Mordaky ordered a meal of the onion squirrel soup, not wanting to sleep on an empty stomach, and just had a cup of water with it. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring but he hoped he could get to know this lot a little better, after all he may be fighting for his life in this Grey, or was it the Mournland? It usually wasn't a good thing when a place had more than one name, at least in his own mind that built up the mystery, and possibly spoke of it's dangers. He was glad to have his blade, and his armor, but would they be enough?
Upon finishing his meal Mordaky retired to the room and found a bunk among the others, having opted to not get a private chamber. He doffed his armor and cleaned it and his blade, then set out his clothes at the foot of the blade, his boots on the floor next to him, and then tried to get some sleep, despite his nerves. "One, two, seven, winner" he repeated softly to himself, a habit he'd picked up after a particularly vivid dream seemed to foretell a win on the dice in the past, just one of his many gamblers superstitions.