E Z L A N
At the guild

Ezlan, not one to usually follow orders, slowly made his way back towards the door in his own time. A poor compromise at best. Meanwhile he began to hold his own growing opinions and questions of his guild mates standings as things continued to proceed. He could feel the early tell tale signs of tension and the likely hood for confrontation forming as his own disdain began to surface.

He didn’t know how to act around a lady of such position and power, she was not like the usual rabble he would engage with. This uncertain territory both excited and terrified him. He cared little for the details of their task or the others concerns. He would happily oblige and fumble his way through it best he could, what did occur to him was the fleeting moment soon to pass for him to make an impression, time that was steadily getting consumed by his lousy comrades greed.

“Eh, good lady and the guild will be true to their word and as always.” He boldly interrupts. “if you come back I’m sure our esteemed leader will make sure you are fairly compensated.” Ezlan ensures Eomer, something subtle and sinister slipping into his voice as he places a heavy hand on the mans shoulder and gestures to the lady sitting across from them.
“Now have some faith and pride brother. You are a guild member of the great shield brethren not some desperate lowly sell sword.”
The words, actions and pride within them, while exaggerated, at least sounded good and true. An almost quite believable display.

“Now, my lady, onto more pressing matters...” Ezlan says, moving from Eomer, simultaneously disregarding him and his business. A seriousness took his face, his brows furrowing and eyes growing dark as he leant over the desk, his weight pouring heavily into his hands.
“Now, you can’t really rely on that elf for authentication. He’d lose his legs on the mere fumes and we’d be none the wiser.” He proclaims.
“But yourself.” ... Ezlan pauses in contemplation as he stands back up and eyes the guild master. Quickly looking her over, he brings a hand to his chin as if to pronounce his thoughts. In a deep rough decided voice he announces his findings. “hmm I bet you know your way around a drink, maybe two if there’s more meat to those bones than apparent” He teased, slyly trying to bait her before continuing on. “But alas words alone can not take the place of experience, it would be a much more educational learning if you would allow me to accompany you with it.”

A wide flashy confident grin would be the last she saw of his face, for now at least. Knowing when to quit, argument made, he didn’t wait for a rebuttal. Suddenly Ezlan had spun on the spot and was halfway out the door. Moving quite nimbly for a large man. “When I return.” He called back over his shoulder as he went to watch the growing confrontation in the main hall. Never looking back.

While others sought to de-escalate the situation, Ezlan could only watch on with hopes and desires for the exact opposite. He searched the situation madly for any chance, opportunity or reason for it to become otherwise.

---

The guild officer managed to offer no reply to her baiting insult when a stranger, an adventurer and an elf, interjected himself into the increasingly tense conversation. Normally, Nem might have been annoyed at the interruption, but for once she was grateful. It would be a shame if she had to cut down a guild officer so soon after joining the guild. She wasn't sure the guild master or the other guild members would be very forgiving. Her patience had limits however.

Nem scarcely had chance to answer the elven adventures questions before another adventurer, a young human, rattled off a chain of comments and questions about her appearance. Caught off guard by the rapidity of his inquirers and his rapid approach, Nem stumbled for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"I don't breath fire," she finally managed, turning towards the young man with an amused look on her face.

"Unless you make me very angry," she added with a glare in the direction of the guild officer. "And a tieflings eyes are as varied as that of any other race."

Nodding politely towards the elf, she spoke confidently, "Yes, I am Nemeia."

Carefully watching the two new strangers, the elf and the young human who appeared slightly damp, she noticed a third arrival, a bruised and bloody looking Caerbean, who appeared to her well-traveled eyes to be at least faintly orcish. Gesturing towards all three of the adventurers in turn, one after another, she spoke with renewed vigor, "Who might you three be? And why is that you are looking for me?"

While it’s fair to say that Ezlan perceives all woman as a different creature unto themselves, this is not true for all races. Tiefling, Tiefling are a hard exemption to this exception.
Upon the sight of those horns and tail, an old wound tingles with un-fond memories. Autonomously his fingers find their way to it and trail along the old raised scar tissue. Dancing gently and slowly as if to try sooth the history. They trace it along its long journey across his upper left hip, just below his ribs as it reaches around ever so violently towards his back. Amongst all the others, this scar sits prominently on his body, the healed flesh long since faded, still sitting like a wide river through his skin.
While Ezlan might be a man of reckless pursuits, danger, adrenaline and adventure, this is one he could go without living through again.

