---

---

Dorian nodded in agreement to the Northern Orc as he would explain. He looked at Faline, who had been expressionless while Maltar expressed his questions and Amandine spoke of the dead not paying taxes asked. She gave a silent nod of acceptance of the position. "Maltar is correct, this is about Duskrot cases rising. Your mentors are out in search of a cure for the disease. Some may call the disease by different names, however, everyone agrees with how devastating its effects are," the host spoke as he circled a village nearby on the map that lay on the table before him.

"This current outbreak is traveling faster than previous times. Usually, the Emperor has been able to order guards to quarantine sick people. The spread has spread so rapidly that this village on the map has a border built around it. No one, except secret personnel, is allowed in. This is where your mentors will meet you all, hopefully with a cure. We've already received reports of outbreaks happening within cities, which means-," Dorian began to speak but was quickly interrupted by the redheaded half-Elvian.

"Someone is deliberating releasing diseased people within the city," Faline finished as she stood up from her chair and stretched, then crossed her arms as she looked at Dorian as if she already knew this information. Dorian raised an eyebrow at Faline.

"My uncle was receiving mysterious reports in a code from the city guard in Volenstul, asking what they should do in the meantime. Hopefully, some mages would have been smart enough to escape the Gallows. They removed the mages and relocated them to a makeshift camp near the Docks. Not by my uncle's recommendations, by the Emperor's," Faline explained.

"Thank you, Faline, for being brash as ever," Dorian said with an annoyed tone while Faline rolled her eyes. "To answer your question, Torsten, the group is being asked to travel to the woods to retrieve an artifact. Legends surrounding this piece have been rather intriguing. The Emperor believes that the artifact could help halt the Duskrot outbreak," he said as he laid a book with the legendary artifact on the table. "That artifact is The Amulet of Selene."

Faline peered at what this possible goose chase was supposed to lead them to. The artifact was the product of a war chief who had fought the First Emperor when the ruler was trying to unite the land under one power. Before the First Emperor, Vradia was divided among war tribes. Now, many of these customs and cultures of said tribes were left to myths and tales.

"The Amulet of Selene is just an old tale of the Hiemaquas Dragonian tribe. All that is in here is the general whereabouts of what could maybe be the general area of the battlefield where the First Emperor fought them," Faline said as she bit her lip in nervousness. This old tale wasn't a lot to go on, especially without talking to the mentors directly about what they thought of it.

Suddenly, a hissing sound like a bottle of wine slowly being corked open, a man stepped out of a heap of armor. Faline arched her eyebrows and didn't know what to say. The suit of armor began to move towards the table and sit amongst them. Was there someone inside there? Sure enough, such an inquiry was answered by the armor man reaching forward for food and drink.

"To answer your question, Torsten, the group is being asked to travel to the woods to retrieve an artifact. Legends surrounding this piece have been rather intriguing. The Emperor believes that the artifact could help halt the Duskrot outbreak. And Sir Anviltank, how kind of you to officially join us," he said as he laid a book with the legendary artifact on the table.

---

---

The man who complied with Pebble's requests was not only embarrassed by his less-than-average 'stature' but was now lame and served up to the Rotted that began to creep and crawl through the spiked fences. The Rotted got a few bites into the man's flesh before Pebble's deft-tone voice froze them in stride. They followed her along the fencing until her voice was too far away to be heard.

---

Maltar gave Amandine a nod and a slight grin when she gestured with her sandwich to make note of his point about Mercenary work. Maltar had also observed Faline's lack of expression toward him and Amandine while they spoke their piece, which he deduced at first to be aloof. But it was only while the Half-Elvian woman began to express a considerable amount of knowledge on the Duskrot situation, that he figured she was probably just being patient with his lack of knowledge. Apparently, Maltar's mentors had been a little less forthcoming than Faline's were about their work involving the disease. Not that this surprised Maltar. While most of the knowledge he had acquired over the years had come from his mentors, he had of late spent much of his time away from home hunting the monsters that plagued the northern borders of Laelilon. It therefore stood to reason that Maltar may have known less about the current circumstances than some of the others in the room as well. He thought it best to bite his tongue for a while and listen.

Dorian's confirmation and consequential explanation was illuminating, to some degree, and the task the group was being asked to do in retrieving The Amulet of Selene from the woods did provide insight to Maltar's second enquiry about mercenary work. It was soon after Faline spoke of the Hiemaquas Dragonian tribe that the newest member of the group, a Dwelf decorated in heavy armor, made himself known and approached the table. Once the Dwelf positioned himself, Dorian answered Torsten's question for the second time, confirming that they were indeed being asked to head into the woods to retrieve The Amulet of Selene.

After Dorian had welcomed their newest member, Maltar turned his head down and to the left and observed the empty air beside him. He raised one eyebrow like he was listening to the empty space quietly speak to him. A moment later, Maltar nodded and turned his face back toward the group.

"Yeah... I agree." He then addressed a question to Dorian; "When do we leave to retrieve this amulet?"

Amandine found herself amidst a scene that felt oddly familiar, surrounded by a motley crew that could easily pass for a circus troupe. The presence of the massive, armoured beast-like figure next to her only added to the surreal atmosphere. In her mind's eye, she couldn't help but envision Maltar donning a top hat and large hoop, commanding the beast to perform tricks, with Gus playing the role of the bumbling clown, Budi as an exhibit, and Torsten as the imposing bouncer. Dorian seemed like the perfect ringmaster, and Faline, with her air of elegance, fit the role of the glamorous assistant seamlessly. As for herself, she resignedly joked that she could serve snacks, envisioning herself selling popcorn to the audience.

