Together with Jeremiah, Haukford, Virgil and Fafnir, Halbark was set upon the task of clearing out the dining hall and barracks. A mighty endeavour if Halbark was in any way affected by such notions. The group of professionals largely ignored Halbark and only hushed him to silence due to his insistent humming was getting in the way of the proposed ‘stealth approach’. It was a good call of the group, because the element of surprise was all that saved Halbark from certain death. A good dozen of bandits had been waiting for them, veterans at that. Though fighting valiantly Fafnir was killed by a crossbow-bolt to the chest as they fought in the baracks. That was the same moment that the room had filled with smoke and fire from one of Halbark’s clay pots and he himself had resorted to smashing faces with his flaming metal gauntlets. He insistently asked each victim of his fist a ‘Are you surprised?!’ and ‘did you see that coming?’ as to justify him stopping the humming on Virgil’s command. Jeremiah took 3 men with him to an early grave, but was artfully impaled on a spear by one of the bandit bastards in the dining room. Here Halbark shared his culinary wisdom with statements like ‘Its better charred’, ‘Guess you’ll like mash better in the future’, and his personal favourite while stomping someone in the mouth; ‘Now chew’. There was still an annoying wheezing coming from somewhere which Haukford ended by planting his Morningstar into something with a sickening crunch. Little did it do to quench Halbarks rage though.

One of the bandits had managed to grab a dagger while Halbark was upon him and he had a nasty puncture near his left shoulder. The bandit got off worse though. Blood was also seeping from his right forearm, hissing as it seeped onto the still burning metal of his gauntlets, though Halbark had no clue how that one came to be. What he did know however was that the gash had significantly messed up the roaring dragon tattoo on his arm, it almost looked beheaded. He clenched the fist of his now shaking arm. The tune he was all through the slaughter humming was becoming steadily more violent and came to a crescendo with him barking “Where is the fuckin rest of these whoreson, bastard-“ cursing went over to Dwarvish here as he started running forward.

The stream of curses went on loudly as he rounded the corner and saw a door deeming up before him. A door would not stop him from killing more of these art-defacing bandits! So Halbark ran and made ready to bash his shoulder into it. While shouting a curse containing the Dwarven translation of ‘Goatfuckers’ among a number of adjectives he bashed into the door, only producing a load bang and some shaking in the lock. Not only was the door opening to Halbarks side, but also was it enforced with metal on the side that Kayden has just proclaimed to be ‘this way’. Halbark let out a furious roar as he held his left shoulder, not realizing the metal of his gauntlet was still singing hot and thus burning himself in the process. He spotted Virgil from the corner of his eye actually cracking a sore smile that turned into a grimace for it stretched the gash on his check.

“Just you wait you-“

Halbark grabbed a small pouch from his belt quickly pressing it against the door and snapped the gauntleted fingers to create a small spark near it. The sound of the lock exploding out of the door and onto the floor of the room Kayden and the others were in muffled out the last few words. The sound of the lock clattering on the stone mixed with that of Haukford catching up in his, now dented, heavy armour.

“Was it even locked?”

He asked Virgil while panting. But Halbark didn’t catch that for he was tilting his head to look through the fist sized hole where the lock once was. If surprise was able to be registered on his metal and leather mask it would’ve been there, for now the gaping mouth feature of the mask would have to suffice.

Zin was unable to retrieve his thrown weapon by the time he was set upon by two dastardly looking bandits. One on either side of him, they both grinned thinking they had the upper hand. Zin quickly tumbled to the side as both bandits charged without a word.

Zin gritted his teeth in pain as the shielded bandit managed to slice his shoulder as he tumbled away. Blood streamed down his left arm. He cursed to himself. He was getting sloppy in his exhaustion and it could cost him his life if he wasn’t careful. Thinking he had to end this quickly Zin rushed forward before the bandits could recoup from their failed charge.

In several blurry moments, Zin swiftly managed to elbow the burly bandit with the mace in the gut, knocking him over. This gave Zin time to deal with the one who had wounded him. Then lean bandit cried out and swung again, which Zin narrowly blocked. Then Zin parried, but missed.

Just as the Bandit with the mace regained his senses and attempted to get back to his feet, Zin kicked him in the chest sending him right back to the ground. Zin twirled out-of-the-way as the other bandit attacked from behind. Then out of sheer luck, Zin sliced clean through the lean man’s wrist as the bandit went to swing at the spot Zin had been standing. The bandit screamed in horror as his sword, still clenched in his dismembered hand, fell to the ground.

“Oh Shut Up! You always were a sniveling little girl,” the other bandit said as he finally regained his feet. He swung his mace, smacking his companion on the back of the head. The first bandit dropped and his killer then set his eyes on Zin. Apparently, Honor amongst thieves only went so far.

Zin dodged the mace again, staying just outside the bandit's range. It was much harder to block against a heavy mace with only a single kukri and Zin was growing more and more ragged by the minute. Suddenly Zin found himself with a face full of dirt. He had tripped over a dead body in an attempt to evade the bandit’s mace. However, Zin had just enough time to roll over to see the bandit standing over him. The bandit had the mace lift up high ready to deliver a powerful blow but he left his middle exposed. Zin thrust his kukri right into the man’s gut and twisted. The bandit spat out blood as he realized his mistake, then his knees gave collapsing right on top of Zin.