“Ah’righ gang, we got our orders, let’s reconvene at the Drunken Huntsman. I should probably go ‘n’ get dressed.”

As usual Ezlan spoke boisterously and with that ever present smug confidence. He gave his comrades a half-hearted sarcastic salute and then disappeared down the halls whistling as his bare feet slapped along the cold floors.
They had no reason to meet back up or start their journey at a tavern, but then again, when in all of history did a caerbean ever need one.

In the Guild Master's Office...

Soon everybody but Eomer had filed out of the guild master's office. The woman behind her grand desk narrowed her eyes at the Badlander's tone.

"Your pay is in there as well as everybody else's. You'll be grateful for it or you can find somewhere else to work."

After a moment, when it was only two of them in there, she softened her tone just a bit.

"This isn't the Badlands. This is one of the oldest and most prestigious adventuring guilds around. My reputation is not worth losing just to screw over one of my own. You have two days of walking ahead of you. Go get rested, sober up and set out tomorrow with a clear head. Now get out of my office."

Of course, it would be up to each member of the group as to whether or not they wanted to meet with the excitable Caerbean fighter at his watering hole of choice. To any who did, they would find the Drunken Huntsman in one of the rougher parts of town. It was the kind of place where the guards only went if they absolutely needed to. The building itself left something to be desired, although it did have its own charm. It had been converted from a storehouse after the mainly wooden upper section had burned down. The remaining brick base had been refurbished and the roof turned into a sort of open deck for people to lounge with a good view of the surrounding area. Some time later, a sturdy roof had been built over the deck to keep people relatively safe from birds and rain.

The day eventually came to an end in Gallant. The sun set in the East as it always had in Terrenum and the city settled into a mostly peaceful slumber. As one might expect, the city didn't have much in the way of a nightlife. There were only a few sources of light scattered about and many of those were peppered about the main road ways. Torches carried by roaming guards on night shift or the occasional brazier could barely compete with the starlight, much less illuminate the streets. Sometimes one could hear cats or dogs or the shrill, frantic cackling of tiny goblins as they fought with rats over scraps.

It being Summer, the days were long and the nights short. The sun began its slow, steady rise from the West and life once again returned to the city.

The fresh members of the Shield Brethren had the previous day to settle their affairs and gather their supplies and equipment. It was decided that all would meet at the gates after dawn had finished its artful display and the sky had settled on just the one color; blue.

By now it would be understood by all of them that this was to be, ideally, a two-day venture. They had enough money in their purse to purchase food for four days and, with just a bit of haggling, to bed down in one of the few fortified plantations or walled farming communities along the way. Since there weren't many roads to take, the odds of them getting lost were low.

Quickly, they would find the weather to be ideal. The sky was slightly cloudy but no sign of rain and there was a cool, salty breeze chasing them from the narrow sea. The road, however, was a different story. The road they followed ran along the South side of the river which leads into Galant. Only days before, heavy rains and quick waters had caused a mudslide which took a large section of the road with it. Already there was a large crew working on rebuilding the road around the damage, however, making their way around this would eat up a significant part of the day.

By the time the sun began to set, they would have two options: find a spot to camp out (which was still considered a bit dangerous even in this time of prosperity and growth) or stop and beg the Traveler's Safety at a plantation along their path. Plantations and walled farms often accepted such travelers for the extra coin and stories they brought with them.

The group came to a staggered stop, Eomer standing a small distance behind the others and just stood there, equipment and supplies thrown not-so-gently on the ground and lay strewn at his feet; a small clatter ringing out as several metal items crashed into both the dirt path they'd been following and one another. After a slightly over exaggerated yawn and stretch,the badlander forraged around his waist pouch for a map before withdrawing a heavily beaten old thing, the likes of which was so outraged that the Elf was likely to be the only one who remembers when the land looked as such. Around the Badlands portion of the map, which was folded over and facing the rest of the group, each settlement was either circled or crossed out entirely (some having some words jotted in someones irreadable hand.

