: Ayra :
Ayra hated coming to these places. No matter where she went, men would ogle and think themselves so high that she should just bend over for them on the spot. Pigs. Everyone of them. If it weren't for the debt she owed Marle she wouldn't be caught dead in such a place. She looks past the throng of catcalling men to where the Ranger sits in the corner. How nice it must be not to be accosted so. It seemed that most actually left him be and he seemed to like it. A part of her wonders if he enjoys watching these men pester her so. Maybe he thought it was a way to show off when he'd then escort her to his room. What these men must think at that sight. A scowl that could drain the buzz out of a bee spans her face. Humans. All such vermin. One of the men forces himself into Ayra's face. "'Ello pretty little thing. I'm sure you'd like to make a little money so why don't you come with me up to my room, eh?" Ayra rolls her eyes and replies sarcastically. "I'm sure it would be my pleasure." A cheer erupts from the men gathered round her. One of them had succeeded! Realization strikes Ayra too late. The man reaches out and grabs her arm to lead her off. Ayra's anger flares and she smashes the man's face with her staff. "Don't touch me swine." The men gathered round protest the hurting of their friend and make frantic grabs at her, subduing her and holding her against the wall. The man rises, his nose bleeding. "You little ingrate of an elf! Here I was trying to help you help me..." The man raises his hand to slap Ayra.
Marle
Marle stumbles over towards the group of drunk men at the first sign of trouble. Standing behind the leader of the throng, he waits while Ayra is pinned. The man raises his hand to strike Ayra. "*hick* Hey. Hey buddy. You wanna *hick* you wanna hear something funny." The man spins on Marle. "Get out of here you drunk buffoon." He turns once more to the girl. "Now where were we." He raises his hand. Marle seems to sober instantly. "Trust me, friend, you'll want to hear this one." The man turns to face him. "Leave now, or this girl isn't the only one who will get beat." Marle laughs at this. "I'm not sure you have enough guys." The man moves to shove Marle back. Thinking he's about to be attacked, Marle draws an arrow and stabs it through the man's hand in a single movement. The group, including Marle, stare at the arrow. "Maybe I overreacted there..." The men release the Ayra, a more important target to beat. Seeing the fight on his hands, Marle draws his short sword only to have it smacked from his hand by arrow hand. Unarmed and surrounded, Marle does the only thing he can. He pulls his sheath from his belt and uses it as a sword to fight the attackers. As one might imagine, the sheath has little effect on the group. Marle takes blow after blow but always stays free of the men's grasp. Every wound he receives seeming to heal instantly thanks to Ayra who now stands in a corner healing Marle.