Po gave her a smile in return and held out his hand to shake. If she took it she would feel his hand was strong and callused from some sort of labor. "If Ithaca vouches for you, you're more than welcome honestly. Besides, you have the look of someone who's done their share of traveling. Let me-" Po got up and turned, gnabbing a loose chair from out of the crowd that Mari wouldn't have noticed before from another table.

As he did, Phyrrae sipped her drink languidly. Orek's smile spread at Mari, revealing two golden teeth. "Don't be nervous. We're no' what you might call a daring group of adventurers. Ye'll do just fine."

Phyrrae nearly jumped when Po pointed at Orek, his finger thrusting past her face. "Oh, come on! Mari, this dwarf is the most famous adventurer within four hundred miles. Probably further." Po looked like he was a huge fanboy at that moment, suddenly giving off an air of a wide eyed boy rather than the rakish man he might look when you only get a glimpse of him. For his part, the Dwarf just waved him off, spouting off some small excuse as to why that was just youthful blathering. Ithaca leaned over Mari's shoulder.

"It's true, that Dwarf has been to twice as many places as me in the Blackwood, and we've been here around the same time. Don't let him downplay it."

"If no one will speak of where we are going, then I will!" Boomed Kane. Phyrrae, who was attempting to sip her drink for a third time, flinched and the alcohol sloshed off onto the table. Her eyes flared and shot at Kane, but the Drogotar was already too far into beginning what they came to speak about. "Orek here has told us that he may have found the Forge of Gandelyn the Smith, who wrought the Seven Runic Rings! This is an endeavor worthy of remembrance!"

Po had placed his hands over his ears. It was true the tavern was loud, but being so close to a humanoid so large, it could reverberate one's eardrums quite easily. "Yeah..." He remarked, lowering his hands and blinking. "If even one of those rings is there, it could be significant in over a dozen ways."
@Luminosity

Mari took Po's hand and shook, then accepted the chair he brought over for her, feeling a little more relaxed as each moment passed. They all seemed friendly enough, this group, save for the elf, but she was starting to suspect the woman was like that towards everyone. She smiled at the others singing the dwarf's praises, eventually leaning back in her chair and lifting one leg over the other.

She jumped, however, at the booming voice of Kane, though she ended up laughing nervously a few moments later. "The Forge? Gandelyn the Smith? Seven Runic Rings?" she repeated, looking from one group member to the next. "I'm not familiar, I'm afraid." If she had to guess, it was some sort of dwarven thing. Dwarves weren't all that common in the Sea of Swords, really. The waters often didn't agree with them, as they preferred the bellies of mountains to that of the seas.

"If that significance includes a bit of coin, I'm happy to tag along and help out." It was perhaps the most adventurer job she'd ever had the opportunity to join, the only motivation being the promise of some significant artifact, and the journey requiring a group to delve into forgotten places, full of unknown dangers.

Sounded like fun, really.

The comely blonde elf grinned like the cat that got the cream, weighing the bag of coins in her hands as if she could verify the mint, number, and quality of the payment with such a rudimentary examination. She slid the coinpurse into her small knapsack as the gnome made grabby hands at it, and oggled her chest while he was at it. She shot her eyes back at him as if she expected such underhanded tactics and raised her fist, and he leaped back.

The small quarrel might have seemed violent, but Cillian would get the impression they were old friends. The two blinked and turned to him just as he spoke. Both seemed to take in the sight and manner of him curiously, but after a moment's thought the elf stood up. "I was just leaving." She remarked curtly, yet in a smooth style. She seemed like she could chameleon her way through many things.

"Hold! Hold on Saskia." The gnome said, grabbing onto her arm. "Stay a bit. It's not everyday we get to meet a newcomer to the town."

"Yes it literally is." She said, but the Gnome gave her a look and she sighed, plopping back down onto the booth again. "Forgive me for wishing to spend my hard earned cash when I get it. I do have bills to pay, don't I?"

"Perhaps you can make more money here, ay?" Her diminutive companion remarked. "...By the way you owe me my cut. ANYWAY, you were not intruding friend, we were simply doing business with an associate of ours."

The elf grinned, turning to Cillian. "Yes we were. My sidekick Calvin-" the Gnome looked taken aback. "-is right, I would like to get to know you a bit. A traveling bard often has wondrous tales. Do you have a tale to tell, or need a tale to be told? I can always use information, or sell my own."

