Gustavs' ears pricked up to the hoarse calling of his name and he glanced at the bartender, as if to say "also some ale after this."

He quickly grabbed her bag and handed it to her, a worried look had conquered his face.

"I take it, you're going to need more than a tea," he commented as he watched his sickly friend.

A few heads lifted to watch the commotion as the keeper tapped Gustavs shoulder, "whats wring, is she contagious?" The man was worried for his other patrons.
"I certainly hope not," Gustav replied without taking his eyes off her.
"Well, find out, we can't have such pestalence in a place of food and board."

Gustav just eyed the man with a tired look and tossed a few more coins at him.

The air in the tavern smells of ale, food, and sweat. The main hall is lit by a few torches and candles, and is packed with patrons, who are just as varied as the rest of the people of the town. A group of soldiers drinking together with pira honest sailors; a bard in a corner, a strange lute in his arms, singing an old ballad with a small mug on the floor nearby, asking for some coin; even a group of dwarven workers, eating and drinking loudly.

From the backstore, comes an old, grizzled man, a red bandana tied around his head. His tan indicated that he his probably a native: with his only eye scans the dining room, and spots Gustav and Katya. Sligthly limping, probably because of his wooden left leg, he walks to their table, a strange smile on his face.

"Foreigners, eh?

Welcome to Kinston', lad! And compliments for yer lass. I'm da owner of this proud institution. Ye're a mercenary from da' old land, eh? Lads like ye come here all da' time. Dat's good, 'cause dey get kill'd all da time by da Forestlin's, ha!"

The man spits in a spittoon on the floor benath him, and continues to speak with his hoarse, dry voice.

"I'm just screwin' wit ye. I see ye already got yer meal. Need anythin' else? I wouldn't want my customers dead afta' their first job, ha!"

"thank you" she croaked as she reached into the bag and rummaged around, inside she could feel stray peices of cloth, spools of string and other such tools of the trade but she wasn't interested in them at the moment. Feeling the medical apparatus under her fingers, she produced it from the satchel and placed the bag on the floor, she held up the needle to Gustav to give him a good view and then slowly drew it to the back of her neck and slipped it into her skin to poke into her artery, pushing the pouch at the bottom the medicine flowed up the pipe and into her neck, giving her instant relief.
She gave a deep breath, producing a ploom of cold, visible breath as she exhaled, her whites of her eyes fading from red back to their original color. Putting the device back into the bag she relaxed herself into the seat and curled up, letting the seat hold her like a large hand cradling a bird.
"Take coin I owe from bag." she whispered as she shut her eyes, letting the atmosphere of the inn fuel her drowsiness, despite the man who came to converse, she merely hoped that he assumed she was asleep.

Fallon made the decision that this was the brigante she was searching for, and cautiously approached it. She kept the cloak on but pulled the hood back from her face, she patted the dagger in its holster on her thigh to feel some reassurance and took a deep breath. Putting her business, indifferent, face on, and looked around for the captain. Maybe they would recognize her. Most who did, didn't approach without a death wish, but maybe someone would surprise her.

The captain steps out of cabin, and immediately spots the woman. With a dry, serious voice, he begins to speak.

"Ah, you must be Fraulein Falon. Captain Lorenz von Meiland, a pleasure to meet you. I am your new employer. The pay is two thousand ducats at the end of the job, plus the five hundred you have already received. Since I know your experience, I shall tell you in detail what the mission consists of. You are to retrieve a caravel, the Sea Serpent, which has been stolen by Forestlings and brought to their settlement on the shore of Redclaw, Hrakh'niel. The settlement is going to be besieged by Imperial forces around the same time your mission will be carried out: thus it is of vital importance that the ship is carried out of the city's port as soon as possible.