As Hobnob and his crew switched locations, an arrow had struck one of his compatriots in the leg. It did not kill him however. That was 2 wounded now. One just here, and another Gnome by the Ogre back across the bridge. They were lucky none were dead, and good thing both wounded Gnomes had been coincidentally hit in the legs. The wounded one was dragged by the others to their new location, but he seemed to still be able to hold a musket if he leaned up against a tree. Their team fired volleys that killed a few bandits, but did an even better job with distractions as Jex the Predator ripped through their flanks, chopping and slitting throats with expert precision.

Meanwhile Zin's furious combat and Arassel's dance of death were mixed in with the maelstrom of combat around them. Arassel finished her opponent off. The man was skilled, but she found a crease in his armor through one of her feints that had him swinging wide. His kidney was subsequently pierced and he fell to the ground, bleeding and dying. Zin survived and dispatched the two men (or, incapacitated one and killed the other) and was now on the ground with a body atop him. Thankfully, the sounds and din of battle was slowly ebbing down, which allowed him to get up without fear of being attacked. The Knights held the line, and partially in thanks to the bloody swath the Mercenaries (with their element of surprise) dealt. The bandits were now in full retreat, fleeing back into the forest or down the road.

The door to the Coach opened up to reveal a tall man, with caramel skin and a haughty look about him. He seemed to be Ra'Sheek in ethnicity, with long dark hair and bejeweled clothing. The only sounds left of the battle were Hobnob's crew's final volley, before all began to gather upon the road.

"I deed not zink we vould survive, truth be told." Regeland the Duelist said, wiping the blood off his blade with the shirt of a fallen bandit. There were now only 8 Knights left, and 3 of them were wounded. Jex strode out of the trees, his red scales splotted with a more crimson color from the blood of his enemies. A few of the Knights held their swords up warily at the creature.

"And what prompted this act of charity?" The Lord from the carriage asked. He let the words hang in the air, then he sighed. "Forgive me. It does not do you justice for me to distrust you fine folk for coming to our aid. We very well might have been killed. Are you adventurers?"

---

Nuva's attack was powerful and precise. The door was burst open and nearly shattered, and Nuva managed to slay both guards while gaining only the merest of cuts on his arm from a wild sword blade in the right guard's last desperate attempt to save himself. Morek charged past Nuva, comically ducking under the Dark Skayleigh's swing as he barreled into the room. The Sorcerer in the center looked aghast at the intruders. Indeed, he said as much.

"Intruders!" he cried, pointing his gnarled staff at Morek. Dark, sickly green tendrils shot out of his staff. A spell that had already been prepared for the dire circumstance of being attacked unawares. Morek ducked that too, but the energy still washed over him. He grit his teeth, but was now being severely weakened from the dark magic that seemed to be draining his considerable strength.
"What!?" the Sorcerer cried, dismayed that his magic was working far less effectively than it should have. Most men would have shriveled up at the blast and passed on to the realm of Nar'Rog, but Morek inexorably moved forward, getting close enough to cleave his Axe to the side and embedding his blade into the Sorcerer's knee. The man cried out and fell over, clutching his ruined leg as Morek fell to his knees, himself. The Dwarf was very much alive, and as soon as the sickly energy had stopped hitting him, he seemed to be getting healthier once more.

He did not have the strength to lift his axe again yet however, so he crawled toward the Sorcerer and grabbed his robes, lifting his huge fist to punch the man. Kayden had run through just behind Nuva at this point. "Morek!" he called, sword drawn.
The three bandit guards left looked to one another, unsure of who to attack first until the door behind them burst open by Halbark the Dwarven Alchemist.

In the center of the room, the body that was at the center of the blood ritual began to writhe to and fro, distorting grotesquely.
@rush99999@Jbcool@BCTheEntity@frapet@Fuzzybootz@Austronaut

Hobnob and his crew emerged from the bushes as The Lord asked if they were adventurers. The gnome who had been his in the leg with an arrow was hobbling along next to Hobnob and using him as a crutch. "Take Pint-sized Pat back to the camp and have Dr Diminutive patch him up" Hobnob whispered to Titch as 1 of the gnomes' companions answered The Lord's question.
"Sure thing, Boss" Titch replied as he took Pint-Sized Pat off Hobnob's hands and walked him back to the camp.

Hobnob then turned to 2 of the 4 remaining members of his crew Smaller Benjamin and Smallest Benjamin. "Our work here is done" Hobnob whispered "Go pack up the traps and get them back to the camp. You can disarm the traps using the secret phrase: 'Stop being so deadly'. Understand?".
The 2 gnomes nodded before walking off to recover the traps. Hobnob and the 2 remaining members of his crew (Small Benjamin and Big-As-A-Dwarf Barry) then turned to look at what was happening with the others.

Frankly, Nuva felt now was a bad time to allow that ritual to come to completion, if it hadn't already done so. A brief glance round seemed to put everyone else in good standings for the moment... the enchantress seemed to be unoccupied, so his next sentence targeted her: 'Cassilda, help me put that thing down if you still can!' he called, gesturing to the distorting freak of nature even as he moved toward it. With little fanfare, he hefted his maul and slammed it down toward the corpse-thing's chest, even as he raised his spiked arm in a motion to ram it through its malforming skull immediately afterward. Of course, if that went as planned, it'd die after the maul alone, but if not... if it for whatever reason managed to survive... well, he'd at least have it pinned to one spot, if it didn't simply tear itself free or, gods forbid, dodge in the throes of its mutation.