Meanwhile, the Dwarf had taken his leave from the Iron Star as Sylvaine got to their old table. Sylvaine would get the impression the elf knew exactly she was sitting there, even without so much as a glance in her direction.
@Romero@Duck

Not having given their names, Emilio and Wēlanandaz still could differentiate the now incredulous aristocrats clearly. The first one who complained the loudest was portly, with dark brown hair encompassing his curled hair to sweep down over his face and make a full, groomed goatee. His vest was purple and he seemed to be a bit more annoyed than the others when it came to the topic they spoke of. The next man was tall, with a hawk nose and a frock coat. He had hair on his head, though it was wispy and straw colored. The other looked a bit younger than them, average of height. Though he had strange, indigo eyes and black locks. He sported a dueling saber at his hip, just below a green vest of satin.

The portly man looked at Emilio with only the barest hint of suppressed anger. The merchant would see that there were more armed men there than the Knights of the Skull, even if this was clearly their stronghold. The nobles had their own personal guard it seemed. It was hard to judge how many of them there were, though an educated guess would indicate anywhere from twenty, to about sixty to seventy men between all three of them. It was hard to gauge considering they did not seem to be about to venture forth themselves, with many of their men likely out and about performing various tasks.

"Who the fuck are you?" The normally well mannered, bearded noble asked Emilio. He took a moment to stare down the merchant before he decided to turn away lest he order something of his guards he might regret later.

"A sales pitch isn't necessarily what we need right now." The younger noble remarked, though he did seem more amused and annoyed, and perhaps even intrigued at the man who so brazenly walked up to the three of them discussing this dark business. As for the third fellow, he actually chuckled. It sounded like a chipmunk squeaking when it found it's favorite nut.

"On the contrary. Bertram, perhaps this is what we need." He seemed to be referring to the portly one. "A Dwarf forged blade, or ones a stout one can vouche for, could give us an edge on whatever endeavors we find ourselves locked into." He imperiously waved a gesture at Emilio as he continued. "This fellow here seems a daring and smart one as well. Did not our father's father's become rich from such noble pursuits as salesmen."

"My father gained nobility from slaying a Malgani Sorcerer that was threatening the Kingdom, Valence." The fat one snapped back.

"And was he not able to afford Dwarf forged weaponry because his father peddled wares?" Valence asked. "Nathan, do help me out here."

The young one shrugged. "I would like to hear what the Dwarf has to say."
@Jb@Tony Pajamas

"You'll have an easier time sleeping in the barn." The raven-haired woman said, doing her best to sweep whatever dust was on the porch away from the two newcomers. A strange pair by all accounts. Around them, the village was the epitome of the word 'quaint.' Men wore sporting vests of low quality whilst women wore wool dresses, though you could find either sex wearing workman's trousers if they were doing a menial job. There had to have been plenty of trade, as there was very little room for any farmland, and by any measure the soil was not made for it.

The hamlet of Berute was situated in a small vale surrounded by jagged faces of rock that could hardly be called mountains. More like upjumped hills made of stone, guarding the small area from the greater Blackwood and it's more pressing dangers, at least that was the idea behind the town's inception. There were two known ways in and out; the southern route and the northern route. The two adventurers had made their way through the south, from left the town of Gladstone a week previously.

Their provisions now low, Berute seemed like a dream come true. Lovely thatched houses and little in the appearance of deadly beasts. The only real indication this was still within the Blackwood was the large trees that had been spaced a bit less thickly as they hiked through the glens and glades toward the little village. Cows and other livestock had been grazing in the forest beside them as they had walked, which was likely the town's main source of food and comfort. Now, the two had sought a place to stay for the night as any would expect them to. As it were, that didn't seem to be working out.

"Look..." the woman said, leaning her broom on the wall and facing the two. She was a pretty woman with green eyes, though it was easy to imagine them flaring in severity if she grew angry. "I do deeply apologize for the lack of space. But we do have a barn. It's clean and we can provide some blanket. All you'll need to do is pay for the food."

A cart passed behind them, two handsome horses carrying a load of crates. Behind it, an Elf played a tune on a lye as two Dwarves grumbled, hauling sacks of grain while trying not to tell the elf to be quiet too harshly. Truthfully it was a beautiful melody, but Dwarves weren't elven fans at the best of times.
@Fetzen@Tortoise

Cillian had risen to his feet as he spoke, and as the unusual pair turned to look at him, he took a tentative step closer to their table, the well-rehearsed smile never leaving his face. If nothing else, his introduction seemed to distract the pair from squabbling over the fat coin purse, and that was as good a start as any.

