Despite being a nation of the people, Mitrongi is beautiful. The primary color of the keep is a gleaming white, trimmed with gold and offset by black furnishings. The building and streets are well-kept, with clean water running in the gutters and fresh scents on the air. The populace moves about with an aura of safety. This aura is kept by patrolling squads of Enforcement, Mitrongi's elite guard corps. The city is divided up into four districts, the Hearth district, the Enforcement district, the Market district, and the Garden district.

The Hearth district is where the vast majority of the city's population lives, in low buildings made of white stone. The Enforcement district is home to Enforcement's headquarters as well as the plaza where the annual Celebration Day is held. The Market district is, as the name would imply, home to the city's merchants and its large marketplace. The Garden district holds Mitrongi's rose gardens, as well as a number of parks and beautiful, exotic plants.

---

The group that has come for the job offered by Gladios Magnus stands before a massive double door, guarded by two halberd-wielding men.

The two men guarding the door are not Enforcement guards, but rather part of the Conglomerate's national military.

There is evidently some business going on inside the throne room, with a group of merchants standing before the throne, blocking the party's view of Gladios. They are speaking heatedly to the Duke, gesturing broadly with their hands and figures as they settle whatever business they have. This goes on for some time before one of the guards looks into the throne room, and then back at the party, motioning them through as the guards uncross their halberds to grant them access.

As the party approaches, they can begin to hear one of the merchants speaking.
"...is outrageous! It's as if you expect us to merely roll over and--!"

The merchant is cut short as a heavy slam sounds across the room, the Duke having slammed his fist upon the arm rest of his seat.
"Enough! There will be no more discussion. While you may be foreigners, you knew of this nation's tax before you brought your business here. There will be no tax relief. The everyday citizens pay their tax without complaint, as will you. This is the end of this discussion."

"...Very well."
The merchant and his colleagues turn and leave in a puff of petticoats and upturned, offended noses.

As they move out of the way, they clear the path for the party, allowing them to see Gladios.

He is a tall man, standing at just over six and a half feet. He looks down at them from the raised throne with eyes that shine an unusual, electric blue. He has no guards nearby, but this is likely of little matter. Instead of a frock or some elaborate wardrobe, Gladios wears heavy armor made of a gleaming white metal. The design is unlike anything anyone has seen, with strange, overlapping designs and bulky plates in odd places. He wears no helmet, his silvery hair falling down around his sharp features. His expression is welcoming, if not exactly warm.

"Welcome to Mitrongi, adventurers. I apologize you had to wait. Some people believe that they are due more than they deserve. But, I digress. It is good to see that there are those out there willing to rise to a calling. So, who do I have before me? Introduce yourselves."

The first to step forward is an almost middle-aged man wrapped in chainmail. On his back is a sheathed sword and a wooden round shield bearing the cross of Roderick. The man is very average, both in look and build, but he has an air of experience about him. As he stands before Gladios he removes his helmet, revealing short, dark hair; piercing blue eyes; and the makings of a 5 o'clock shadow.

"My name is Nicholas Keen. I was actually born here in..." he pauses, as if unwilling to call the nation by its name. "...The People's Conglomerate. Pleased to meet you."

Nicholas then looks to the others that have arrived, allowing them to say their part before he begins asking any questions.

Sir Vycker steps up, slightly in front of the rest of the group. He pushes away the longsword sheathed at his belt, making room as he kneels and drops his head. Still facing the ground, the warrior speaks softly, though despite his debased position he holds a certain level of pride and confidence in his words and pose.

"I am Sir Vycker the Adamant, Hand of Verase and Knight of the Realm. I come before your kingship seeking the work which you have advertised, offering my sword and service in return for whatever reward your offer."

He remains kneeling, head bowed, and seems to hold no intention of rising without the order.

Following Sir Vycker inside is a massive man -- human, but it wouldn't be difficult to mistake him for otherwise. Standing at six foot six, and massively broad, the man wears thick, black plate armor that is crudely made and mismatched, but so heavy that it's likely effective despite that. A massive bear cloak hangs from his shoulders, and he has a black iron battleaxe on his back, the bottom of which clangs against the throne room's floor when he kneels. Unlike his companion, however, his voice is booming and loud, and he has a distinct Ranirocan accent.

