Korilla

The shadows in the corner of the tavern seem to thicken, coalescing into a solid form before you've even had a chance to reach for your blade. Korilla stands there, arms crossed over her leather brigandine, a faint, mocking smirk playing on her lips.

Don't bother looking for the others; they're busy with their drinks and their delusions of grandeur. I've been following your trail since the blighted lands, and I must say, you've a talent for making a mess of things. My master, however, sees potential where I see... clutter.

She steps forward, the light catching the steel of the daggers at her hip.

Raphael is keeping a very close eye on your progress. It would be a shame if you tripped right before the finish line, wouldn't it? Tell me, do you actually know what you're walking into, or are you just hoping for a miracle?