Brennen let out a short chuckle at Vah'lux's remark, though could not hide his own uncertainty as they followed the path that led to the town. There was a wariness to every step he took, as if he were walking toward a confrontation. There were only a few villages that brushed the grassy border of the Bog, their inhabitants reclusive and suspicious. But those who were aware of the Pyromancers talked of them with disdain. Brennen's giant companion was right: magic was a contentious force to begin with, treated as either a high art, lowly trick, or even demonic power depending on one's perspective. As such, Brennen took care to steer clear of most settlements he came across, preferring to keep to himself in the dense wilds. Sadly, the bristled hairs on the back of his neck followed Vah'lux's suspicion as she glanced behind her. Ordinarily, skirmishers such as these would trail only until the town came into view before promptly disengaging back into whatever sweltering hole they came from. But given the current circumstances, previous behavior was no longer a reassurance.

Keeping quiet for the remainder of the journey, Brennen finally broke the silence with a hushed "There it is." As Windsgate's somewhat-imposing walls came into view. The townsfolk had carved this spot of land by hand, using the fell trees to create a shielded defense from anything that dared challenge them from the outside. Two guardsmen stood watch, militia types, by the look of it; wearing an unmatched assortment of leather and chainmail, leaning on spears likely hewn from the wood found in the surrounding area. One of them sniffled, eyes peering up beneath an ill-fitted helmet to appraise the two of them. While not overtly hostile, there was a glint of misgiving in his dark eyes, likely wondering what would bring two queerly-dressed strangers to him.

"You lot don't look like traders..." The guard motioned his spear towards Brennen and Vah'lux to emphasize his point. "What brings you here?"

The journey on foot toward Windsgate had been relatively quiet, which was fortunate for one such as the Goliath, preferring the ambience of her woodland surroundings to the ramblings of a human. Still, Brennen’s company was bearable as traveling companions go. Vah’lux felt slightly more connected to him from the little she knew of his background and culture, but it did appear that he was a lot closer to nature than many of his kind she had encountered previously. Humans were, at least in her experience, about as untrustworthy as they came, and the woman hoped that she was wrong about the mage.

“And so it is.” She responded to the other, as they made it to the gates of the town under the watchful and suspicious eyes of the guards. Their bewildered expressions did not go unnoticed, as was typical when a Goliath -much larger than a human by a few feet- would come within proximity. Sometimes it was a mere glance and the shaking of a head, but there have been other times where the initial response was to draw weapons on such a creature as though the lot of her race were nothing but mindless barbarians. Thankfully however, the latter had not been the case, as both her and Brennen stepped into the courtyard of Windsgate unbothered. An ornate circular fountain sat in the center of the square, and at the top sat the statue of their alleged local founder and folk hero: a hunter-gatherer who fought off hordes of Goblins and Orcs to liberate the lands and usher in peace for many years.

Of course, peace only lasts for so long.

“Where shall we go from here?” Vah’lux said, leaning against her glaive and surveying the small wood and stone buildings that lined the area. Among them, a tavern sat at the far end.

“While I am not one to drink at such an early hour, I seem to recall the tavern straight ahead as having a wonderful stew, known to replenish even the most weary of travelers.”

Once past the gate, Brennen's apparent wariness, earlier directed toward the Goblins that skulked after them, seemed to only magnify in their supposed safe place. Though a humble town carved from the land, Windsgate was still a proper hamlet, a shard of civilization. Stone fountains, wood town houses, cobblestone roads, it all reeked of unfamiliarity. The Pyromancers prided themselves on reclusiveness; for they were guardians of the Flame. Even the most opportunistic of them only went as far as inhabiting half-sunken ruins and long-abandoned forts, slowly reclaimed by the Bog. Each tribe's mighty bonfire could be seen from almost anywhere in the swamps; a sign of shelter and comfort. By comparison, the few braziers and sconces that marked Windsgate's pathways seemed weak and hollow. They burned, but these people did not understand the true essence of Fire.

Brennen either ignored or did not notice the muffled laughter that followed after the two of them, no doubt from the gate guards that let them pass. Indeed, the two of them made a motley duo, to say the least, both of them drawing the attention of nearly every man, woman, and child that walked past. Who were they? The townspeople may have asked. Savages from the grim north woods? Barbarians from the cragged mountains to the east? Brennen kept his head low, hoping to pretend that the inquisitive eyes that pierced them did not exist.

"A stew sounds wonderful." He finally said, not realizing his hunger until the words left his lips. Scouring his belt, Brennen's fingers clasped around one of the many hand-stitched pouches that adorned his person, bouncing it lightly in his hand, accompanied by the distinct clanking of coins. Money was an odd commodity to him, though he was not foolish enough to dare brave the outside world without carrying some with him. It was good fortune that kept the Goblins from splitting it all amongst themselves. A side-effect of greed, most likely.

"To the tavern, then!" Brennen declared, his voice more confident, if only slightly.