However, Amandine's amusement quickly faded when she realized that the plan involved raiding the ruins of her ancestors. It struck her as a simplistic solution to a complex problem, one that seemed to prioritize disturbing the dead over finding more practical solutions. "Isn't it ironic," she remarked dryly, "that our kingdom's go-to solution for every problem seems to involve disturbing the spirits of the past and antagonizing the living?" With a touch of sarcasm, she suggested, "If we're in dire need of Dragonian artefacts, why not pay a visit to the Emperor's treasure vault instead of rummaging through ancient ruins? We might have better luck finding what we need there." Her suggestion hung in the air, "The Dorado tribe supposedly possessed a stone that could turn lead into gold. It's likely sitting right there in the vault." she shrugged, expecting to be met with mostly indifferent expressions from her companions.

Setting aside her reservations, Amandine approached the book laid out on the table, flipping through its pages to gain a clearer understanding of the task they were signing up for.

---

---

Pebble sure was happy toddling along, singing her songs, knocking critters dead, making travelers sick, flipping her shiny gold coin as she went along. That was until she came to an intersection in the road, giving her a whole new three directions to choose from. Pebble didn’t at all like making decisions, especially when there be more than two options to choose from. Had there only been two options, she could have gone ahead and flipped her shiny new coin to make her decision for her. But by all manner of avalanche, that just wasn’t the case!

The little dwarf human stopped her lovely singing and stepped on up to the big old road sign to have a read of her options, but not before an opossum fell dead from a tree. According to the sign, if Pebble continued on ahead, she’d wind up in the town of Somerset. That was actually the direction she was meant to be headed. But if she made a turn to the right, she’d end up in a small village, which wasn’t as far a journey as Somerset was, and she really did want to buy herself a pie or something. Better yet, Rock Candy! Her favorite candy ever! Then there was Pebble’s third option, by heckers, to turn left down the road that led through the woods where the ancient battle between the Hiemaquas Dragonian’s and the armies of the First Emperor took place.

Pebble really did figure that finding her ma and pa was possibly important, and for that reason, getting to Somerset would have to be a thing to do sooner or later. But her stomach was rumbling like an active volcano, and she really could have done with a quick detour to the village for a snack before recommencing her way to Somerset. However! Pebble really did fancy the idea of checking out the old woods and the sites of the ancient battles as well. There were rumors of all sorts of ruins in them woods that she felt herself a hankering to explore. Who knows what she could dig up in old ruins like that? It was glorious as ore to think about!

The more Pebble thought about her options, the harder it was to make a decision. So, she just went ahead and stopped thinking. She plunked her cute butt down under that big old road sign and ate a bug. And "Heckers" that bug was tasty.

"We will likely leave on the morrow; time is something that is fleeting for most." he slowly relaxed back down, looking at the armor and smiling at another fellow connoisseur of size and heft. Nodding towards the other figure of extreme bulk in the room. He closed his eyes and smiled, "So, find the artifact of an ancient civilization that's been looted, well, what hasn't been looted in history? But it's likely in a vault of it's own, or some form of dungeon or hiding spot. Somewhere not easily accessible."

He smiled at the woman who seemed to have a fuss about things, "People look to tradition to solve problems, like finding weeds and certain trees to remedy illnesses and sicknesses, or stories to keep you from eating something poisonous. But with antagonizing the people, that is what people do, we fight. It might not always be verbally, but we enjoy it for sport, or debate. But the governing bodies will always try to look over those others in the world to have control. Those that break away from the mold are those targetted by the loudest minorities, mostly those who hold power, and others will flock to their desires."

"But semantics and politics is something unjoyous... we should enjoy the rest of the night before we begin our journey; I assume we will not have much time to ourselves or to liberties and niceties in the near future, so... enjoy the night however we can before heading out early."

With that, the man slunk onto the couch more and closed his eyes as he looked at peace from his long-winded comment of wisdom.

Budi was an orc, not assiduous or given to self-conscious tendencies. Robust and jovial in his own way, crude and primal, he would do as he pleased and say what he wanted, with never a second thought.

The orc could not establish deference for Dorian's pretty man appearance and choice of shiny armored attire. Budi was of barbaric temperament and found armors of the type to be of cowardly creed. The orc could not help recurrent cynical looks for the pretty presentation of the governor's son. However, such did not mean Budi was bugged. It was merely Budi's archaic nature. Furthermore, the orc did feel respect for Dorians simple acknowledgement of the concerns for his mentor. Budi open-mouth grinned. He thought it was amusing to mock Dorian by using his finger to flick off a small particle of dust from the man's armored shoulder while he explained things to the group.

Budi had a keen sense of smell, like all orcs, and his primal nature was strong in carnal liberties. Pleasures were to be taken from the scents of women, no permission required. One of Budi's favorite aromas was a woman's hair, as Faline was the first to discover. The orc did fold close and sniff her fiery red hair at the time she completed her mentions of the mages of Volenstul. Faline's hair produced a delicious aroma that caused Budi to simper and moan. It would do the fair woman well to, perhaps, ignore the orcs advances.

Maltar, the hunter of monsters, was an intrigue to Budi, a sexual rival to note, and a man he would not pause to belittle if only for the sake of maintaining alfa status. The orc did puff his mighty chest with curios confusion when the hunter spoke to the empty air beside him. Maltar's behaviour caused Budi to snort with amused derision. He would not pretend to understand. On any accord, responses of derision were of common value for Budi, indeed an aspect of an orcs need to conserve dominance of a primal nature. He would naturally respond in similar ways to everyone, and often.

