While the others argued and haggled, Orun kept quiet and observed them. Words were meaningless, too often used as a shield by those who wielded them, thus he paid little heed to the chatter. A person was shaped by their actions and through those actions one could gleam their thoughts. The orcish cleric was no mind-reader, but all the adventurers gathered here shared one thing in common – they had accepted the Harmach’s summons. There were doubtlessly more profitable ventures to be had farther south, so why had these men and women come all the way out here, to this barren land? It seemed to him that only those with very few prospects would come to Hulburg, unless they were drawn here by a specific interest. All this meant that they were arguing formalities with the Harmach, for in their hearts most of them had already decided to undertake this quest.

Indeed, he was more concerned with what was left unsaid in the old ruler’s words. This talk of curses and restless dead reeked of necromancy, but that was not all. The way the Harmach had spoken of the crypts and this lich hinted at something far greater and more ancient than he had imagined at first. Orun strained to remember if he had come across the name “Aesperus” before, but the temple’s libraries had held little knowledge of Thar or its legends. Even if one of the older brothers had known something, Orun had never thought to ask, foolishly believing that his path would never bring him here.

There was nothing to be done about it now. He would tackle things one at a time – first the tomb robbers, then he would see if there was any truth to this so-called King in Copper. As was often the case, things would no doubt become clearer during the course of their adventure. Perhaps Kelemvor would provide a sign if he was close to stumbling upon something. Whatever the case, events had been set in motion and now each of them would have to play the part that was ordained for them. All was as it should be and Orun’s mind was at peace again.

He turned toward the Harmach, just as the recently-arrived Dwarf finished speaking.

“Your offer is fair, Harmach - I accept.” The priest laid his large, veiny hand on the table, balling it into a fist. “Undeath is an affront to Kelemvor, this matter needs to be investigated and the dead returned to their rest.”

Rising. Falling. Rising. Falling. A small arm instinctively moved beneath the fawn colored cloak finding its way over the elf’s stomach until the queasiness subsided. Crossing the Moonsea on her venture from Myth Drannor seemed to be the obvious course at the time, though plagued with being tossed about on the high seas, Alfirineth undoubtedly had rather taken the scenic route. If the wood elf hadn’t already been running late she’d have all but started kissing the ground at landfall. Shaking her head in hopes of warding off unpleasant feelings, dark emerald hair shifted with little effort underneath the cloak’s hood as blue-green peered into the distance, their mark on the keep ahead. Leather boots lighted themselves swiftly against the crunch of the dirt path, often making small leaps as the level of the ground continued shifting. With the distance closing in each stride, it was only minutes until town gates towered before her; Sheildsworn on their guard.

Hullburg at last.

“Hold. What business have you?”

When first presented with the request for aid, Alfirineth was uncertain if rising up to the occasion was the wisest decision. She’d heard rumors of using adventurers for means of territorial expansion or power manipulation, both falling contrary to her upbringing. Nonetheless, she’d also heard rumors of disturbances of the undead. If such was the case it was her duty under Mielikki to intervene. Sheildsworn before her, she smiled downwards while reaching rather sheepishly into the small pouch strapped to her thigh, fingers delicately wrapping around the summons. The paper crinkled against her hand, slightly reluctant in being pulled from the space, but at last finding its way to the guard’s outstretched hand.

Face of stone, the man’s blank eyes skimmed the paper breaking away only to look at Rin herself. After a moment he handed the paper back, “Running a bit late aren’t we?” Rin’s ivory skin quickly flushed red as an apology started only to be cut off by the man’s lighthearted chuckle as he gestured to a younger guard across the way. “Follow him Miss. The Harmarch has already begun.”

---

The sound of armor clanking against itself led the young woman through the courtyard and eventually through the innards of the building. The area itself modest in its decorum. To some this would appear disheartening, but to Alfirineth it immediately instilled a sense of respect and comfort. Lush, bold furnishings were nothing but a façade to distract the viewer from underlying issues. The lack of such meaningless airs was refreshing.