The pause in bickering was only short-lived, and Cillian quickly got the impression that the elf and the gnome were old friends, arguing back and forth, each looking to gain the upper hand. Cillian's smile didn't falter, but behind the pale blue eyes, his mind was racing to keep up with the overlapping intricacies of the conversation. He had the distinct feeling that he was being played, the pair perhaps sniffing out the oppurtunity that a fumbling newcomer might present. He had names now at least, but even those set him ill at ease. The elf was Saskia, and the gnome Calvin, but it had been the gnome's reaction that had surprised Cillian. Was it simply being introduced as a sidekick that had taken him by surprise, or was it the name itself? Before Cillian could ponder too long on the thought, his mind caught up with his ears, and he realised that the pair were looking at him expectantly.

Ever the showman, Cillian grinned widely again as he spread his arms wide. Perhaps the pair were looking to swindle him, or perhaps it was simply idle curiosity, but whatever the reason, they had agreed to be his audience, and Cillian had never been one to walk away from a willing audience. Taverns had been his stage countless times in the past, and despite the unfamiliarity of the city beyond the building's walls, the bard was in his element, the fire behind his eyes slowly flickering into a blaze as he spoke.

"I have many tales to tell, if you only have the time, but it is a tale that I cannot yet tell that has brought me to this fair city. Ever since I was a boy, clinging to my mother's skirts, I was haunted by dreams of darkness. But this was not the darkness that plagues all children, the darkness of shadows and things that go bump in the night, this darkness was deep, and it called my name. It was only as I grew older, and heard the tales and legends of the world, that I learned the name of that darkness. The Blackwood. Ever since that day, the darkness has continued to call to me, and although my path has been long and winding, I always knew that it would eventually lead me here. The inky darkness waits on the other side of the raging waters, and I know that my fate lies within it. I am a man of legends and grand tales, and the Blackwood will grant me my greatest stories, I need only for someone to strike the first match. Friends, the two of you strike me as seasoned travellers, familiar with these parts. I wonder then, if your paths have ever led you beyond the water, and into the darkness beyond..."

Cillian allowed himself to tail off, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears, a single pale eyebrow raised towards the pair. He hoped that his hunch was correct, that the unusual pair would not be lingering in Greybridge without having travelled into the Blackwood, or at least know the tales of those that had. Perhaps this was a dead end, perhaps it would simply an oppurtunity to waste away some time, but Cillian could not shake the clinging sense that there was something else here, something more.

It did indeed have coin involved, she would soon find out. Any ring recaptured by them sold for twelve thousand silver lordlings, which equated to six hundred gold royals Orek was quick to point out. Any information on their whereabouts was also richly sought after. Were Mari to attempt to perceive, she might try and deduce who sought what from the rings. Of course, asking them was always an easy choice as well.

The night did not last much longer, at least for most of the folk. The party died down soon after, and though the troupe stayed up into the night, darkness enshrouding their visages as they drank and spoke, even they began to grow weary. Phyrrae was the first to decide it was time to call it a night, though she decided it was even more prudent to go and order a few drinks for the journey in case they needed a little loosening up after a victory for celebration, so she now stood at the bar alone, awaiting the bartender to return from another duty.

Orek and Kane stayed where they were, speaking in low murmurs in their ancient tongue. Pipe and dragon smoke wafted around them, and any who sat near them would feel a very ancient conversation and feel as one might when listening to a tale of old. Kane had devoured an entire chicken earlier, and Orek near matched him. The old Dwarf seemed to know far more than any in the place, and perhaps more than anyone Mari had ever met. There was something in his eyes that spoke of untapped experience along with not an insufficient amount of cleverness.

Po had taken to speaking with Ithaca for a brief period on one of the newly vacated tables at the center of the room. However, Ithaca was one of the ones who needed to find sleep early. That left Po at the table, having found himself drawn into an old book with leather bindings, a dragon mark being the only noticeable aspect of the cover. Beside him was his walking staff and a jug of water he idly sipped.

Before Ithaca had left for bed, she approached Mari and gave her a smile. She looked between her and the others. "I know we only just met, but I feel like you're the responsible one. Keep an eye on them." The warrior said. Placing a hand on Mari's shoulder, she clapped it powerfully. "Stay out of trouble too. If you're alive in two weeks, I'll buy you another drink."

