Part 8: New Company

Feeling battered and broken, Mal breathes a heavy sigh as she answers the stable hand.

"We will indeed, thank you. Please see that they are fed and brushed."

Mal flips the lad a gold coin as a tip and climbs down out of the saddle. She pulls her belongings off of the horse and helps to lift Bors down as well. While she labors a short, wide, armor-clad figure clanks it's way over to her from where it was standing near the entrance to the inn. Mal turns to see who approaches and is surprised to see a familiar face.

A dwarf who looks very much as scarred and craggy as the mountains he came from stands before Mal and nods slightly. His greeting is brief and his expression is grim.

"Mal. Been a while."

He moves to help the cleric with the handling of her comatose companion without changing his expression at all.

"Finished the work on Hillholm Chapel two weeks ago. Heard you were here and came to find you."

Mal accepts the dwarf's help with Bors gratefully and seems pleased to see him, if not a bit somber.

"Hello Thurig, you seem well enough. Good to hear about Hillholm, there is plenty to be done in Hommlet as well. I hope you brought your sword.

"Aye, always" replies Thurig and without another word between them the two begin the work of carrying Bors into the inn to find him a bed.

The wizard had been silent along the journey back. He could feel the disappointment from the Halfling he had considered a friend weighing on his shoulders, and burning into his back. Still, he rode upright and took the lead. As they departed the moathouse, he kept an eye out for any feature that could be considered "Two Trees." '...or was it three?'

---

A collective sigh of relief is released when the party finally halts outside the tavern. It had only been a few days that they had all known each other, but those days had been a whirlwind. All Eltrezar wanted was an ale and some chicken. Dry. Unseasoned. He craved some hard cheese, but it was undignified for a magister of his caliber to get gassy. He hands the reins to the stablehand before heading inside. 'All business to attend to will have to wait until tomorrow.' He orders an ale and plate of food for himself, and another two pints for his companions. He stiffens his back when he notices the whole room paying close attention to the wizard who had proven himself strangely adept at survival when so many others had not.

Life had not recently treated Luban well. Actually, life had never treated him well. Inside the Welcome Wench sat the half-orc ne'er-do-well, rubbing the luster off a single gold coin. Whatever face had once adorned the coin was long forgotten. He had been in some tight spots, but this coin had been far more loyal than any folks. Sitting in silence with an empty table before him, Luban weighs his options. This wouldn't be the first time he had collected empty pints and pretended to be passed out drunk just to have a place to sleep. It wouldn't be the last time.

But that was before He arrived. The door to the tavern opens, and an older, bearded fellow entered. Luban pays close attention as the man orders food and several rounds with a heavy purse; his clothing and stride marked him as someone more important than the locals slowly dying in this room. Thoughts flood through Luban's mind, plans that could work as well as plans that definitely wouldn't work. One key theme was that luck was involved in each, and luck was something he could not rely on.

Finally, Luban decides to ask for work, no matter how trivial or demeaning. He has a whole speech prepared, one with plenty of groveling. Humans loved seeing a half-blood grovel. He takes some dirt and rubs it into his face before rising from the table and approaching the man. And after saying a single word, he receives a hand of silence and a glare full of daggers. Without the same confidence he had upon his approach, Luban returns to his seat; his belly threatens to start a mutiny if its demands are not met soon.

Just behind the wizard, Mal and Thurig enter the inn carrying Bors by both ends. Mal nods to the innkeeper and sets Bors on the floor to reach for her purse.

"We'll need rooms, food, and ale if ya please. Anyone around here ya know is lookin' for work?"

Upon seeing the dwarf enter the tavern and order food and, to a secondary degree, ask for work, Luban nearly leaps out of his chair. He quickly scrubs the dirt from his face (likely ineffectively), and grabs an empty tankard from another table. He moves quickly to the pair of dwarves, slowing at the last moment to not appear desperate. "If yer lookin' for work, look no further! Mayhaps we talk terms and needs over an ale?" He holds the empty tankard before him, a slight wiggle in his eyebrows to suggest they purchase the drink.

It is yet another stroke of bad luck, perhaps, that Luban be one of the few in all of Hommlet to not know of the group's growing deadly reputation.

Mal looks the scraggly fellow up and down and holds up a hand,

"You're lookin' for work you got it, but we're gonna get this man a bed first. We can talk after."

Luban nods at the reasonable statement. Inviting himself to carry the particularly tired warrior would likely be too much, as they didn't yet know or trust him. A loud grumble from his belly interrupts his train of thought, and he meekly returns to his table.