@POOHEAD189@Austronaut

“Prepare to be burned clean of your heresies, oh scoundrels!”

Halbark recited from a back-alley play he once did the effects for (before the company he was with was blamed for a district-wide fire) while yanking the door open. With his other hand he grabbed a drinking skin from his wood cabinet-backpack and squeezed it hard to make the cork pop and gush the liquid into his mouth. He swallowed a portion of it before becoming aware that three bandits were moving towards him. He gurgled something as he squashed the drinking skin in-between his two gauntlets, letting the liquid pour over his fists. That was about the time that the first guard heaved his claymore and rushed forward to make the dwarf a little shorter.

Things started going fast from there, the skin dropped from Halbarks gauntlets and with a flick of his fingers they were set ablaze. The other two bandits were startled by this but the one already engaging pummelled on with a scream that quickly turned from berserk courage to agony when Halbark spewed the liquid towards the attacker and hefted his flaming gauntlet to ignite it into a blazing fury. The Bandit hacked blindly but Halbark had sidestepped the swing and the blade hit the floor hard, sending it out of the man’s hands and clattering across the floor as the man grabbed his burning face. Virgil and Haukford would probably take care of that is what must’ve gone through Halbarks mind for he ran for the other two guards that were standing there in bewilderment not only because of what had just happened to their childhood friend, but also because the dwarf was actually singing.

“Burn their faces and drink their wine, every art-defacing, dark arts practicing heretic is a swine.”

It was quite clear which words Halbark mixed in on the fly by the way he sung them, the first bit of the next line wasn’t audible due to the heavy thump of the fiery gauntlet slamming into the shield of one of the two bandits. As Halbark came back on the ground again from the jump he had just preformed he finished the sentence:

“- and their charred corpses will soon be mine.”

Halbarks gauntlet caught the blade and punched the bandit square between his legs with a flaming gauntlet, he dropped the sword due to it, but his shield bashed hard into the dwarfs face, sending him toppling backwards.

Zin rolled the body of the now dead bandit off of himself. He grunted with exhaustion, his energy now at a bare minimum. The sounds of this battle had come to a quick end only moments before, but the sounds of a different battle echoed in his ears. He lay there longer than he should have given the circumstances, but he had trouble willing his body to move.

That’s when the door of the coach they had been protecting opened and out stepped a noble looking Ra'Sheek. The man peered over the ragtag group before questioning them about their motives. It was not unjustified for the man to at least a little bit suspicious, which is why Zin was little more than surprised when the man just shrugged off any idea that they might have had any ill intentions. Zin thought that was mighty foolish. Just the night before some of their group suggested leaving the man to his own devices. Perhaps he would now be nothing more than a corpse laying on the road if Zin’s group hadn’t come along, or more importantly if Zin’s group had decided to waylay him as well as the bandits. Zin would not have gone along with such plans, but it stands to reason that it could have happened.


Zin finally sat up and pushed himself up to his feet. He quickly searched out the Kukri that he had tossed into battle and was unable to retrieve before being set upon. In that moment Zin realized that Jex had returned. Zin waited patiently for their group’s leader to say something to the Ra’Sheek and began to wipe the blood off his weapons.

The Lord raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his team's rescuers, but they seemed to be either the quiet type, still jarred from the battle, or were simply not liable to speak. The Drabarian they seemed so very off-put by strode up to them with the menace of a leopard stalking its prey. The Knights were prepared to engage the Bounty Hunter, before Jex finally spoke. "We were given orders by our Captain, Kayden SpearWeilder. Tell the Lords you see in your city that his free company aided you." The Drabarian said.

"Oui Oui, now if you shall excuse us m'Lord. Vwe must give chase to zese bandits and make sure they do no harm to anyone any longer." Regeland said, giving the Lord a salute with his rapier.

"I am Silias, and I am indeed a Lord of a far realm. You shall be remembered, and well rewarded. I shall see to it." he said.

Jex nodded for the companions to follow him. They would then travel uphill now, but not to engage the bandits. Simply to follow at a slow pace (thankfully, for the companions were all fairly tired) to keep them fleeing back to their Castle.
@rush99999@Fuzzybootz@Jbcool

---

Nuva's Maul swung downward as Cassilda charged forward, quick as a serpent with her flourishing of hands and muttering of her incantation. The merest second before the maul struck, a great black iron plate erupted from the corpse's chest, the malicious magic that surrounded it caused the Maul, and indeed Nuva himself, to skid back a few feet. One of the corpse's hands shot up, and as its fingers began to curl, the metal plates of a gauntlet was erupting from its skin before it was fully encased within runic black iron.

Kayden skidded to a stop, and with a swipe of the thing's arm, it knocked a weakened Morek back to skid across the stone floor. Before Nuva, Kayden, and Cassilda's eyes was no longer an animated corpse, but something far, far worse. Now on its feet, stood a Death Knight as tall as Nuva (and far broader), fully encased in Black Iron plate. Fueled by the souls of innocents and holding an ornate blade of Hellmetal. The last thing to be encased within armor was the corpses head. It smiled, showing its now sharpened teeth before a great horned helm covered it. Its mouth piece glowed with an inner fire, and every breath from the DeathKnight was like a hellish engine spewing poisonous fumes.

