<strong>Cayden's Hall</strong><br/>As she enters the front room of the alehouse, Shiloh's senses rail at the assault of so many stimuli.  Easily the most people she's seen in a room this small, she finds the lack of personal space distasteful, but tolerable.  Unarmored, but armed, she carries herself with a casual grace that hints at discipline over time-- time, perhaps, too long for the young woman's apparent years.   She stops in her tracks when the bouncer lifts his hand to stop her.  Their conversation is brief, but inaudible, and the young woman in the linen shirt seems unperturbed.  She forfeits a slew of weapons, one at a time, producing blades from places that few would expect.<br/>Despite her air of annoyance, she manages a smile-- heartwarming, perhaps, but a little surprising too in light of her cold confidence.  She makes her way to the bar, where she sits and orders softly, studying the patrons with the lazy interest one might expect.  She's pretty, but showing no interest in trying to look that way.