@KRIEEEG

This was a first in the Skeleton's unlife. Give up the opportunity to absolutely batter a single person in favor of beating multiple beings, with a reward to boot? The dilemma pissed him off, to say the least. As he stared blankly at his palms, the figurative gears inside his skull spun, cracked, exploded and melted into a white hot steaming metal goo. To noone's surprise, he released another ear-shattering scream before finally falling silent, and raised his head to face the wizard.

YES. FUCK IT.

The Skeleton angrily adjusted his belt with two sudden movements, bringing his tattered kilt higher up, and bashed his knuckle duster slabs together to vent some of his potentially infinite fury. He shook his torso violently, producing a loud clatter, and gave the mage a blank look, awaiting instructions. A faint grinding sound produced by his fingertips scraping against his fist weapons signified that the undead creature's decision to help did not calm him in the least.

Bob sat there listening to the floating UFO. The thing barely finished speaking and he already had an opinion for the thing. He spoke again, his engine finally going quiet from dying on him again. "Now you hold on a second, I am not following an ogre anywhere. This thing isn't bright and I'm not that patient. How about you just tell me where you are and I just walk there? It would be far faster than waiting for an ogre to point a direction and forget what they were doing few seconds later. I might even call your bluff on that machine. You just want to hoard your scrap." By the end he was nearly shouting. He was so used to being heard over his engine, wait a second.

He had to stop and punch his armor a few times and he waited. After a few seconds it finally revved up again. Maybe a new piece to fix that. He looked at the large ogre. This thing looked dim and just stood there unblinking. This was some team to recruit such a moron. No, ogres are tough, and they just heal most wounds quickly. Perfect meat shield to use in a battle. He turned his head to the pile of scrap. No sense wasting time for the UFO to reply. He was looking for a spare piece, something that might improve his battery, or maybe it just needed a jump start. No matter, he was lost in his own world inspecting pieces of metal for something that looked interesting.

@Pikmin Eye @KRIEEEG @Banana
Just as Tugrok handed the blacksmith the letter, a new fellow made his appearance, a goblin to be more precise. "My name is The Grand Royal Doctor Maxwell the Third. I'm sure you have a name, but it probably has stick or rock somewhere in there. Although, if you are here, it seems something is about to happen. Oh, you probably have no clue what I'm saying, let me try again. Ahem, why ogre here?"

Tugrok turned to the goblin, saying "I am Tugrok, I am getting armor for 'Wolfie'" before he turned back to the blacksmith he was talking to.

"To Z.E. by Y, eh? Yashar is planning on a new expedition again? You will want to talk to Zokox Explobomb, another goblin who happens to be an inventor. I seem to be plagued by those, you know? Come here tomorrow and bring your friends with you, and he will get you all some equipment."

Tugrok nodded several times to signal he understood it "Ok, Tugrok understand. Friends, expedition, bomb, plague!" or something like that~

And then Strides' UFO joined them.
>: I HAVE ORDERS FROM MY SUMMONER TO ASSIST YOU IN ANY WAY I CAN, UNTIL WE GET TO THE INN WHERE HE AND GROX ARE CURRENTLY LOCATED.

This was slowly getting a bit of confusing. Tugrok couldn't really understand what the goblin was talking about but he couldn't think about it either, he had to make sure he doesn't forget the message just after he heard it, wouldn't be the first time.

That was until what the goblins reply. "Now you hold on a second, I am not following an ogre anywhere. This thing isn't bright and I'm not that patient. How about you just tell me where you are and I just walk there? It would be far faster than waiting for an ogre to point a direction and forget what they were doing few seconds later. I might even call your bluff on that machine. You just want to hoard your scrap." Offended by the goblin basically saying that hes stupid Tugrok angrily stomped his foot, causing the building to shake a bit. "Tugrok not stupid, Tugrok knows where friends are." He turned around, pouting. "Inn where friends are, is red house next to smithy.".

