A wretched hand made a grab for him as Wynde tumbled out of the way, accidentally knocking into a large hairy man with terrible facial deformities. "Bloody fool," he scolded himself, "Now you'll get it."

The big man stood up, somewhat bleary eyed from too much ale and not enough sleep. "'Oo di' tha'?! Oo 'it meh?!" he screamed. His words were slurred and had an accent to them, making them had to understand, but sound all the more threatening. In drunken rage, he picked up a table and was about to throw it, but lost his balance instead. The hairy man crushed a gnome in the process of returning to his staggering feet, as the table he still clutched took more casualties.

The withered fingers found Wynde again. A sharp, hissing voice spat in his ear, "No one will notice if you die here..."

Ears twitching all the while, Pheonix was watching these events unfold as she silently sat with her drink. She had been thinking about how long it has been since she'd visited these lands, but her thoughts were distrupted by what appeared to be a fight. -Bloody drunks. Always gotta start something.- She winced as the tabel-turned-weapon took down anyone in the way, innocent bystander and would-be brawlers alike. Any other day, Pheonix would have minded her own business and not get involvoed in someone else's fight. But at the now possiblity of outright murder, Pheonix instincts failed her and her human sense of moral took over.

Dodging broken tables, and even more broken people, Pheonix made her way to where the whole commotion first started. Taken her staff from behind her back, she leaned upon it, two-colored eyes focused on the two. Pheonix did not draw her sword, not yet.

"You should take a better look at your surroundings, before assuming that what you're doing remains unseen."

She addressed the ill-mannered man, not seeming to be afraid of the fact that she, possibly, could quickly have the man's anger turned on her.

Amtyo dodged out of the way, nearly getting hit by the giant. He fell over, and a chair fell on top of him. Fools! He fumbled around, trying to get up. Come on, Amtyo, heal! He failed twice, and on the third time, he healed. He stood up and looked around. The other young man was causing quite an ordeal. Amtyo groaned.

Wynde felt the grasp on his neck loose as his attacker turned to face the woman. Strength returning, he turned the moments confusion to his advantage. Wynde shot to his feet and attempted a shot at the wretched man's temple. A knife beat him to it.

Pheonix stepped forward and knocked the drunk man over the head with her staff, once. Boredly poking him with the end of her staff, Pheonix wanted to make sure he was unconcious for at least a little while.

"Hey ... you alright?"

Though she was still staring at the man passed out on the floor, Pheonix directed the question towards Wynde.

"I am well." In the confusion, Wynde hadn't seen where the knife had come from, but that it was now buried in the wretched man's withered flesh. Though gnarled and small, the man had possesed the might of many a crazed beast. He noticed that the large drunk now lay on the floor amidst the broken pieces of the table. "Thank you, good mistress. I do not belive I would have lasted much longer beneath a grip such as his." He nodded toward the dead man, then set to rubbing his own reddened and painful neck.

Now seeing him on the floor, Pheonix noticed the knife. She wondered where it had come from. Personally, she wouldn't have killed the man, but someone appearantly had other ideas. Oh,well. It wasn't really much of Pheonix's business, she supposed. Since there was nothing else to be done about te now-dead man, Pheonix turned her attentions elsewhere.

"Eh. don't worry about it. I needed the amusement anyways."

Ears flicking back and forth, Pheonix placed her staff behind her back. Not caring to use it anymore.

"The name's Pheonix."

"Most call me Wynde." A friendly smile crept across his lips. The smile faded as his eyes darted about the room, surveying the damages. "It would probably be in our best interest to leave before the owner of this tavern hails a soldier." he said quickly. Then in a hushed voice, "I don't want to be found when the source of that dagger quiets the soldier, either."

"Aye ... that might be a good idea."

Truthfully, Pheonix wasn't too worried about the possible appearence of a soldier. But she was worried that whoever had thrown that knife in the first place, wouldn't take kindly to anymore interuption, and might be tempted to kill again. Pheonix was one who didn't like seeing innocent people get hurt; much less killed.

"Still, I wonder who threw that there dagger anyways."