The tavern on the edge of the wilds was the perfect place to blend in, at least for Imenry. Here she was just another hired sword, such as she preferred, tucking into a corner of the smoky bar, alone at a rickety wooden table. Her sword was at her side, the Claymore sheathed and leaning against the wall within less than an arm's reach from her person and her back slung over the back of her chair.
The room was dim, lit only by lantern light that struggled through smoke-stained glass. There was a fire on the fire side of the room, unnecessary for the heat, but used for cooking. It was stuffy in the room and smelt of ale and body odor. Imenry shifted in her seat, hand closing around the mug on her table to raid to her lips. A ring of condensation stained the dark wood table top and she traced a finger idly through the moisture as her pale eyes scanned the area. She liked to always be aware of who was around her.
The newcomer had drawn her attention, from the confident way he walked to the fall of damp hair across his forehead. Her eyes drifted down to the hilt of the sword at his hip. She flicked her gaze away and over at the rowdy group in the corner. She rolled her eyes and tilted her head, neck cracking slightly as she rubbed idly at one shoulder.
She was clothed more simply than others, preferring lightweight traveling clothes to the armor that other warriors wore. It offered less protection, but it didn't attract any more attention than her immense sword already did. She wore a light linen top of white, beneath a dark green corseted top that was unlaced slightly against the heat permeating the bar. Her pants and boots were both brown leather, though the boots she'd obviously had a lot longer, worn and scarred with a grey fur lining.
When the tavern wench made a pass through the room she signaled for a refill. The ale was all she was looking for at the moment, as she'd had a good catch earlier on the road, and roasted rabbit for a meal. Out the one dingy window she could see the sky, which was darkening and full of clouds. It would rain soon and she wondered if she could wait it out in here. Not that weather would impede her long if she chose to leave.
The discussion rolled around her as more ale was poured into her mug and the thunder outside began to rumble. Some others around murmured about leaving before the storm picked up and a few filtered out. Imenry leaned back in her chair again, her eyes lidded slightly. To the casual observer she might look bored, or even tired, but she was on high alert. There was nothing in the room that she couldn’t see. For the moment she simply observed.