@Oraculum@Banana
After a hefty dozen of beer mugs, Grox was finally calming down. Until Stride, who he didn't notice so far, abruptly interrupted his ale consumage and whispered something to him. The words were jumbled and messy, either he was very drunk or he forgot something. A large amount of spit along with the few words reminded him of his companion's state. So he did forget something. Stride soon faded away again, but he wasn't the only thing fading away. This ale was stronger than the fungal ones back at home and it seemed like the whole bar was moving. He could snap out of it, but he rarely had a lighz mindset like this. So he finished the last mug of ale and looked behind him to see who the self proclaimed mage was talking to. And there it was. A giant spider. Of all thing it was a giant spider. The part of his brain shut down as he entered in shock. His mind was working hard to solve this state of freezing, but from the outside it was more an awkward stare, even for an ork. Then the shock became fear, and fear became anger. Ge clenched his fists and turned back to the bartender anxiously "Ale fo me ye git!"

With another few mugs of ale the fear levuated, leaving only the anger. The more this chat progressed the more he wanted to break every bone of this creature. Not even a proper spider but some weird abomination. Grox shrugged as he thought of that thing. So it came naturally that after one last sip, amd listening to the boasting of this "elaborate" arachnid he grabbed his mug and threw it towards the spider. Then the stool he was sitting on in a rapid succession. "Ye bloody git gun get yo skul smashd! Grox fear no spida! Yu ded! WAAAAAAAAGH!" His alcohol induced battlecry filled the room and echoed out on the street. From the stables he could hear Woggha's battlecry too. He grabbed his axe and began furiously swinging it towards the spider, knocking over tables, glasses and even a few bar patrons. His eyes turned to rage and his muscles grew in size. His rage could not be quelled as the alcohol ate through his reasoning, fogging his already slow thoughts.

Stride stood fast and managed to get in front of the axe, moving the music box into the fire of the Jack-O-Lantern accidentally. Stride managed to get in front of the head of the axe, defending the party's newest ally, but at a cost. One somewhat-clean chop through the neck sent Stride's head rolling onto the floor under the table, an emotionless expression washed over it, blood spurting out of the neck. Stride's body fell forwards onto the table, colliding with the Jack-O-Lantern, and simply drooping off it. Stride's head laid there emotionless, looking around at the last few seconds of life he had, his saucer rushing in and landing on the dead body, and powering off. Hopefully the new party members and Tugrok were outside the inn to go get help. The way the saucer rushed away from the party must have given some sense of urgency to the group by the blacksmith.

Bob found something glittering in the back, but dropped it. The building shook with the rage of an ogre, toppling the mountain Bob was looking at. He got buried in the trash quickly. This ogre was a danger to everyone, and was capable of actual thinking. "Finally, you speak, and the first thing you do is waste time saying you're not stupid. Also, called it. Your name has rock in it, so creative. At least I know where this inn is, so you aren't a complete waste of my time." He had to struggle to get out of the landslide, various scrap hooking on his assorted gear. After a bit of struggling he managed to free himself. "Time to meet the so called team. If they are anything like you, they will need my brains to hold it together."

Bob left the blacksmith's shop, with it the smell and smoke clearing up. It was a good thing the inn was so close to this place, no wonder Tugrok couldn't get lost. The front door was kicked in and there was the most interesting sight in front of Bob. A drunken ogre was swinging a massive blade, next to a headless, elf? There was even a half spider abomination to complete the scene. Was this the team? This is perfect he was the smartest one here and they were likely to kill each other at this rate. "I heard you were looking for more associates to join in your quest. Luckily for you, a famous inventor will grace your day with his help."

The inn was already starting to fill with the rings of gears turning and constant smoke flying off his back. He never gave it a thought, but it had a distinct smell, indescribable to pinpoint. He walked forward, making a point to laugh at the freshly decapitated corpse and took a seat at the table. He already looked like he was ready to take charge as a leader of some sorts. "Hey orc, mind at least cleaning up your dead corpses? It's gonna smell soon and no one wants to be reminded you still smell worse than it. Also, what hole did you crawl out of spider? Wherever it is, I see it wasn't deep enough below cause you crawled out of it still. So, what's this mission? Someone mind speaking before the clumsy ogre comes stumbling in here?"