"My name is Sir Veryon, the Lionslayer, Jarl of the Heartlands. I'm here to kill whoever you need killed, reclaim whatever you need reclaimed... whatever you want us to do. Just need my pay afterwards."

Like Vycker, he remains kneeling, after speaking, waiting for Gladios to give the order to rise.

Nicholas looks at the two men, feeling a little out of place at this point. But he's not going to change his mind now. He chose to stand and he's going to stick to his guns and stand. Though it probably doesn't help that he has little love for Gladios due to his upbringing.

Whatever Nicholas' feelings, he was hardly as out of place as the tall but slender figure who followed just behind, content to let the men go first. At six feet tall the dragonkin was of a height with most human men but the pale talons treading softly across the smooth floor were far from human. A simple blue hooded shawl concealed much of the creature's face, draping elegantly over a plain but well-kept green dress in the style that of those who were born and lived in the Dragonlands. The only flourish to her garments came in the form of a golden pin in her shawl over her left collarbone. It was an item she reached for with her scaled hand, fingertips resting against its familiar shape as though it imparted a small measure of comfort.

Unlike the rest of them, Rhindani carried no sword, no armour, only a large and well-used leather satchel against her hip. Her own introduction would sound quite unimpressive coming after titles and boasting oaths. When it was her turn, Rhindani lifted both hands to the soft edges of her hood and pulled it back, revealing a reptilian face of dull golden scales. She had no hair, only horns and a frilled crest that drew a line down the back of her neck.

"I'm Rhindani...." Her hands came back down to clasp together quietly in her lap. "...from Metal City and the Church of Draconis Rex."

She did not bow, or curtsy, or kneel, though she gave a polite incline of her head. There was motion down her back, a folded shape of wings hidden under the long shawl. It was only then that she glanced over the rest of them better. She didn't consider herself much of an adventurer but the invitation had been extended to her all the same.

It appeared that Thirodaen was not alone in standing, though the human who remained so surprised him. He should have more respect for his superiors. He stood with the rest of them, might as well, if he was going to be associated with them for a while, he should probably get used to it. The elf was dressed in a thin, baggy linin shirt, and a small silver wolf hung on a thin metal chain around his neck. Two swords in intricate sheaths rested by his side.

"Thirodaen," He gave a mock bow, "They call me 'Fey wild'. Don't ask me who they are. I don't know." That was always the first question he received from those people who thought themselves smart enough, or drunk enough, to have any form of wit. It had become a habit to say the last bit, usually ended the conversation. His speak was smooth and graceful, like any elf's, but there was a hint of sarcasm there too. He'd never been one for formal occasions. He preferred these things done as quickly as possible, which ended up better for all involved. Glancing at the rest of them, it appeared that doing it quickly would certainly be better for him, anyway.

Gladios stands, looking down at them. "A soldier, two knights, a dragonkin, and an arrogant elf. Quite the group."

He looks at Nicholas for a few moments, as if contemplating something, then glances over the rest of the group before nodding.

He steps off the dais, motioning for them to follow. "I believe you lot will be able to handle this work quite nicely. Come with me."

---

Gladios leads them through the keep, full of massive windows and soaring hallways. It is surprisingly silent inside, with few people bustling about. "As you can see, I've no need for a large amount of staff. The beauty of the Conglomerate is that, like my predecessor, I leave the governing of the villages to the villages themselves. Serves for a very peaceful keep, for the most part."

Gladios motions for two guards to step aside as they enter a large war room, with maps spread out over various tables. He leads them to one of the farther tables, walking to the far side as he motions for them to gather around the table.

"The job I have for you is that of dealing with a recent spat of organized crime I've been dealing with. My men have been able to provide very little in the way of any actual progress stopping it. They don't dare set foot in Mitrongi, but they've been extorting coin from villagers and travelling merchants. The job is simple," he motions to a circled area on the map, about three days' ride north of Mitrongi, "Whoever they are, my intelligence agents have found one bit of useful information. They have a safehouse here, rather heavily guarded by hired mercenaries. You lot will drive them out of this area--by blade or diplomacy--and collect any useful information from the safehouse. We suspect that this is not their headquarters, only an arm of a much larger group. Make use of any information you find to eradicate this entire group. Your pay will be three thousand gold coins a person. A third up front, the rest upon completion. Now, do any of you have questions?"