With that, Ithaca made her way up stairs to bed. The night grew darker as the outside lights were snuffed out, and now Mari saw three lights within the room. One at the table with Orek and Kane, another light above Po, and the third beside the lounging Phyrrae across the room. Would she go to any of them? Or go to sleep?
@Luminosity

It was the first pleasant night Mari felt she'd had since setting out on her own, and she couldn't help but hope this new little arrangement with this group worked out. Not indefinitely, of course, but she didn't imagine she'd find what she was after quickly, and it would help to have pleasant company while she struggled through the Blackwood.

"If, huh?" she shot back at Ithaca with a raised eyebrow. "Count on it."

She'd drank her way to a pleasant buzz and warmth, and knew it wouldn't be wise to have any more, especially with her first real venture into the woods the next day. Rather than immediately turn in, though, she cleared her throat and headed towards one of the tables.

"Hey, Po?" She offered an apologetic smile for interrupting his reading, before she sank heavily onto one of the chairs. A hand lifted, fingers threading through red hair at the back of her neck, subconsciously pushing it over her half-pointed left ear. Old habit. "Ithaca mentioned earlier that you know a lot of the old lore here."

She lifted a leg, bringing her knee up and resting her foot on the seat of her chair. "The reward for this sounds nice and all, but I don't think I can actually buy what I'm looking for here with gold." She lowered her hand from her neck and slipped her fingers beneath the holy symbols on the necklace tied around her belt. "I'm looking for a lost temple dedicated to Rán, the sea goddess. I'll become the youngest of her Daughters if I can find it, and survive whatever awaits me." She didn't actually know if there would be more trials inside the temple, or if finding the temple was itself the trial, but Mari had learned by now to prepare for the harder road.

"Have you ever heard of something like that? A temple magically hidden, maybe even moving?"

Arden sighed, not very intensively but sitll enough for anyone in his vicinity to notice. All that week long of meandering through the density of the woods and all they'd end up with would be a stay in the stable. If the Skayleigh was honest to himself he wasn't sure if he should be surprised about the local tavern already having so many guests or not: On one hand Berute, with its at best mediocre looking farmland and rocks that probably did not hide any precious minerals, did not seem like anyone's dream come true. On the other hand if one's stomach was just as empty as one's waterskin and belt pouch pretty much any settlement was welcome. Still... there had to be something about this calm village which kept it going well, but which at least he had not yet figured out.

Arden darted a glance towards his companion, trying to read the small woman's thoughts just by looking at her face only to discover once again that he was no good at it. Then he made the decision he thought she'd agree with: "We'll take the barn. Are there any distinct times when food is served or are things handled one a basis of come and get it ?" the Skayleigh replied to the raven-haired local with a friendly, but dark voice. He tried to look at it from the plus side of things: The barn was for free -- and given that he had a horse that was in need of some kind of stay as well he could look at their sleeping place this night as some kind of permanent watch over one of his more valuable possessions in an unfamiliar environment. A fresh stack of hay couldn't be any more uncomfortable or dirtier than the bare forest floor, could it ?

In the meantime, the events to his rear did not entirely slip past Arden's attention. That harsh tone gave him a hint about the species of those behind him even before a quick turn of his head could provide any visual confirmation: Dwarves... definitely not his favorites, but even if they'd have demanded for the melody to stop by kneeling in front of the elf and kissing his feet: the demand itself just was utterly wrong! If the elf would pay brief attention to Arden's presence he'd be able to notice a brief occurrence of commiseration in the Skayleigh's facial expression before the latter directed his attention back towards the tavern's owner. Seeing the workers had given him an urgent reminder about another pouch being close to empty -- the one containing the little remainder of his money.

"Excuse me if this request might appear a little... direct, but do you know of any work for our kind ? Like some kind of seasonal work or such ? Pretty much anything that comes to your mind ?" Mercenary stuff was not what Arden would like to do most at the moment, but a realistic onlook on reality dictated that such was to be expected more often than not.

"I would like to hear what the Dwarf has to say."

Not only did Wēlanandaz absolutely hate being the center of attention, but when it meant being dragged into one of Emilio's hairbrained schemes... well... he was had now been caught up in another, and supposed that it was time to do his bit for the pair and their symbiotic relationship.

Doing his best to brush out the errant trail foliage from his beard - then making sure it was all still tucked in where it should be - the rather unimpressed Dwarf (unimpressed with the Knights, unimpressed with the so-called 'refuge' they had found, and highly unimpressed with these accursed human merchants) gave a belaboured sigh and held up a hand to hopefully silence all and sundry.

Turning on his heel and making steps back to the cart, he unslung his shield and placed in on the mobile market stall, rummaging around until he plucked a certain object from a sack and returned to the group of bickering wastes of space.

