The armored man's head wound seemed all at once to soften to the pink color of healing flesh, as if time sped and days of natural healing passed by in moments. The man's head rolled about on its shoulders, his dark cape padding his cheeks against the armor plates beneath somewhat. He groaned and mumbled unintelligibly in a manner typical of those who've been out cold. Randal's inspection would suggest that though the man was not good as new, he had been and was stable.<br/><br/>The two worthies carrying him sent their heavy companion down upon one of the benches against a wall (a contemplative town cobbler having hastily surrendered it).<br/><br/>The probably wizardess or sorceress nearer Arivel tossed her hair back with a smile. "You may look all you like, goodsir Durvesh, and employ whatever talents you deign beseeched." She gestured to the wounded man, albeit in a way, hips cocking and breasts lifting under the gesturing arm, which counterproductively served to bring the attention of the aforementioned cobbler and several other townsfolk back towards her.<br/><br/>The man who'd been carrying the other answered Randal, "Aha, our thanks! Priests are such a boon - woe that 'twas<em>ours</em>here who went down," he gestured to the blonde man, "...who's the only one among us! Once he comes to he has a few spells of his own, if ye need to conserve your own." He swept an arm about in an arc past the sundry onlookers, cape swishing, finally answering Randal's question with an address to the group - theatrically, almost, despite the recent plight of his fellow, "What has happened, you ask? I might more succinctly answer, what<em>hasn't?</em>Yours truly heard tell in Arabel of a copper dragon roosting none too far north, for whom we set out seeking advice, trade - magic of use to us in exchange for coin  aplenty for its bedding, hey? - and..."<br/><br/>The redhead twin to Arival's addressor interjected, "...and magical erudition..."<br/><br/>"...and that. Even saw it flying overhead as we got close, and were able to get its attention with a little light-magic. Turns out, 'twas no copper at all, but a green! A grotesquely greedy green at that. Demanded a tithe of all we carried down to our skivvies, and when my friend here begged to differ, it set upon us, knocking us about with limb and wing and tail."<br/><br/>~~<br/><br/>The fellow with the Tymoran symbol flicked his eyes down the hall at what he heard, but he seemed, if anything for it, more eager to get Cecily's attention, "Two-faced, hmm? I cannot disagree, to be sure, but what doesn't? Every coin in your pocket, for starters," he flipped a silver piece and palmed it, smiling as it came down heads up, "If I may make a personal observation, you seem - bored? wasted even - in such a cloistering place as this. If you would entertain an audience with me in a slightly more less-overheard setting," he glanced down the hall again, and with his head indicated a townswoman passing by to go gawk at the noise, "I will confess I am not here to poach Lathanderi faithful - not<em>only</em>that, at any rate - but am looking for those who might in turn entertain certain jobs and offers." He flipped the silver piece again, but this time away from himself and toward one of Cecily's hands.<br/>