As silence replaced movement, the young woman was pulled back into the situation at hand as the guard left her before the room. Slipping in through the door she made eye contact with the Harmarch before removing her hood and bowing her head in apology. She went to stand in the corner and was briefed by the remaining guard on the offer while listening to the tail end of the conversation, or perhaps hostilities, between the two women. At the end Rin wasn't sure what to make of it all. No doubt at surface value the Sun Elf seemed to be excessively greedy. Rin was not the type to understand this sentiment, finding many things to be more valuable than money. Still, she didn't wish to judge the "gypsy" too soon. Looking on the brightside,she decided to be patient. With the paladin on the opposite side of the spectrum Alfirineth felt an uneasiness overcome her as to the solidity of the group. Aside from necromancy and the possibility of enraged spirits, too much was still unknown. If they'd be unable to rely on one another...death would be likely.

Eyes scanning each individual in her stomach tightened. It didn’t take much of an inference to determine Grigor Hulmaster was calculated in his decisions. Multiple members of various churches? Rin knew one thing for certain: It wasn’t a matter of if a member of their group was going to raid a tomb as much as when. They’d need the help of the gods.

Grigor Hulmaster's elderly face lit up at the group that had assembled before him, and they acceptance to his proposal. "Very well," he said aloud, hands now behind his back. "You will not be the first group of adventurer's to set out into danger within the realms, but you are more resourceful than most I would think. I have taken the liberty of buying out half of the rooms in the Troll and Tankard for you to spend the night." Even for those unaccustomed to Hulburg, most would have heard of the bustling Tavern and Inn of the same name. "It is a gift from me," he insisted. "In the morning, I expect you to be on your way."

The Shieldsword escorted the new team out, leading and following in uniform formation until they made it to the courtyard of Griffonwatch keep. The day was just getting into early afternoon, but the air was already crisp with the cool wind of the north.

The Spellsword sighed, and realized he would be out in the wilderness for many days hence, so he would go straight to the Tavern to find a warm drink and good company. He said as much aloud. The Duergar would do the same, eventually. He had contacts to meet in the Dock area.


@Vor@Midnight Howl@Not Fishing@Ezmeralda@IcePezz@Assallya@Midnight Howl

Sumia stopped behind the Guard Captain. She sighed and turned to look around at the rag team they had assembled for this mission. She had to say....she didn't like it. Too many untrustworthy types. A good number were rogues and thieves, whom she was pretty sure weren't prepared for this kind of undertaking. "I'd almost rather go it alone...are these people really who are meant to help me?" She shook her head, pushing those kinds of thoughts away. What's done was done. She'd have to take them at their word.

She brushed a ringlet of her long, curly hair back behind her ear before smiling, "I suppose we've got the rest of the day to kill. We'd better get some rest and prepare. I suppose we can just meet at the Troll and Tankard tomorrow morning since we'll all be there anyway. I think I'll visit the blacksmith and get some supplies. Oh, also..., " she turned back to the captain, "...could you tell me where those orphans are? I would like to talk to them if possible."

"That's rather generous of you." Darius commented, a pleasant smile on his face - this one actually somewhat sincere. One free night where he didn't have to pay for a place to sleep, and at a significantly higher quality inn than the one he had been staying at since he first arrived. You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats those who work for him. Still, the old man had far from won him over. He always had to be on guard around these people. He couldn't stop thinking about his own criminal past, and how a man like Grigor Hulmaster would surely lock him up or even execute him if he knew.

He raised an eyebrow at the paladin, who was casting a judgemental gaze at everyone in the room. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. She really was one of those holier-than-thou types wasn't she. Then he glanced at a newcomer, with some sort of tattoos and distinctly elven features. Another half elf? She looked more nervous and out of place than anything else - perhaps unused to being in a noble's house? Based on the tattoos (which he assumed were elven), he guessed she had more of an elven upbringing than a human one. Although Darius's mother was an elf, she actually knew very little of elven culture, having grown up in a city. So Darius's elven upbringing was almost non-existent.

Upon being escorted out, Darius addressed the rest of the group. "Well, I think I'll sit down with a tall mug of ale and relax. If anyone wants to find me and swap stories, you're welcome to." He would leave out some of the more... colourful details of his past, of course.

