Furley

"Not this fool again," was all Dru could think when she realised the man they'd followed was none other than Furley. She had aided him before when he managed to get on the bad side of a less than savoury group and Ashwyneth requested her assistance. 

The time had inevitably come where Daphne was leaving Esgaroth and heading home.

"Probably ought to have made a different choice in clothing," was the thought going through Reidun's mind as she stepped in to the common room of the Prancing Pony Inn.
It was not that she had never been in a place such as this before and was unaccustomed to the smell of vomit and sweat permeating every thing in the room. (Oh, the very air did seem to be full of the stench.) No, she was very accustomed to it and hardly noticed.

It was insane. Chaotic.
The very air around was acrid.
Though with all the chaos, death and destruction around, somehow, Daphne was still fine. Everyone was still alive and so far, she'd managed to keep Furley from injury. Or, at least...he wasn't injured yet. It may not have had anything to do with her.

The moment she had gone inside, Daphne began preparing her gear. She figured that she was the expendable one. She wasn't a leader, a Commander, a Sergeant or even a merchant. "My job is to take care of him."

Somehow, Daphne had managed not to vomit, though it took most of her concentration to do so. She was vaguely aware of shouting, and she caught some words which had caused fury to rise within her again, before the feeling in her throat distracted her once again. Somehow, she was aware of a piece of paper as Furley slid it into her hand.

She didn't want to think back on it, but Daphne's mind still often turned to the events of the previous meeting. All within the Company who held any higher position were supposed to be there and most of them had been. The purpose was to sort out their plan of action after what had happened in Minas Eriol. 

Furley sat down shortly after they left, sighing as he mentioned how worn out the danger earlier had made him feel. And she, Daphne, could see that on his face as she bent to take her helmet from the ground. 

Daphne had never before been so relieved to see the Forsaken Inn. Its dismal walls were now a landmark which told her they'd made it out. She looked behind her shoulder as she released Furley's arm; whether to make sure they weren't being followed or that she wasn't carrying a detached arm, she wasn't entirely sure.

When they arrived, they'd found the Company vanguard standing amdist piles of dead goblins. Well, most were standing. Altheric had apparently been wounded, along with one or two others. But there were no deaths, which she figured was a lucky thing with so many goblins. A few conversed over the events of the fight, giving Furley details of what went on.