Mal and Thurig carry Bors up stairs to his room and remove the fighters armor so that he can rest. A short time later the pair returns to the taproom to where their food is waiting. Mal, not being completely without empathy, orders an extra chicken and ale for the obviously starving man she intends to hire. Once the sound of the man's stomach is quieted enough to hear over she fixes him with an icey stare and begins to question.

"We aim to rid this land of a cult, the members of which are secreted away within the township as well as the ruined keep down the road. I won't lie, many have died in this glorious pursuit. We need people with courage and skill, how are you with a bow?"

Thurig keeps his eyes on Mal as she speaks, almost as though she were interviewing him as well. Though the two dwarves were kin the events that led to their exodus from the mines of their homeland had strained their relationship. Thurig had always admired his cousin and sought her approval now more than ever, but the broken dwarf could not look at her without seeing the past.

Mal lowers her head and speaks with a somber tone.

"Kobort and Turuko fought bravely, but they were taken by the living dead in the crypts below the keep. The evil men responsible for raising those dead men will pay dearly. We were able to send those blights back to hell, but the cost was high."

Mal is unconcerned with the opinion of the bar man, she says these things more to make sense of them herself.

"They died in service of Saint Cuthbert and the church, their souls will bask in the glory of heaven eternal."

Gilly finds her way to the ale that the wizard had bought. She accepts it, though she can’t bring herself to truly acknowledge the act either. She sinks deep when the cleric talks about service and glory and heaven.

She stays quiet. He cheeks feel flush and red. Big talk for what amounted to butchery in the dark. And not for the first time. Nor even the second, Gilly didn’t think. She couldn’t quiet remember. They hadn’t even gotten Bors out of his bloody tunic, before they had hired another poor sod to take his place.

She wondered if it was safe to sleep in the village tonight. Maybe tonight would be okay. Maybe even tomorrow. They might even thank her for bringing an old half Orc down into the ruins to be butchered. But how many more would they village be willing to see fed into the old place? If Elmo fell, would they stick a knife in the old wizard’s back in retaliation? Should they? Would they be justified in it? Had the ruins caused more death for the village, or had the merry band she had fallen in with? What would Sister Alice think of another plunge into the darkness?

She drinks the ale down, and then silently slides off the stool to go and tend to Bors in what small way she can.

"I've been known to shoot the bedbugs with arrows in many-an-inn. Hopefully not this one! But I would be more than happy to pledge my bow to your cause... for a share." Luban puffs out his chest in an attempt to sound convincing, but it's likely Mal can see through the bravado. This is just a man with some talents desperate for pay.

Mal is momentarily distracted by Gilly's sullen silence and watches her as she leaves the table and heads upstairs. She turns back to the stranger and nods as though she were following his statement all along.

"An equal share for all involved. I'm Maloria Stoneforge, this is my cousin Thurig Stonehearth, and the wizard there is Master Eltrezar. Gilly is the halfling who just left, what praytell is your name sir?"

The scraggly man doesn't seem to notice her distraction, likely not a good sign. "They call me Luban the... well, Luban. It is a pleasure to meet you, Maloria Stormforge. When do you plan on departing next?" His hand moves to a notably flat pocket, and he begins rubbing that single coin yet again.

"Pleased to meet you Luban, call me Mal. We need a day to handle business in town but then I expect we shall head out right after."

Mal fishes ten gold coins out of her pouch and hands them over to the narrow fellow,

"I can see that you haven't eaten in a while, take this and have your fill. No good to us if you faint from hunger on the ride over."

Eltrezar wipes the foam that was building on his as-of-late unmaintained mustaches. The ale did little to calm his nerves, though he had always had a soft spot for other spirits. He watches as Gilly accepts her ale, takes a sip, and sets off in the direction of the warrior. Looking around the room, he spies Mal speaking with that some half-orc who had approached him earlier, likely looking for spare coin. She seemed as disinterested as he had. He also notices the man who seemed to be watching him. Eltrezar was in no mood for subtleties today. He moves in.

Holding his mug of ale and "accidentally" letting a view of his daggers slip through, he approaches the man with the book. Hrmph! "I couldn't help but notice your interest in me and mine. What is it a humble old man can do for you, master..." The last part of his question was clearly fishing for a name.