And with that, he made his way back down the road and into the city. Once he reached the inn, he did exactly as he said, sitting down at an empty table with his drink. He would either be left in peace or get to learn more about those he would be working with. He would be perfectly content either way.

---

Joric grinned, although that was hardly anything new. "I've always found undead to be thick-skulled. Bunch of boneheads." Perhaps it would be wise for the group to prepare themselves for an endless stream of skeleton-related puns on their journey. He had been saving them. After all, undead were among his favourite enemies - it was fun to crush skulls, and it was always satisfying to axe the necromancer behind it and put them back to rest, albeit missing a few limbs, ribs, or fragments of skull.

His room having already paid for, the dwarf had a bit of extra money to spend on a night of celebration, which he was more than happy to do. There was no need to visit a smith or buy provisions - he had already seen to those needs the previous day. He gave the paladin a respectful nod, from one warrior to another, and then looked to the Duergar. "I've always wondered how much drink a Duergar could hold. What do ya say to a contest?" He challenged.

After all, he had his honor to defend. And surely he couldn't expect the Duergar to play fair in single combat - even if the Duergar would be willing to accept. Besides, it wouldn't do them any good to beat each other up before the job.

Conversation continued on for a bit, concluding the details of their mission and the generosity of their host. It was something that he said of which had turned her mood. Because if this group of individuals had anything in common, it was the resourcefulness they brought to the table. She chuckled lightly as she eyed each of them once more. Her gaze reached a shadow by the door, and her grin grew even wider. Her host was certainly an interesting fellow to have adventurers from so many different walks of life gathered for this quest. The earthy tones and leathers, a shouldered bow and full quiver, it was all such a giveaway. The ranger seemed young and was certainly a beauty, Dhyannah couldn’t help but think that this one, above all, were put here specifically to test her. She hadn’t yet had an opportunity for a “Great Hunt”, it was a curious notion, if after all of these years, would this be it.

Without a peep, she stood, falling in place behind the guard as they were escorted out. She had no qualms about their quest, or the company it would require she keep. It was a simple enough task, yet one that could so very easily turn into chaos, especially considering the individuals selected for this venture.

Sunlight spilled into the courtyard and a cool breeze swept past her face as they emptied the house. She would need to shop for equipment, but lunch didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She was about to ask the guard where she could stock up on simple herbs when she noticed the judgmental gaze of the Paladin. One quickly obscured with a smile and words of intent and suggestion. Dhyannah just couldn’t help herself, gleaning over the woman carefully and stepped near.

“I’ve been studying the art of silence, and have found it to be …. humbling, in the least. Perhaps you should try it before attempting to shove your leadership down the throats of your travel companions. I think it might be most helpful for you.” her posture, her voice, her very being seemed to lack sincerity as she addressed the Paladin. Turning on her heel, she followed after Darius and another fellow who had mentioned traveling to the tavern first.

Her step was a bit lighter as she fell in behind them. “To share in spirits at least, that sounds like a great idea.”, she smiled at Darius.

The Sergeant of the Guard, Kolton, told Sumia "Certainly, my lady." He pointed down the winding road leading towards Hulburg. "The Orphans will be near the eastern side of town, round about the 5th street north of the dock area." he told her, giving her a respectful nod.

The Duergar stalked away, giving the others a measuring glance as if to gauge their worth one last time, before his stout footsteps led him down the hill without another word. His Black dagger's ornate hilts were a stark contrast to his otherwise utlitarian and functional outfit. That is...until he was challenged by Joric the Shield Dwarf to a drinking contest. Another glare was thrown at Joric, before the Deep Dwarf snorted. "Aye, why not." he said, motioning him to come forward with him.

"I can't tell if they'll be fast friends or if they'll kill one another." the Spellsword said, hands in his pockets as he shook his head. Without further ado, he strode forward with Darius and Dhyannah. "Drinks sound fair," he replied with a grin. "I'm Arden, by the way. The old man didn't quite allow us to introduce ourselves within so..."