Amandine was not excluded from Budi's advances. While the small, blonde lady finished speaking of the emperor's vault, a magical stone, and approach a book laid out on the table, the towering orc found convenience in partaking of her scent from a position behind her. Amandine, too, was of an aroma that produced a simper and moan from Budi.

Truth to be of note, the massive orc was getting to know his company in his own unorthodox way. The sniffing of admirable women. Dusting of a shoulder. Derisive snorts. There were many facets and means by which Budi expressed his interest in others. Yawning was another, yet his yawn was done with a teasing grin while Torsten spoke of remedies and antagonizing people. A joke, perhaps, only Budi would appreciate. Nevertheless, Torsten did strike a chord of interest in the orc. Seizing the night to enjoying niceties, definitely right up the alley of the orc.

Budi may have appeared distracted by his behavior throughout discussions among the group. His behavior, perhaps, may have been misunderstood as insolent or not paying attention. He was not the most intelligent of brutes, and his playful, robust personality did betray an attention disorder. The orc, however, was well aware of everything everyone had said. The knowledge was stored in his walnut brain.

The great mountain orc chuckled as Torsten closed his eyes and slept. He gleamed wide at Maltar and snorted. He playfully glowered to Amandine. His eyes roamed the body of Faline with a laden grin. He scratched his chin thoughtful about Sir Anviltank seated in runed mechanical armor at the table. Last of all, Budi turned his best twinkled smirk to Dorian.

"Budi has not left home in mountains since he was a boy. Budi is adult orc now. Budi is happy Hon is alive. Happy... to be here." Budi's face stretched with an enormous blue smile as he looked around at everyone. "Like big-little talky man says, we leave in morning." The orc looked at Dorian. "Where do we play niceties?" He looked at Faline. "Where are beds?" Budi winked at the half-Elvian woman.

---

---

One look at Amandine and Faline could tell that she was less than happy to hear that they were to retrieve a lost artifact from ancient Dragonians. She listened to the petite woman and took another look at the legend in the book, she noticed the markings in the margins of the book while she began to write notes on a blank paper.

Sir Dorian gave a sympathetic smile to Amandine as she explained one of the many legends of her people. "While I understand your sarcasm and notion about the Emperor, Amandine. This disease has been proven to affect all races throughout Vradia, not just humans and Elvian. This is much bigger than protecting an ancient trinket with magical properties," he explained as there was a look in Dorian's eye that Faline didn't like.

Faline paused to listen to Maltar and Torsten. She wanted to give a show of support for Amandine's connection to the Dragonian culture and support for the quest at hand but froze upon Budi casually taking a lock of her hair and taking a sniff. Faline didn’t know a lot about Orcs, aside from the fact that they were a race of large, strong beings. She flicked her emerald gaze to the Northern Orcs as he moved on from her. The half-Elvian concluded that scenting must be a gesture of his culture or upbringing. Faline turned her attention back to the book and map on the table.

Dorian was about to speak a reply to the group when Faline stopped him. "Our mentors have already found the ruins," Faline said as she crossed her arms while showing Amandine the code she had broken. "My uncle wouldn't suggest taking something from an ancient culture unless it was agreed upon. He's a negotiator at heart. He could probably convince a tree to give up its leaves if necessary. The ruins they found were void of life, not including forest animals and vegetation. That's my uncle's handwriting and marks in the margins of the book. It was his mission to locate the ruins," she said as Dorian nodded in agreement to Faline's conclusion.

"Sir Nikolai didn't have time to retrieve the Amulet by himself, not with the increase of Duskrot cases. He thought that it would be best to test you younger members," Sir Dorian explained as he placed a different piece of paper on the table. "This is your supply list. I would suggest you rest here tonight and take off in the morning. I'll have the cook bring in a meal for all of you," he instructed before leaving the room.

"Well, isn't that just fantastic? This night is just full of surprises," Faline muttered as she looked at Amandine. "I hope we don't have to use the Amulet and your people can retain the bobble. My uncle noted in the legend that the side effects of the magic aren't great," she explained as a very short, round old woman trotted in. The pot-bellied woman was definitely of Dwarven descent with a long, grayed braid rolled up into two buns on her head. She rolled in a cart with a large stew pot on top, then a basket of biscuits and a few desserts on the tray below with the bowls and silverware.

"Y'll needin' to eat up now, gots to have yas strength. Or so says the boss," the old woman said as she passed out the bowls and soup spoons.

Faline glanced over the list on the table. "Eight-bed rolls and a crate of supplies for the trip, or so it appears. It says that each mentor has placed appropriate weapons in the chest with their symbol on said chest," she announced for anyone’s curiosity. Interesting, there are only seven of us here, Faline thought as she raised her eyebrows at the Orc's advance, or what seemed like one.

"As for your answer, Tiny, I believe those are bunk beds if you’re tired. Also, niceties mean comforts, like beds and access to already made food," Faline explained as she gestured to the eight beds in the room of the opened door as she grabbed a bowl of Cook's stew, not one to pass up a free meal.

"The boss says that ya kids will need to be up early in the morn," Cook said before she placed the rest of the food on the table. "Best be gettin' to bed after eating." The dwarven woman rolled her cart out of the room. The silence is filled with the squeakiness of the wheels on the cart.