In a smooth motion, almost as if he had done this before, Wēlanandaz revealed from behind his back his family helmet - it was perfect in almost every way, from the proportions to the choices of metal used in its forging, the growling Dwarven faceplate so accurate and life-like that it seemed as if it may come alive and issue a warcry at any moment.

"My name is Wēlanandaz, known among many as 'the Smith', and I bring with me four centuries of smithing knowledge as well as my own Runar-gifted hands in order to craft only the finest weapons and armour!" He held the helmet higher so that all of them could see it, turning it this way and that in order that the precise angles and glittering metalwork could be better appreciated by those that could appreciate such things, "my talkative associate and I require only shelter, food, and a decent forge that I may work. I craft and he sells."

The Dwarf now placed the helmet under his arm and drew forth his smaller hand-axe from his belt, again showing it off as best he could, "see the keen edge and runic decorative work, this is quality not oft found beyond the walls of our keeps, and I can assure you of that."

Finished with his sales pitch he returned his axe to his belt, leant forward on his two-handed weapon, and half-looked half-glared at the puffed up peacocks around them.

"Any further terms and conditions can be discussed with my partner here... and I would think carefully before any refusal, my lords."

@Tony Pajamas@POOHEAD189

Dyla frowned. The Blackwood had not been as fun as in her daydreams. She didn't think it would be easy, but her imaginings had always been about fighting monsters, or unearthing lost treasure. Instead, the big problem of the Blackwood had been finding stuff to eat. She missed pumpkin pie.

She was hoping the inn would be a welcome change, and now the first lady they met was telling them there was no room! But an inn was the place where she could find leads on treasure. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more Dyla was certain her entire adventure depended on getting into that inn.

Or maybe she just didn't want to sleep in a barn.



"Are you sure there's no room in the inn?" Dyla looked up at the pretty woman with the broom. "I don't take up much space, you know." Remembering Arden, and feeling a bit foolish, she added: "My bigger friend might, but he won't be any trouble. He's gentle. And," smirking now, "I'd bet he'd buy a lot of the ale!"

She wasn't even sure how true that was, but if she was lying, isn't it for a good cause?

The dim lighting gave the room a feel of 'winding down' to some, but Po seemed alert, if not relaxed. He was evidently very consumed by the book he read. That was, until Mari settled down at his table. He blinked and looked up when she smiled. He gave a bright smile back to showcase he wasn't annoyed at her wanting to speak to him. He put a bookmark in the leather bound tome and set it aside before regarding her. "Hey, it's no problem. We're going to be traveling together so it's probably good we talk a bit." he replied.

He crossed his toned arms on the table, leaning on them. In the lighting, the caramel of his skin seemed an even deeper hue. The young man looked at the table, deep in thought as he considered her question. "A sister of Rán?" He echoed to himself, and then his dark eyes turned to meet hers. "You're one of them? Er, um looking to be?" He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his thick head of black hair. "I've never heard of a temple moving..."

Po knew the ins and outs of most of this quadrant of the Blackwood, though that was a lot to retain in his mind, particularly considering how late it was. It took him a moment to next speak until his eyes brightened. "Wait, yes. Not a moving temple, but I do remember there being a rumor of a water temple with some sort of religious significance fairly close, actually. It's uh-" He turned around, opening up his knapsack. After ruffling around it a moment, he pulled out a sheet of paper and a quill. He dipped it in some ink, eyes glancing her way.

"Sorry," He chuckled breathlessly. "I'm not very good at explaining things after I've had a few. It's when I've had more than a few that I start rambling. Here..."

For a commoner, he had very smooth strokes of the hand, making what she would find out was a map in a lavish style of sweeping black ink. Po took only a brief minute with his map, and though it was basic it was certainly better than nothing. On second glance, it attributed a lot of various obstacles and pathways before her. He moved his chair closer to hers, setting down and sliding the map between.

"Ok so...we're here...and we'll be moving north..." His finger traced over a path that broke through what was a heavily wooded area, passed a bog and astride a few smaller mountains to what looked to be riverlands. "The last I heard of any water temple, it was actually pretty close to where I think we're going. Orek knows the path far better than me, but he probably can't help with your temple. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be northeast of where the fabled rings are."

He turned and looked at her to gauge if she found his advice helpful. "I also hear the doors to the place are locked by some spell, but who knows what's really going on there? Maybe you'll find something to help you where we're headed?"
@Luminosity

The tavern halted.

