-----The dwarf’s eyes widen in surprise. They then narrow as he keeps his weapon on Whisper. “Aw right,” he huffs angrily, “just who the hell are you?”
-----The girl’s expression for the moment is not readable as the shadows partially hide her features. However, her body language is tense and wary.
-----Whisper cocked his head to the side, arms still folded. He shook his head again, then reached up, and lowered his hood.
-----As he refolded his arms, he once again indicated the crossbow with a tuck of his chin.
-----The girl’s mouth drops open in surprise and the expression on her face is not hostile. “An elf!” she says with a gasp.
-----“Yeah,” the dwarf says in answer as if not content. He lowers his hand crossbow though he keeps it poised as if ready for anything. “Are you too proud an elf t’speak?” he asks. He takes a step back toward the door and glances about at the surroundings as if he were expecting more elves to emerge.
-----A grim smile touched Whisper's lips, as he took slow steps forward. His left arm fell to his side, swinging gracefully in time with his gait, while his right hand reached up, and pulled at his thistledown scarf, while he tilted his head slightly to the left to expose the end of his scar.
-----He held that pose for three steps, before re-arranging the scarf, and half pulling up the hood. He stopped in front of the dwarf, and gestured towards the inside of the building, eyes casually moving between the disparate pair.
-----"Get...in." He said in his quiet tone, his voice somewhat raspier after the exertion, and self imposed silence for the last day.
-----A stern frown crosses the dwarf’s face as Whisper reveals his scar and a moment later speaks. Another gasp escapes the girl, but this time it is given in shock rather than astonishment.
-----“Now, just a minute, you!” the dwarf shortly protests and starts to raise his weapon again.
-----“Oh, Crane,” the girl says with a bit of softness to her voice, “Can’t you see? He has been . . . abused. Let’s see what he wants. I really think he is alone.”
-----The dwarf grunts, but begins backing into the building keeping his eyes on the wood elf.
-----Whisper follows them inside and he sees the interior of what must have once been a very fine human living quarter. The humans had used a plaster type material on the walls. Now in its vacated condition, parts of the walls have been worn and chipped. The flooring is of a hard wood, stained a dark color. All the furniture has been removed and all that remains is a fancy mantelpiece over an open fireplace. Dust has accumulated in the room revealing that these two ‘companions’ haven’t been here long. Two backpacks are located in one corner of the dark room.
-----After quickly checking through the slits in the windows, the human woman lights up a candle. Both she and the dwarf stare at Whisper.
-----Whisper took a moment to take a swig of the herbal milk concoction. While letting it seep down the back of his throat, he hefted the skin. He replaced the skin, and then turned his attention back to the other two occupants.
-----"You... are lucky." The Wood Elf moved to a nearby wall, and leant against it. "From... where... have you... fled?"
-----“Now just a minute,” the dwarf started to protest in reply. The girl cleared her throat and the dwarf rounded toward her. “We don’t know about this one,” he says to her. “For all we know he could be from . . . the other guild.”
-----The girl’s eyes narrow, but she says flatly, “I doubt it. The assassins don’t dress like this.”
-----Looking a bit wounded, but undeterred, the dwarf turns back to Whisper and huffs, “Tell us about yourself first.”
-----Whisper continued to casually lean against the wall, while his mind raced. During his time in the North, he had come across enough 'scouts' and thieves to know that many of his skills overlapped with theirs. He also knew enough to know that such guilds thrived in the towns and cities, though he had little inclination or curiosity to learn how they functioned.
-----Unless these two were under some subterfuge, it looked like they were the survivors of an altercation between two rival guilds. It made little difference to Whisper that it seemed to have been between assassins and thieves.
-----He stared hard at the Dwarf, and then shifted his gaze to the girl.
-----"You... are caught...in the middle...between two...rival armies." Whisper straightened slightly, and cleared a catch in his throat. "Remnants of a Hobgoblin...and Orc... garrison... passed by here in... the last day."
-----He returned his gaze to the Dwarf. "I am... here. You... are not... dead." The Wood Elf smiled coldly, and repeated his earlier question. "From...where have...you fled?"
-----The dwarf snarled and huffed out another breath.
-----“We . . . fled from Ravenhold Town,” the girl suddenly interrupted. A bit of fear registered in her voice. Her eyes appeared large and round as she pulled at her cloak.