A few moments of silence passed before anything more was said, with only the animals hunting in the dusky light being heard until Eomer started speaking once again. "
We're somewhere around here (stabbed a finger onto the map quite roughly, before dragging his finger along the path they were following, stopping intermittently before carrying on again), and there are about 3 settlements we can get to before it gets too dark to travel farther safely. There is a village about a league from where I think we are, and a couple farms a little over a league after that if you'd prefer to forge on but risk being turned away" he said whilst glancing over the group, eyes longing slightly on the tiefling for slightly longer than he should've when finishing that sentence.

Kolrim 
Night prior to departure, Gallant

Kolrim was relaxing in one of his favorite places within Gallant. He found it during a brief stay and had made a point to visit any chance he had. Now that he had moved to the riverside city permanently he was able to stop by much more often. The Dwarf was sitting on a simple wooden chair on the third floor of a semi-ramshackle inn and tavern next to an open window. He grinned to himself as he heard the not so distant clanging of metal on metal. Blacksmiths were hard at work, just across the street. The sounds and smells that drifted through his window were soothing to him, though he was unsure add to why. He had no skill at the craft himself. 

He was smoking his favorite brand of pipe tobacco. A rare treat that he had to save up for in order to afford as it came from a particularly sensitive strain that only grew in the Kinglands. The pipe itself was a recent purchase. The Dwarf contemplated the small item in his gnarled hand. It was expertly crafted out of gold sheen obsidian, and because of that, it was also the gaudiest thing he owned. He sighed, pulled deeply from his new pipe and blew out an excellently shaped smoke ring. He chuckled to himself softly as he watched the ring drift away from him. Such an odd thing for one like him to purchase. He had saved up, as he normally did, in order to fund his next attempt to find a way back home. However, after several years it became apparent that he was out of avenues that he had not already explored. Thus he had built up a small fortune, enough so that he could afford his little bauble without exhausting his funds. Failure on the one hand, and success on the other. Black and gold. A suitable symbol for his coming centennial anniversary he thought with a frown. 

"Bah." He muttered to himself as he stood from his chair, rubbing his chin through his beard as he tried to clear his thoughts. Lingering on such things did him no good. He had obtained membership to the Shield Brethren guild not too long ago and had completed only a handful of simple tasks for the guild thus far. He knew it was only a matter of time until he was called on to risk life and limb for the organization again. For someone in his line of work it was not something to agonize over, but simply recognized as a normal part of life. He earned his keep by risking his neck and possibly taking the lives of others, be they human or... other.

Just then a knock sound at his door. He 'Harrumph'ed at the interruption, but made his way over to the door. It's hinges shouting their need for some attention and oil with a loud squeak. Kolrim laughed with a loud and single,  "Ha!" Upon sighting his visitor, a messenger from the guild had arrived. "Speak o' the devil..." he muttered. 

-----
The next morning...
-----

Kolrim was standing by the gates that the group of guild members he was to join up with should exit the town, his travel pack leaning up against a wall next to him. He had been filled in regarding their task and that he was a late addition to the group. The sun had not yet risen, yet there was already a steady stream of travelers passing through the gate. He kept an eye out for the group he was to join up with as he stuffed a wooden pipe with a cheaper brand of tobacco leaf. As he lit the pipe the sun started to rise. 

He grunted softly as he squinted in the light if a new day, his eyes taking some time to adjust. Time passed, his vision back to normal. He never saw the group pass him by while his eyesight was poor. He continued to wait, keeping a vigilant, though useless, watch on those who were leaving the city.

Yeah, I screwed up and duplicated my post instead of editing. Please scroll on.

“Oh lighten up.” Ezlan bellowed louder than necessary, as he turned back from his position at the front of the group where he had been eagerly leading and went to throw a heavy arm over Eomer. Sill not wearing a shirt, a heavy rucksack sat awkwardly over the Careabeans wide shoulders, supported by a leveraging strap held firmly in one hand. In the other he had been slowly emptying his third waterskin. (It was safe to assume it wasn’t water.)
“Let’s just hit the closest farm house and see how things go from there.” His voice carried the casual nonchalance of a man without any worry or forethought.
The cocky arrogance of a man who honestly believed nothing bad could befall him. While the scars running over his bare skin would beg to differ, but for him it was all just a matter of perspective.
“So my good friend, point the way.” He says with a wide smile, reiterating his decision with a firm clap to Eomer’s back, spilling some of the waterskins contents over him in the process.

Eager and excited Ezlan would pick up the pace to go see what and or who might await them. Always keen to have an audience.