After finishing her bowl of stew and biscuit, Faline took one of the bottom bunks and placed her pack on the bed before she went back over to the table to read her uncle's notes. She frowned as there was nothing left to decipher except the location of the ruins. "I have a feeling that there is more going on than just Duskrot. With our mentors being separated on various missions, it almost feels like a deliberate action," she commented as she pulled out her uncle's journal to see if there was anything that she could find that would help them tomorrow on their journey.

---

---

A snow-white owl called out as dusk was uproaching and landed in front of the half-dwarf woman. Its bright blue eyes blinked slowly one at a time at Pebble before hooting at her. The large feathered being rotated its head, then returned to staring at Pebble, tilting its stare before suddenly flapping its large wings. It flew up and landed on the Somerset sign. The bird cawed at Pebble continuously until she stood and then took off to the tree that was the start of the Somerset path, calling out to her again.

---

Seems we have to grab something for the high horsed folks. What a drag… Rather not deal with that filth again. The roguish lad was in deep thought as the others discussed the task they were given. Why would that old fart even deal with people like this? In his own words, nobles are nothing more than idiots to bleed dry and backstab afterwards.

Gus leaned against the wall, flicking his signature coin. He stared at the dwarven woman offering him a bowl of soup. ”Let me just. . . voila!” The coin rolled around his hand before it disappeared in thin air. Now his hands were free to accept the free meal. ”Thank you ever so kindly for the meal. He winked at the dwarven woman before starting with his meal.

He soon would finish his bowl and what seemed like a little prayer before heading to the bedding accommodations and claimed one of the top bunks with a graceful jump. ”I hope nobody minds me taking one of these, but I do it out of my care for everyone here. My radiance would keep anyone from sleeping soundly.” And with a small illusion his face became a playful depiction of the sun. He shall worry about the other details around this task once he wakes up.

---

Rathiain Bukead Anviltank, reclined quietly, a silent observer amidst the lively chatter of the adventurers gathered in the expansive chamber. Each voice carried weighty opinions on the matter at hand, speculation weaving intricate patterns that mirrored the teachings of the masters. Yet, Rath remained cautious, knowing that truth often hid behind veils of uncertainty. The prospect of embarking on a quest for treasure seemed promising, but he couldn't shake the nagging doubts of potential obstacles—guarded riches or formidable entities—that could thwart their endeavors. A small sigh escaped Rath's lips, the sound tinged with an otherworldly quality, akin to the distant hum of ancient magic resonating through arcane artifacts. He took a sip of his drink, the liquid offering a brief respite from the weight of anticipation.

When Budi, one of the company, leaned in to catch a scent of Faline’s hair, Rath resisted the urge to intervene. His mentor's words echoed in his mind, cautioning against rushing into the role of a self-proclaimed hero. "Wait until someone asks for help," they had advised, "for they may not need nor want yours." And so, Rath remained still, observing each individual's reaction, silently assessing the group dynamics that would shape their journey to find their masters.

Amidst the ongoing debate about their course of action, Rath sensed the group's collective determination to embark on a quest akin to grave robbing, in search of a long-lost treasure. The notion unsettled him, stirring a knot of discomfort in his stomach. Leaning forward, he sought solace in the cold, unyielding surface of the table, the solidity providing a brief respite from the turmoil of his thoughts.

Lost in contemplation, Rath's mind wrestled with uncertainty until a sudden crackle from the fire snapped him out of his reverie. Blinking back to awareness, he watched as an ember danced erratically within the flames. Only after that did a well-rounded dwarven woman enter, bearing trays of food with a buoyant step. Rath observed the cheerful demeanor with which she served, addressing Dorian as "Boss" with a lilt of genuine warmth. Though it seemed peculiar, Rath found himself appreciating the positive energy she exuded. As she approached him, offering his meal, Rath nodded deeply in acknowledgment, a gesture of respect for her hospitality.

"Expression: Thank you for the meal." Rathian conveyed his gratitude to the dwarf woman. Once again, his voice carried an otherworldly resonance, reminiscent of ancient magic coursing through arcane relics. However, this time, a subtle warmth imbued his tone, hinting at a smile that transcended the peculiar sounds emanating from him.

He glanced at his meal, another sigh escaping his lips as he cast a fleeting glance around the room. Reluctant to leave the comfort of his solitude, he triggered the magic within his suit, causing the helm to split into several sections. Each segment retracted, unveiling his youthful visage, devoid of the rugged features typically associated with adulthood. Rath's appearance, akin to that of a young teenager yet to undergo their growth spurt, rendered him distinctly androgynous. Coupled with the suit's modification of his speech to a near-sexless tone and its feminine displacer beast form, Rath feared being perceived as too soft and weak, despite his forty years of age.

Avoiding eye contact, Rath focused on his meal, Rath lifted the bowl to his nose, savoring the tantalizing aroma before invoking a spell, enveloping the food in a shimmering aura of magical energy. With a whirring resonance, the magic infused the meal, enhancing its flavor and vitality. As he ate, Rath consumed his meal with ravenous fervor, as if driven by an insatiable hunger. Upon finishing, exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, evident in his hastened consumption. Glancing around the room, Rath silently offered gratitude to whatever deities may be listening for the lack of attention drawn to his voracious appetite, or perhaps, the feigned ignorance of those who had witnessed it.

