If the group noticed Arran watching they payed him no mind. Now that he could observe them more he could easily see how out of place they looked in town. Two, one man and woman, were much darker skinned and the other two had tans that would mark than as laborers. However they were betting silvers to each other without caring about the amount. Each one had scars on every inch of exposed skin, though that skin was almost entirely on their faces.<br/><br/>They each ha a light weapon, though Arran could see an empty quiver on the belt or leg of each along with another belt that had buckles to hold something else. Most were in heavy leathers, though one of the women had a shirt of chain mail on as well. Their armor was also not similar in the slightest. Each had a different design and had quite a few obvious personal touches that would not be allowed in any sort of military setting.<br/><br/>After a few minutes the tallest man, a red haired fellow, laughed and got up for the table. "Next round's on me." It seemed like he was the one who won the last hand of whatever game they were playing. He walked over near Arran, who's food had just arrived, and started talking to the barkeep who was visually annoyed at speaking with the man.<br/><br/>"So I need another round. How've things in town been going?"<br/><br/>"Fine."<br/><br/>"Oh, come now. That's hardly a way to hold a conversation."<br/><br/>"..." The proprietor just gave him a withering look and went to re-filling the mugs.