Chapter Three - Return to the Mournland

Torhak nodded and returned to a standing position the manacle chains clinking against his armor as his arms crossed in front of his chest, "Settled. I will accompany the Guardians of Salvation."

The gnome rushes on as suddenly as he appeared, leaving Laulalith wondering whether she was really just recruited into a band of scavengers. She keeps an eye on the Vice as he secures more recruits, and she concludes that he was indeed serious about including her in their group.

They make an odd couple, the hyper-active gnome and the stoic warforged, but they are certainly capable, and the new recruits look no less formidable - except for the kobold. "I wonder what's inside the cover of that book?"

Sooner or later, she would have to venture into the Grey to see the destruction of the cataclysm for herself and search for clues of its origins. Going with these scrappers will at least give her some measure of protection - and a reasonable excuse for going out there in the first place. She has an entire nation to search, and she might as well start wherever the Guardians of Salvation are going next.

Vice is long gone, so she addresses 37 instead. "I thank you for the offer, and I accept your terms. I look forward to working with two such esteemed heroes - and I hope I will get more opportunities to tell the tales of your adventures. Or rather, our adventures."

First we eat. I've been in a dark basement, and you all have been on a long train ride. Then you all can decide if you want to find a room in town, our stay at our almost assuredly ghost-free, spectre-less base of operations. The uh, the . . . " Vice yells over to 37 is talking to Laulalith "Hey 37, ask if she has a good name for our new home!" then looks back to those gathered around "anyhow, whatever we call it, it needs work, but there is plenty of space."

Vice is by no means the leader of this, or any group, but he is often talking or fidgeting, and dinner is no exception. "I understand that some people come to Salvation to hide, or because there's no where else to go, so I won't pry. We do need to make sure you are all ready to enter the Gray tomorrow. If you haven't been before, it's " he pauses to shiver "an experience".

Meepo looks up from his bowel of stew. And what kind of preparation do we need to do to get ready? he looks at the two that has already gone. what have you seen out there?

Trusk grunts. "It can't be worse than the Demon Wastes."

"It's bad" Torhak said in a sullen voice as he sat at the table that had been brought out. He took a long draw from an ale that he had ordered before his voice rumbled low, like distant thunder, as he continued speaking of the Mournland

"The Mournland is no mere wasteland—it is a scar carved deep into the flesh of the world, and its wound festers still. Imagine a sea of ash, where the air clings heavy, suffocating, tasting of iron and despair. The ground, broken and twisted, refuses life, yet things still crawl and skitter there—things that should not exist, things that hunger. The skies churn with ceaseless gray clouds, their shapes mocking sanity, never letting light pierce through."

He paused, his eyes narrowed, as if staring beyond the horizon. His voice dropped, almost a growl.

"It is a place where the past refuses to die. The dead rise, not in rest, but in torment. The warforged that roam its depths are shadows of the soldiers they once were, more machine than soul now, driven by commands long forgotten. And the land… the land itself fights you, bending the rules of creation, twisting time and space like a predator toying with prey."

Torhak’s heavy hand rose, his thick fingers brushed against the broken manacles on his wrists. The faint clinking filled the space between his words

"The Mournland tests all who dare its borders. Not just your strength or your wits, but your very will to keep walking forward. To me, it is no curse—it is a challenge. A place where chains of fear, doubt, and weakness are forged to be shattered. But mark my words: it is no place for the unprepared or the faint of heart. Step into that gray haze only if you are prepared with the understand that you may never step out."

Trusk takes a drink of his own ale. "I have ever been ready to give my life in the fight against evil."

Tryne had not realized how hungry he was until the smell of the stew arrived, he collected a bowl and refilled his ale, thanking the waiter and the bar tender for the service. He tried the stew as his two larger and very intense companions spoke. "Where I'm from, we protect our crew, first and foremost. I can't say about the whole fighting evil thing, not too many elemental forces of evil roaming the slums, but occasionally something needs put down. But I've been a scrapper my whole life and there is a whole country of abandoned magic and tech in there. I'm looking forward to seeing what can be found." There is an obvious level of excitement in the young man's voice.