"Oh shit I just killed the smartest guy in our group!"

All of a sudden, the orc had emerged from his ale-induced torpor, and, bellowing some sort of uncouth war-cry against spiderkind - But Neogi are not really - ah, whatever. No one ever listens, anyway. Khri'zhatt mentally checked himself - had assailed him with whatever came into his hands. Dodging the mug tossed at him with the deftness of the most tenacious of house-pests, Khri'zhatt leapt out of the orc's reach even as Stride heroically intercepted a blow which would have neatly cloven the arachnoid in half, and, having hopped for a few instants over furniture, walls and terrified bystanders, finally came to rest upon the ceiling. There he dangled upside-down at a safe distance from the orc, who seemed to have recovered what little sense he had, and twisted his neck at a hideous angle in order to maintain a view of the scene which did not induce unbearable headaches.

"Oh shit I just killed the smartest guy in our group!"

"That might have been true had all of this happened some minutes ago" Khri'zhatt retorted from above, "However, now that I am part of said group, your statement is quite far from the truth. Then again, had this fellow not sacrificed his neck's integrity for the greater good which is my survival, you would have been perfectly right..." He turned his attention upon the newly arrived goblin. "Ah, I see our numbers recover just as fast as we are able to thin them. Perfect. I can assure you..." Here he skittered to a spot directly above the goblin, disturbingly examined him at close quarters for some moments, then swiftly withdrew to a safe distance from the table. "...that I did not crawl, at least this time, from a hole any deeper than that cellar. Regarding the quest, I understood we are supposed to recover some sort of artifact, but he -" here he pointed at the decapitated corpse, "- was the one who knew the specifics. Unless you have, among that walking scrapyard you have with yourself, some machine which can make him speak, or we can find a necromancer, I seriously doubt we shall ever get any further than this."

"Ye shut yer skivering spida! Grox don't take orda from leggy gits!" Grox smashed his now completely blunt axe into the wooden floorbiards and painted it red with Stride's blood. His furious red eyes examined the mayhem he caused seconds ago and his mind filled with brutal thoughts. Blood, murder and gore. His orkish instincts came to rise and he could barely control his temper. He kicked a table with full force and it shattered all over the place. He looked at the goblin laughning at the dead elf and gave gim the blood eyes. "Ye dirty gob hav no place 'ere!" He twitched his head and exhaled air furiously. He was ready to drop the mask and murder every soul here. Only memories kept him sane at this point. His deafened senses told him to get his axe and chop both in half. A sacrifice for the dead. He almost started to not hate the elf. Fucking spider. He looked up and swiftly curled down the chain from his arm and began winding it up, aimin at the spider monster. "Cone 'ere ye git! Yu cauz me trouble, me smash yo head!" For a second he looked at the only other oerson left in the bar still, the goblin in armor. "Yu don' move till I dun wiv ye too!" His attention gazed back at the spider, and the smell of blood gave him the final touch. His skilled hands let loose of the hooked chain, sending it flying towards the spider.

Khri'zhatt leapt aside, and downward, to elude the projectile the orc flung at him, but was not quite swift enough. While he was able to prevent the hook from latching upon his body, it grazed against the side of his bulging abdomen, leaving in its wake a gash seeping with a foul black ichor. The latter's scarcely endurable stench offered a positive reply to the implicit question of whether the tavern's conditions could grow any worse by this point. "Gr-reh! You pile of rotted weed! Do you know how long it takes for fur to grow over scars?" he hissed as he hastily scampered behind an overturned table. Curses, he could not lift one of his central legs properly. This was quite enough. He raised his misshapen head upward and let loose a horrendous, nightmarish, headache-inducing screech which somehow reverberated from the wooden walls and burst out of the demolished door in a blast of sonic offence against anything capable of hearing sounds.

A commotion was heard from the direction of the stable. Horses neighed in fear, something cried out and was abruptly interrupted by a crunching sound, then a section of the wall collapsed as a massive insectoid form unconcernedly lumbered directly through it. The towering monstrosity snapped its frighteningly large mandibles, briefly waved its feelers toward the headless corpse and gazed at its master as interrogatively as it could manage. "Get that one, Thrik, and you can have the elf as well!" Khri'zhatt commanded, pointing at the aggressor; whereupon the beast slowly, yet menacingly began to advance upon the latter, its claws outstretched.