The Companions made their way down to the Troll & Tankard, through the winding road and into the northern edge of the town proper, where only a sparse few buildings and outposts were set. The famous Tavern was for country folk just as much as it was for those in the inner city. Inside, it was much warmer than the chill wind of the outdoors. The windows bled sunlight, and the lamps lit kept the common room shining at all corners.

Modest men and women of Hulburg dotted the Tavern, though seeing as it was only early afternoon, there was a very small amount of hard drinkers save a table filled with Dwarven workers on their break. The table next to them was where Joric and the Deurgar. A buxom blonde woman shimmied over to the two Dwarves and asked what they would be having. The table was large enough for all of them, though the Dwarves sat at the end so as to keep their contest to themselves. Across from them, the other table full of Dwarves gaped at one of their own about to drink with a Duergar.

In the corner, a lady Half Elf bard played a merry tune as Arden, Darius, and Dhyannah made their way in. The young man plopped down two seats from Joric, hailing the woman for an Ale and eyeing the tavern as if looking for an ample opportunity. For what? No one could guess.

Meanwhile, Sumia the Paladin went further south than they, heading down the central road. Businesses such as manufacturing outfits, shops of all kinds, smaller food taverns, general goods, and finally a smithy showed up. Around her, she could see perhaps one Half Elf or two, but mainly the population was human, with fair skin and brownish hair for the most part. There were a few Dwarven workers here and there, using their great strength to haul heavy sacks. The Smithy was an open shop, and a hammer ringing on metal be could be heard from within. @IcePezz@Not Fishing@Ezmeralda

Joric Ironfist

Truthfully, Joric had not expected the Duergar to accept, considering his initial reaction. But now, the honor of his people was on the line, but he was not worried. His constitution was greater than most, even by Dwarven standards. And hey, maybe he could learn more about a future traveling companion - drinking contests were a great way to make friends. Anyways, he accompanied the Duergar to the tavern, and sat down at the table, ready to get down to business.

"Two of your strongest dwarven brews!" Joric decreed with enthusiasm. Although history books were unlikely to record the event that was about to happen, it would undoubtedly be the most significant conflict between a Dwarf and a Duergar to ever unfold. "Keep 'em coming until one of us can't take anymore. Loser pays the bill."

He looked over to the other table, and waved to his Dwarven brethren, who were understandably shocked. But if they wanted to place bets or cheer him on, he would not object. He turned back to his new rival. "I'm Joric Ironfist..." he introduced, realizing he had yet to provide his name. "And you would be?"

---

"I'm Darius." Darius introduced himself, sitting next to the Spellsword. He decided not to give his last name - even though it was a fake one at that. The Spellsword had only given a first name, so it only seemed fitting to do the same. He looked over to the two dwarves in their party, that Arden had already previously commented on, about to engage in a drinking contest. "Hard to say how this will turn out. I've never met a Duergar, and even if I did, I'd be an idiot to judge them all based on that first encounter. As for the dwarf... he's a bit odd, that much is obvious. Then again, we traveling types are all a bit odd aren't we?"

He ordered a drink. "First round is on me." He told Arden and Dhyannah. Darius had used this tactic before. It was amazing how much you could learn from someone by simply buying them a drink. In his experience, people's tastes tended to become more expensive when someone else was paying for it, but there was always the occasional individual who either bought something cheap or refused the offer altogether.

Of course, Arden had already ordered, but the woman had yet to do so, and so far she was the mystery. She had kept out of the negotiating, but didn't seem to appreciate the paladin's judgemental gaze any more than he did, and had not hesitated to say so to her face. "Good job shutting down 'Her Holiness' back there." He congratulated her.

Sumia smiled as the man gave her directions, they seemed a bit vague, but she assumed that was because it would be easy to find, "I see, thank you." she said, giving him a nod in thanks before heading off. Or trying to at least, as one of her "comrades" stopped her, basically telling her 'Shut up. You're crampin' our style!' The Paladin rolled her eyes at the woman and walked away. She didn't recall taking leadership, although perhaps from their point of veiw it might've seemed that way. She didn't see any of them taking the lead, though. She bet it'd be funny to see them try. Sumia let her half cloak cover her a little more as she walked, it was a bit chilly.