"Mortals." The DeathKnight said, pointing its blade at the three of them. Its voice sounded like cold oblivion. "Your souls will be next."

Meanwhile, Halbark inflicted heavy damage upon two of the bandits with his flaming gauntlets. The first cutthroat was felled by a sword thrust from Virgil. Haukford engaged the one that knocked the Dwarf back, his chained morningstar crashing into the man's shield and shattering it. The man recoiled, but was about to strike back and head into the fray once more before he paused at the sight of the dark sorcery that had just occurred. The last Two bandits looked to one another, and then to Halbark, Haukford, and Virgil.

The Warlock, his face now a ruin from Morek's punches, hacked and coughed, but pointed at them. "Kill the Intruders!" he cried. They still hesitated, but raised their weapons and advanced cautiously at the three, not to be taken by surprise again.
@frapet@BCTheEntity@Austronaut

Only half listening to the oddly-spoken human, Arassel instead looked as if she were peering at something far off in the distance, something that no-one else could see...something from a birds-eye-view in fact.

Since they had retreated, she had sent her companion soaring high into the air and now viewed the world through his eyes; it was no wonder that most outisders had no idea of just how connected her people were with their companions, not entirely able to shift into their bodies but well enough that they could make use of their keen senses as she did now.

Only when Regeland, even odder in his speech than the high-born lord, said something about following the bandits did she return to the there-and-now, almond eyes shifting to watch Jax give a jerk of his head toward what looked to be an uphill walk. This was fine with her, used to covering long distances and traking her prey, though she felt somewhat weary from the use of so much of her energy already.

Giving her own small nod, she looked to Zin and the Gnomes for a moment, before making her way to fall in behind the Drabarian.

@POOHEAD189@rush99999@Fuzzybootz

As Hobnob and his 2 remaining crew members followed Jex, Hobnob activated the thermal vision on his goggles and looked in the direction of the bandits. "From what I can see, the bandits are in full retreat" Hobnob said "I can see no other threatening heat signatures nearby, so we have nothing to worry about at the moment unless something that doesn't produce heat is lying in wait for us".

Having said that, Hobnob looked at Jex. If it weren't for the small amount of heat produced by his flame reserves, the cold-blooded Jex would have been completely invisible in Hobnob's thermal vision. But even with the heat reserves, Jex was still hard to see. "Perhaps I should work on a vision for my goggles that picks up on the lack of heat rather than the presence of it" Hobnob said to himself as he looked back at the heat signatures of the fleeing bandits "Certainly sounds like something to think about".

Ah. Well, that was problematic. The demonic knight was substantially bulkier than Nuva Doer himself, and that was clearly muscle from the lack of hunch in its movement... but then again, who knew what supernatural strength it held, and moreover what other powers it had? If it could deflect his attacks as readily as it had upon its manifestation, he didn't have any reasonable hope of damaging it. Then again, who else here would under those circumstances?

'I'll try and hold that monster off, captain,' the Skayleigh offered, moving into a more defensive stance than he was used to, maul in front of him and arm spike shifted back, ready to be pushed forward if needed. 'If it makes any difference, somebody ought to get rid of the sorcerer. Do you have any tips on dealing with... that?' He'd wait for the knight to try and strike first, then deflect its blade with his maul, and send a khala-boosted thrust from his arm spike toward... its chest, he supposed, though if it left its head wide open, that might be the more reasonable option, given that it was surely a weak point- less heavily armoured, more liable to lethal damage- even in a creature like that. Dodging the arm might also, he hoped, be unreasonable in a creature bigger than himself, even if it ultimately proved able to move faster than most mortals. Khala was fun like that: for a melee stab, more strength on the thrust inevitably translated to the thrust itself moving faster too. And if it was able to move faster than he could stab, chances are it'd also be able to hit him in the first place, before he could deflect its blows... but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

@POOHEAD189@frapet@Austronaut

Kayden leaped past Nuva to run down the Sorcerer. Purplish tendrils arced towards Kayden, but the Merc captain rolled below them at the last moment and booted the Sorcerer's legs out from under him. He rose up and stabbed the conjurer, ending his pitiful life for good. Cassilda nodded to Nuva, and sent her own mystical stream at the DeathKnight. She was not as spent or broken as the Sorcerer had been, her magic flying out vastly swifter.

The DeathKnight held up his sword and used his Hellmetal blade to absorb most of the sorcery, the runes on his ornate longsword blazing and glowing white hot. She then leaped at the fiend, before backpedalling almost instantly to goad him into attacking. He was confident enough and strode forward ominously, inexorably. His blade met her sword and Nuva's maul, moving and twirling expertly as sparks began to fly. His weapon began to chip away at their weapons' and defenses. Until Haukford and Virgil entered the fray, followed by a nearly healed Morek.

Suddenly, the DeathKnight was now vastly outnumbered, but it still held on for far longer than any would have thought possible. His blade whipped, and cut through Haukford's chest piece as if it were leather. The man cried out and fell back. They continued to press, but a lucky hit from Morek's huge axe struck the DeathKnight on the hamstring, sending him to his knees. "The Dark Gods will consume you all." were his last words as Nuva struck him across the skull.

As the helm was shattered, the three souls the Knight of the Dreadlands had consumed billowed out of its visor like terrible smoke that dissipated in midair. Kayden cleaned his blade off of the Sorcerer's cloak, and sheathed his sword. "Cassilda." he said. "Beglamour one of these men and let's finish this..."
The Prince then let out a light sigh, and looked about. "So...this is our new home, huh? It's nice. A bit dark but, probably from the blood magic."