As the party began planning, thick trotting footsteps resonated off of the walls down the hallway, a muffled grumbling of heavy, deep cursing laying just below it in volume. A tall, thin, pale page entered the great war room, followed just behind by a short, yet rather stocky fellow. The page pointed toward the group that had gathered around the table, and walked away, leaving the small figure to jaunt his way forward. The dwarf lifted his head up to the crew as he placed himself beside the two knights, a smile appearing on his lips that could be seen through the thick brown beard that covered a good deal of his face, and flowed to the middle of his chest. The top of his head touched at the shoulder of the younger knight, and his girth a good half of his height, clad in armor of quality steel and he carried in his right arm a massive, detailed warhammer.

"Abet Drakethorn, son of Throl, of great clan Boulderthane, sire, 'ere fer duty! Pardon on me punctuality, yer 'ighness, I found meself in the midst of a brawl 'tween a couple a' men at the tavern - mighty fine ale in this city, sire, yeh 'ave me most pleased!" The dwarf let out a small belch, and excused himself, the embarrassment of him being late quickly fading from his face, though his nose remained red from the booze. His hair grew down to the bottom of his neck, and his skin was a light red-brown, his eyes shone like bright topaz jewels. Abet looked from side to side, meeting the gaze of his comrades and smiling as he did so, nodding to each person who would look to him.

There was little choice but to follow along, her snout and bright eyes turned upwards as she couldn't help but compare the architecture to what she was used to. The Keep was large, but not so large as what could be found at The Roost. The quietude was somewhat unnerving and the dragonkin was well aware of the faint clicking her claws made on the floor. Thankfully it was vastly overpowered by the clunking of boots and armour. Humans were noisy.

Taking her time to join the huddle, the gold-scaled female eyed several of the other maps stretched across the tables. She'd been in the city for a while but her work had made it difficult to get out an explore. Well, that and the odd looks she'd gotten had stifled her curiousity some.

Listening to Gladios lay their task out, Rhindani watched the rest of those gathered. It didn't seem that diplomacy would be a priority for most of them, which seemed to define her own role more clearly. She'd be the one to patch them up if things ended in bloodshed. Well, that was fine.

Her nostrils flared somewhat at what, to her, was a high wage. Avarice reared it's head. What she couldn't do with that much coin! She had to force it back down. Anything that didn't go towards her immediate needs would be donated to the Church, as it should be.

"If I may," she began, her focus returning to Gladios, meeting his eyes. But then they were all interrupted by the appearance of a dwarf who seemed rather inebriated. Rhindani's long tail gave an amused swish and she tried to hide a grin. Abet reminded her of someone.

"As I was saying, there are many forms of extortion. How exactly are the victims being targeted? Are they being waylaid on the roads or...? If there is any information on their activities in addition to their location that might be helpful." Her voice was low for a woman's and had a slightly gravely quality. In addition, her speech was foreign, Common not her native tongue.

"Also, it seems I will require a horse." Ah, if only her wings would ever carry her. She asked not because she expected one to be provided, only that she would likely need assistance, or at least advice, with procuring one. She didn't fancy having to run alongside the whole way, though perhaps she could have managed it.

Nicholas looks to the dwarf come rushing in as well, giving a chuckle. He's about to welcome him but pauses to allow the scaled woman to speak to Gladios. Once she's finished, Nicholas speaks up to give his own two cents on the matter.

"Honestly you hardly have to pay me to get me to agree to a job like this. I've no love for bandits and thieves. And as for questions, the only one that matters to me is how well equipped they are. From the look of those who arrived, I think we can all agree that we probably won't be opting for diplomacy on this venture."

Once he's finished he pats the dwarf on the back and speaks to him at a lower volume. "Welcome to the meeting friend. I'll get you caught up after this little Q&A. Gist of it is that we're being paid to deal with some brigands extorting coin from merchants and the common folk."

The dwarf looked up at the soldierly man to his right, who had so openly welcomed him. He gave a slow nod as thanks, still sobering up from the little stint he had been in before, then focused his attention upon the duke. Gladios Magnus was an intimidating man, especially with the size difference between them, but his eyes just scared the wits out of Abet. Never in all his days and all of his travels had he met a man who could look so foreign, mighty, and distinguished all at the same time - but then again, Abet knew of no Drakethorn who had worked with a duke!