Her first stop was the Smithy. Her rapier was getting a bit worn from battle. She was thinking of tuning it up a little. She could hear the hammering and it easily brought her to the shop. Sumia smiled at the blacksmith, "Good afternoon, how's the forge today?" she said, making a little small talk while unsheathing her rapier and letting him take a good look at it, "I was wondering what your thoughts on my blade here were. It's getting a bit worn out now and I'll need it in top shape. Do you think you can restore it or should I consider a new blade? I wouldn't mind something longer...."

One could see several nicks and scratches in the simple, yet elegant blade, showing frequent use. It was clear Sumia took care of it, as it was kept well polished, and she tried to work out the nicks, but there were only so many supplies she could carry. She was quite fond of it. It had seen her through a lot and would be sad to see it go if the smith couldn't do anything for it.

Eyes curiously followed each member as they trickled out of the room, majority of the group making their way to the tavern, no doubt. Alfirineth followed behind the group without a word, the tensions already high enough. Split judgements seem to be running amuck though they had only been together for a matter of minutes. A girl with brown hair and muted tones gave her a peculiar look that unsettled her slightly. At the least she didn't know how to interpret it just yet. Her interest was certainly peaked. They say trust is earned. Would she be able to gain such an ideal in the midst of paranoia? These thoughts wandered about as Rin half listened to directions. She wouldn't need to go to a blacksmith, preferring to work on her own equipment herself. The bow was freshly strung and tuned to her liking. On her back the quiver filled with arrows created just before her journey across the Moonsea, balanced accordingly. Medicinal herbs, on the other hand? The nearest alchemy shop would be her goal, perhaps even taking a walk around the area to find some on her own.

Pulling her hood down, she shook out her hair, while taking in a long breath of air. She stopped in her tracks, watching as the rest of the group piled into the tavern as a smile crossed her lips. "At the very least perhaps they can bond over a strong ale. By Mielikki maybe they won't be so stiff." Spinning on her heels, the figure began following one of the many sideroads in hopes of happening across her destination. It'd been awhile since she'd come to a city quite so lively. People bustled about, Rin having to make herself small to fit through the crowds. In the distance were various shops of food, jewels, and trinkets that promised to be from far away lands. The sound of metal against metal rang in the distance attracting her gaze to the blacksmith shop just in time to see the paladin enter. She's probably wanting her armor or blade improved. The musky scent of the earth became lost as she passed a bakery, where she ended up spending a few coin on a whim, only to end up giving her snack to a beggar later down the road.

After countless turnarounds she finally found what she'd been looking for, a small alchemy shop fitting itself snugly between houses. Pulling the wooden door open Rin found the inside to be just as quaint. An elderly man stood behind the corner as a woman (probably his wife) continued grinding at a mortar, a soft yellow powder contrasting brightly against the dark grey stone. Alfirineth nodded in greeting, immediately making her way to the shelves and casings, eyeing them for a long bit before decisively picking out her plants. Though not freshly stocked, the young elf managed to find most of what she needed. Placing them on the counter, the girl began digging for the payment and setting it next to the merchandise. Looking over her shoulder at the pedestal, wondering if she could use it her thoughts were interrupted by the burly voice, "It's not often we get wood elves around here; you certainly know your stuff lass." Within minutes the girl began hearing of the man's adventures, how he came to alchemy, meeting his wife, and the journey to this town.

---

So entrapped in the man's story, Rin was oblivious to the loss of time. By the moment she came back to, what needed to be powderized was, and sat in packages placed neatly beside her. Offering the man's wife a smile for the kindness, the elf organized the ingredients into her alchemy bag. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I truly must be on my way." Bowing slightly in apology, she slipped through the door disappearing into the mass once more. Turned around multiple times, or distracted by some interesting scene, it took a bit before she found the tavern. Whether the group was still there or not was beyond her. It wouldn't hurt to check.