Ten gold richer and with a plate of food on the way, Luban nearly jumps for joy at the change in his luck. He manages, only just, to keep himself under control. Instead, he thanks the dwarf for the money, food, and opportunity. "You shant regret this, Mistress Stoneforge. I'll earn my share, and then some!"

"I trust you will. Where are you staying while in town?"

Pulling out a single coin, he says, "I guess here, now. Would have been the stables." He gives a little wink to play it off as a joke.

"No shame in humble provisions. Takes grit to make it through the darkness and you'll need plenty of it in the days to come."

Mal upends her tankard and orders another.

Thurig stays quiet but tamps his mug twice in salute to the sentiment and downs his ale as well. The scarred dwarf holds up two fingers in addition to Mal's order.

Gilly washes up when she enters, to ensure Bors continued survival. Her mind turned to the townspeople again, and how they must think the group was in league with whomever was out in the keep causing trouble.

And then her mind turned specifically to the folk in town who she suspected were, in fact, in leave with said forces. She instinctively reached for her sword, and made sure it was on-hand. She wondered if she might spend the night beside Bors, asleep in the chair beside the bed.

He made an easy target by himself.

While unconscious, Bors mutters in his sleep. Most of it is unintelligible, but Gilly can make out a few phrases such as, "...Wizard useless...master of escape spells...my sword...aaaarrrgghhg."

Mal can't help but overhear Eltrezar's confrontational conversation with the stranger in the taproom and keeps an eye on the pair from her table. She subtly taps the table twice with her finger to get Thurig's attention on the matter.

Thurig immediately picks up on Maloria's signal and leans forward towards the table to put himself in a more actionable position should things get ugly...

"Master of escape, that’s for certain. Not so sure about the spells, Bors." she says to the now silent room.

Still, his spoken words put her mind at ease for now. She pats the long-legs on the back of his hand, and stands up.

"Rest." she says, before heading for the door. Maloria would want to know that he had spoken, at least.

Eltrezar sputters for a moment. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but a fellow student of the arcane arts? This was unbelievable! And he looked so young... Hrmph! "Yes, you have heard correctly about my knowledge of the arcane and topics thereof. Spugnoir, you seem nervous. Let us speak elsewhere, somewhere the walls are not littered with ears." The wizard rises and hustles to Maloria and her rough looking friend for a moment, asking in a whisper where Bors and Gilly were waiting? Ahem. "I do not suspect any troubles, but perhaps he can give us some answers or direction."

Assuming Mal tells Eltrezar which room, he heads off in that direction. After all, his short friend (he refused to give her another title) would be adequate protection should things turn more... nefarious.

Luban happily moves to find Ostler in order to rent a room. He places a few coins on the table, asking for the largest and nicest suite in the place. It is no wonder he has spent many-a-night sleeping in stables or on barroom floors.

Mal looks at Eltrezar and then at the stranger and points towards the stairs.

"He's in the private room. I'll come with you."

Mal holds a hand, palm down, close to the table and Thurig nods that he understands. She then rises to lead Eltrezar and the newcomer to Bors's room.

Eltrezar nods at Mal, then waves for Spugnoir to follow the two of them.

Gilly meets them on the landing, just as she exits the room. Seeing so many come together, she steps back and re-enters the man’s room and resumes her seat.

Hrmph! "Ah, I see. Perhaps I misunderstood what was occuring. Yes, of course we can retire to your chambers for the time. Next time you should be more clear. After you, then."

Mal shrugs and returns to the taproom.

Gilly finds her way downstairs and through the night’s patrons of the inn. She clambers up on to the chair beside Mal, and looks up at her. It’s the first time in hours that she’s looked up at any of her companions.

"He…" meaning Bors "…muttered something about the wizard’s magic in his sleep. I don’t think he’s too impressed." a smile crosses her face.

Mal snorts halfway through a swing of ale and foam blows out her nose.

"So at least his wisecracker's not broken! Haha!"

Mal can tell the last trip to the Moathouse took a heavy toll on the Halfling and she puts a rough hand on Gilly's shoulder. She tries to think of something inspirational to say and realizes just what a heavy toll it's taken on herself as well.

"I trust only you Gilly. And maybe this lunk here,"

Mal jerks a thumb towards Thurig who grunts in return,

"We are trying to do something good down there, something heroic. I understand if you have to go, but selfishly I need your support down there. We gotta stick together."

Thurig tamps his mug on the table in agreement, keeping his eyes on his ale.

"But we could take a break... What if we gather a possy and run down those gnolls who robbed us? That sound like a good in-between?"

