Chapter 1: The Prophesy

"Thank you. For the hospitality and the rescue. I was beginning to believe I would waste away to death in that place." Baenroth enters the room assigned to him and takes up a lotus position on the bed, and his eyes glaze over, ancestral memories of the last 300 years playing out before his eyes in dreamlike fashion.

Darastrix sluggishly suns himself in the morning grateful for the heat.

Corelief mentions, Perhaps something eat before we rest would be good. Prison hasn't been kind to us.

Rolling

Baenroth, hearing the muffled conversation, but not wanting to disturb it in case it had something to do with he and his fellows, listened in quietly from within his room.

Perception check.

"I would have figured the elf could gracefully eavesdrop better too, but I suppose it's going to be one of those days." Baenroth follows the gnome to wherever they are going. "Out of curiosity, you wouldn't happen to have some incense, charcoal and herbs to spare and a brass brazier I could borrow for an hour would you?"

Darastrix turns off his bionic hearing and joins the others in the other room with the gnome.

"Hello Frieda, Eldrina. I don't remember you Frieda but the prison was large and they did not let us mingle."

You don't, huh? I guess your dance card must have been filled. I don't remember buying tickets to that shitshow, but I figured it'd be rude to complain to the hosts. Tell ya what, Scales, when we're chained up at the next ice cream social, I'll do my best to get to you when I make my rounds.

"Ah, lady Eldrina! You made it out alive! I am glad to see that. Thank you again for the rescue. We would still be rotting there without you." Baenroth's face beams as he makes a bow of respect to Eldrina. "And Miss Frieda, pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Baenroth Filanthir. I assume you will be joining us on whatever missions we are given?"

Well, let me take a look there, stretch, Frieda says, looking up at Baenroth with a smirk. She makes a big show of pulling an invisible notebook out of her nonexistent pocket and begins flipping through the pages. Left already, she mutters, flipping a page. No sleeper car on that one. Flip. No in-coach meal? Pass. Flip. Two layovers. Nope. She looks back up at Baenroth. Looks like yours is the only coach in town, options being limited as they are, so yeah. Looks like I'm joining you. Brilliant deduction. She turns her back and fills a plate with food, scarfing down enough for someone twice her size.