[Serra Britt]

Feenai was just about ready to order when the woman in the red cloak thrust a bleeding man practically onto Jeanne's lap. She hadn't even finished processing that when more people came into the tavern, a very old looking man and a a grey haired man that didn't look nearly as old as his hair suggested. She felt some severe pressure on her mental shields, despite her practice. At least two of the newcomers were psychics, but she couldn't tell more than that without dropping her own shields and she didn't dare do that with all the commotion. Already the pain from the bleeding man was leaking into her mind, and it felt far more horrible than it looked.

Putting as much as she could into keeping the shields up, Feenai stood and moved over to Jeanne. "John, just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you."