Khri'zhatt meanwhile turned toward the few patrons who had not yet fled the inn precipitously, probably being accustomed to such events. He produced from his pouch a calculatedly small handful of gems, whose glistening, however, concelaed their scarce numbers at a sufficient distance. "See these? They're for whomever brings me the orc in small pieces" he called out, adding "Smash green git and take shiny. Get it?" for the more intoxicated or naturally dim. He then began to wave about his claws sinisterly, preparing to unleash new calamities onto the head of this newfound foe of spiders.

This was quite the development. The spider abomination actually was making the most sense. When he approached Bob so closely, he probably could feel the electricity in the air. Well, that's what Bob considered it, fear. Now to make it better, he had front row seats to seeing which was tougher, the orc or the spider abomination. Still, the threat that he was next was where he drew the line on not getting involved. With a large burst of smoke, he knew now was the time to fight or flee. There was an orc, they don't like fire much. So he had the right weapon for the job, literal firepower. The spider could probably be fooled that Bob was friendly for now.

His actions were stopped momentarily when the spider unleashed an ear splitting scream. Then in reply, an even larger abomination burst through the side wall that once separated the stables and this inn. Words were not enough to describe this thing. It was huge and it looked dumber than the ogre. Still, it was aimed at the orc and the deal was being sweetened. Shiny gems were offered as a reward for killing the orc. Bob didn't know either of these two but he would gladly kill an orc for gems. Now was as good any opportunity to jump in.

Bob moved quickly, cramming anything on the table that looked burnable into his flamethrower. This orc already started a fight, who would complain if there was one less drunk in the room? Smoke billowed out the sides of his weapon, who needs accuracy when everything is a potential enemy? Bob set it to shooting fireballs and aimed in the general direction of Grok. The furnace roared to life as a a fire ball of assorted trash launched towards Grok. "Gems for killing an orc? Remember to pay me that reward after I'm done burning his mistakes into his flesh." Bob was already cackling with glee. He didn't think he would have an excuse to test if he repaired this thing so soon. Less people on this quest just meant the loot wasn't going to be split as wide. This was a win win situation, and Bob was gonna come out on top.

Grox let out a blood freezing orcish roar as a response to the weird spider's screaming. The high pitched voice made him dizzy, but his blood rage kept him going, his blood filled with amounts of adrenaline lethal to humans. The Umber hulk didn't seem to get upset by his roar and swept away some tables in it's way as it closed in on him. He was getting ready to thrown the cahin again, as he was trained to hunt beast twice this monster's size, when the goblin's weird fireball hit him. The projectile hit his left arm that was still covered in chains, but it still burnt like hell, and burning piece scattered all over him. If that wasn't enough the residents of the Inn decided to take up arms against him. He could take down all of them, but then the Hulk would probably get him. If he went for the Hulk thought, he might get away with a few scratches. He quickly wiped the last piece of burnt trahs from his skin, and began spinning the chain. His arm hurt where the "fireball" hit him, but the adrenaline made it feel less painful.

"WAAAAAGH!" He cried out loud as he threw the chain towards the Hulk. It spun around the beast's right leg, and tightneed as he pulled the chain. Grox pulled the axe out of the floorboard and and began running towards the beast whilst constantly wrapping the chain back around his arm. The Hulk didn't seem to ejoy his ways tho, and pulled the chain, flinging Grox to the wall next to monster. He hit his head hard, and his vision was distorted for a few seconds. He was cornered by the Hulk and the few patrons who were closing in on him. As his head cleared out and he stood up again, he was ready to fight once again, shouting viciously "Ye gun get da smashinz to yer skul bloody gitz!" He readied his axe for a strike and examined the foes. He could win. If he took to the side and stroke down the two gnolls he could possibly get away, even strike the spider again. No money no bounty. Yes, that's it. The muscles on his leg tightened as he was getting ready to jump ont eh enxt enemy. Then he heard the familair laugh of Woggha coming from outside the Inn, accompanied by the crumbling of the wall enxt to him. He covered his face as the rubble flew everywhere and his trusty companion. With a scray smile the Quaggoth peeked inside the Inn with his head.