I have hired three more people for this job, whom do not know the true nature of the mission. They will distract the Forestlings while you get to the ship and bring it out in the open sea. The survival of your comrades is not essential in the slightest: it is of great importance that the Sea Serpent and her cargo are brought to safety. Currently, I have seen at least two of them entering that inn. Perhaps you should meet them and gain their trust. Do not inform them of anything that was said here."

The captain reaches for an item in his pocket, before handing it to Falon.

"One last thing, Fraulein Falon. Take this map: it should be helpful to you."

The captain begins to walk towards his cabin, before turning back one last time.

"Good luck."

Falon looks at the map, and then to the Inn. She nods to the Captain, and makes her way to the Inn to meat the others assigned to her mission.

Gustav watched Katya stab herself then promptly fall asleep, he was ised to such medical procedures from the war, but contained some curiosity, but he contained more politeness. So he ignored the request to take her coin and turned to the spitting man.

"Thank you very much sir," Gustav nodded with a smile, " tips for a war veteran around here maybe, people i should, places even."

It was an always good idea to get a feel of the towns, Gustav knew that, his niativity and innocent banter was not to be taken lightly, as it was threaded with years of experience in the field and knowing whats best.

Gustav jingled three coins together in his pocket as he spome, "perhaps there are people i should become friends with, perhaps."

As he was waiting for the captain to arrive, Carl looked at the letter one more time as he leaned down on his desk. Then Captain Weber arrived as Carl turned his view over to him and rised from the desk. They both saluted each other as Captain Weber placed his arms behind him. "You wanted to see me commander?" Asked the captain while looking at Carl with a serious face. "Yes! This letter just came in from the Governor General. Here...read it!" Said Carl as he handed the letter over to the captain who grabbed it and started reading as Carl was looking at him with his arms crossed.

"Two days?!?" Said the captain as he looked at Carl. "Yes! That is correct captain. We have two days to prepare. Go and tell all the soldiers and officers in the city to come in the Fort's courtyard as quickly as possible. I want to speak to all of them. " Said Carl as he took the letter from the captain's hands and placed it on the desk. "Right away commander!" Said Captain Weber as he turned around and left Carl's office.

Falon looked around the inn and watched people converse, she fixed her hood on her shoulders so people could clearly see who she was. She was a girl with the reputation of a very dangerous marksman. If anyone recognized her in the inn next to the Grey Swallow, they would know that someone on the western docks hired her for a job, and she could definitely get a job done.

A wry smile appeared on the owner's face, as he quickly grabbed the coins and put them in his pocket.

"Hm, me fren', there be many rumors floatin' around. And I can just feel dat somethin' big is brewin', if ya get what I mean. I've heard that Pierre Le Grand, da one that likes ta be called "King o' Pirates", be involved with somethin' about Forestlin's. Dey say he wan's ta get rid o' them, once an' for all, an' that he got da soldiers an' da Empera' on 'is side.

Anotha' thin dat's spoken of a lot is dat dem elves beyond the Hilìr be growin' more an' more restless by da day. Dey sent their soldiers all over dem plains, and dey be buyin' lots an' lots of weapons from us an' da dwarves. Dem elves be up to no good, I tell ye, me lad.

About da places, lemme think. If ye wanna get rich, get to Teitania. A lad o' mine just returned from dere. He sold loads o' scrap like wood an' cloth, an' dey gave 'im a mountain o' gold fo' dat! But if ye like things gettin'...adventurous, there be many dangerous places past da Holler. Blashyrk Pass be just northeast of Teitania, an' none who crossed cam back. Plus, crazy ass explorers be always lookin' for some fool to follow them eastwards. Ye jus' need to look fo' dem: ships and expeditions leave almost everyday."

The man turns towards what looks like the beginning of a brawl, and sighs. What began as an arm-wrestling contest between a human sailor and a dwarf is quickly degenerating.

"I'm afraid I must leave ye, me lads. Anythin' else ye wanna ask?"

The owner notices that somebody else entered his inn, an old friend, and waves at her.

"Aye, madame Talon!"