Though it seemed questions were being taken at the moment, Abet thought it would be best for him to keep his maw closed for the occasion, not wanting to seem foolish for asking something that very well could have been asked in his absence. Instead, he took his time to observe the fellows about him. The soldier boy to his right - well, not really a boy, per se, but rather plain in appearance - was perhaps the most unique from the group simply because he was the most average. Nothing seemed to stand out about him, but that did the dwarf just fine. No need for great, elaborate theatrics if there was no call for them. To Abet's left, a great brute of a man, clad in great armor and wearing a bear skin around him. Abet pondered that they would probably get along just fine, if he could judge just from appearances. Beside him, a younger man who, despite his simplicity, held the posture of a noble soldier - perhaps, even, a knight. The way he held himself said it all, really, and Abet couldn't help but raise a brow at how incredibly sophisticated the man seemed.

Away from the men were two other rather intriguing figures, neither of which seemed to hail from these lands. Abet took note of the Fey Elf that stood opposite him, taking his time to look him over a few times to figure him out as best he could. He was tall, obviously very elvish, yet wore human clothes, which Abet found to be mildly amusing. But the final specimen the dwarf's eyes fell upon was perhaps the most fascinating of them all - the lizard man. Well, a lizard woman, really, but the impact was still there for the dwarf. Abet must have been a bit too drunk to really take note when he had first glazed his eyes around the table, but now that he got a good look, he was rather transfixed upon the scaled woman, the cogs of his mind churning a bit faster than usual. He was just so unaccustomed to seeing them away from their native lands that actually meeting one in a building such as this practically knocked the dwarf off of his feet. Quickly, after realizing he may have stared a bit too long, he turned away, and back to the duke, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

The massive man rises, ponderously, and follows after the duke. He looks over the war table with a bit of familiarity; a man who's made use of one before, but is no master of strategy. He looks to the dwarf, giving a nod of acknowledgement, another to the lizardman, and one to Nicholas. The Elf, though, gets a smirk and a muffled, under the breath comment. He pauses to take a swig from a hip flask that, judging from the way he drinks it, definitely doesn't hold water. Staggering slightly, for a brief moment, he looks back to Gladios and grins, straightening his cloak.

"No questions. Don't need to know shit about these bandits, really. Doesn't change the one of two ways this'll go down. Either Vycker convinces them to surrender, or I convince them to bleed out."

The sun gleamed through the leaves of the Brightwood sending bright yellow beams through each crevice, painting a glorious shadow of trees on the floor of the wood. The wind sent smells of fresh, living and healthy wood, smooth, gentle and dexterous leaves as they clung to the branches that held the source of their life and health. Small animals and creatures jumped through the beams, chasing one another in fruitful competition. Life in the wood was lasting and glorious as it was viewed from the canopy near the woods roof where Saida lay. Her long platinum hair hanging down the sides of the branch she found her perch in, dancing with the wind and mimicking the beams of sun that sliced through each strand reflecting it's light brilliance through this bit of wooden hollow.

A gentle voice came from bellow, the voice of a male, calm, sincere and kind. "Saida, it is time my dear.". The deep blue eyes of the elf followed the voice until the met the man standing at the base of her tree. Saida, recognizing the man, swiftly descended the tree, not rustling the branches or shifting the leaves, barely touching each foot to the staircase of branches leading her towards the earth's floor. As her final foot fall landed her elegantly in the array of leaves, branches, pebbles and small plants that decorated the hall of life that surrounded her she knelt down into a bow at the gentleman, rising gracefully before speaking in a soft and light voice, "Yes, Papa, I will leave at once.". Their eyes meet momentarily before she accepted her items from him and nodded, walking silently towards the edge of the wood where her boat of transport lay to take her to the port in Saerus.

She attached her long sword to her back where it lay gently touching the soft fabric covering her upper body and swayed lightly with the movement of her hips. Her belt which contained her two daggers fastened around her waist placing the sharp knives on her left hip where they lay still, clasped in their leather holsters until needed. These weapons were elven made and crafted for her by the weapons smith of her village within the Brightwood, light but sturdy and sharp. The early sun began to dance it's way through the leaves across the sky as she approached the boat taking her across the sea.

The boat was large with deep green sails, each imprinted with a sun symbol in honor of Deum Lucis. The wood was a deep red brown and reflected the sun on it's deck as if to welcome it aboard as a celebrated passenger. Saida bowed her head as she passed the other wood elves also making their way across the sea for various other tasks and reasons to her own. The sea lay calm as the boat shifted away from its dock beginning it's travel across the brilliant expanse of water.

