Tilting her head slightly to the side, Nemera considers the barman’s response regarding the stripper woman. How curious. It was almost as if …<br/><br/><i>Where are they going?!</i><br/><br/>Blinking, Nem spots the farm boys abandoning the field after starting to get their hero on. By Leira’s twisting tongue, what were they thinking? Surely they were too dumb to be cowardly. Besides, adding their number to the three adventurers – well, two adventurers and a feisty strumpet – would surely have taken the caster out of the picture. Then the two half-orcs could be swarmed under. Was it some sort of ruse? They didn’t seem bright enough for that.<br/><br/><i>I don’t care. The city guard will handle it.</i><br/><br/>Nodding firmly, Nem tries to focus on her drink, tilting the mug back against her lips. Of course, given her chosen profession, the thief is ever aware of what’s going on in her peripheral vision. Which at the moment seemed to be a lot of struggling on the various tables.<br/><br/><i>It’s not my problem. It’s not my problem.</i><br/><br/>Noticing her grip tightening around the mug, Nem sets it down and flexes her fingers. Surely someone else in the tavern was going to hero it up. Any moment now.<br/><br/>Hypothetically speaking, of course, a saavy intervener would have several advantages. The half-orcs and the caster had their backs turned, struggling with their prey, their attentions fully focused. They might protect their sensitive parts from the dangers up front, but would be taken unaware from behind. If only someone would intervene. Surely people weren’t going to stand around and watch the women get raped.<br/><br/>A few more seconds pass, and still no one is helping.<br/><br/><i>What is wrong with you people?</i><br/><br/>Thoroughly disappointed in the tavern-goers, Nemera sighs and sets the caster’s coinpurse on the bar. Querying the bartender, she wonders,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“Have you any pepper? Or perhaps cinnamon?”</span>