Observing others claim bunks for the night, Rath's smile would have betrayed his fondness for sleep if his face were still showing. He sought solace in a secluded corner of the room, away from the bustling activity, ensuring no one would mistake him for a mere coat rack. With a wave of his hand, he cleared the area, invoking the magic of his suit to cleanse and imbue the space with the soothing scent of fresh lavender. In mere moments, the corner transformed into a haven of tranquility.

As Rath reclined back, preparing to surrender to the embrace of sleep, he felt a subtle shift in the air. Arcane energies responded to his need, coalescing into plates similar to those within his suit. These constructs formed beneath him, providing stability and structure, allowing Rath to lay down without discomfort or awkward posture. Leaning back Rath locked his suit into a reclined almost laying down position, embracing the promise of slumber. The weight of exhaustion lifted from his shoulders as he surrendered to the embrace of sleep, welcoming its embrace with a whispered sigh of contentment.

---

In Maltar's experience, life was always a little funny. Sure, he'd been through his tough times - hadn't everyone - and he had to contend with a beastly spirit that inhabited his body, but overall, he found a lot about life amusing. This current situation was no exception. He may have preferred to work and hunt alone, wasn't given to social conduct, but there was something about this odd group of strangers that set him at ease. After having a chat with his invisible friend, the monster hunter decided to just watch on at the conversation unfold.

It was the Orc that had first stuck a chord of amusement with Maltar, and he wasn't perturbed at all Budi's responses toward him. Northern Orc's, or what Maltar liked to refer to as Highland Orc's, were more uncommon than other orcs, but Maltar had met a few in his life. Highland Orc's, like all Orc's, had a reputation for hostility, primal nature and brute arrogance, but in Maltar's opinion they were relatively harmless unless they perceived you as an enemy or sexual rival. Orcs also tended to have a robust sense of humor, which was fitting, of course. The big, blue giant was having fun getting acquainted with the group in his own special way. Maltar had to contain a laugh when Budi took a good sniff of Faline's hair, and somewhat to Maltar's surprise, the half-Elvian beauty took it quite well. The hunter had to raise an impressed brow when he saw the woman react void of intimidation or fear. She seemed to understand that the monstrous man intended no harm, and even gave the orc a look to suggest that she understood more about Budi's nature than Maltar would have previously assumed her credit for.

Maltar had to admit, his first impression of Faline was leaning more toward the stuck-up variety, but her reaction to Budi had him realize there was more to this woman than just another pretty untouchable. The woman was certainly intelligent. She knew her stuff. She was passionate. Strong, both in will and mind. She had a lot of spunk that was quickly growing more apparent, and there was something about her fiery dedication to current events that stirred up a certain feeling of admiration in the hunter.

Behind his contained laugh for Budi and subsequent admiration for Faline, Maltar felt the spirit of the beast move within him. Maltar's Twighlight Eye sense was roused, and he picked up on a shift of energy in the room. It was only a subtle caprice, so mild that it couldn't be defined. It may have been no more than the energy of a passing combative thought, but the hunter's twilight intuition suggested an adverse internal reaction to Budi's behavior by someone in the room. By a pull not all his own, Maltar's eyes landed on the one Dorian referred as Sir Anviltank. It didn't seem to fit that Maltar's twilight sense detected said response from a person of Sir Anviltank's presentation. The man seemed still. Observant. Calm. Maybe the guy just needed sleep.

Amandine was a curiosity to Maltar, and the second to bring a grin to Maltar's face. He noticed an air of whimsy on her face as she roamed her dazzling orbs upon the characters in the room. Maltar had no idea what Amandine was thinking, but it certainly seemed like fun. Her quiet whimsical glow was something Maltar appreciated. He hadn't experienced it enough in people. It was a shame to see Amandine's amusement fade quickly at the hearing of the plans to raid the ruins of her ancestors. There was no denying her logic. Very rarely in life, especially in the kingdom of which they lived, were things done right. Righteousness and integrity were too hard for people. The easy way out was always preferred, and normally at the expense of others, in this case the sanctity of Amandine's heritage. He felt for the woman. And just like with Faline, he respected Amandine's passion for what was right. Maltar was no longer grinning when Amandine finished saying her piece. Though his stony appearance may have appeared to be one of... indifference - That was until Budi decided to step up and sniff Amadine's hair as well, which brought another smile to the monster hunter's face.

Yet, beneath his look of amusement, Maltar couldn't help but wonder about the idea of turning iron to gold. The prospect seemed familiar somehow. Had he previously heard about this stone Amandine spoke of? Or were his thoughts being affected by the memory of a game his narrator used to play?

Torsten was no exception to the ease Maltar was gaining from these people. The monster hunter valued the genuine graces and smarts of the robust man. Even Torsten's words of knowledge and understanding towards Faline had a particular quality that wrought a jovial dimension of feeling. The man was obviously an experienced woodsman, a hunter, too, which Maltar obviously identified with. It wasn't always easy to retain amiability in their chosen way of life.

There was really nothing more Maltar thought he could contribute to discussions regarding the quest the group was being sent on, at least nothing that wouldn't be recognized or established soon enough. It really didn't need to be said. Besides, the man was feeling hungry. The paunchy dwarven woman seemed to turn up right on cue to sate the appetites of the group, and her workshoe manner of speech added an enticement to the food she delivered. Maltar took a shining to her, as much as he had taken an instant shining to Gus, a young man with no shortage of fun to throw around. Maltar had been enjoying the wizard's playful energy. As Maltar made his way to acquire a meal for himself, he watched with keen observation as Gus interacted with the dwarven woman. Once Gus had taken his meal, Maltar gave him a nod, then smiled warmly for the dwarven woman, thanked her, and went to stand quietly by the fire to eat.