Gilly smiles awkwardly as the plea to stay is made, with a hand on her shoulder.

"It’s not me you need to ask about staying together. It’s… you know who. I stayed down there in the dark with you and Bors. You didn’t hear the sounds…"

Then she shrugs. Shrugs away the thoughts, and in response to the question of what to do next.

"If we delay too long, then there’ll be more waiting for us when we go back…"

But she had to admit that she liked the sound of being outdoors for a while. Grass under her feet instead of old stone.

"That's a good point, perhaps we should keep the pressure on while we have some headway."

"Not that I wouldn’t love to stay away from that place. And we haven’t found much to pay for all the blood…"

She looks to where the wizard went upstairs.

"Reckon he’d like to chase them down and all. Not my decision, really." she says with a shrug.

Ora Rusk pulls her cloak tight around herself to keep out the chill that comes with later in the day. She passes under the gate of the village just before they bar the way for the night. She keeps her hood up as she winds the streets of the village and takes in the sights and smells of the place.

Hommlet… she had finally arrived. Tracking down the gnolls hadn’t been easy. It hadn’t been entirely clever either. She had no great notion as to her ability to handle a pack of them by herself. No… But this would be the place to find recent news of them, and perhaps a friendly face or two.

If the rumors were true, and the gnolls had been causing trouble around Hommlet, she suspected she would wander right up to a ready-made band of folk already keen on dealing with the menace.

The Medium is taken aback by the offer and discussion. The opportunity to cooperate with another spellcaster was often far and few between, and many spells had to be discovered after the unfortunate demise of another. That Spugnoir was willing to swap spells was incredible! He allows the younger man to continue his speech, and only after he has finished does Eltrezar respond. Hrmph! "You have made quite the irresistable offer, and I must speak with my companions before giving you an answer. There is a chance we will be undertaking a mission to put down some foul creatures outside of the moathouse before we continue back in, which is not part of your own mission. But allow me the evening to deliberate and to gather an answer for you."

He heads back downstairs to find Gilly and Mal sitting at a table. He joins the two, and begins explaining. Ahem! "As you have seen, I was approached by that young man who wished to have words with me. As it turns out, he is on a mission of his own to investigate the presence of a Warlock- a particularly nasty sort of spellcaster, if you do not know- lurking in the depths of the moathouse. He has asked we take him on for assistance, and he asks only for any arcane scrolls we come across as payment. I have reason to trust his motives are pure, and so I am keen to tell him yes. But I wished to speak with you before I did so."

He stops to breathe for a moment before continuing. "Ah, where was I... Right! I believe it would be in our best interest and that of the town to go after these Gnolls we allowed to escape. The leader stated they would be around for only a few days, and I suspect they might depart sooner rather than later. It would be a nice change of pace to quest out in the open for once, and to enjoy the clean air instead of that of the dank tunnels. If this is the case, we would need to hire more swords to help us rid the area of the Gnoll menace. And we would tell the other arcanist to wait for our return to the depths." He finishes speaking, but the group knows to wait some time before responding. After all, he was rarely finished speaking. This time, however, he had said his piece.

Luban widens his eyes in mock surprise as he pulls out his purse, withdrawing another few coins. He slaps them on the table, giving Ostler a wink oh so full of sass. Whether he was staying his course out of pride or a genuine inability to handle his money, who knew?

As the old wizard makes his way back downstairs, Mal greets him with a nod and waves him over to their shared table.

"Everything on the up and up?" she asks grimly.

"I know you were hoping to chase down those gnolls but Gilly makes a good point. We have pushed far into the ruins and made much havoc in that place, if we deviate now we might find that the evil we seek to destroy has fled or worse, bolstered it's defenses."

Eltrezar strokes his long beard at Maloria's statement. Hrmmm... "It might be prudent of us to return to the moathouse if only to take the remaining weapons and armors from the basement. If they are to restock their forces, we should try to prevent them from adequately arming themselves. What we saw in those rooms was of fine quality, and they would be unlikely to find the same quality in any nearby timeframe. We do not need to continue further, as far as I'm concerned, at least until we have found trustworthy swordarms. Speaking of which, how is Bors fairing? I hope he will make it through the night without complication!"

"Bors will live, he just needs rest and time. And probably a fair bit of ale if I'm to be honest. Your plan is sound but I must tell you that I intend to rip the evil out of that place root and stem. I understand if you cannot or will not follow until the bitter end, I would be glad of your assistance for as long as you are willing."