Though the boat rocked gently with the waves of the water hitting the base of the wood that made it's shape, Saida found comfort on the top a freight container carrying goods from one side to the other and meditated her magical ability, focusing on her knowledge of the arcane arts and familiarizing herself with the changing atmosphere that accord during the day and a half carrying her from her home to the ground of the other side where her mission will begin.

As the ship approached the dock on Saerus, Saida dismounted the boat on the side of the ship climbing down the rope ladder that lead to the shore rather then the dock, nodding her head in a bow of appreciation to her shipmates who bade her good luck and farewell on her journey. The ground was soft under her feet as she stepped through the sand leaving barely a trace of a footprint behind her to follow. The smell in the air was of sea and people gathering about with goods and produce changing hands with the comings and goings of trade ships. The loud roar of voices all talking at once coming from the large gathering of people hard at work mixed with the waves reaching the shore and the thumping sounds of many boots pounding in steps along the dock's wooden structure.

Saida began her journey to the the Capital of The People's Conglomerate. The journey took several days as she travelled along the road through Saerus, within the deep trenches of The Wildwoods, across New Chevlais and New Auslands and finally into The People's Conglomerate. Her journey though long was met with the welcoming help of a travelling merchant who was also headed towards the capitol from the port of Saerus where she rode along side him and they spoke longingly of their homes and families. The merchant was a dwarf wearing simple merchants clothes and decorating his head was his long mane and beard of rosewood accompanied by the pipe that sat on the tip of his lips but never fell through his speech and laughter. He went by Belnorn and charmed Saida with his epic tails of adventure and heroism before retiring to the life of a merchant.

The capitol city of Mitrongi was large and full of bustling people, much unlike was Saida was used to finding in her discrete and organized elven village in the Brightwoods she had known to be her home for so many years. People walked this way and that, rushing through and between each other in a never ending hurry to find their locations, items and each other. The buildings rose tall and aligned in the city, some old, some new, some poor and some rich, each one resonated a different smell from within it's closed doors and open windows. The sounds of babies crying, rough shouts, lively music and laughter sprang from different corners of the city along with the smells of fresh breads, stews, ales and desserts. The city was alive, it was fast and it was, although not unwelcoming, in it's own universe of life.

Saida closed the distance between herself and the location of Gladios Magnus nodding at the guards who stood fast at the door and catching a glimpse of what seemed to be other travellers called as well for the job he had to offer. She quickly made her way towards the door leading to the room they all seemed to be stopped before catching a glimpse of the map laid out before them and hearing the overall gist of the job lined up for them. Upon enter the room before glancing at the faces of any of the other travellers, Saida knelt down low with her right hand touching gently to the edge of her left shoulder in a bow to Gladios, her long brown stretches of fabric that draped across her waist fell like ribbons onto the floor, fashionable framing her pose. She spoke softly but clearly,"I am Saida Keyran, Wood elf of the Brightwoods and healer of it's people. I've come to assist you. Please forgive my delay in arriving, I hope his grace is not displeased."

Saida's hair fell long and brilliant to her side as she looked up revealing her deep blue eyes to the Duke before standing once more, her head keeping it's bow before raising it last and taking a brief moment to glance about the room at what would become her fellowship.

More bandits. Never seemed to be a shortage of them, which was lucky, because otherwise Thirodaen suspected that he'd be out of many a job. Greed and avarice, he was glad that the human realms seemed to be full of them. No that his own home had none. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the dwarf, which was, as usual, beer and sweat. He had been brawling, and was late, and was quite obviously drunk. No more than he'd expected really.

He raised an eyebrow at their second late comer, the elf from bright wood. An elf, at least, but hardly fey. Flimsy too. Very pretty, of course, and should they ever need to seduce the enemy into submission, she would be a valuable asset, but flimsy. She wore a sword, he supposed, and he assumed that she had enough common sense that she knew how to use it, but other than that, perhaps it might be good to travel with someone who didn't smell like a sewer. The bright wood elves were...more a race of dreamers, he just hoped that this one might be weighed down in reality.