---

"I agree with you." Maltar had finished his meal, taken a swig from his burden flask, and had approached the table. Faline was reading through some notes. "There's more going on that just a disease," Maltar clarified, "I don't believe we would be here if that wasn't the case." He had focused on Faline's emerald gaze as he started responding to her comment, then glanced casually to the others at the table. "I don't mean to alarm anyone. But by chance I'm not here in the morning, just wanted to say I'll try and make it to our next destination the best I can. It was good to meet you all." The monster hunter then gave all present company a nod and walked away into the bed room.

Maltar took the top bunk above where Faline had placed her belongings on her bed. He had been resting for a while when Gus took the top bunk across from him and made the comment about his radiance keeping people awake. With a turn of his eyes, Maltar watched as the wizard's face glowed with sunlight.

"You know light is better shed from above, right?" Maltar winked with a slight, crooked grin, "Maybe it would be more caring of you take a bottom bunk." He turned his eyes back to the ceiling, released a small chuckle, then let his eyelids close.

Sleep was always a little unstable for Maltar. It's not that he didn't sleep soundly - though restless nights were common - but waking up miles from the place he would actually go to sleep was a thing he hadn't learned to predict. He hadn't experienced a Night Shift for a good week or more. It was well overdue. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed it could happen this night. When Maltar had earlier arrived in the Lock and Key, his preference to work alone had him wondering if he really wanted to stay, and so he found the possibility of waking up far from these people in the morning a little amusing.

The man listened, and prayed, he had all that he said out into the world, while the couch was an enjoyable place. He did not wish to sleep there, nor did he want to form his armor to him while he slept. It took some time, he was more or less waiting for food in his silent prayers. His hands slowly rested to his lap, "A crate of supplies will only last a short time before we run out, we will likely have to scavange, forage, and hunt for short periods while not near towns. If we wish to negate that, the brute should be able to carry a large sum, if not, we seem to be a well versed group, while I can hunt and forage, I am not sure I can support this size of group. While I think others are those who give and take to the natural ways, I do not wish to make assumptions."

Though he had made several assumptions on those around him, he did not care to say anything about them, most hedid wish or had ideals of what they were like, and what they could do, there was only one he was certain of, almost two, but he had an ideal. He thought long inhis head as he just listened, and then a smell came in.

His eyes slowly came in from his, 'meditation.' In that moment he smelled food, it was good food, and he slowly stood from his imprinted seating arrangement and placed his right hand over his chest, with a thick lipped smile, he said, "bless you and this food, for it smells wonderful." he said his head eyes closed once again and his head bowed forward. He plucked a buiscut from the pile, and moved towards Faline.

"All things are a part of a larger picture... It is likely deliberate, but it is likely a larger plan, one where we are just pawns. Every moment we breathe we are being pulled upon by forces seen and unseen, for a long time the air has been gross, fowl in nature. It is an imbalance in the world; we just have to determine if we are fighting fate or being its accomplice."

Pebble was eating bugs, and she was surprised at just how delicious they happened to be. Crunchy and gooey. Bitter with a hint of sweetness. It was all there! Wasn’t long before the first bug turned into two, then two turned into more. Pebble was foraging around in the grass like someone who’d lost a precious stone. Travelers walking on by must have been thinking she was a crazy gal. Heck, she was starting to get all panicky that there were no more bugs to be found when a flutter of white grabbed onto her attention.

The little dwarven munchkin looked up from her hands and knees to see a big ol’ white owl winking both eyes and giving her a hoot. Pebble sat back in the grass on her heels and tipped her head with a pout. She was marginally entertained by its rotating head. The feathery critter flapped its wings all about and looked at her with them big blue eyes, like it knew her or something. But Pebble was sure she ain’t never seen that bird before in all her Rock Bun years. Her doe-eyed, chestnut stare tilted with the owls’ stare, and just for a sand-grain second, Pebble was thinking they were making a deep connection. Then the dumb old hooter ruined their jeweled moment by flapping its big ol’ wings and flying up over her head.

Pebble flipped her mop of mouse-brown hair aside to follow the owl on up to perch itself on the Somerset sign. The bird cawed like a crazy miner who had breathed in too much sulfur dioxide and it pretty soon got on Pebble’s nerves. She had to get up onto her feet and stand out on the road to give that owl a good stern looking at. Fists on her hips and a big old mouth-twisting scowl. Little babe was just about to start up her oh-so lovely singing when that feathery-assed hooter took on off and perched itself in the first tree down the road to Somerset. Bird kept hollering at her like a crazy prospector announcing the discovery of gold. Pebble had to bite her singing tongue to think about this.

“What in the heckers?”

Now, Peb’s wasn’t an ignorant gal. Sure, her pet was a rock named Ed, but she knew all about animals and familiars acting as guides and communicating with peeps. There was a whole lot of stuff going through her mind. This damn hecking bird was causing urgency in her, and she didn’t know why, and she didn’t like that none too much. She had half a mind to keep looking for bugs to eat. Her eyes scanned the ground looking for a rock to peg at the owl. She wanted to sing her little heart out but felt real bad about maybe hurting the stupid bird. And heckers, her thoughts were prospecting that she still needed to be finding her ma and pa. Pebble was all undecided again. Decisions, decisions. She didn’t like it. Freedom was gold ore.

Exasperated at so, so little, the little dwarf halfling pouted at the owl and shrugged real big. She had given up on making a decision and just started on walking in any old direction. That direction just so happened to be down the road to Somerset. She didn’t feel like singing no more.