"Ye git, come 'ere! Smash dem foolz!" Woggha was clearly unimpressed by this statement, and instead grabbed grox and pulled him outta the Inn. "What ya doin ye bloody git! Put me do'" Woggha put the furious Ork into a cart filled with hay bales, and the let out a snickering snoud. He then proceeded to beat the ground with his forelegs and let out a shrieking sound, similar to that of the spider, but a thousand times stronger, stopping anyone inside the Inn in their places. The patrons all fled the Inn at the site of this giganitc Quaggoth and only the spider and goblin were left inside, along with the Umber Hulk who was now standing by his own master. By the time Grox managed to crawl out of the cart, his head was cleared of the raging thoughts and the void was filled by his throbbing arm that hurt like hell. His back was also sore, and he probably broke at least one of his ribs in the fight. "Woghha, sit!" The Quaggoth sat down and Grox stopped right enxt to him. He stopped for a second, thinking about what to say next, as the ogre also seemed to have made his way to the Inn. "I see u haf met me git." He patted the side of Woggha and continued "I want yer blood spida, but ye got 'way today." He beamed a fiery glance at the goblin, and then climbed on top of Woggha, waiting for the others to speak up.

After a while Tugrok realised that while he was giving the goblin the cold-shoulder, said goblin was long gone along with Strides' saucer. He already wondered why he stopped talking. Tugrok had already forgotten what he was supposed to do here, but he figured it would be best to head for the inn.

As Tugrok approached the front door, which was obviously way too small for him, he could hear the commotion that was going on inside accompanied with a loud shriek. To get a better view of the situation he kneeled down and peeked through where the door was supposed to be, seeing the decapitated half elf, the orc, the goblin and a 'Spider' with its companion.

Things were getting out of hand and Tugrok had to think about something, either to help or make them stop fighting. He thinked hard but couldn't think of a solution. Apparently he didn't have to since Woggha pulled the orc out of the inn and let out a louder shrieking sound. "Could everyone stop screaming, Tugroks head is starting hurt." he complained. When the headache eased off he looked through the door again to see what happens next. If worst comes to worst he could still hit the building with his club or smash it on the ground to interrupt them and try to get them to stop, hopefully.

The dark wooden floor was covered with spilled ale, shattered tables, dead bodies, all kinds of blood, and saliva, which was still freely rolling out of the dead Half-Elf's mouth. The few patroons who were still at the bar at the beggining of the fight had either fled or were froze in terror due to the ear shattering shriek of the giant Quaggoth who just bursted through another wall.

A drunken drow was sitting by the corner, his body resting against a thin wooden pillar. He heard a commotion, but had neither the interest nor the will to turn his head to look at what was happening. People screamed, the clash of metal against metal was heard, the smell of burning wood mixed with a stench that made he vomit a little in his mouth filled the air. Soon after a ear defning shriek, a tremor shook his body out of his drunken stupor. A beast came out of nightmares was standing in front of a huge hole in the wall, it's mandibles snapping as if challenging anyone to approach.

The beast headed towards an orc with a flamming arm. The orc was surrounded by so many oponents that the Drow assumed he was a gonner. But this was before the orc attacked the beast with a chain. That orc was clearly a seasoned warrior, much more dangerous than any of the patroons around. "Now he's gone", the drow thought when the beast pulled the warrior by his own chain. A fallen orc had no chance against this many enemies. He was barely finished with his thoughts when another tremor shook his body. Yet another beast bursted through the frail wooden walls of the inn. This one was even bigger, although more pleasant to the eyes. It shrieked. Against everything the drow believed was possible, this shriek was much louder than the previous one leaving a ringing sound in his ears that refused to go away.