The inn was a light and friendly atmosphere, nothing at all she had expected at a tavern of such renown. Despite the time of day, there was a hustle and bustle about, servers running around with large plates of food and stouts full of ale. A tune carried through the merry bar and overall there was a pleasant energy. This was hearth and home for so many, the warmth of it all settling into her bones as ale was called for. Ale wasn’t her typical choice of drink, but she wouldn’t refuse if someone else was buying.

She kept a kept an active gaze about her, passing it towards the door every now and then. A drinking contest between a Duergar and Dwarf would be an interesting spectacle, but it seemed Dhyanna’s focus was on other things at the moment. She did manage a word or two to her companions. A gracious smile and a word of thanks before giving her name. ”Dhyannah”, she nodded to them, her words were thoughtful and clear. ”Oh, I’m sure my words hardly had any effect on ‘her holiness’”, she replicated his tone for a moment before continuing, ” but someone needed to say it.”

She didn't much care for the talkative types, and her discomfort was very clear as she took her seat. In her mind, talkative types were either looking for one of two things, information or company. Dhyannah was more of a private person, typically sharing as was necessary. She kept a seat between herself and the others and unraveled the thick cloak to rest behind her. It was warm, and no doubt that conversation and alcohol would make it warmer.

She engaged as much as needed, and spoke with the confidence of an Amazonian princess. And as the ale seeped in, a small few of her sharp edges smoothed over, allowing a chuckle to escape once in a while. It was a friendly conversation, yet shallow enough that they could all keep their anonymity, a point that was obvious they each valued. There was something wild about her, untamed even, though she managed to retain her allure. In fact if anything was learned about her, it was that she liked to drink and she was well traveled. She could name at least 14 different types of ale and would make a point to visit at least one tavern during every stop in her travels.

Her eyes continuously drifted towards the door as if she was waiting for someone or something. It was interesting, how well lit the tavern was. No room for shadows or shades, Dhyannah wondered how different it could be in the evening hours. And then she remembered the shopping she would need to get done before night drew near. She lifted herself from her chair, drawing her cloak around her. ”I'm afraid there were some items I needed to purchase before settling in for the evening. Enjoy, gentlemen. she nodded to them before making her way to the door. It was then she noticed the arrival of another party member, the ranger whom had struck her interest earlier. She winked at the woman, making her observation known. And with that she disappeared into the crowd loitering in front of the tavern, trickling down the road.

The buxom tavern lass set down two of the strongest brews they had. The Duergar picked one up, and his red eyes looked up at Joric when he introduced himself. For a long while, the Duergar simply started at him. Durning Oldstead, the Tavernkeeper, approached the two Dwarves just as they were about to start. He was a burly and rounded man, almost Dwarf looking himself if not for the height and lack of true rock-like quality. "I usually brew my own batch, but that is straight from Citadel Felbarr, my fellows." he told them. "Got more too, when you need it. Expensive though, just a warning."



Drink after drink they downed the Dwarven brew, a concoction far too potent for most humans to drink more than a glass or two. After their seventh drink, both of them seemed well and positively fucked up. "Ghearden," the Duergar said, as a sign of grudging respect. "Ghearden Blackdagger." The other Dwarves the table parallel to them were cheering for Joric to win, but still had give Ghearden his due for holding his own, though one muttered of foul Duergar trickery.

---

Meanwhile at the table, Arden made a good showing of himself. He spoke of far off adventures and hilarious mishaps in very serious situations that somehow ended up okay. He seemed to respond well to Darius, speaking like a comrade rather than a rival. Once much of the talking was done, he then began to showcase his skills, using the board at the end of the tavern to practice his throwing Knives. He was quite good at it too. Dhyannah had certainly impressed him from the way he would look her way, though his Knife throwing did not appear to be mere bragging. It seemed he simply felt like doing it for the thrill and the practice, even if it drew a small crowd. Dhyannah walked out without as Arden's back was turned, and indeed she moved so silently hardly anyone noticed her leaving save Rin it seemed, and perhaps Darius. She would find herself on a three way street, going left towards the more industrial buildings, right toward the small businesses with little but trinkets. Forward led to larger businesses, towards the docks. It was now getting to be later afternoon.