---

With that, the new Mercenary company lured the fleeing bandits into the keep, and closed them in for the slaughter. As some tried to escape, they had to contend with the party they had already met upon the road. Within 3 days, they had sent nearly 50 ears to the bounty collectors. Once they were verified, Kayden and his Conqueror's had won their guild house, and their ticket into Starkvale.

Cue Theme!

One week later...

After the slaying of the DeathKnight, the rescue of the Lord, and the victory the Mercenaries had gained in the competition, Kayden and his group were welcomed into Starkvale as minor celebrities. The up-and-coming Guild of Sellswords were given a hall merely a few streets away from the gate. It was a fair sized manor made of stout stone and timber, with great oaken doors and a sign hanging above the door with a Sigil, twin spears crossed emblazoned upon a kite shield.

Within the Guild Hall, Kayden sat at the center table of the common room. Downstairs, walking in through the front doors was a foyer area that led left, to a lounge room, right, to the armory, and forward, towards the stairs (left) and the common room (right) where Guild members dined and talked among themselves. Upstairs was off limits to newcomers. Those were the private quarters. Each room was fair sized, with a fine bed of straw, a desk, and a privvy area accompanied by a drain and a water bucket in case they wished to wash. The halls were finely carved walls of timber, with lamps hanging above.

With this sudden and overwhelming income the Guild had received, Kayden felt like he and his fellows deserved to treat themselves. He had hired a few maids and serving wenches, as well as cooks to be permanent residents of the Guildhall. Mead and various hearty meats and vegetables were available to all who resided there.

The Mercenary Captain sat there, sipping his mead and positively bored. He couldn't even flirt with any of the serving wenches. It was their lunch hour at this point. The central table was turned to its side, so Kayden sat at the widest part of it facing outward toward those who would enter and ask to be apart of the Guild. The newest recruits would have been allowed into Starkvale and guided to the Guild by armed escort, in order to be given a chance to join the guild. Unless they had somehow already been within the city, which had been closed off to all save wealthy merchants for the past season.

Most of the Guild members that had survived that fateful day at Hillcrest resided at the Guild as well, having a free room near the center of the vast city of Starkvale. They could stay there with Captain Kayden, grab a drink or await the serving wenches to return with freshly cooked food. They could be outback in the training yard, practicing swordplay or archery, or of course they could peruse the vast city before them.

---

Morek and Jex (as well as a few other mercs) had elected to stay back at Hillcrest, a day's travel away. The plate armored and silent Dwarf had been tasked with overseeing the wealth that had been gathered and placed in the Fortress's vault. They had found the Vault after slaying the DeathKnight, and Morek had gathered every piece of loot, every stray chest, every coin found on a dead body, and shoved it all into the vault. He and Kayden then distributed a portion of the funds to all Mercenaries, which came out as a tidy sum of 87 Gold, 317 silver, and 500 pieces of copper each. Or, about 100 gold for each. They did have extra funds to use, but they would need to speak to Kayden about taking some of the cash that had been afforded for all in the vault. Morek now stood watch over it all, as well as the food and drink (and there was much there. Bread, Meats, Mead, Dwarven Ale and Elven Wine!)

Jex had taken the opportunity to scour the Fortress of any and all things he deemed hazardous, be they sleeping bandits, critters, or even openings in the Fortress's defenses. The Guild would need to hire contractors to fix up the place and clean it, and there wasn't much to do out here in the Wilderness other than drink yourself silly, explore the empty Fortress, or going monster hunting outside. There was, however, the cavern entrance at the back of the Fortress where the Ogre tribe had been said to be located...

The Fortress had two keeps to the northeast and the southwest. It held a dungeon for prisoners at its lowest point, and the large chamber/throne room where the vault was hidden was where they had slain the DeathKnight, at the back of the great courtyard. It had all the accommodations of a normal castle as well. A hall to eat, rooms near the upper floors, a stable and a smithy, as well as a barracks. Of course, none of it was clean. Much of the old standards and cloths were tattered, and much of the walls were covered in dust or filth. But, someone had to stay behind and watch their second home...

In a tiny little side street in the slums of Starkvale lies an incredibly small tavern. The tavern was comprised of two small round tables, six chairs each, and a bar with another six chairs. Behind the bar where a door should be, was just a doorway that led to the very limited kitchen. To the left of the bar was a staircase that led to a loft that held the living quarters of the barkeep/barmaid, a fiery lass in her mid twenties who was left in charge of the tavern while her father was away.... for the past few years. Normally she would be a little concerned of the security of this place with just her and her older brother, the cook. However, for the past few years, things have been a little safer than they used to be. Speaking of which...

The doors flew open as a man went flying out, landing face first on the street. The man groaned and just stayed on the ground, too drunk to pick himself up. Allard closed the door and turned around clapping his hands together as if dusting them off, "Well, that makes about three in one night. Must be a full moon out," he said with a slight chuckle. He made his way to the edge of the bar and sat in one of the stools, stooping a little to avoid the headboard. It was short to him, but just right for Mable, the barkeep. Her family wasn't halflings or dwarves or anything, they were just short.