The beast pulled the orc out, possibly saving his life, but this was of no concern anymore. The frail structure of the inn appeared to give away due to the heavy damage to it's structure. Pieces of the roof started to collapse, pillars slowly cracking, subduing to the bigger weight put on them. It wouldn't take long before the whole inn became a big pile of shattered wood and stone on the floor.

Chaos was set in the scene. Patroons at the inn hastly running away, only to be hit by falling debris and be trampled by the others behind. In it's final moments, the inn was having it's revenge on the ones who destroyed it.

There wasn't much time left to boast with Woggha as the creeking of wiod filled the Inn. The structure was about to give up, and it already hit a few patrons fleeing. Grox stood back to watch the destruction, hoping to finally get entertainement by other people's suffering. But an unholy feeling struck him. The bloody half elf! That brat was still lying dead on the floor. Normally he wouldn't care, but he could have carried a better axe in his bag of wonders. He let loose of some swears and snapped his fingers. "Woggha, support!"

The big beast crawled in the hole he made and put his back to the roof. He couldn't hold for long, but it should be enough for Grox to get the elf out. He climbed over some rubble and got inside the Inn for the last time. Pieces of wiod and stone littered the floor with the occasional blood and glass pieces. He made sure to step on one of the gnolls stuck under a large wooden beam. That felt really good, punishing the guy who turned on him. Who's gonna get payed now bitch? He smirked as he dodged a falling piece of wood and appriached the dead Stride. His body was laying on the floor close to the still drooling head of his. "U ugly git still droolin." He pucked up Stride's head and as an Ork with giod manner he used the elf's neckbone to hang it one one of his hooks. His smirk now widened to a smile, Woggha's painful sound reminded him that he had no time. He quickly picked up the body of the elf and dashed towards the hole on the wall. Woggha began moving too, to which the whole building shook. Bloody git. Now he had to run for his life the second time today. With a mad fury and a painful shout he jumped out of the hole begore the buildibg collapsed behind him. like a bloody badass from a movie He threw the dead elf and his head on the street and then collapsed next to Woggha. "Neva again. Woggha u be taugt a les'n!"

Now these morons really did it. One giant hole in the wall from an abomination was one thing. two giant holes in the walls in a clash of the titans was going too far. Add the fact that things were on fire, not Bob's fault. This was looking to be the perfect time, for a tactical retreat from all of this. No gem was shiny enough to make him stay here to be entombed by the very inn itself. Bob took the smartest action possible, ditch all of these poor excuse for teammates and save himself first. Making such a solid choice quickly, he easily got out of the inn. Still, that body could have good loot. It was a good thing, the orc was already grabbing it. No reason to be tempted, the body was still loot able later on.

Standing outside, the smoke of his gadgets mixing with the inn's smoke and fire. He turned around, no sign of the spider or ogre. If they died, just more loot and gems for him. No need to try and save anyone still. No one really looked very important or useful. Still, that spider could be a good fake friend. The gears in his head were already turning, he wasn't going to be sticking around unless he could convince someone he was fine. The spider seemed alright, and it even had a lumbering moron at his beck and call. Probably more work than tricking an ogre, but he was a meat shield more than anything. So, Bob just waited outside the building, seeing if anyone made it out as well. The orc came back out after retrieving Stride's body and head. Was that head drooling? Spit is conductive, he was already coming up with a plan for that if it was loot able.

"Well, that's just perfect. I meet this so called group and you all managed to destroy an entire inn. Yes, I'm sure if that was say, an actual enemy or structure, we might be good at this. Also, I call dibs on the loot if anyone dies in there." Bob gave a smirk, not like the dead can object to it anyways. He wondered who would be bright enough to escape this disaster.

Just as victory seemed near, with the orc cornered by Thrik, a handful of would-be bounty hunters and the newly arrived goblin, the building staggered once again, abd a very, very large beast inserted its head through one of its wall and pulled him out of it, after which, in a strange display, it propped up the collapsing ceiling while its master carried out the headless corpse, as well as the now-separate head, which still had somehow not ceased to drool. Now, critically damaged by the brawl and the ensuing interventions, the inn was instants away from crumbling down in the most literal of senses.