Eltrezar puts his hands up defensively, though it is clear Mal was not attacking him. Hrmph! "I did not mean to imply we would not return. Just that there are other matters just as pressing. As soon as we deal with these Gnolls, we should be right back in that ruin. If there is truly a warlock down there, or even just a man with some power, then it would behoove us to put an end to his reign. And there will likely be spoils in it for us. I would see this through, as well!"

"Maybe you need to settle it with an arm wrestling match, eh? The gnolls or the fort?" Gilly has already said her piece on the matter. Clerics, in her briefest of experiences, tended to be quite inflexible when they had set their mind.

And yet the wizard was a stubborn old mule too, but perhaps less so. She didn’t care much anyway… She’d let them thrash out the details!

Ora stops at the entrance to the inn, and places a hand on the door. She feels the last cool breeze of evening on her face, not expecting to leave again for the night. Then she pushes in to the stuffy, sweaty air of the inn. Each one she visited had the same smell… and yet different. Familiar, but with a unique twist on it.

She stands in the door way, throws back her blue cloak, and lets her hair down for the first time since morning. She doesn’t look around the room. She knew that invited looks in return… and trouble.

She crosses straight for the bar.

"Busy night in here. Ale, please!" she says, bubbly enough and a big smile crosses her face. She never smiled with her teeth. Rather she forced her lips upwards. It was more in the cheeks really, and the eyes. She felt tiredness tug at her, but it always good to get on the Batman’s good side!

Eltrezar gives Gilly a double take. Ahem! "At least the little one is joking again. I know this has been hardest on you, as your heart is much larger than your small stature would suggest... or permit."

He turns back to Mal. "Allow me to make this proposition. We take the morning and prepare. I will speak with the Druid and inform him of what we have found, and ask for any more assistance. You should find steeled warriors to join our cause. By noon, we head back to the moathouse to determine how the forces have been bolstered, and to retrieve the arms and armours that they would use against us. In and out. The following day, we head to stop the Gnolls. If they are the ones that have been harassing caravans, perhaps we can request more assistance from the town as a whole upon putting them down. Once that task is complete, we return to the dungeons and clear it of cult and warlock."

Mal takes a pull of her ale and nods,

"It seems an agreeable plan, without their armory the cult in the keep will have difficulty bolstering their defenses. Might buy us a couple days."

Luban holds his hand out for the key to his suite, a stupid grin plastered on his face, when suddenly he freezes in place. The woman that just walked in. All that hair. That entirely genuine smile. This was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And he finds himself unable to take his eyes off of her.

Gilly listens and then shrugs to show she has no complaints.

"I don’t know where we plan to find a troupe of armed warriors though! Not with our reputation.

Might just be us and that Elmo again."

She didn’t relish the thought.

"Do we need a cart?"

"Are you alright there, friend?" she calls to the man she spots staring at her.

"Is he alright?" she turns to ask the innkeeper.

"I’ve no got something on my face, do I?" she rubs the sides of her mouth hastily. She expected to see her fingers come back purple. Lunch was a few berries off the bush while on the road. No one minded that, did they? Taking a few berries was alright. They didn’t belong to anyone, did they?

Eltrezar snaps his fingers, apparently the idea of a cart had escaped him! Of course, he'd never admit it. Hrmph! "Yes, something to carry back all of the equipment. That would be ideal! As for the warriors, I believe Elmo would do wonderfully. He performed admirably before, and seems to have a trick or two up his sleeves."

Luban catches himself gawking at the woman, sometime after she had asked Ostler about him. Was she really talking to him? "No, no, nothing on your face! I must apologize for staring, it's not often someone like you comes to a town like this. Manners! My name is Luban, and I'm a trusted companion to a group of great warriors here in town! Might I ask your name?"

"Three silvers. It must be the gods’ own honey! I can hardly wait." she exclaims as she counts out the three pieces and hands them over!

"A trusted companion of great warriors! My my… And who are these great warriors then? Ones I might have heard of?"

"He’s not out of town is he? Not on one of his… outings?" the last few days were a blur and she couldn’t quiet recall when last they had seen the man.

"Don’t tell me we have to deal with those crooks at the store again. We’d get a wagon with square wheels and a knife in the back for good measure." she whispers that last part!