Mable handed him a wooden tankard of ale, which would have gone to the other gentleman had he not got himself thrown out, to which Allard gladly accepted. "You know," she started, "I heard a new mercenary guild has just popped up close to the gate. Heard they were rewarded their own hall after defeating a death knight and rescuing a Lord."

"Busy people, eh?" Allard took a swig from the tankard, as he knew where this was heading.
"You should check and see they have any openings," Mable suggested, leaning over the counter and looking up at Allard,who was already shaking his head. "Why not? You could at least go and look at it."
"I've told you before, Mable, I'm not interested in joining a guild. Much less a Merc group. They are normally in it for themselves and will slit a throat for the highest bidder so that they can afford their next pint of ale."
Now it was Mable's turn to shake her head as she straightened up with a sigh. "Look, I know you don't like them all that much. But I've known you for five years now, and all you do is help other people, normally at your own expense. You deserve to be a little selfish now and again. you should have your own place to call home."
"What's wrong with where I am now," Allard asked setting down his drink and crossing his arms.
"Al," she started, a little exasperated, "Its a small shelter in an alley where you decided to string up a hammock. Its not exactly home sweet home." She undid her bun that she had for work and started braiding her long brown hair as Cooke, the cook, came out from the back and locked the front door, grabbing a seat himself. They were closed now, since they weren't an inn, they shut down around midnight.

Allard rubbed the back of his neck and looked away for a second. She wasn't wrong. He came to this town with nothing but his personal belongings and so far that's all he still had. "But what about the tavern, I wouldn't be able to keep an eye people for you and toss them out when things get hairy." Though, as ever, it seemed she had an answer to that as well.

"We can manage as we did before you got here. I think everyone has forgotten how nerve wracking Cooke can be with his kitchen knives. Hes got a good arm, that one."
Cooke just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Its true," he said with a smile. "I think its the clever that really strikes fear into their souls though," he finished with a short laugh. "I think we'll be fine here. Besides, its not like you are leaving town. You'll still live here."

Allard turned to Cooke in disbelief. He was usually the one that sided with him in arguments. "Well, I can't believe you both want me gone so badly," he said in a fake dejected tone. He even added extra theatrics as he placed a clenching hand over his heart.
"Oh come off it," Mable cut in as she finished her hair. "Look, we just want to see something done right by you for a change. At least go up there and check it out. For me. Alright?"
Allard looked down and grumbled before looking back up to meet her and Cooke in the eyes in turn. "Alright I'll do it, but this is the last time. No more, alright?" he questioned, particularly toward Mable as he pointed a finger at her.
She smiled and chuckled at her victory, however small it was. "Alright then, out out out. We've all got an early day tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep."

Allard smiled in return and poured the remaining ale into his flask until it was full and downed the rest. "Alright, but don't be surprised if I am here tomorrow saying 'I told you so'," he said as he unlocked and headed out the door.
"Don't worry, we will, and we will have some stew and ale here for ya. Good night, Allard," Cooke said as he closed the door. Stew and ale, good as it is, it really is all they serve.
"G'night, Al," Mable called as well.

"Good night," Allard waved as the heavy wood door closed and locked. He chuckled once again as he stepped over the now snoring man he had thrown out earlier and made his way back to his, uh, 'abode'.
---
The next day, around lunchtime, Allard finally dragged himself to the doors of the guild. He had made a decision last night. If he found himself joining this guild, he would use it to support Mable and Cooke's tavern. Maybe even afford her a new one some day that would make their father proud, whether upon their father's return or from the afterlife that is.

Upon walking up to the doors he caught the scowling eye of a couple guards at the gate, to which Allard just raised an eyebrow waved as they turned away. Although Allard didn't know it, those guards in particular had to pick a drunk man off the street last night outside of a bar that they knew Allard frequented throwing people out of.

Allard decided that the best coarse of action would be to knock on the large doors instead of opening them without notice to anyone inside. Just randomly busting into a guild's hall seemed like something that could get you skewered, which was not the kind of attention he was looking for. Even if the guards may find it hilarious. With that thought in mind, he gave the large door three sound knocks, hoping anyone inside would be there to hear, answer, or safely beckon him inside.

Suddenly, someone kicked down the door leading to Kayden in a manner that would be considered incredibly dramatic by anyone who witnessed it. The person who had done so was Tiny, the member in Hobnob's crew who had suffered considerable leg injuries during the ogre fight on the bridge that Hobnob and his crew had been hiding near for the majority of the 1st mission. After being tended to by Doctor Diminutive, the part of his leg that couldn't be saved was replaced with a prosthesis that was enchanted in a way that allowed Tiny to dramatically kick down doors more efficiently, kind of like how he did so just now. Why would he do such a thing, you ask? Well stay tuned readers. For the shocking answer will be revealed in the next action packed paragraph of this post.

After kicking down the door in a manner most dramatic, Tiny moved aside to reveal a stool wielding Hobnob. "Excellent kick, Tiny" Hobnob said as he stepped though the ruined doorway with a deadly serious expression of intense determination "Now go wait by the cart. Kayden and I must speak alone". Once Tiny had left, Hobnob walked over to the table, placed the stool down, and stood on it so that the table wasn't taller than him. "Kayden, I require the assistance of your roguish friend" Hobnob declared "Tiny and I are trying to find help for a project my crew and I have going on at Hillcrest, but Tiny and I easily lose our sense of direction in urban environments and get lost. Therefore, we need your friend's help in finding people with experience in making wacky inventions that preferably don't explode. Also don't worry about the door, it will repair itself when no one is looking".