---

Nem cast an irritated look in the direction of the loud Careabean. She preferred to travel more quietly, she did not trust the road or the wilds. And she did not trust her life to some drunken adventurer that seemed to unable to take anything seriously. However, summoning what little patience she could manage, Nem offered only a modest shrug of her shoulders in mute agreement. As soon as they had passed through the gates of River city, she had pulled the hood of her traveler's cloak well over her head. Her horns were hardly noticeable beneath the coarse fabric of the dark blue hood. She knew from experience that with the help of the darkness and a bit of luck she'd be able to pass as yet another traveling Highlander. Not that she expected any poor farmer that opened their door to the Shield Brethren to ask too many questions. Being a small company of well-armed adventurers tended to silence most of the complaints a peasant could muster in the dead of night.

"Whatever our choice, we should not stay too long. This road is not safe at night, not even for adventurers. Inn or farmstead, it doesn't matter to me, we have coin enough to barter. And arms enough if it should come to that."

At the interior gates of Galant...

As the sun rose and the hours ticked by, the idea that something had gone wrong would solidify for Kolrim. There was no sign of hide nor hair of his companions-to-be. The prime time for departure for a two day trip came and went.

"Uh, Kolrim," came a voice behind him. It was the runner who had given him details of his task. "Good sir, what are you still doing here?"

In short order, the confusion would be cleared up. Considering Kolrim didn't have the benefit of the group's purse, the runner gave him what money he could for supplies and went to make good on reimbursement. Kolrim was given directions to the most likely area where his companions would be bedding down for the night and, with luck, sent on his way.

Kolrim's road conditions were similarly poor to the group that went before him. However, he made decent time since the weather was also just as lovely. By the time he made it to the area where Eomer, Ezlan and Nemeia were looking for lodging the sun would already be dipping a toe over the horizon.

Poor Man's road, half way to its intersection with the Swamp Road...

In short, the group's attempt to seek out the Traveler's Protection during the night did not go over well. The tiefling, even with her hood up, didn't manage to pass a closer inspection at the gates. Of the few properly protected areas within walking distance, two offered room for everybody but Nemia and one threatened to run them off with force. Considering that these places tended to be wealthy enough to hire at least a small mercenary group each, the adventurers would be outnumbered if they attempted to force their way.

It was up to them if they wanted to camp together outside the walls or leave Nemeia to her own devices and accept the rooms open to rest of them. They found themselves back on the road during the failing hours of the day, having spent the last of their light visiting the farms. It was at this point that they would see a short, stocky figure making his way diligently down the road.

Kolrim had, at long last, caught up with the group.

"Well," Erevan drawled, at long last as the party stood a safe distance down the road from one of the last(and possibly least friendly) homesteads they had tried, "Ain't it a fine mess we've found. So much for hospitality, eh?" He made a point to look at every member of the party in turn, too polite to make any mention of the reason they were turned away.

He wore most of his armor as he traveled. He was so used to it, that it was easier to wear than to carry on his back. His helm was sitting on the end of his spear, which was resting on his shoulder and hung with his satchel. He also forewent the pauldrons and collar.

Even used to it as he was, he was starting to become uncomfortable after a long day of travel. Especially as the climate shifted on their way toward the swamp.

"In any event, I reckon if we're doomed to a night of layin' in the dirt, we may as well get to the layin' part. Unless, ya'll want to split the party. Nemeia and I can stay out here, since they seem to prefer humans in the first place, and you two -" his head snapped to look down the road, back the way they'd come. Someone approached, and he had only just now heard them. Even looking the right direction, the dying light made it difficult to see.

"Hail? Who goes?"

"A'ight, well catch you in the morn at rising light." Ezlan replied instantly without hesitation. Without wasting time he turned his back on the group and began walking back towards the nearest homestead with an eager step. "A safe slumber to you." Was his parting gift. He suddenly slowed his pace noticing the lone traveller in the distance approaching. Ezlans vision was not hindered by the fading light, in fact he probably saw things more clearer now than in the mid of day. Altering his course he moved to intercept or pass by the on-comer. He studied him over with an intent yet welcoming eye, curious too to know his business on the road at this time.