As to the plan, there was nothing to say, so why say anything? He'd never been a particularly complex planner, and most people were surprised by his bluntness when they allowed him to plan their attack. This plan seemed as good as any.

Gladios looks over as Abet arrives, chuckling. "Do not worry, Master Drakethorne. At least you made it."

He then looks to Rhindani, listening to her question. "My agents were of a similar mindset. We believe it is a large organization because it varies. A week ago, two merchants were attacked on the road. Two weeks ago, a group of roughs tossed an alchemist's shop and stole almost everything. A month ago, a large force of them marched into a town and demanded gold, leaving before a resistance could mount." He shakes his head. "They're damned bold. The only reason we know they're related is we find this at every attack." He throws a black card, about the size of a playing card, onto the table. It's emblazoned with a golden skull wearing a grotesque smile.

"And of course, Rhindani, I will provide horses for your journey."

Gladios looks up as Saida enters. "Well, Master Drakethorne, it appears you are not alone in being late." He smiles. "It is of no worry, lady elf. A healer is always welcome."

He then looks around at the party. "As no-one else seems to have any questions, then I dismiss you. Meet Captain Lawrence outside the doors to the throne room, he should be waiting. He will lead you to our stables and point you in the right direction. Godspeed."

---

After two and a half days of hard riding through the sunny Avaliaran countryside, they can see a small manor house in the distance.

The manor is three stories tall and stands out from the otherwise empty landscape. It has a low wall, only around six feet, surrounding it all the way around. Standing at the gate are four guardsmen, two wielding halberds and the other two holding flintlock rifles, swords sheathed at their belts. The landscape all around the walls of the manor is fairly empty, spotted sparsely with trees. From here, it's impossible to see into the walls.

As no one else seemed quite as interested in the particulars, it was the dragonkin who reached out to pluck the card off the table, opalescent eyes peering down her snout at the grinning visage before twisting it in her clawed fingers to show the others if they had any interest. After that, unless Gladios demanded it back, it went into her bag.

--

Having never been schooled in the art of riding a horse, Rhindani was perhaps the worst off when it came to making good time. Thankfully the beast seemed rather tolerant, throwing its dark mane only occasionally when the Healer chanced to dig her toes too roughly in its flanks. Not being shaped for proper boots, there was little to protect the poor creature. Eventually it seemed easier on everyone if she simply ponied her animal to someone else's saddle and simply hold on. The hard riding was not comfortable, but Rhindani did find it easier to keep her balance when she let her wings out on either side to steady herself.

The gold lizardwoman did not speak much, finding little in common with the scaleless faces in their small group, and when she did she was polite but not very forthcoming.

Once at the manor it seemed that she would be alone in her preference to avoid an assault, at least without attempting to get more information first. However, as she wasn't among those who'd brought blades she kept her own counsel and meditated on her devotion to Draconis Rex.

Nicholas surveys where the bandits supposedly make their base. He looks to the rest of the group, speaking up.

"We should probably share with each other our skills, so each one of us knows what the other is capable of and so we might be able to formulate a more informed plan. It will probably help us work better as a team, rather than a loose group of strangers. As far as my own skills go, all I can really say is that I'm handy with both sword and shield."

Saida glanced about the room of planning and quickly observed each of her new companions. The fragrance in the room was an overwhelming mix of the different people standing about along with the scent of fresh flowers that decorated the hall and the crackling wood burning wafting over from the large fire.

The man who seemed to be in his early to mid-thirties by the looks of him seemed to be the most forthcoming with the situation at hand. She noted his shield and sword attached to his back. Next to him was a dwarf who although seemed inebriated, still looked as though he could handle himself. There were a few other men as well, A younger man, perhaps in his twenties who didn't seem as though he was well equipped as he was dressed in plain clothes but perhaps this was to deter conflict of some kind. Near him was an older gentleman in his perhaps sixties who seemed well build and unafraid of action and conflict. His eyes were of a man who had seen much, suffered much and accomplished much. Standing amongst the group was one of the lizardfolk. This creature seemed wise and honest, the type of person Saida would want to learn more about. Finally her eyes met those of the Fey Elf who also looked at her for a moment. She nodded firmly in his direction before noticing his human clothing.

This group was her fellowship, she would care for them all and do her part as a member though she couldn't help the wandering curiosities that flooded her mind of the stories and histories of each one of these characters. Each one intrigued her in their own way and each one she could learn something from.