---

"Oh, pardon m'lady," the Smith said, giving a nod to her, and a half-attempted bow. "Let me see this blade o'yorne." His large, callused hands reached out to take her rapier, and he eyed it carefully. The smithy was moderately sized, for such a small trading city. The walls were made of stone, the bloomery smelter was just behind the man, and before him was the large anvil. "She's definitely seen better days, but still a fine blade. I could reforge her, maybe add in some Cold Iron for an extra twelve gold. Then again, just tell me what other kind of weapon you'd like and I can see what I have in stock."

@IcePezz@Midnight Howl@Ezmeralda@Not Fishing

Sumia smiled at the blacksmith again, she could afford to buy a new weapon if she wanted, but she didn't exactly need one. Especially after giving most of her share of the earnings to the orphans here. "Reforging her in Cold Iron sounds good for where I'm about to go, actually. How much would that be? And I'm not sure. Just wanting to try new things, I guess. I was thinking something longer, sturider, and heavier like a good longsword? Something with a bit more power while still maintaining mobility. What do you reccomend for a girl like me?" she asked.

Joric Ironfist

"You... you can hold your own, Blackdagger." Joric admitted. Few individuals had ever been able to out-drink him. If one's skills were determined by a set of numbers, Joric always imagined his constitution would be at the max. So, it was quite impressive that the Duergar seemed to be on the same level as him. It made him wonder just what kind of drinks they served, down in the dark underground that the Duergars called home. He briefly considered calling it a draw.

No.

His fellow dwarves were cheering him on, and he loathed to back down from a challenge. Calling for a draw may be interpreted as a sign that he couldn't handle anymore. "Another!" He announced, raising a hand.

---

Darius Arenar

Darius too had more than a few stories to share with the rest of the table. He spoke of bizarre strangers and sightings on the road, of jobs where he ended up entangled in conflicts between gangs and local law enforcement, and even had a few funny stories of his own. He exaggerated at times, but only slightly - enough to make even simple stories sound impressive, but not too much to make them unbelievable. But one thing would be clear from listening to his stories: he had never been away from the Moonsea. And if anyone inquired into his personal background, he would find a way to change the subject, perhaps even turn the question around and try to learn more about them.

Dhyannah seemed alright to him. Well-traveled, liked to have a good time, not some self-righteous holier-than-thou do-gooder. Arden was a friendly and possessed a sense of humor, but to Darius he also came across as a bit of a braggart when he started throwing knives, and in doing so attracted a crowd.

Of course, Darius never found fault with bragging so long as it wasn't excessive - he liked to brag too, after all. And when there were knives involved, he simply couldn't resist. So he joined in, throwing knives alongside Arden in an attempt to best him, although his demeanor indicated it was more of a friendly competition. His dexterous hands allowed him to do exceedingly well. He considered inviting the Duergar to join, but after taking one look at the drinking contest, he quickly decided that would be a health risk for... well, everyone within knife-throwing range.

She felt as if she was turning in circles. The travel down the dark cobbled road was a winding one, until she came to a three way street. Finally, something looked different. Actually taking the road seemingly frequently traveled, she made her way towards the industrial buildings, and eventually came upon several small shops. They were of very little use to her, though it was nice to see small commodities within city walls. Further exploration found her an apothecary shop. Just what she was looking for.

The sea breeze stung her eyes and the afternoon sun hung low. She stopped a moment before entering the stone faced building. Shades of pink and purple dotted with dark grey painted the sky. Dusk would settle in soon. She could get used to this town, though part of her wasn't sure if she truly wanted it. Her nose wrinkled as a thought passed … what if she was settling? Her bangs swooshed across her forehead as another cool breeze passed over her, a familiar smell. She recalled the docks being near a large busy area and realized the part of town she had traveled to. The sea presented a different type of hunt, it was home for a while and part of her wondered if it would serve a better one than this. She waved the thought off and entered the building. There would be time to think on this later. Night would be upon them soon.