The low music and the clinking of glass were the only sounds that graced the room after Cillian had spoken. It seemed his story and way with words left the room in rapt-fascination, and to anyone it would have been comical to look at the two patrons that he was speaking to. Calvin had wide eyes, looking to and fro between Cillian and Saskia to see what his companion thought. For her part, Saskia looked equal parts impressed, dumbfounded, and a little weirded out.

"Um..." She began.

"No, not me." Calvin said, waving his hands and shaking his head. "I'm just a city boy."

"I've been there." Saskia nodded, clearing her throat. "Not for very long, but I've had to travel through there once with a caravan. Ran into a few beasts that I'd rather not run into again. Were you wanting to know what lies west of here? I could regaile you myself but..." She raised an eyebrow, a hand with tantilizing fingers curling toward's Cillian. "my memory is a little fuzzy...maybe a silver Lordling could listen my lips?"

"Two silver lordlings?" Calvin piped in with a wink. Saskia elbowed him gently, but not too gently. She glared at him. "I have the information, I'm the one getting a lordling. He's a smart man, yes?" Her last sentence had her looking back at him, lips curved into a smile. "Information is my trade. I may lie, but never when I do business."


@Romero

The sunlight cut through the forest like a razor sharp sword pierces one’s torso. The pain in Torsten’s side had improved. It wasn’t as bad as he anticipated, but he’d been injured before and the pain was tolerable. He knew he was lucky to be alive and knew he needed to keep moving. He figured he would be healed in a day or two; hopefully.

Breakfast was decent. Oz caught some rabbit and the three sucked on the juicy bits. Torsten inhaled his portion as he was quite famished. Lord knows he needed the protein in the meat. After sterilizing the campsite as best they could, they ventured further to the south in order to continue their trek into the unknown. Conversation was light, about nothing in particular. They focused more on the sights and sounds of the forest around them. Their hunter’s ears were tuned in and didn’t want to be surprised.

Torsten took the trail slot in the column as Oz, the largest took center. He allows the lighter Ulf Gunnerson or Wolf to take the point. Wolf was an agile hunter, quick on his feet. He would be able to evade an attack faster than the others. Torsten removed his bow, notched an arrow and prepared for whatever might present itself upon the trail ahead.

It didn’t take long for a situation to appear. A scream of sorts erupted in their ears. All three men prepared for a battle, not knowing what was coming. It just didn’t sound like the orcs they dealt with the day prior. Oz removed the 5’ 6” two-handed sword from its scabbard and held it at the ready on his right side. He was prepared to bring pain upon any foe who threatened him. Wolf removed his shield from his back, securing it to his left arm and a small sword in his right. He held the left side of the trail. Between the two and three steps to the rear was Torsten with his bow up and read to draw.

The odd fellow stumbling over the undergrowth in front of them was more bulbous than sinewy. All three men breathed a sigh of relief realizing they would not have to kill this one. The man was in a panic paying more attention to the auburn-haired young woman chasing him. Her hair was cut short, more like a man, than a woman, Oz thought. Torsten found her mildly attractive and Wolf wondered how quickly he could dispatch both to the underworld.

“Stop!” Torsten yelled at the pair, who seemingly halted all movement, freezing in their steps looking up at the trio of northerners who barred their path. “What are you doing here?!”

In truth, Mari was a little taken aback by how much Po seemed to know. She hadn't expected to learn anything useful when she asked, and now that she had a crude map drawn up for her, she still didn't quite believe it. It couldn't be that easy, right? It had to be the wrong temple, or it had to be more difficult to find than it seemed. Only one way to find out, of course.

"Maybe," she answered, putting a finger on the map and sliding it closer to her. Her eyes didn't leave it, studying the bits Po added to it one by one. "Just more to look forward to tomorrow, I guess." She was certain her excitement was slipping through. At this point even a fight didn't sound too bad, if it meant she might learn something about her goal.

"Okay," she said, nodding and taking the map, folding it up neatly. "I should probably get some rest, then. Long day ahead of us tomorrow." She slid her chair back and got to her feet. "Thank you, Po. And good night." She turned to head to her room and made it one step before she turned back.

"Oh, and it's... Daughter of Rán. Not sister. We're just sisters to each other. Um." She paused, and then nodded again. "Good night!" Reddening a little, she turned and headed off towards her room, intent on sleeping off the ale before she had to go adventuring.

