Where: The Crooked Fox
When: Tuesday, March 11th, 872 RoK
"Yeah, I think you might be able to help," Marcus agreed with a nod as he came to a decision, despite his reservations. It was one thing to refuse to show weakness to your enemies and try to carefully groom a specific image. It was another entirely to refuse the help of potential allies for the sake of pride, and he was being proud.
Before he could get any further into the discussion, though, a man went and bit another's ear as a light scuffle turned into an out-and-out brawl. "Gotta keep your guard up," Marcus said with a shake of his head and a sly grin, but as he watched the grin drained away. First, there was the ear, then the bite victim bit into the other man's shoulder and soon the two were both bloody messes and, as they stood, their eyes were on the rest of the bar's patrons and they looked...hungry.
"Are you shitting me?" the bandit leader muttered under his breath, getting to his feet and to Jude's side, hand on his sword hilt. "Fucking zombies?"