Heinrich had not walked immediately to the tavern, preferring a relaxed stroll, taking in the sights and sounds of a new town. King's Stone, or "Kinston" as it seemed to be in the native accent, was a dirty, poor place. Excellent, Heinrich thought with a nod. So long as some of the finer things were available and there was enough money around to steal.

He opened the door to the Kettle, his nostrils assailed by the familiar scent of sweat, schnapps, and sawdust that always accompanied such places. As much as he loved an elegant ratskellar or heuriger, this kind of dive felt just as comfortable to him. Heinrich scanned the room, his eyes lighting up as he spied Gustav and Katya, apparently asleep in her chair. Confidently, sword gently bumping his side as he sidestepped the beginnings of a brawl, he strolled over to the old soldier. "Gustav, you dog!" he said with a laugh and a slap to the other man's shoulder. "Trying to get in the first round without me?" He waved in the general direction of the bar, his voice full of command. "Barkeep, two brandies!"

Gustav smiled and welcomed the man to a stool, and they both sat down. As the barkeep worked their drinks Gustavs voice went low

"Heinrich, I've been gerting the scoop on whats going around, and where the money, action, or what say you is," he paused at the sound ofglass scratching the bar as the two drinks where slid towards them, "After our current job, I'm going to need a competant man who can handle himself."

He stopped talking and furrowed his brow, "speaking of our current job, werent we suppose to meet some other sellswords?"
He swung back his drink, the brandy stinging the back of his throat before settling warmly in his belly.
He gave a "ehm hm" as he cleared his throat, and looked back at Heinrich, " careful, by the way," he said while inspecting his empty glass, "this job tastes funnier than the old brandy."

Rattlebones walked trough the streets of the human city. He lied to the gate guard, telling him he was a travelling monk. They were a little bit suspicious that an old man would travel and survive alone but he did not seem dangerous so they let him in. Little did they know. As a forestling he did not know that much about human citys, but he knew where to get information. Humans loved drinking.
Slowly, like an old man would, Rattlebones approached a tavern. Kings stone kettle was written above its door. The Witchdoctor had never understood why the humans had to make names for everything and everyplace. Rattlebones opened the door to the tavern and a incredible stench was in the air. He took a deep breath and walked to a person who looked like the owner. "I am looking for a swallow."

((Sorry capra))
She looked up and smirked, "It's Falon, but hi. Can i get an ale?" She said as she sat down and adjusted her cloak so it was more comfortable to sit. When she looked around she ythen asked the bartender, "Have you seen any others coming from the swallow?" She gave him a serious look, that usually meant she was on a job. She still couldn't believe that the Captain gave her partners, didn't matter the connotation of their part of the job, it was still absurd. However she was being paid for the job in full at the end, so she was content.

The owner had just slapped a dwarf in the face when he turned to the strange old man. "A...what? A swallow? Dis' no season fo' swallows...oh, but ye are talkin' about da ship, da Grey Swallow? Dat bastard Lorenz, da capt'n, was an' ol' mate o' mine when me was still a young pira..."

The man coughs, and spits in his spittoon again.

"Erm, a young sailer. I think da ship's at anchor 'ere in Kinston', though me knows not where."

Upon hearing Falon asking for a drink, he calls a young waiter, who promptly arrives with a pint of ale. Now that the brawl has been postponed, an atmosphere of cheerfulness seems to reign in the inn, as the bard begins to sing an old upbeat ballad. Groups of half-drunk men and dwarves are raising their voices with the bard's, and all around them are people playing dice, eating, drinking and indulging a little with the tavern's wenches. A moment of rest and joy in the harsh life of the new world.

"Say, Falon, ye happen to know if da Grey Swallow's in dese parts?"

Falon looked up, "It is, i just finished disussing a job with the Captain, I'm waiting for the other members of my 'troupe', because i apparently need help to finish my jobs now." She pointed out the door toward the docks.