Luban finds himself listening both to the innkeeper and to the new woman, and paying not enough attention to either. He doesn't notice that she had avoided giving him a name. "Well, the company of Maloria Stoneforge, of course!" He points out the table where the group has gathered. "Maloria herself is the mighty one over there, along with her... lover... and her... daughter? Don't mind the difference in hair. And finally, her old family valet!" He points to Thurig, Gilly, and Eltrezar respectively.

Eltrezar scratches his chin through the ancient beard.
Hmmm. "I believe he said he'd be around by now, though one would expect him to be here in the tavern. We can ask around tomorrow, and perhaps the innkeeper might know of other options should he prove unavailable. By the way, does anyone know of the man by the counter pointing at us? I believe he tried to beg for money earlier."

Mal looks at the man Eltrezar is pointing out,

"Oh. That's Luban. I hired him to help with the keep. Not the best specimen but the pickings are slim and he seems able enough."

Thurig roll his eyes at Maloria's statement.

"Orc blood."

"Ora! Rusk!" she throws a hand across the bar to be shook.

"Sorry. Just remembered that you’d asked. Long day. Not a busy one, mind. Just long.

An adventuring family? Fascinating. And that must make you… what? The little one’s uncle? A step sibling perhaps?" a joking smile.

Gilly didn’t have much in the way of opinions on long held views such as blood, and lineages. That was the realm of elves and dwarves in her view. Humans too, if they got up in age. A look at the old wizard then…

"So long as it stays inside him, it can’t hurt much, can it?"

Thurig snorts at the joke despite himself and shakes his head ruefully as he finishes off his tankard.

Hrmph! "I don't care for him, not do I trust him. He looks as shifty and untrustworthy as several others we've recently employed." At this point, Eltrezar sighs and looks into his empty tankard. Lately he had felt much akin to this cup, old and used and empty. But tomorrow was a new day for him, and a trip to the bar was another life for the tankard.

"Oh, no! Clearly I'm not family. I'm just the hired... well, I guess I'm just a trusted expert in many things considered untoward. It is truly a divine pleasure to meet you, Miss Rusk!" He takes her hand and shakes it rather daintily, as if he were afraid it might fall off.

"You were saying?" Mal says through raised eyebrows to Eltrezar.

"Not only do I not trust him around children... or Gilly... but I am also certain he is hiding a secret from us. I am torn between keeping him close and keeping away."

Eltrezar looks over to Elmo who would be towering over Gilly had he not just sat down. "He is quite able to handle himself, and should be proficient if we keep him away from the drink tomorrow. Besides, I feel as though we can trust him. His suspicious nature is too glaring to be secretive. I like that."

The old man takes a long sip of his ale before turning slowly to look at all at the table. All of them... wait... his eyes squint at the newcomer, not in anger or suspicious but out of poor eyesight. Hrmph! "Have you been here this whole time?" he asks of Thurig.

"Hmpf" grunts the dwarf, staring out at the wizard from under bushy eyebrows.

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."

Gilly sneers as Bors pokes the wizard. It would be good to remind the wizard about his failing, and to alert the newcomers to the dangers of relying on the magickly inclined.

"Are you poorly? Is there someone in this village with the skills to tend to your friend? I could do something, but it would be the most meager magic. Perhaps, enough to keep you on your feet a while longer!"

Ora hoped that there was another present in the village to help, as her own magic might be needed later today, but if not… so be it! She would help.

Mal smiles at Bors, glad to see he hasn't lost his sense of humor

"I believe dear sir that Gilly may have just what you are looking for. Although it saddens me to loose your company I certainly understand and wish you all the blessings of Cuthbert."

Bors looks at the new woman. "Have you joined this lot, then? They are a good group...well most of them. But know that the life of an adventurer is indeed dangerous. In my short career I have seen dozens dead, and took a small part in adding to their number. As well as adding names to my sword."

With mention of his sword, Mal speaks up and lifts Bors' soul. "Truly? Have they recovered Pixiepoker? No, there was a more recent name. Slimeslicer? Bugbane? Forgive me, my head is still filled with wool."

Gilly rummages around in her pack that she had dumped down last night, before she finally lands on Bors sword. She presents it to him, in a kind of mock ceremony. She kneels, holding the sword aloft in both hands.

"Ghoulskewer." she says, with a suitably ceremonious deep voice.

She stands, silliness over.

"You’re leaving then? You can’t be stopped?"

"Ghoulskewer...a grand and fitting name." He can't help but smile at Gilly's ceremony. "Leaving? No. I thought you all were the ones leaving," he asks puzzled. "As weak as I am a newborn fawn could stop me."

