeared before she flourished the book about. "I think you mean this? Yes it is the first volume." She set it on the table for any of the three to read it if they wanted. "Maybe we should stop by this dwarven smith before we leave, which comes to a question. Ronus will you be coming with us, or are you still under business to help your kin?" She asked in a rush.

"Eh, the High King's got us here ta speak with the Council. I'll join ye afterwards in the mornin'. I may have ta take care o' a few things, but it'd be an honor ta walk beside ye all once again... speakin' of the ol' crew, where's the pajama wearin' fool an' the pointy eared tree lover?"

Kal took notice of Tjaden's decision to rest and awaited his action to take place. He was a great pickpocket, that was part of his great thiefing ability's, but he knew that shadows were better than light, and less people to notice increased his chances. He continued to act like he was reading, but he listened to the Orc's words and movements.

Seeing that nobody had anything to add, Tjaden made his way to the stairs. It had been a long day, he had not rested after their battle with the trolls, he had worn his armour for hours, he had been subjected to the distrust of an entire city and he could count the number of allies on his fingers. Suffice to say Tjaden could no longer put off going to bed.

His heavy-booted feet clumped up the steps with reverberating footfalls until he made his way to the creaky floorboards above. Moving down the hallway, which seemed a long and arduous journey, Tjaden arrived at his room near the back of the building. He opened the door to the sparse sleeping quarters. It consisted of a wooden bed laden with a straw mattress, a wrought-iron washstand with a ceramic bowl, a small pottery bowl filled with water and a set of heavy cloth curtains to string across the windows. Tjaden closed the door and locked it. He dared not leave himself open to any vigilante villagers intent on 'protecting' their city from a wayward Orc. Similarly, he pushed the curtains aside and pulled the shutters closed. Here he was, tired, surrounded by hostility with 3 inches of wood between him and hatred, secured only by an iron deadbolt. Tjaden sighed. The anxiety was getting to him.

Tajden removed his armour and placed it at the foot of his bed along with his shield. Tjaden sat on the bed and reached a green, sharp-clawed hand up to the shining symbol of Beremond Truthbearer's personal seal pinned on the shoulder of his clothes. He pondered again if it was the only thing holding back the tide of hatred in the city and battled with his despair at the thought that justice was not always universal. Was the world so lost that sentient beings had to be told when their anger was righteous, when their actions were just and when morals were truly right and good.
"Are we so lost? Is there not something to guide us...some symbol of justice?" Tjaden asked out loud. In the confines of the simple room, there was no reply, only the growing darkness and the semi-silence, disturbed by the general hub-bub of the room downstairs.

Tjaden sighed again, realized that he had been doing that too often, and then lay down on the bed. As in the wilderness, he clutched his sword to him, hand on the hilt. There would be no watchmen tonight, no fire to warn him of interlopers. Tonight, it truly was him against the world....
And with that dreadful thought crawling about in his mind, he fell asleep.

Everyone having gone to bed, Kal placed the book up safe with the front desk attendant. He then climbed the stairs to Tjaden's room. The hallway clear of any personel or otherwise interference. He pulled out a small piece of metal and began to pick at the natural bolt lock, trying to unlock the door without notice.

((i love my luck. twisted ))
Kal felt it unlatch and grinned with pleasure he slipped softly inside the room, his cloak and Armor of Guidance(I think that was it's name,) his only weight. He saw the armor lying aside and was pleased to see that the Orc had taken it off today. A thought of asassination for more of group's the gold slipped through his mind, but was easily pushed away. He was a thief, not an asassin. He went to the armor and ((is this an attempt thing or an, 'it's done' thing?)) detatched the seal, hiding it within his cloak, and leaving without another sound.

((Will edit if told to do so,))

((Sorry. I apologize Tonas...))
Kal made his way to the 'The Sailor's Bounty' tavern. He recalled what the short man told him, word for word. He then went to the front desk and told the man softly, but hearably, "The Masked Beard sent me," he stated. He hoped it was all correct and was pretty sure. He wanted to meet this man again, badly. That was why he took such close notice of the man's every word.