The half-elf looks over at Trusk, "As long as the evil stays in there..." he shrugs, "I don't think I'm getting dead to make the Gray a little less evil."

"I would not say the Grey is evil, much the same way I would not call a natural plague evil, or a parasite evil, or the fact people die evil. These are things that simply exist, or happen. Evil suggests a level of sentience I do not believe the mournland possesses. That said, as Torhak stated, it is certainly dangerous," 37 says as he sits at the table, sans food and drink. "And there are things within that may well qualify as evil. That said... many things we encounter out there were changed by the Grey. Whether they are evil, or products of their literal environment, is a philosophical debate for another time I suppose..."

Laulalith sees the others gather at the table, but she doesn't join them immediately. Instead, she pauses at the bar and pulls pen, ink, and paper from her bag. She writes in quiet concentration for a moment before she walks over to the job board to pin her note next to the others. As she takes the last free seat at the table with her new companions, a large golden arrow with ruby arrowhead and black guidance feathers springs into existence to draw attention to her note.

"I'm very pleased to meet you all. Laulalith the Bard, at your service". She gives them a nod and a small smile "My friends call me Lali."

She takes a suspicious look at the stew, and decides that she is not that hungry. Not yet at least.

Then she listens in silence while the others describe the horrors of the Grey.

Meepo looks to the two while gobbling up his stew. So you say you have been hired to retrieve some supplies. Do you know how many days it may take to get there? Do we need a cart and some horses to carry it back?

Laulalith slides her untouched bowl of stew over to Meepo and gives him an encouraging smile. It was amazing how fast the little one consumed his food.

Torhak's words make her realize that her cover story is not going to convince her companions in the long run. When they go into the Grey, she needs them at her side without questioning her motives - or her sanity. The most convincing lie is always a half-truth, so she decides to take a gamble.

"In fact, I seek more than stories in the Mournland. I seek something of great value and importance." She locks her gaze with Torhak. "Something I'm more than willing to risk my life to find." Then she turns to Trusk. "Something I am bound by honor to pursue. Something that must be kept out of the wrong hands at all cost." She has a feeling that Trusk would want to keep the secret of the Mourning out of her hands as well. Maybe they all would. But there is no need to share that part.

She sends them a shrug and a half-smile "Unfortunately, I may well spend the rest of my life searching since I have no idea exactly what I'm looking for or where to find it." Then her green eyes turn cold and serious. "And that is all I am at liberty to say about the matter."

"My search for stories and that ..." She points towards her note on the job-board. " ... will hopefully bring me hints of what I seek ... eventually. Until then, I might as well start my search wherever the Guardians of Salvation are going next. If I ever do find the object of my quest, I have a customer that will pay extremely well for its retrieval. More than enough for all of us."

"Who was that?" Trusk asks the others. "He didn't seem well liked."

"I am unfamiliar with him," 37 replies as he watches the other group head upstairs. With that, he stands and approaches Roz.

"You suddenly seem distressed. Who was that?"

After the shady looking group leaves, Vice remembers Meepo's question "Oh, we do have a cart. Maybe one of you can drive it? I'm not sure how much space we'll have for supplies with all of is rifing in it.

Meepo smiles at Laulaith as she passes over her stew to him. Not wanting to refuse just because he is getting full he thanks her for her kind gesture. "thank you miss! How do you know if you have found it if you do not know exactly what you are looking for? he starts rummaging through his stuff and pulls out a bag of ballbearing is it this? then pulls out a bag full of fuzzy balls is it this? points to a broom or this? and keeps going until she asks him to stop or until he's emptied out a good chunk of his items.

When the other adventuring group comes in he looks around to gauge everyone reactions to the new group. Looking like most of the group does not have a position or negative reaction but the bartender seems to be not in the best of moods he just keeps an eye on them until they leave.

Turning back to Vice he nods at his answer. ok good. Meepo didn't know if it was a lot of stuff we will have to drag back. I don't think Meepo can drag as much as these guys can and points to our larger party members