The two started down a Cobblestone street. It was dusty from the pounding of hooves and boots. The sun still made it's way in despite the tall walls and the remaining towers. The buildings were tall but not as tall as they were so long ago before that day. They didn't have the same shine, Yervok observed. The people running up and down the street themselves seemed a bit dusty. Some wore faded dresses and trousers. A few wore new clothes and jewelry. The typical mixture of rich and poor. A few children raced each other along the side of the street as horses trotted through it. A few men were carrying boxes and crates. Yervok eyed Tirj who kept his eye on the people.
Out of the corner of his eye Yervok noticed a man wearing the grey cloths of a woodsman and a grey hood with a dark bird stitched on the side. He wasn't like the angel Yervok saw so many years ago, he didn't have the same aura. Besides this one wore a crimson sash and had no wings. Yervok suddenly spotted two more. Something was up. But Tirj took his attention. "Yervok, we shall have to lower ourselves for the meanwhile and take refuge at a tavern." An annoyed look was apparent on Tirjs face as if he knew another option he could take instead. Yervok could of swore Tirj mumble that he was getting tired of this but Yervok dismissed it when a old woman accidentally bumped into him. Yervok glared at her with his Ivey eyes. She looked up a sign of fright was laced in her glance.
She glanced into Yervoks eyes and she saw fire. She took a few steps back then turn and ran as fast as she could. A sensation of fright enveloping her. Yervok shrugged then the two started to walk again. Along the way to the tavern called "The Brass Pig" Yervok spotted two more of the crimson sashed men. Tirj eyed them carefully. As if he knew who they were.
Yervok felt watched as the two passed through the old wooden doors to the tavern. As soon as they entered the mixed scent of alcohol and dirt filled the air. Patrons sat scattered a few at each table save a bundle. It wasn't really busy. Their was a large bar with a almost as large bar man behind it. He wore stylish garmets and boasted a pencil thin mustache and goatee. Tirj grumbled unpleasingly to himself as he walked up to the man, Yervok tailing behind, examining the patrons.