There was not a moment to be lost. "Thrik, out!" Khri'zhatt commanded. The umber hulk, which had been standing by, more mystified than usual by the disappearance of its prey, seized him more rapidly than it might have been thought possible for it and, swinging him over its head, hurled him outside through where the door had once been, past an ogre - if this was the supposed paladin ogre, Khri'zhatt thought, it certainly did not appear as such, being every inch the malodorous brute with a vacuous expression one would expect an ogre to be. Thrik then continued the arcing motion his forearms had begun until they reached the ground, whereupon, using them as levers, he propelled himself with tremendous strength in his master's wake as the inn crashed down behind him.

Now safely out of danger's reach, Khri'zhatt constated that the pile of rubble which had once been the tavern probably concealed him from the other's eyes, which was just as well. He licked his wound, trusting in his poisonous saliva to coagulate over it soon enough, and tried moving his wounded leg. It was not crippled, but it would surely be quite a pain for the next two weeks or thereabouts. Satisfied with his state, which could, judging by Stride's fate, have been far worse, he crawled to rejoin the rest of the party, followed by Thrik. The orc was seemingly no longer an immediate danger, though his beast surely was something any further plans should have to account for, while the goblin, apparently, could be easily bribed with the promise of shiny things to be as reliable as one of his kin could be safely taken for. "As our efforts to change the situation have seemingly not been successful" he addressed what were now supposed to be his "companions", "The previous issue still stands. Does anyone have any ideas on how we can make the elf, or whatever it is, speak without his head?"

With all the damage, due to the fighting, having the inn collapse was bound to happen. With the structure giving inn, everyone tried to get out of the building. Tugrok thought about helping by stabilizing the roof a bit, but with his big hands he probably would have achieved exactly the opposite. So instead he moved away from the door so he wouldn't block their escape route.

He watched the fleeing patroons and besides them the 'Spider' left the building as well along with the umber hulk or 'Bug' as Tugrok would say. It looked at Tugrok as it passed by, though he barely noticed and didn't think about it at all.

A few moments later there was barely anything left that reminded of an inn. Not everyone could get away but most did, so it was fine Tugrok thought, although it was the groups fault this even happened.

He looked around looking for a familiar face and shortly after he saw Woggha and Grox, though he didn't notice the orc. Tugrok walked over and waved at Woggha with his ever so stupid grin on his face, when their eyes met. In the meantime the others of the group joined as well.
"The previous issue still stands. Does anyone have any ideas on how we can make the elf, or whatever it is, speak without his head?" Elf? Without head? Gears set in motion and when it finally clicked Tugrok realised that this elf was Stride. "Elf was friendly elf, Tugrok liked friendly elf. Now Tugrok feels sad."
He didn't know the answer either, altough he could be one of the solutions to the problem, but he had not the slightest clue of the potential that was locked away inside him.

@Turbowraith

Apart from the constant fear of having his head bashed in at any moment, Yashar liked the straightfowardness of his new hireling. No games, no attempts to show off, no useless monologues. Just the sheer will to bash people's heads with two slabs of iron.

"YES. FUCK IT."

That's all Yashar wanted to hear, a simple yes from a simple reanimated skeleton with a never ending bloodlust. With no reasons to futher delay his last visitor, he gave the instructions "Head to the inn behind the market place, the rest of the crew is there waiting for you. Also, take this", a small crystal ball appeared from one of the mage's many pouches in his now extended hand, "It will give you the instructions on what to do and who to kill."

His guest seemed a little aprehensive when shown the crystal ball, or maybe just further angered. It was hard to tell the difference with him. "If you rather keep away from magic objects, you can either hand it to the elf in the inn, or wait for me to send further instructions through a courrier."

@Banana

A dark mist covered what appeared to be the village Stride was just a couple minutes ago. It's streets were empty, the Inn still standing had it's doors opened to the elf and an inviting smell was coming from it. It was a smell he loved in his childhood, even though he couldn't remember it yet. Inside the inn sat only a small human, with his pale skin, frail build and dark clothes.

His table was empty, except for a few cards spread across the table and two mugs filled with top notch beer. That man seemed to be expecting someone.