"Well, we are just going out to clear the armory today. Should be back before lunch, with a nice big bag of gold…"

The last word is said in such a way as to tempt the fighter.

At Bors' barbed words, Eltrezar sets down his mug of tea with a little more force than he intended. He rises from the table, a stormcloud evident in his expression. He moves across the room to Spugnoir, working on his breathing over the short distance. Once he reaches the Seer, Eltrezar is looking somewhat more calm. Hrmph! "We will be heading into the moathouse today, but not for a long excursion. We seek to cripple the cult by raiding their weapon stores, before returning to town. What I said about the gnolls, we do still plan on handling that immediately after, barring unexpected difficulties. If you wish to join us, we'll meet back here soon. There are a small few tasks we must attend to before departing."

More snoring emanates from the suite.

Mal nudges Thurig and nods towards the stairs to the suites.

"Better rouse that ork blood we hired, seems like he's either slow or missing."

Thurig nods and heads up to the main suite across from the barkeeps apartments. He pounds heavily on the door with his granite like fist and then tries the handle.

The door opens without issue, though Thurig may be surprised to find Luban tucked in a corner, wrapped in a bedsheet and holding out a dagger. The heavily confused look in Luban's face suggests that he was very caught off guard in a deep sleep, though it begins to fade when he recognizes the dwarf from the night before. "By the gods, what is the urgency? Is the inn on fire?!" Rising, the sheer sheets tell Thurig that the man slept naked.

Thurig's unchanging expression locks on the disheveled mess of Luban in the corner.

"You were paid, time to work. Get moving."

With that, the dwarf turns and leaves without closing the door.

Some time after Thurig leaves, Luban finally makes his way downstairs. It's about the time the rest of the group is finishing their breakfasts, and he begins placing an order for some food. He makes his way to the table for some small talk.

Mal waves hello to Luban as he takes a seat at the table.

"Good marnin' to ya, easy trip today. Make it to the Moathouse, load up and back for dinner. Eat quick, don't wanna have to sleep there do ya?"

"After the night I just had, I'll have to refuse to sleep anywhere but in that room," he says with a wink. Which he immediately regrets. Winking at a dwarf, who also happens to be his employer? Think, Luban, think!

"Is there any tasks you have before we depart? Horses, gear, wills?"

"I can barely lift my legs, let alone carry bags of gold or weapons. I feel as if I haven't eaten in days. I will stay here at the inn to recover for now. I am not sure if I could return to the moathouse even if my body were completely recovered. But if you decide to move on to somewhere else, maybe I will be recovered enough to join you."

Now that was a thought, although the Halfling didn’t let it show on her face. She would wait to see how this new group carried themselves today, and then decide upon the fighter’s offer.

"We'll have to take stock of the horses, secure a cart perhaps as well. Thurig and I can see about the cart, what do you think Gilly?"

"Thank you good sir, that would be most helpful. I need to head over to the church for some healing if possible, I am grateful for your generosity."

"Hmm?" Gilly answers, halfway through the interaction. She then realized that she had been distracted by the prospect of striking out on her own.

She retreats from her interruption immediately, as she sees the flow of conversation has moved on.

Hrmph! "Splendid, I will have words with the Druid before we depart. Let us return here within an hour, and begin our journey to the moathouse before too long. We should make use of the daylight." Eltrezar rises from his seat, and begins heading to the door. Hopefully Jaroo is awake and available.

Mal and Thurig both make the sign of St Cuthbert as they enter.

"A fine morning to you as well, might I speak with the Father?"

Gilly will spend a few moments in hushed tones filling the others in on what has occurred in the Moathouse, as she understands it.

She tells of the bandits and their warning, the zombies, giant animals, the drawbridge, the ghouls, the ogre and the weird cultish symbol. Not to mention the gnolls and all those who have lost their lives on the endeavor. The holy woman, the dwarf, the two that joined them last time.

After everything is said and explained, she needs a drink!

Eltrezar stands before the druid for a moment of two before he realizes he has to speak first. Ahem! "Our last venture into the depths was ultimately fraught with failure. It would seem they kept ghouls in the lower levels, which opted to eat our help and nearly us as well. But we did manage to convince some guards to abandon the cause, a small pack of gnolls who took something precious from us. Would you perhaps know of a site known as Two Trees, perhaps Three Trees? This is where we are to find the gnolls again. And we aim to put a stop to their violence."

