Not wanting to wake the sleepers, he walked softly, choosing the closest available mat and dropped his bag at the foot. Picking up the blanket that lay at its head, he immediately felt the coarse wool it was made of and shook it out to examine it in more detail, noting its threadbare nature and the holes that were in evidence. Apparently, three silvers did not get you much in Draybourne!

He lay down and pulled the blanket over him, using his right arm to cradle his head. Despite the surroundings, Athgar was soon in a deep sleep.

The man with the scar struck down with his sword. It sliced into the Therengian's bow, cutting the string and biting into the wood, narrowly missing Athgar's fingers.

He awoke with a start, eyes wide open, his breath ragged. Taking a deep inhalation, he tried to calm his beating heart, when a sound by his feet caught his attention. The room was dark, lit only by a smattering of moonlight that trickled through the damaged shutters, but still, he saw something. In a moment of panic, he wondered if perhaps the scarred man had found him? Shaking his head, he cast his eyes back to the end of the mat to find someone stooped over his bag.

"Halt!" he cried out.

Whoever it was, gave him only a cursory glance, then made a dash across the room, Athgar's bag in hand.

"That's mine!" he yelled out, jumping to his feet.

His axe lay on the floor, left behind by the thief, and Athgar snapped it up, hurling it across the room. It missed the target, and instead dug into the wall beside the door.

The Therengian rushed in pursuit, tripping over another sleeper, sending him tumbling to the floor in the dark, face first. Striking the floor with his entire weight, he felt his nose hit wood, blood pouring forth as he struggled to stand back up.

Others in the room began yelling, awoken by all the commotion. Athgar looked to the door, but the perpetrator was long gone, all his belongings now lost to him. Stumbling to the door, still dizzy from his fall, the room felt slanted, and he had to reach out, steadying himself against the wall.

"What's going on here?" came a cry from the hallway.

Athgar looked over to see the man from the entranceway, his cudgel held in his right hand, the head tapping against his left palm.

"Someone stole my bag," the Therengian managed to spit out.

"What's that?" the man asked, pointing to the axe, still embedded in the wall.

"My axe," responded Athgar, "I was trying to stop him."

"By killing him? That's attempted murder!"

"He was taking my things!" Athgar objected.

"Out!" the man shouted. "And don't set foot here again, or I'll call the guard."

"But it wasn't my fault!"