Part 8: New Company

Gilly rolls her eyes as Elmo kicks up his fuss. Still, it seems like they might be in need of the old loon before long. And his tongue might loosen after a few drinks. She tries to give "come on" eyes to Mal before she heads over.

She climbs up beside the soon-to-be-drunk.

"Gnolls this time, Elmo. Gnolls. They took the wizard’s fancy dagger. You saw it, didn’t you? He’s still sore about it. Speaking of the wizard…" she paused for a moment. To tell the drunkard what happened, or not?

"… he…" another pause. "… found another magician wandering around here. Are yous setting up a wizard academy that I don’t know about?" a chuckle to cover the earlier hesitation.

"And tell me, what is that this family of adventurers is up to now? Looking for work or are they currently employed? I trust you’ve heard about this gnolls on the prowl. Probably come face to face with them, being in such esteemed company."

There’s no mocking tone or triviality in her voice. She’s light, and bubbly, but totally serious. A close knit group of travelers is nothing to sniff at!

As Eltrezar looks over the new dwarf, his eyelids begin to droop. The long day had taken a toll on his old frame, and his belly full of chicken and ale were quickly rushing him towards exhaustion. Hrmph! "Well, I do believe it is time to rest. I shall speak with the druid come the morning, and plan to meet back at the stables before noon. Mal, if you could handle the hiring. And perhaps see if Gilly can see to acquiring a cart. But that... all..." YAAAWWWNNN Without waiting for a reply, he rises from the table and shuffles off to his rented bed.

"I do believe we are dismantling a nearby cult, though I could propose a fight against these gnolls." He puffs out his chest. "Of course I've heard of the gnolls around here, I've just been too busy to take them on myself. Plenty of work to do in the nearby ruins. Cults and all that."

'What the heck is a gnoll?' is all he can think to himself.

Sensing an end to the proceedings, Gilly pushes off from stool, and salutes everyone goodnight. Though she has lodgings off her own, she plans to follow through on her idea to watch over Bors.

Well… watch over might be a strong way to describe what she will do. Sleep in the chair and hope she wakes up at the sound of an intruder coming. She hadn’t fully shaken the fear, though the few pints had certainly curbed it.

Thurig rolls his eyes imperceptibly at Elmo as he makes his way to a table. Humans could never hold their liquor it seemed to him. The dwarf orders a mountain of bacon and potatoes as well as a larger flagon of ale for breakfast and preemptively orders the same for Mal who follows a few places behind.

After a night of deep, uninterrupted sleep, Eltrezar shuffles his way down the stairs into the common room. He didn't sleep as much as he did in his youth, but that just gave him more time for study and contemplation. His mind is still buzzing with the spell he had rememorized as he finds Thurig and Elmo in the room. He orders a dark tea and some eggs for his breakfast before sitting down with the dwarf. Elmo was Mal's problem, not his.

The wizard looks over his new companion several times while waiting for his food. Every so often he opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly shuts it with a contemplative look on his face. Hrmph!

Mal claps Thurig on the shoulder as he orders her breakfast for her. Elmo was his usual oafish self it seemed and Mal was glad they hadn't tried to hire the drunk. Not only did she flat out not trust the man but she was beginning to harbor thoughts of violence towards him and that was seriously impeding on her greater sense of morality.

"Anyone else you think we might speak to before we leave Eltrezar? Gilly?"

Still in his giant bed, still smelling strongly of soap, Luban snores away.

Mal scowls at Elmo and puts a hand on Gilly's shoulder as though she might fly away.

"Gilly is a free woman and though I do not speak for her I would not leave her alone with one as drunk as you. We are about serious business sir, commanded so by the God of this towns church, Saint Cuthbert."

Thurig's icy stare is his only offer to the drunk and feeling the anger of Mal's words he casually lets his hand fall beneath the table to rest upon the hilt of his weapon.

"I pity that man, and I worry about his well-being" says the dwarf as she returns to her breakfast.

"I'm sorry if I spoke on your behalf Gilly, I didn't like his candor."

Gilly sat at the stool, picking over the cold bacon and bundling it inside the buttered slice of bread that had only one bite taken out of it thus far.

She had sat, silent, like a child stuck between two fighting parents.

With the final comment from Maloria, she shrugs:

"Wonder what he wanted. Coin, I suppose, for a day’s work."

Gilly didn’t much like the man, but she didn’t much mind him either. Not when it saved her a few coins on breakfast and beer at any rate. Though she would be slow to invite any more folk along on their missions, deadly as they were proving to be. Especially not one so integral to the village’s security as Elmo.

"Is he one of yours?" Ora says by way of morning greeting.

"The one tossing and turning in his sleep last night. Loud enough to wake the dead, that one. What’s wrong with him?" meaning Bors. She asks anyone willing to answer.

Eltrezar looks to Spugnoir and then back to the group. Even though the newcomer asked a question, Eltrezar doesn't seem to notice. Ahem! "I suppose we should invite the young man over there. He was insistent on entering the moathouse, and claims to be a magister such as myself. I cannot tell you how invaluable we arcanists are to the exploration and survival of and in the most house. And also, he asks only for the scrolls we find."

Mal nods to Eltrezar that she agrees with his assessment and then turns to answer the newcomer.

"Aye, that would be Bors, a great warrior and friend of ours. We were attacked by dead men in the bowels of the moathouse and though Bors fought bravely he was struck down."

Mal tends to her breakfast for a moment before sheepishly returning to the conversation.

"We seek to stop a great evil from spreading there and could use all the help we can get..."

As if summoned by his name, or by the opportunity to verbally poke Eltrezar, Bors speaks up from the nearest entryway. "More valuable as a knife thrower and retreater than an arcanist, in my opinion." To Mal he says, "Aye struck down, but not dead! I take that as a sign maybe it wasn't meant to be. Even though I can stand I doubt it will be for very long without further recovery. These wounds may hobble me my entire life. Like an arrow to the knee. Best if I hang up my sword...well if I still had my sword. If you are going back to the Moathouse please retrieve that for me. I'd like to have something to remind me of my old life besides scars."