Kolrim

Kolrim had lit a cheaper wooden pipe with a cheaper brand of tobacco, he wasn't risking his good stuff while on an adventure. He idly blew some smoke with his arms folded as he tapped his fingers against a bracer. A frown decorated his face for the last hour at least. He had not spied any group that contained the people described to him by the messenger head through the gates, and he was there early enough to catch them for sure. "Blast." He muttered to himself as he contemplated the situation.

The sun had risen a couple of hours ago, during which time his vision was highly compromised as it adapted from being suited for low-light conditions to the much brighter daylight. The group must have passed him by during that small window of time. He sighed to himself at his lack of foresight in this regard. Standing there was not helping things. It was time to get going and he knew where the group's ultimate destination was. He picked up his pack, loaded down with travel gear, and turned to head out the gate when a voice came from behind him. He turned his head to spy the messenger from last night.

After a brief discussion of what had transpired this morning the runner passed the Dwarf some coin to allow him funds for basic travel supplies. With that brief transaction he quickly obtained some travel rations then hit the road. With luck he was only a handful of hours behind the group. The weather was nice, which he appreciated. Having traveled all over Terrenum in his time he had experienced what it was like to travel in all sorts of weather. As it went the day was nice, some clouds, no rain and a decent breeze that kept him from getting overly hot.

The road condition, however, was not quite as nice as the weather. A mudslide had taken out a section of the road, causing quite the delay in his progress. Though, if it slowed him down it likely also slowed down the group he was trying to catch up to, so he did not worry about it over much. The Dwarf hoped that his stamina would serve him well in catching up to the group and purposefully avoided taking breaks to aid in the accomplishment of that goal. He did start to worry when the sun began its decent towards the horizon. Dawn and dusk were the worst time for his eyesight. Accordingly, his pace slowed for the first time that day as his vision worsened.

Just when he was beginning to worry about the group stopping to seek shelter somewhere without his knowledge, and thus bypassing the group entirely, he spotted some people discussing something off to one side of the road. The sun was just starting to go below the horizon, so his vision was at its worst so he would need to get closer to pick out any details. Then one of them, a taller shape hailed him. The Dwarf muttered to himself a bit when hailed. As if a sole traveler would risk attacking a larger group. Psh. Regardless, he slowed his pace a bit and called out, "Ho there!" His deep voice carrying across the distance between them. He took a couple of more steps before adding, "Just a simple traveler." In order to answer his question. Kolrim wanted to be close enough to clearly see who these people were, but not so close to expose himself to a potential ambush. So his approach was cautious, but not overly so.

As he neared he spotted a shirtless man off to one side who had started walking his way, and that the amorphous shape that had called out to him was a tall red-haired elf. Realizing that he had found the group he was looking for, the Dwarf took a deep, satisfactory breath, a half grin on his face. "Blessed be. 'Bout time I caught up wit' ya." He looked each member of the party in the face before continuing. "I be Kolrim, a fellow member of the Shield Brethren." He brought out the copper token from behind his long black beard as proof before he continued with his explanation. "I do be lookin' fer ya since the start of this day. Sent ta round out the group."

Dripping a bit from a combination of sweat and spilt water did not help the badlander's disposition, but the Caerebean was somewhat right. A decision needed to be made, even if Eomer did not agree with the one Ezlan had made. At this rate, Ezlan would have them bounce settlement to settlement hoping for board for all of the group until dawn before realising it was fruitless. Was it not better, as Erevan said, to bed down now and actually prepare that which was needed, firewood, bedding, etc, before darkness fell?

Daggers could be felt in Ezlan's back as he announced his desires and turned to walk away, Eomer said nothing but glowered at the 'man' strut off into the night. He muttered a quiet curse under his breath, before snapping out slightly louder "I may not know you, or trust you, but one thing I know is that as soon as you turn your sorry hide on the rest of us, put your tail between your legs and scarper to the nearest settlement, you jeopardise the lives of the rest of us. One less man to watch through the night means we're all more tired for the coming days. One less man to protect us from some wild beast, or, I shudder to think, some nocturnal raiding band looking for some easy prey" he spat, almost growling at the Caerebean. "There us a reason why I said 'we find a settlement', and not 'you prance off alone and find shelter', whilst the rest of us sit outside. I..."