Luban's jaw drops at the story Gilly tells! All of this, all the violence and the spoils, over just how few days? A shiver works its way up his spine as he realizes just what he had signed up for. But Luban was no coward! He was just... unlucky.

"Don't worry, Ora. I'll make sure you get back in one piece," he says with a goofy grin on his face, that looks possibly to be a front for justified fear.

"Greetings Father, no I have not come for potions, only for healing. We have encountered the living dead beneath the moathouse and they proved quite difficult to destroy. I fear we are drawing closer to whatever fell hand controls them and soon the fight to cleanse this parish will be upon me."

Mal goes to the donation box and deposits ten gold coins.

"I have not forgotten your request for aid with the potion maker, when I root out the master of the moathouse I assure you his gold will be yours."

"Thank you Father Calmert, actually this holy water will serve in just the right way, no healing needed. Good day sir."

Mal deposits another ten gold in the box, collects the holy water and sees herself and Thurig out.

Eltrezar very visibly rolls his eyes and takes out a gold coin from his purse, putting it into the donations box. Harrumph!

"… got her head right between its jaws." she reiterates, and then goes silent for a moment, all eyes on her.

"She was strong. And good. It’s a shame. And all for nothing. At least so far. Just thought you all should know.

Still, there’s time to find great heaping piles of treasure!" she put on a happy front, in part to try and counter the sad tale of death she had just weaved for them. But she didn’t much believe it herself. Not until she saw the glitter with her own eyes!

"And everyone else, I should hope!" the mage laughs, good natured. She aimed to align herself with these people in totality. The gnolls would require it. And she didn’t want to divide the group into new and old members, for fear that it would lead to… well, certain decisions being made down the road that might disadvantage the latecomers.

"Though you all seem hardy enough. I hope I can keep up!"

The Druid's offers of help surprises the wizard, and his face shows it! With each offer of assistance, his jaw drops yet again. He quickly reaches for his purse and drops another two coins in the donation box. Hrmph! "Why yes, that would be most helpful, to discover the whereabouts of these nasty gnolls! As for potions, perhaps something to hide us from the more natural beasts that have tried to eat us in the days of late?"

Hrmph! "Potions would be preferable. I fear I am unable to utilize the scrolls that you might create, and I know you're far too busy for that amount of wasted time. Your help is much appreciated, Jaroo." And with that, Eltrezar departs from the house with a small skip in his step. Next stop, the clothier!

Eltrezar is in far too good a mood to let his faux pas spoil the day. He looks sheepish at the idea of being too early, but clears his throat and smiles. Ahem! "You are right, my good sir. Time has been passing strangely for me, I did not realize I was early! I will return tomorrow to pick up this fine piece. As it stands, I am very impressed with your craftsmanship, and look forward to seeing what another day can do to improve on this! I'll leave you to your work now." With that, the wizard turns back and returns to the inn, ready for another day in the moathouse.

Mal casts a dubious glance at Gilly as Spugnoir spins his ironic tale. She stands and locks eyes with the Man at Arms,

"We know this man and his circumstances. Are you sure, sir, that you wish to undertake this charade?"

Without taking her eyes from the Man at Arms, Mal answers,

"A problem that will likely present itself at a later time Spugnoir."

Gilly also locks eyes with the selectively-mute man. She sticks out her tongue when Mal speaks.

"Great!" she pipes up!

"Great!" again "But I’ve a sudden urge to go chase gnolls around the forest instead!"

Ora watches on with a kind of guarded curiosity. She had seen the man the day before as she wandered through town. That whole shopfront had given her a bad feeling, and so she didn’t stop to peruse the wares.

There was obviously history here, and the whole day could be upended in the next moment or two, it seemed.

Hrmph! "Not before we rid the cultists of their armaments, I hope," Eltrezar says as he approaches the group. Hearing that Gilly was interested in heading out in a different direction without the proper planning was not a comfort to the old man. It seems he has not noticed the silent warrior by the cart.

"Your friend here brought a friend of his own…" Gilly says as a greeting to the wizard. She waves a hand towards the silent man, and let’s his presence stand in as explanation for her comment.

The wizard glances at the newcomer, then back at Gilly. He nearly double-takes, but catches himself. This does change the situation, but he isn't sure that it warrants an entire shift in destination. Hrmph! "I see, and it will be wonderful to have someone guard the horses for once. I have already set in motion a plan to find those gnolls, so for now we must wait. I do believe our best bet is still to head to the moathouse this morning."

"Then let us waste no more time. Everyone, watch your backs."