After the initial round of pleasantries and discussions tapered off, attention turned to the matter of sleeping arrangements. Maltar, ever the practical one, opted for the top bunk above Faline's belongings, a choice likely motivated by convenience rather than preference. Meanwhile, Budi seemed to eye the bed beneath, perhaps considering sharing it with Faline. However, given his size, it was suggested that it would be best for him to have two beds side by side to accommodate his considerable weight comfortably.

Across the room, Gus settled in, presuming Torsten would be his bunkmate for the night. As for their metallic companion, it chose the corner of the room, imbued with the calming scent of lavender, perhaps finding solace in the subtle aroma.

Amandine, content with her choice of sleeping spot, made herself comfortable near the fire, indulging in a selection of desserts she had procured earlier from the silver tray. After satisfying her sweet tooth, she settled into a state of quiet contemplation, the warmth of the flames enveloping her in a soothing embrace. With each flicker of light and crackle of the fire, she felt herself drifting into a zen-like meditation, allowing the gentle heat to permeate her body and banish the chill of the cold evening air.

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The snowy feathered creature was unaffected by Pebble's glares and frustrated figure as she made up her mind. Of course, the owl already knew the half-dwarven woman would follow. It was clear in the bird's eyes that there was more than just an avian brain in its cranium. So, once Pebble's stride was determined to Somerset, the owl flew beside her, guiding her through the woods even as night descended upon them.

...

After a nap outside of town, the white owl led Pebble to an old miner's cart that appeared abandoned due to the broken wheel axle and vegetation growing around it. If the half-dwarven woman would peer into the cart, a crate with a familiar symbol would be waiting for her. The owl perched itself on the rotten edge of the cart, Somerset's southern gates within sight as the morning sun peeked over the horizon.

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Faline rolled her emerald orbs at the radiant request of Gus, but a hint of a smile could be seen at the teasing of Maltar. She was appreciative of Maltar's agreeance and Torsten's knowledge of the supplies list. The tall paladin was correct, the food supplies wouldn't last them more than a couple of weeks if they were lucky. Foraging and hunting would most likely be a part of the equation, Faline was glad that she wasn't alone in the knowledge of such skills.

The half-Elvian woman did find it interesting that Maltar warned of disappearance in the morning. She was curious as to what such a vague statement could mean. With her uncle's journal in hand, Faline began to slowly fall asleep reading.

.....



Faline blinked her eyes open, finding her uncle's notebook in her hand, and realized that what happened yesterday wasn't a dream. Seven individuals who seemed opposite of one another were recruited into a secret guild by their predecessors. Fal with her mass of fiery locks quietly sat up and sighed. She softly rubbed the back of her neck then walked over to the fireplace that seemed to have been burning all night. The fire's light flickered against the eight chests on the hearth's edges. She knelt in front of the chest with the symbol that was on her token. She gently ran her fingers over the engraving before she opened the trunk to see what her uncle had left her.

The two dark green sheths first took Faline's attention. She carefully opened the sheths to find two obsidian steel double-ended daggers with a rich brown leather handle connected the blades into one double-edged weapon. There was also a beautiful bow that Faline had remembered seeing somewhere but couldn't quite place where exactly. The bow was made of oak and was light but sturdy. The quiver with arrows matched the leather of the daggers. She ran her fingers along the stitching of the quiver and stopped when she reached the engraving on the bottom seam. Faline's jaw dropped open as she couldn't believe her uncle was even giving this to her.

Faline reached in to find a more well-made traveling bag that appeared to fit everything she would need. She switched out her old pack for her new one as silently as possible to avoid waking her new comrades. Soon, the sound of Cook burst through the door with her kitchen cart, it had startled Faline, causing her to curse in Elvish with surprise.

"Ya all needin' to get a move on. The mornin' light is breakin' the horizon," Cook said as she placed some breakfast buns on the table. Dough balls about the size of a man's fist stuffed full of eggs, cheese, rice, and mutton. The old dwarven woman also placed a large bowl of various fruits on the table before heading out.

Faline finished packing her bag and adjusting her attire before she grabbed a breakfast bun, an apple, and a pear. She remembered a bit from last night and grabbed another apple and pear. For some reason, Faline felt as if they were still missing someone. Once she was finished getting ready, Faline looked at the others.

"Are you all ready to head out?" Faline asked with a smile.

---

Being a hunter of unsavory variety prey establishes certain traits in a person. Constant vigilance was something Maltar's mentors instilled in him from a young age. Vigilance was essential to surviving their family's line of work. Naturally, this affected how easy it was for the hunter to be roused from his sleep. Faline's quiet sigh opened his eyes in the morning. He was instantly alert, but unmoving. Eyes on the ceiling, he felt gruntled for not waking up in some random location. He followed Faline's movements by sound alone as she went about her waking activities. Maltar had no real reason to be wary, as the only thing close to a threat in that place was Budi, and the Orc was more comical than threatening. The hunter would have gotten up sooner, wanted to talk with Faline while the others still slept, but he had to wait for his morning wood to subside.

Thinking about dead cats did the trick, and Maltar managed to quietly leave his bed before any of the others got up. He came out of the bedroom right on que for Cook to arrive hollering loud enough to wake the dead. A one-on-one chat with Faline became quickly unlikely for the time being. His curiosity in regard to the half-Elvian woman's views on a specific matter would have to wait.

