Terran pushed into the inn, helping Jace to walk, after Jay was already inside.  It was a quiet establishment, to say the least.  A woman sat by the fire messing with manuscripts.  He helped Jace over to the fire and sat her down, with a nod for the woman.  "Miss."<br/><br/>The barkeep was a thin, tall man with a dense thatch of black hair and a rather ruddy complexion.  He was sitting behind the bar on a stool and nodded at the newcomers.  "Welcome to the Running Fox.  What can I do for you."  He stood stiffly and limped up to the bar.  His knuckles and forearms bore scars which spoke of a past as a mercenary or a soldier.  He had hooded black eyes and thick lips.  Overall Terran liked the look of the man.  Like his inn, he looked solid and dependable, though dangerous as Hell.<br/><br/>Terran approached the bar.  We'd like some rooms for the night, if they are not to precious, and a meal and some ale.  We've come a long way and some comfort would be welcome."<br/><br/>The barkeep mentioned a price which was steep, but not unreasonable.  "Me Meg's got on a pot of shepard's stew.  Got some real meat in it, it does.  As for ale, mine's the finest you'll find in the Citadel.  As around."  Terran doubted the last statement, considering how quiet the inn was, but the smell of the cooking stew was tempting enough, and he had drank many horrid brews over the years and could do so again if need be.<br/><br/>They agreed upon a price and shook.  Despite his slender frame and limp, the man had a grip like steel, denoting a swordsman.  Terran noticed an old campaign blade above the fireplace and assumed it had seen the man through many adventures.  He returned to the fire and sat down by Jace.