He stopped suddenly in his rant as he turned to follow Ezlan's path of betrayal when he noticed the faint glimmer of a pipe in the distance, and after the faint outline of a Man... well, a very short man. Before a word could be uttered, Erevan beat him to the punch at calling out to the stranger. Still though, the badlander quietly drew his short blade, knowing well not to trust a lone man traveling dark roads at dusk. That was a tactic often used up north as an ambush set itself up, a simple diversionary tactic. As the man came closer, he gripped the knife ever tighter, knuckles turning white as the blood circulation was cut off. At least if this traveller was to kill anyone it would be Ezlan, he silently laughed morbidly.

Listening to the dwarf's story, Eomer frowned slightly, sending a slightly concerned look towards the others. It just didn't add up. The Guild Master had specifically mentioned five, with the last being the tiefling to his rear. "Sixth member you say? We were told by the Guild there were to be five of us for this job. What proof have you that you were sent by the Brethren, and are not simply a well dressed bandit with a stolen badge of honour?" He still gripped the blade tightly, although as the dwarf had approached closer the Badlander moved to hide the blade from view. No need to incite unnecessarily violence of course, but always a need to defend yourself if it comes at you. "Like what job have we been sent to do for example?"

Kolrim

To Kolrim, it appeared that his guild mates were a little on edge. One of them, the shirtless Caerbean, was approaching him, but slightly off to one side. He had a bit of a welcoming look on his face, but he was also on track to be on his flank. Considering they were to work together it should've been a small concern. However, another member of the group, Eomer, if the descriptions and names he had been given proved true, had one of his hands hidden. If the Dwarf had to place a bet he'd put his money on a weapon being in that hand.

He could feel his heart beat faster in his chest at the prospect of a fight, but these should be allies, not foes. He frowned when Eomer challenged his stated purpose, his bushy black eyebrows drawing down. He didn't take kindly to being called a murderous bandit, even if it was a valid concern for the group. In fact he was of half a mind to oblige the man to the fight he was looking for. Except that he was highly out numbered. That and the guild would probably put a bounty on his head for attacking fellow guild members.

He needed to defuse this situation. Still, there was no need to be hasty. He took one last pull on his pipe, blew out the smoke, then tapped the pipe to empty its embers on the ground. Then he used his boot to crush the embers and ensure they were fully extinguished. "You should put yer embers out as well laddy." Then, as he was putting his pipe away he explained in a calm manner, "I was told yer heading ter a tradin' post where the swamp road meets this one we be walkin'. Tasked wit finding Dagston and then Maddox to strengthen his numbers fer fightin' bandits in the area." While he talked he kept his manner and speech casual, but he kept a sharp eye on each of the members of the group. After finishing talking he folded his arms across his chest and quirked an eyebrow as if to say 'satisfied?'

“Aye, yer mongrel!” Ezlan suddenly burst out in joyful realisation. With the friendly taunt he went up and slapped the dwarf on the shoulder. “Nearly didn’t recognise ya with those steady legs and an empty hand.” He pushed the near empty wineskin into the confused guild members hand. With a chuckle he carried on.
“T’is been a while, what hole were we at? The broken keel? Colonial Taphouse? The heavy hammer? Or was it The drunken whore? Ahh, anyway I’m sure they’re still light on booze after that night. You sure can drink my friend!”

Ezlan was vague at best of his description of the night, as could be expected of such an evening. Everything would sound plausible and most probably likely if Kolrim had ever been out drinking within the guilds town. Not to mention remembering this event fell in his favour as the large bare chested Caerbean had become overly friendly, with arm around his shoulder he leant down and lead him into the group, still reciting events and tall stories of that night and others, most of which pertained to himself and various women of vulgar descriptions all manner of different races.

On the Poor Man's Road...

Eventually, the group sorted themselves out. Or, at the very least, agreed to slumber in peace until morning. Unfortunately, they would find little peace during the night.

That night, a summer storm swept over the Lowlands as a high pressure wave made its way inland from the Narrow sea toward the high mountains and plateaus of the Highlands. Clouds heavy with moisture began losing their composure as they gained distance from the warm, volcanically active waters where they originated. The group was caught in the middle of this as rain fell from the skies in a sudden brief torrent.

These rains were common in the region. The waters around Terrenum were known for being rather warm.

Flash flooding and stiff winds wrecked the camp, forcing the group to find firmer land. The storm only lasted a couple hours but it was enough to drench everybody and force them to either start a fire to dry off or sleep soggy.