Cillian's chest was still heaving as he caught his breath, but he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. He could feel the eyes of the room upon him, and he felt almost overwhelmingly alive. He was in his element, a player on a stage, the ever-present flame whipped into an inferno. His intended audience seemed a little stunned by his performance at first, until the elf spoke, her voice seeming to finally break the spell that had descended over the tavern. He listened to the two talk for a moment, relieved to hear that his hunch wasn't entirely unfounded, before his eyes were drawn to the outstretched hand of the elf maiden. His brief visit to the city of Greybridge had already proven to be an expensive one, but the bard was no stranger to the concept of money greasing the wheels of information. Perhaps her knowledge was indeed scant, perhaps she was even lying to him, attempting to swindle a newcomer to the city, but something in her eyes spoke to Cillian.

The two of them shared a trade, even if they practised their craft in different ways. It was information that Cillian wove into his tales, stitched into his songs, and he saw a glimpse of a kindred spirit in the elf. Cillian could tell grand legends of lands that he had never set foot in, recount the myths of people long dead, if this 'Saskia' traded in information, then it was not only her own experiences that she could share with Cillian, it was the experiences of every other soul that has pressed a coin into her outstretched palm. With practiced ease, Cillian reached into his coin purse, and pulled free a silver Lordling. He toyed with it in his hand for a moment, letting it run between his fingers, before taking another step closer to the unusual pair and dropping it into the outstretched hand of the elf.

"I hope that this will serve to sharpen your mind, friend. I look forward to hearing your tale."

Wēlanandaz was not a born salesman, at the best of times. His smithing, though matched by none save other elders of his brethren, was his true strength. Despite the gruffness of his presentation, it was clear all three aristocrats, even the sweaty, pompous Bertram was taken aback by its superb craftsmanship. Though the fat man seemed too annoyed to give any flattery at the moment. Valence and Nathan though openly appraised the work, the former stroking what wispy facial hair he had.

"Utterly fascinating." the young aristocrat Nathan remarked, and he stepped between the two others almost rudely to take Emilio's hand and give it a shake. "You had my curiosity sir, but now you have my attention. I suspect you've had a long journey. You and your companion obviously want to set up shop here in the refuge, eh? Well, I tell you what." He seemed confident, as if he either had resources to spare or simply felt they would get no better deal. "Give my orders for the next three months a ten percent discount and I'll grant you the most spacious area to do business on."

"How do we know they didn't just steal it?" Bertram muttered, too quietly to be heard unless Emilio or Wēlanandaz had particularly keen ears at that moment. He was referring to the Dwarven helm present of course. More loudly he stated. "Perhaps we can do business with you. I don't suppose you'll need any more raw iron will you? I can provide that if you wish."

"I can provide that at a quarter of the cost of what Bertram here would demand." Valence said, smiling like a vulture, much to Bertram's chagrin. "Worry not, I intend to peruse and see if you're worth buying from. Maybe after young Nathan here has his orders granted I'll spend some of my wealth on you, but as of now I have some...supplies I no longer need and I don't see why I shan't melt them down to be used for your profit, provided you are open to negotiation on a discount on all items you make from my materials?"

"What say you, sir and master Dwarf? Would you do business with the likes of us frontier barons?" Nathan asked.
@Tony Pajamas@Jb

The woman leaned her broom on the wooden wall of the house, setting it aside so she could better face the two newcomers. Crossing her arms under her chest, she gave them a scrutinizing gaze. Dark hair tied in a loose bun, she seemed equally as applicable as a disapproving school teacher as the waitress or tavern keeper she evidently was.

"So, you two are out of money, but you'd rather pay for a room?" She remarked, letting the logic speak for itself. After letting the words sit for awhile, she smiled. The elf behind them sang happily, his tune fading into a more soft melody. "I wasn't lying when I said the inn was full. We've had a lot of travelers recently. I cleaned the barn myself. It does not smell, nor are there any animals in there. You've probably seen all the cattle on your way in. They sleep close to town. We tend not to get any wolf problems here, thankfully."

Smoothing a fringe of her hair out of her sharp eyes, she continued. "We do have some problems with goblins, however. Yes I know, very classically problematic. But they've been making racket up in the western area of the valley and a hunter has gone missing. If you look into it, the mayor will probably give you a reward with anything concrete."

A portly man stepped out of the side door beside the inn, carrying a small cauldron of steaming water. He poured it onto the small side street, glancing Arden's way before he completely did a double take, having heard the woman. "Val?" He called. He wore an apron over a stained wool shirt and breeches. "You didn't tell these newcomers we had a spot did you?"

"No! Go back inside Horace!" She called.