She entered the store, her eyes wandered. A grin tugged at her lips, another familiar smell. This one was earthy, hints of lavender stacked in one corner and other distinct herbs in another. Reminding herself of the time, she swiftly walked to the counter. She had much of what she needed, and doubted they had most of her own inventory. But at the very least, she could stock up on a few essentials. “Hello?”

The Blacksmith thought for a moment. He put down his hammer and crossed his arms as he pondered. "Well, adding Cold Iron to that weapon o' yorn would be about...70 gold pieces I'd say, which is much better than anywhere else you'd get it. Cold Iron is quite prized 'round these parts, for the Highfells are filled with Apparitions and the like, so folk claim. I never walk into the place," he chuckled, shaking his head. He turned around and went rummaging through a chest. His hands moving through it, she could hear the 'clack' of wood on wood within.

"But, if you're wanting a heavier weapon that still has some sleekness to it, I do have a fine bastard sword for ye. Granted it's not Cold Iron, but it hits harder than your rapier I'd say, and stabs near as good." He lifted out a Hand-and-A-Half sword in a wooden scabbard. It was about as long as her rapier, where most longswords would not be. But it was about a pound heavier and wider in the blade, with a hilt that could be held one or two handed.

---

The two Dwarves continued, downing three more drinks each until the alcohol seriously began to take effect. Both of them could hardly speak coherently, if they donned to try. The Duergar decided not to, but stared groggily at Joric. He was about to issue another challenge, but suddenly both of them felt bile filling up in their throats. Another drink would take out either one.

"What say it's a draw, eh?" Durning the Tavernkeeper said, approaching them. "I'd rather there be no...excess contents on my table and floor if you get my drift."

Only a table over, Arden seemed quite ready to start a small contest. He flipped one of his knives and gave Darius a nod. "Want to make a friendly wager out of this?"

---

The shop was filled with various accessories, bottles, and ingredients behind a glass case, as well as larger barrels of various substances used for alchemical experiments within the main storeroom floor. A hint of lavender indeed wafted from within. A golden haired, slim woman poked her head out from the doorway leading to the back of the store. When she saw there was a customer, she sauntered her way up to the counter and plopped herself down upon her stool. "Greetings, how my I assist you?" Her red dress seemed stark contrast to the (relatively) gloomy store.

Joric Ironfist

Joric drowsily looked between the tavern keeper and the Duergar. He saw two of each of them, which meant he was vastly outnumbered. But even in his drunken state he figured that the tavern keeper's recommendation wasn't just a friendly request - it wasn't the first time he had been cut off from drink.

All he could do was bob his head up and down, in something that resembled a nod. A draw it would be. He slapped down some coin to cover the cost of his half of the drinks, and ended up overpaying somewhat. Then he rose to his feet on shaky legs, and drunkenly stumbled up to his room, his armor clanking even noisily than before.

---

"Of course!" Darius said with a bright smile. He had fought with knives since he was a boy. But he had to admit, it took serious balls to challenge a man whose entire body was covered in knives to a knife throwing contest. He couldn't help but wonder if he had something up his sleeve.

Nonetheless, he put up a confident front. "How much money are you looking to lose?" He asked casually, as he picked up another knife and began to line it up with the target.

Sumia smiled at the blacksmith and nodded, "Precisely why it'd be a good idea. Although, I do have my own tools for dealing with them, it'd be easier to just swing a blade at them. Let's do it!"

The Paladin studied the bastard sword for a moment, "It is a rather fine blade, may I hold it for a moment?" after he handed it over, she held it with one hand and tested it's weight, and then tried it in two. She looked back up at him with a pretty smile, "I like it! How much?"

The woman was friendly enough, Dhyannah felt. And Dhyannah presented a cordial and stoic appearance. She asked for a few basic herbs, some perhaps of a more questionable nature but all in all, they were common items for the area and season. She gave the woman a courteous smile and nod and after paying for the herbs, she left just the way she came, returning to the same beaten path towards the tavern.

Her blades were well maintained and sharpened, so there was no need for a smithy. Though she was no smith herself, she was very meticulous about the care of armor and weapons. What sort of hunter would let them falter? With hopes of returning before nightfall, her pace swiftened.