And so they slew the Deathknight and the bandits alike. And so they became verified mercenaries. And so did a week pass.

And yet did everything remain about as it was for Nuva Doer. He would probably receive no greater respect from the populace for having become a mercenary, if anything losing some in the eyes of some for the very same reason, his weaponised arm continuing to restrain his ability to lurk in public places without being ostracised nonetheless; furthermore, he continued to remain highly secretive about his true race whilst about his would-be companions, eating separately to all and sundry as desired, and indeed doing what he could to avoid notice when plausible, or to push the others away when necessary. If they learned of his heritage, that he was the spawn of dark elf rather than woad, he was quite certain they'd be just as unforgiving as any farmer... and he wasn't too keen on befriending them regardless.

Yet he couldn't help but ponder about what the Captain had stated the week before about his informant, the elf called Secret. "The girl who did her research on each and every one of you." Again the query passed through his head: how much?

It was almost a shame he couldn't ask either of them about it for the moment, for Kayden was at the official guild hall, and Secret was nowhere to be seen, whilst Nuva had remained in Hillcrest Fortress, along with Morek the dwarf and Jex the drabarian. Neither were particularly good conversation, which suited Nuva just fine; so long as his only need to talk to either was to acquire access to food supplies, he was more than content to wait out the time until his next mission came up. And in fairness, he'd gained a degree of restrained fondness for both the dwarven ale and elven wine in the vault. Both were exquisite in their own ways, though he'd so far restrained himself to just a glass of one or both per day. He'd rather not tempt more than his fair share of any supplies- a fight with an opponent of unknown skill, let alone an ally, was undesirable even considering his own experience- and he was sure Morek would let him know when he'd had too much either way.

Speaking of which, it was, he felt, about time to acquire some sustenance. As he walked down to the vault, Nuva idly pondered his eating habits: he tried not to eat too much to accompany his drinks, but his size alone guaranteed that he would need a greater quantity of food than most, never mind the need to maintain himself in his downtime through training, itself inducing yet more hunger in him. At very least, he believed Jex needed to eat about as much as him, if not more, so he could hardly be accused of taking more than his fair share... not that he was entirely certain. Once he'd acquired his portions, he'd depart to a more remote section of the fort, there to consume his meal apart from the others in the building. He hardly wanted to risk...

Well, it wasn't worth considering that. He'd reached his location, and the dwarf guarding the vault, and to Morek he stated roughly what he desired: 'Ham, bread, ale. Perhaps some carrots if they're present.' If he was being impolite, he hadn't noticed yet; maybe the dwarf liked his gruffness, or maybe he despised him for a perceived lack of respect on his part. Telling was difficult, for those who cared to try, and again, if the dwarf would rather not associate with him, so much the better.

"This is as far as we go, my lord." A gruff voice said, breaking through Marcus's thoughts. He glanced up from the tome he had been reading. The man who had addressed him was a middle-aged man, dressed in clothing denoting him as a merchant. "Excellent." Marcus replied, shutting his book with a thump. He pocked himself up off of the sack of turnips he had been reclining one and stepped out of the covered wagon. He stowed the smallish tome in a pocket and took a moment to stretch and look around. They were stopped at a crossroads in a lush forest. One road streched onward into the distence, leading north. The other road curved back east. The air was crisp and cool and carried a light chill. Marcus turned to the man, who was shifting nervously, obviously slightly ill at ease. "You have been most helpful, you have my gratitude." He pulled out a predetermined amount of coins, the merchant picked up on the nonverbal que, and held out his hand, in which, Marcus deposited the coins. A flash of gold tumbled from his hand, and clicked against others of it's kind. "I trust that this will be compensation enough for the ride...and my anonymity." He said. "More then enough m'lord!" The man exclaimed, surpised by the stranger's generosity.

For his part, he wasn't sure what to make of the stranger. The merchant, and his fellow, who were traveling in a caravan together on their way to sell some goods at the market were quite surprised when they were flagged down by the man. Here was a richly-dressed stranger with noble features and bearing out in the middle of the wilderness with nary a servant in sight. The merchants had decided he was some estranged lord, and as such, treated him with respect and deference. They were equally shocked when the man had asked if he could ride with them north. "North?" They had asked. "Begging your pardon, m'lord, but why North? Nothing up that way but Brigards, Monsters, and Mercenaries, although you would be hard pressed to tell the difference between them." But "I have my reasons." was all he would say. Dispite this, they tried hard to persuade him otherwise, until he mentioned that there would be payment. That put the matter at rest.

Now, two days later, the merchant's misgivings came back. "Are you sure, my lord? It is dangerous, and has grown even more so! It is no place for--" "A man like myself?" Marcus interrupted, the man shrinking back, afraid that he had offended him. Marcus chuckled good-naturedly. "You don't need to worry about me, worry about the 'Briguards, Monsters and Mercenaries'. Now then," He said, picking up his pack. "I bid you farewell." Marcus walked off at a brisk pace up the road leading to the north. A few moments have he disappeared from sight, the gold coins turned in bronze.