"_{Get out of here!}" They heard Horace yell at the elven minstrel across the street. The elf giggled and danced away into an alleyway. "_{Fucking bard!}"

Valarie rolled her eyes, letting Horace go back inside before she continued. "Look, let me take you to the barn and get you your blankets. I'll grab some food, provided you can pay for it. Tomorrow you can help the town." She declared, as if she were a mother speaking to extra rowdy friends of her children. "Is that good or do you have any other requests? I'm sure the mayor will let you stay with him."

Clearly she was kidding.
@Tortoise@Fetzen

There was a benefit to negotiating with multiple men at once. Not only could they outbid one another without Emilio saying a single word, but it made some of their thoughts more privy to wary ears.

He would address the man who came more openly forward, surely one after his own heart, first. "I can appreciate someone who knows opportunity and a fine deal when they see it! Before agreeing for my friend here I'm sure we'd like to make sure such a space is adequate to suit his needs. There might be a few adjustments in order to make sure his work is steady and I wouldn't wish to hamper any of our early orders. The most important impression we make is our first after all eh?" He would put his smile into the very words themselves. "Ah, and the wording of grant. Is it for us to presume we would keep it for work after or?" His question would hang in the air, though not for long as he had more things to say to the others.

His head then turned to Valence, the one with a more generous offer of supplies. "A quarter cost? Well that is certainly fascinating! If you wouldn't mind I would be most interested in seeing some of your other recent contracts to show volumes. I could only agree to such in good conscience that Wēlanandaz will have no ending supply to satisfy you fine gentlemen and any other commissioners." There was a hope that the contracts would help give him a measure of the market prices in this land. A discount matters not if the typical price has suddenly skyrocketed.

Not to leave any out he'd speak then to Bertram. "We are open to all sorts of deals my friend. Soon enough you will be unable to deny the quality of craftsmanship you get from Dwarvern wares. As to discounts, that will matter on many factors itself no? Making a sword from a dagger leaves us short and I wouldn't wish this other fine man-" A hand would gesture softly out towards Valence. "to go short of business either after offering us such a fine deal. Something it seems we can discuss more once you lay your eyes on his crafts."

His words would then come more openly to the trio. "I am excited for our prospects, truly, and am grateful for all your fine offers. If I may impose further, what matter of residence is there in this refuge? Certainly the Dwarf here most of all will need a quality nook to sleep if he is to fulfill the contracts of you fellows and any else that pass through. That is unless of course the first offer of workspace had its own humble spot for us to reside as well."

It was then he'd finally rest his words for responses. Not much good talking up more things without answers.

@JB@POOHEAD189

Arden slowly turned his head leftways and downwards towards Dyla, modifying his facial expression in a rather desperate attempt to just tell her: 'Don't try again!'. The female tavern owner clearly had a point about logic, but in the Skayleigh's opinion she lacked that bit of friendliness that would've been greatly welcomed. They had merely asked, hadn't they ? There was plenty of reason to give that woman a snappy reply, maybe something along the lines of 'I'll reconsider my need for ale these days...' just to give her a not so subtle hint, but all in all being on bad terms with the individual owning the place one intended to sleep at could only be a very bad thing. There were priorities.

All of these internal considerations were shattered though when Horace appeared. As the big man dumped a large portion of hot water onto the street Arden merely wondered whether he was Valarie's husband and why he had committed to such a significant waste of warmth, but then he started talking about there actually being an empty room left. The Skayleigh was certain it would prove to be like oil being poured into the fire that was his companion's tongue! And, if he was honest, now he was much more eager to join Dyla's efforts. He'd just take... a bit of a different approach to it. It was a decision that felt particularly good now that Valarie started to treat them like a bunch of annoying toddlers ruining her garden.

The sound of cloth and leather rubbing against each other and giving way to bulging muscle beneath it could be heard as Arden crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked at Valarie, then at the door Horace had taken to get back inside, then back towards her again. Each time his level of skepticism seemed to rise. "So here we have what looks like a couple of tavern owners: One prefers not renting unused rooms to guests and the other apparently has one hell of an attitude against bards. You know what that sounds like to me ?"

Arden leaned forward, trying to get his staring eyes closer to her face as he moved his hands onto the desk in order to support his upper body. Things smelled badly here, and inside his mind the suspicion of Valarie and her husband having something against them for some very stupid and generic reason arose quickly. For the moment however Arden did his best to hold it back and decided to try and challenge her with something else first.

"Contradictory! So...didn't we just have a lecture about logic from you ? How about the next one ?" After all, if the room had simply already been booked by some other individual who'd come in later she just could have told that instead of making a myth about it.