He greeted Faline as she took her food, then shoved an apple in his pocket and went to the hearth to open his appointed chest with his foot while he ate his roll. Chewing lowly, his eyes narrowed charily on the weapons left for him by his mentors. He already had a crossbow with him - a handed-down gift from Thoren many years prior - and there was not another in the chest to replace it. There were, however, two new swords to replace his old short sword, and what appeared to be a type of gauntlet-style retractable blade. The new weapons, especially the gauntlet blade, seemed to be specifically designed for covert defense. Both the gauntlet and short swords appeared more advanced than any weapons Maltar had previously used. All three blades were crafted from steel he hadn't seen before and enchanted with an inscription that he did recognize, sigils to prevent the steel from dulling. Maltar had to wonder why Thoren and Marya felt the need to provide him with this sort of stylized weaponry. Not that he was of the mind to complain about weapons that could only improve the hunt. Once his chary passed, he stuffed the last of his roll in his mouth and took his new weapons from the chest.

"Yeah, I'm ready, but hey," Maltar answered Faline as he turned to her, fastening the gauntlet to his forearm while regarding her own weapons, "Nice quiver, I like it. Like your bow, too," he glanced Faline over with a small grin, "nice curves."

Pebble wasn't at all the type to think too deep about stuff outside her own bubble, but this heck'n owl was compromising her no-care attitude. She wasn't in the tiniest bit comfortable with its need to be all in her face like it was. The feathery cretin looked like it was predicting Pebble's decisions, as if it be all knowing of stuff even she wasn't giving much foresight to. The little girl just wanted to be all free to walk about and sing her lovely tunes. Pebble wasn't above belting out a good high note or two to knock this feathery annoyance on its ass, but every time she went to open her gob, she couldn't bring herself to do it. There was a great old big discomfort when the owl flew by her side as she walked along. Much the same way a girl might be feeling when holding hands with a boy she doesn't like all that much. Her face scrunched up all bitter and irritate at the feel of the wind on her face from its flapping wings.

Eventually, Pebble just begrudgingly accepted the owl's company. Regardless of whether the feathery beast wanted to or not, she settled down for a nap some distance out of Somerset. When the little girl woke, the owl was still staring at her like a pervy stalker bird, and she turned up her nose at it and grunted. No surprise the dumb owl stayed with her as they continued on down the road until they came across an old miner's cart. Now, Pebble was delighted by anything to do with mining and finally a little smile wrecked her pouty face when she saw the abandoned cart. She went ahead and found herself wondering about its history, its owner and why it was on the road to Somerset so far from any mines she knew about. The tales this cart could tell.

The owl had good taste and set itself down on the cart, and Pebble gave the animal a good old nod of approval as she went about investigating the carts contents. Fortune behold! A crate was just sitting there inside the carriage of the cart. Sure as heck there were questions why the cart remained unmoved from this main road for so long and why this crate appeared to be untouched as well, but that suspicious wondering was outdone by the symbol on the side of the crate. A shiver went walking up and down her back as she recognized the engraving. The little munchkin of a Dwarf just couldn't hold out on her curiosity for a heck too long. Before she even knew it herself, she was peering inside like a kiddie opening their present on birthday morning. But that is when the Dwarf girl froze in all manner of eerie feelings. There were weapons inside this crate that fit the distinctive design of her dad's own handywork. Pebble was just so darn flabbergasted by the crate's contents that all she could do was lift her eyes on up to the watchful owl and squint all serious and suspicious at it.

"What the heckers is going on, bird? Speak, or I start singing!"

It was only natural for an Orc of Budi's size to eat a lot. From a young age, however, he had been discipled in patience when it came to food. When a meal was shared, awaiting others to take their portion first was made an order. This was one practice that conflicted with Budi's dominant nature, though he practiced it none-the-less. In this case, the Orc did not need to wait, for the small, stout dwarf was serving portions, and Budi made his request as there was a great deal to go around. He was afforded three bowls of soup, several bread rolls, and half the number of cookies available on the plate. For a while, the blue giant had forgotten about the women in the group. He was so entirely content, that he fell asleep seated on the lounge in front of the fire before other members of the group went to bed.

Budi slept straight through until the sound of Faline and Maltar conversing woke him with a snort. They were taking their weapons from appointed chests. Budi had not previously understood what the chests were for and did not give their purpose in the room any thought prior to that time. While shoveling crust from his waking eyes, he was curios to why he had thus far been ignorant to the role his mentor had in current events. There was much he had to learn. On any accord, the Orc did not dwell on his questions long, Maltar's comments to the fare lady Faline made him chuckle. His amused grin was derisive for the monster hunter. He felt jealousy for Faline's enamored response, but he declined to speak out against the man at that time. The Orc would bide, humiliate the human at a time that would provoke Faline in favor for himself. If he thought hard enough, Budi believed he could think of a compliment that trumped the hunters, one that perhaps managed to belittle the man as well. The Orc felt his member gorge with blood in anticipation.

"Budi is ready to go, too!" Budi's voice had a touch more thunder than he had intended while he looked into his own assigned chest. If the others of the group had not yet woken, they would have surely been roused by that. "Huh...." Budi's chest was empty. Had someone played a joke? The massive blue man tilted his head while he let the chest fall shut. He did see the humor. Budi's morphable limbs were his weapons.

"Lady Faline!" he called for the woman's attention. A lasting, hardy chuckle carried his words. "Which way do we go?" Anywhere outside of the mountains was unfamiliar to the Orc. "You will walk with Budi, yes?"