As the group sifted their way across the marble floor down the steps of the building where their horses awaited them, Saida took one last glimpse of architecture that surrounded her, soaking in every detail of hand carved work before approaching a chestnut brown horse with black hair hanging over the side of it's elegant neck. Saida pressed her nose and forehead to the long face of the horse and kissed it gently on the nose with a whisper of, "May we be long standing friends on this journey." in her native elven tongue. She quickly mounted her horse, stroking the tips of her fingers against the spine of it's neck to comfort it and welcome it warmly into her care. The horse was calm and gentle as it began following the group towards the mansion that was their destination.

Once the horses passed the entrance to the city they began to pick up speed. Racing the countryside towards the hope that they could defeat the enemy at hand before any new and terrible happened.

The wind blew through Saida's long hair, whipping it behind her like long ribbons attached to a stick a child was twirling around in a game. The long tassels of fabric that extended down from her clothing also flurried behind her letting the wind hug her open skin and refreshing adrenaline. The smile that graced her face at the wind, the earth and her new glorious creature encompassing her in a welcoming aura expressed the openness she felt towards those elements that shared in the nourishment of life she so long loved and cherished.

Over the two days journey she watched and listened to her companions stories and adventures, learning their characters and watching their reactions to the stories of others. She watched the way they rode, the confidence in their strides and the mannerism in their speech. Each night they lay in the wilderness, lighting a camp and brewing stews, Saida found herself a spot near enough to the fire to feel it's warmth and meditated her magic. Letting thoughts, spells and motions of restoration, illusion and mysticism fill her up, each one emitting a glowing gold light from the palms of her hands that faced up. Once deep in her meditation, words spoken outwardly where closed off as her mind became enveloped with the words of a foreign tongue, permeating a warmth through her hands and, if concentrating enough, lifting her hair around her shoulders, levitating it there for a moment until her focus waned and the strands of hair fall again to her sides.

The journey neared it's close as they approached the manor, she felt the exhaustion of her horse beginning to way down on it and once again lovingly patted it's strong neck and back with her silky fingers and palms, whispering words of health so it would surge through the aching muscles of the majestic beast. As they dismounted, she gathered with the group and observed from a distance the location of which the bandits usually lay before turning her head to the voice of the man in his thirties whom Saida learned was named, Nicholas.

Though she heard his statement, she did not respond to it, instead listening to the responses of the others in the group. In her eyes, her skills seemed obvious and not worth mentioning.

The travel itself remained a tedious one for the young dwarf, a ride on horseback not familiar to him and rather frustrating given his stature and the might of his steed. He had taken the time at the stables to find a smaller mare, yet with the strength and endurance to bear Abet and his weighted baggage for a great length of time. The riding was tough, but after a short time he became used to the gait of the large creature, though still wasn't keen on mounting the damn beast.

Each night, Abet recalled the old songs and poems of his home, to which he would gleefully sing for the merriment of his companions, after of course he had drank a bit of ale - he wasn't one to carry water in the large skin pouch in his pack when he'd rather be having a good time! The tales of his homeland tugged slightly at his heart, which would in turn fuel the passion in his retelling, often emphasizing with a bit of exaggeration to make his ancestors all the mightier.

The party's arrival to their destination signaled the call for tactics, as it became increasingly apparent that their adversaries were well armed and on their guard. Despite their numbers against the immediate defenders, who knew of the size of the group that lied in wait behind those walls? The man named Nicholas spoke to ponder everyone's skills, to which the dwarf only chuckled. The party was relatively well-rounded, and having spent enough time with them these past few nights, their basic combat prowess had become apparent - the three men were fighters, through and through, and if any magic lay dormant in them, they were rather good at hiding it. The Fey carried with him a bow and a glaive of some kind, so he would best aid them from afar. The wood elf had shown signs of magic, as well as the wielding of the great blade across her back, to which she must have some knowledge - this made her a valuable asset. The dragonkin, however, was peculiar, in that she had shown very little sign of combat training or magical knowledge. And of course, who couldn't notice the mighty hammer Abet himself held?

"It seems blade and bow would be our greatest allies, eh? What say you, Fey elf, would ya mind pickin' at the gunners down there while we brutes in armor get up close?" Abet smiled at Thirodaen, though his mouth was mostly covered by the whiskers upon his lip.

@CelticSoldier