[h2][center]Gillian and Nori[/center][/h2]
Gillian approached the dubious merc, hesitantly putting his sword away. He still didn’t buy the story, but...the stench emanating from the now open mass grave at least lent some credibility. Where the mercs trustworthy? Probably not. But at least they didn't seem too included to lie about who they killed. 
Nori was having remarkably more trouble adapting to the sudden offending odor the former sons of Thaln were now providing for the world to smell. It...reminded her of home, in all the worst ways she could imagine. She leans on the now adjacent Gillian for some support standing, visibly gagging once or twice as she attempted to suppress her memories (and rising urge to vomit) and listen to the spearman's alibi all at once. 
“How remarkably helpful.” He huffs as Alette finishes her explanation. “You’re at once both immediately dismissing all my apprehensions about your presence here and filling us in as much as possible. The bards will sing of thy brevity and wit.” The sarcasm, hostile as it was, was a little hard to take seriously  from the man with an ill rabbit woman hanging off his arm. 
“The object you’re describing could be any number of magical or mundane objects. Few of them good. In the best case scenario it's some alchemists pet metallurgy project. Worst case it's another Angroron shard.” He grumbles, crossing his arm. 
Nori looks up at him, deep confusion flashing across her face for a moment before being followed by another gag. “...Right. Guess we’ve got foreigners here, I’ll explain.” He says, handing the rabbit a waterskin as he does so. She greedily drinks, happy for something other than the taste of death in her mouth. “Long ago there was a dark lord named Orodrunn.  Being a dark lord, he did dark lordly things, like slaughter the innocent, seek world conquest, pay his taxes a week late.” He starts, abridging the history a bit, so as to not bore  the rest of the group, who were likely more familiar with the tale. “So good was he at being a dark lord that the various races banded together to off the bastard, with the help of saint Lillianna. Long story short, dark lord is killed, and his sword Angroron shattered. Supposedly the shards have powers beyond mortal comprehension. Occasionally they surface and cause trouble. Again though, worst case scenario. And part of me severely doubts someone would entrust its recovery to mercs like this.”  A few unnamed knights give him a sideways glance, but remain silent. While his reputation in the knights was at least semi-mercenary, he was still of the order, so  they left pointing out his hypocrisy to the senior officer's discretion.