Marcus had no qualms with how he had delt with the merchents. He let them make their own conclusions about his identity, and he used the gold to buy passage, and their silence. No one would want to rat out a nobleman and earn their ire. The gold just added to the illusion, so to speak. He pulled out the book he was reading, and began to read again. Reading and walking was a skill he had mastered. It had taken a few trees, cliffs, and knocks to the head, but he had it down. The book itself was a irritatingly uninformative one. Its subject was on the Dreadlands and its supposed inhabitants, but its accounts were a collection of hearsay and speculation, often contradicting itself. Marcus was in the verge of tossing the book, but it had one thing that all accounts agreed on: DeathKnights. Powerful warriors wrapped in darkness and clad in armor. Reading about them had piqued his interest. He would love to get his hands on one to study it.

Fortunately, the rest of his journey was uneventful. At noon, a day after he parted with the merchants, the massive walled city of Starkvale rose into view. From Marcus's vantage point, he had a great view of the city and but he didn't bother to stop and take in the sights. He quickly descended into the valley below and entered the numerous camps that dotted the land outside the wall.

Kayden was quite sleepy from boredom...at first. The dashing but battleworn Mercenary Captain nearly spilling his drink mid-sip when Tiny kicked the door in. A few drops of the Ale ran down his wrists, and that jolt sent him fully awake once more. How the hell can that little Gnome kick like that? Oh well. From what he'd seen of the bridge after that faithful day once he had attempted to head back to Starkvale through the traditional road, he knew to expect the unexpected from Hobnob and his assortment of crewman.
"Secret?" he asked with a rough voice, running a hand down his face and shaking his head to gathering himself once more. "I can get her for you, though it might take a day or two. Then again, she might walk through that door in a second, hard to tell."
He cleared his throat, and downed a bit more of his drink. "She's still in my employ for a bit. I'll send someone out to Hillcrest if she doesn't show up here tonight, my friend." His next words seemed like small talk, but it was indeed a great honor nonetheless. "I hear Lord Silias gave you a fair bit of resources for a certain project. What exactly is it?"
@rush99999

---

Morek stood as still as a Stone statue before the Vault door, just as he did on the first day Kayden had called all of them to the ruined Watch tower. He regarded Nuva as the Skayleigh approached, giving a respectful but dark look to Nuva. Not threatening, but reserved in any case. He didn't mind the tall Half Elf, but Morek was nothing if not vigilant. He gave a thumbs up to Nuva, and turned to unlatch the door to the Vault. The mechanism was a heavy wooden beam, but Morek moved it like he was picking up a small dagger.

"And some of that Wine for me, please." a silky voice said from behind Nuva. The athletic, leather armored Elven woman named Secret stood poised, her hands behind her back and her eyes twinkling with amusement. Morek turned to regard her appearance as well, then shrugged. "No problem, Elf."
@BCTheEntity

---

The Guards stood before the great Oak gate of Starkvale, the huge doors reinforced with iron to withstand even an assault by a ram manned by Ogres for quite some time. The doors were open however, but completely blocked off by armsmen wearing grey and sky blue colors. Their faces grim and unyielding before the crowds on the outskirts of the city.
As Marcus approached, he would see a Sergeant at the fore of the Guard, speaking to a few common folk who claimed they had family in the city to stay with. He seemed entirely unconvinced. Marcus would need to tell the Sergeant he was eager to join the new Merc Guild, and if so, he would be lead there by armed guard. Rumor has it if he was rejected by Kayden, he would be lead out of the city post haste. If he was found lying, he would be imprisoned. If he attempted to flee before making it to their destination, there were grounds he could be hung. It seemed the city was packed and would only accept the essential folk.
@Crimson Raven

Or...apparently... you can just walk right in, even breaking the door in to process. Not even skipping a beat, as soon as Allard had finished knocking the door, it was kicked out from in front of him. He recoiled a bit at the sudden impact and was surprised even more-so when he couldn't find the culprit, that is, until he looked down. Of all things to kick down that large door it was a gnome, and one with a fancy prosthetic leg at that. To increase the peculiarity even further, another gnome, assumingly the leader, casually walked in and straight for the person at the long table near the other end of the large hall. Allard noted that he sent his comrade, Tiny apparently, back out to speak privately, as to which Allard chuckled considering they had just kicked the door open and broke it while he was standing there. None the less Allard decided to respect what privacy the gnome had asked his comrade for and decided he should just wait at the now broken doorway. He leaned against the archway that the door was just ripped from. He tuned out their conversation and awaited his turn to speak, no wanting to interrupt. Instead he thought about why he was even here.

Allard crossed his arms as he thought. It was more than just because of Mable's suggestion, he knew. He also knew the the real reason he was in this town in the first place. He became a wanderer looking for Andred troops to kill, though they were gone before he was able to find them. He fell upon this town to rest and somehow ended up staying here. Maybe it had something to do with that bar girl. Maybe he was just tired of roaming. He wasn't sure. Now, Allard is a some guild hall waiting to see if he can sign up to be a merc, something he had never saw himself doing. He kept telling himself that he was going to do it just to pay Mable and Cooke back for the years they looked out for each other, but he was sure, that if he did this he would surely be tempted into awakening the past that still haunts his memories. He wanted to make the kingdom of Andred pay. He wanted the ones responsible for the deaths of his family to die on his blade.

Allard shook his head. It wasn't something he should be thinking about now. He looked over to Kayden to see if he was still talking to the gnome. If he was done, Allard would give him a friendly smile and quick stationary wave before heading over to introduce himself.