For anybody who decided to accept the Safety of the Traveler (except for Nemeia), the night was peaceful. They would have warm, relatively clean beds and be prompted to tell stories by the elites who owned and operated the vast walled farms and plantations. In the morning, they would be offered a meal and mead at a fair rate before setting out to rejoin their companions.

During the next day, the roads would have become a muddy mess, forcing the party to travel off the main paths or risk being bogged down. They made poor time and intermittent showers harassed them along the way. Considering how poor the weather had become, it became clear that everybody would benefit more from a forced march to the trade station rather than risk being caught in another downpour.

Luckily, they had little to contest their progress even if it was slow and messy. There were few other people on the roads and it seemed even the animals had retreated to wait out the storms. While they would arrive at the walled trade post exhausted, muddy and soaking wet, they would do so safely.

It was just as well that they had pushed hard during the day. Even as they passed the open gates and the bundled up, sullen-looking guards, lightning streaked across the sky as yet another storm was on its way in. Finding the inn wasn't difficult either. Normally, in a town this small, there wouldn't even be an inn. However, this was a trading post which catered specifically to travelers. The inn was named "The Muddy Ghoul Inn" and, luckily, also served food and drink.

The night belonged to them, even if it did rain the whole time. The day would be beautiful with barely a cloud in the sky, as if mocking their tough walk all the way from Gallant. They could do as they pleased during the night but few of the buildings would be open and going out would mean becoming drenched once again.

Ezlan was only all to willing to trade stories for accommodation. Eager for the opportunity, he would do it without trade. He even attempted to subtly weave in morals of trust, and while reading his audience, tug on strings of sympathy and have them thinking of the Tiefling they left out in the cold horrible weather. He wouldn’t push the agenda too far though, enjoying the comforts of a solid roof and warm fire, but he tried.

The next morning he was woken up from his drunken slumber and chased out of the house having overstayed his welcome. Unable to recall the actions that caused such treatment, he was given a rough start to the day, unable to barter for breakfast or supplies. Out on the wet road, his head ached heavily and empty belly rumbled loudly as the path ahead continued to be cruel to him.
His frustration only further leading to itself. The simple comforts of last nights accommodation and company now long gone.
His usual upbeat carefree mood was now soured and only worsened further by his absence of any alcohol.

He talked very little during that leg of the journey, only mumbling to himself curses and complaints. At one point as the mud tried to steal one of his shoe’s, he swore loudly and appeared just about ready to punch someone. Outside of that he was mostly complacent. Mostly. Keeping to himself.

---

Forced to move the camp by the torrents of water that cut through the soft ground, Nem had spent most of the first evening smoldering with rage beneath her traveling cloak. Soaked to the bone she had eventually elected to start a fire, knowing full well that on the Swamp Road the weather was often a greater threat than bandits. It would not take long for rot and decay to set in if they attempted to travel the landscape while soaked.

She could not recall if the others sheltering in the wilderness had helped her, such was her anger. The current adventure had started in the worst of ways. She was used to stares, she was used to the name calling, and she was used to the occasional violence. But she had expected more from her supposed comrades, even if they happened to be her superiors. And she was tired of being treated as if she was some soul sucking and blood drinking demon who would devour an innocent at the first, best chance by almost every Lowlander she encountered. For a people that were practically dependent on the arms and blood of adventurers they were an exceedingly rude people in the opinion of the young tiefling.

Dark, violent thoughts and dreams of retribution, had swirled through Nem's mind and she was sure she had been a most terse conversationalist throughout the night. She only vaguely recollected who had joined her around the fire. The newcomer, Kolrim, had been there. Given his short stature she suspected that he too might have suffered at the hands of the Lowlanders. Likewise, the Badlander, Eomer, seemed aware of the dangers that the wilds could offer and Nem had appreciated his concern with keeping the party together. For all the good it had done, given Ezlan's desertion to warmer and more comfortable quarters. Despite her anger and bitter frustration, Nem had dutifully taken the first watch of the night. After which, she had retired to quietly rage beneath her small tent before a weary, dreamless sleep finally took her.

Marching through the mud the following day had been strangely cathartic despite the poor conditions of the road and Nem had felt the unwelcome anger and bitterness of the previous night fading from her heart. Finding a prime spot in a corner of the tavern Nem slowly nursed a half empty flagon of ale. She had no plans of heading outside given the weather and given her much improved mood she was not adverse to conversation.