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It was not a very far trek, in fact Elthel indicated it was just two streets northward from the south wall. However, the poisoned state of her comrade made the walk long and tedious as Elthel and a very annoyed Ibdur had to all but drag him. The small group also had to diverge into an alleyway after Iliskra spotted a heavily armed bunch of four clomping down the middle of the street amid the cracked stones and decayed bodies. They were all human men, encased in full suits of steel plate armor and wielding a variety of weapons including a wicked-looking morningstar.

“Shagarm’s men.” Elthel spat as they disappeared down the street.

Once the coast was clear, so to speak, Elthel directed the group toward a rickety-looking two story wooden building. A sign hung from two chains over the door that said “Yanoriim’s Grocery” in bold, black lettering. 

“This is a grocery shop.” Ibdur said the obvious as Elthel reached forward and turned the door handle.

“Yanoriim is one of our most trusted fences and sources of information outside of the city.” Elthel said as she pushed open the door with a labored creaking of hinges. She stepped inside followed by Ibdur and the hobbling half-blood.

Iliskra looked to Leon with a raised brow, “Be ready.” And with that she went in leaving her masked compatriot to bring up the rear. The afternoon was drawing to an end and evening would soon arrive. As the sun set the streets would grow more active in the worst of ways and Iliskra imagined this Shagarm’s grip was even tighter under the cover of night. She wondered how well their fellows across the river were doing. As complicated as this had already become Iliskra still preferred it over the idea of fighting Thayans and their armies of demons and undead.

The inside of the store was dimly lit by lanterns that hung the four walls and a large wooden chandelier lined with burning candles that presided overhead. The interior of the shop looked better than the outside. The floors were creaky but stable, the wallpaper was peeling here and there but not severely, and the shelves and racks of goods were orderly. Standing behind the counter on the far side across from the front door was a dwarf - portly even for his kind - with balding gray hair and a a thick but well-kept mustache. 

“Can I help-…” the dwarfs’ words were cut short as he saw Elthel and the wounded half-elf before then blurting out, “Waukeen’s golden tits! Zilaster! What happened!? And where are?…” The dwarf looked among the group, obviously searching for others before his concerned eyes stopped on Iliskra and Leon - his worry immediately turning to suspicion.

“Things… did not… go as… planned…”

[i]Zilaster.[/i] Iliskra thought, she had never heard the name of course but it was nice to have one to paste to the mysterious man before them.