For years Runewen has been one of the more peaceful countries of the world. Ever since King Loghain reclaimed the throne from those who wished to end the Runewen line, the country has been in a state of peace. However in recent months rumours have started to spread about the town of Dalhurst. Remote and hidden away in the Creht Mountains, it was the only town among one of few safe routes through the mountains. Travellers have stopped coming over the mountains, traders from Dalhurst have stopped showing up in villages among the foothills. Some brushed it off as the dwellers of Dalhurst finding somewhere else to go, others believe something darker is at work. Word has spread that a man has put together an expedition in to the mountains to discover what really happened in Dalhurst. Many have searched for this man, yet only a few were selected to take the journey.

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Delacard Mackarrel
The young Dwarf had spent much of his time in the Creht Foothills, and in doing so, developed a reputation for himself as a defender and healer of the nearby villages. It was of no surprise to these villagers when in the early days of spring, a weathered old man came searching for the dwarf. Though Delacard was never approached directly, a letter managed to make its way to him. Within the letter were enclosed a very short set of instructions.

"In five days time you shall meet five others on the mountain road to Dalhurst. Bring supplies for a long journey." -A

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Kestross Vallaharn - Zarzuket Holshtor - Takrome Elemmiire - Kherast Vahn
The four adventurers Kestross, Zarzuket, Takrome, and Kherast had spent many months together on the road, aiding those in need, and adventuring as adventurers do. Though they may or may not have been interested in the rumours of Dalhurst, they couldn't help but be drawn towards it after a very interesting stay at a roadside Inn. Sitting at a table together and enjoying their rest after clearing out a cave of Goblins for a village in the forest a few days back, they were approached by an elderly man in a dust covered robe. He sat with them and talked with the group well in to the night.

Hours passed before the man stood, and as he did so he spoke. "The four of you have seen your share of adventures, and I sense good hearts dwell within all of you. Within the past months I assume you have heard of the plight of Dalhurst, people like you could help the town. If it is within your power to aid those in need as you have done so many times before, meet me on the mountain road to Dalhurst in five days. If you leave tomorrow you will be there on time." When the last words left his lips, the man turned and left the Inn with great haste. If any followed him out the door, they were only met with the cool midnight air.

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Zilvra Naerth
Ever since her incident, Zilvra had been travelling and hunting for those who wronged her. Once in awhile she would hear rumours of her quarry, only to arrive too late or at a dead end. Travelling alone for so long had made her withdrawn and bitter towards others. On her most recent attempt to find her quarry, she found herself unable to shake herself of a strange elderly man. He had followed her from the city Agido and out in to the forest near the Creht Foothills. On the sixth night of his following, he approached as Zilvra set up her camp.

"You have no reason to trust anything I say as I have been following you for no reason it would seem, but I ask that you listen to my request. I do not doubt that you have heard the rumours of Dalhurst. If you believe you can help those in need, meet me on the road to Dalhurst in five days time." With that, the man wandered down the road and disappeared in to the darkness.

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At the base of the Creht Mountains, in the Foothills on the mountain road, the six adventurers came together. The first to arrive was the Dwarf with his personal caravan of carts, oxen and mules in tow, loaded with everything needed to survive a trek in to the mountains. Next came the party of four, following the lead given by the Old man who joined them in the Inn. Finally came the Half-Blood, the last to join. As the six stood in the road, a familiar face came over the hill in front of them. Smiling, the elderly man stepped towards the group.

"Greetings my young companions. I am glad to see you all accepted my request. You all know the rumours of Dalhurst, and I can tell you now that something sinister is indeed at work. Today is the start of our journey to discover what has truly happened to the people of this town. We leave at once, as you can see our Dwarf friend here has all the necessary equipment for travel. We can get better acquainted with one another on the road."
The elderly man climbed up in to the back of one of the carts and called out to the assembled groups. "You may call me Arvin, now let us be off young ones. Dalhurst shan't wait forever!"

Zilvra stormed through some small village, still covered in remnants from her last fight. Villagers quickly moved away from her as she pushed her way towards the inn, clutching her injured left arm. This time, she had failed. Next time, the bandit chief would not be so lucky. She would have his head rest atop a pike. She ran her hand across the hilt of her newly claimed Falchion, still slick from the fight. Yes, next time would be a different story.

Two guards approacher her, albeit hesitantly. Both had halberds and chainmail, bus seemed to lack the confidence to confront Zilvra. "Ma'am," one shakily but with determination, "I have to ask you to leave. You are causing unrest."

"I'm causing unrest!? There's a village burning bandit horde out there, and you are complaining about me!?" The guards said nothing, only leveling the points of their halberds in response." Fine, I'm going," Zilvra snarled glaring holes into the guards through the slit in her visor.

A couple of months later...
Zilvra spoke with guard captains, town criers, some shady street guys, anyone who might give her a hint of where the bandit chief hid. By now, her wounds had healed, and her angry outburst had sated, but nothing had happened to reduce her frustration. She spat on the ground in frustration as yet another search turned up empty.

She had made her way to the city of Agido, hoping for some evidence of where the bandits. Though there was nothing concrete to be found, she heard rumours of them being in a forest by the Creht Foothills. She left immediately after finding this, and began her trek towards the foot hills. On her way, she noticed an oddly persistent old man tailing her. 6 days he followed, and each night, she laid in bed with her Falchion set beside her, waiting for the man to come close.

On the 6th night, he finally approached. She noticed him, and stood facing him, holding her Falchion, waiting for him to start a fight.

However, he did not. He simply brought her a message.

"You have no reason to trust anything I say as I have been following you for no reason it would seem, but I ask that you listen to my request. I do not doubt that you have heard the rumours of Dalhurst. If you believe you can help those in need, meet me on the road to Dalhurst in five days time." With that, the man wandered down the road and disappeared in to the darkness.
She stood for about 30 minutes waiting for something else to happen. Nothing did. The man never came near her small encampment again. She recalled the memory from many months ago of Dechsand, and her not helping it. She could prevent those in need. Although, the bandits might be in the forest. Zilvra made up her mind. She would search through the forest for a couple of days, then get on the road to Dalhurst. After all, she had a couple of days to burn until then.

The search of the forest turned up nothing. Zilvra clenched her fist at the all too common occurrence. She might as well try to help Dalhurst. There might be coin in it to replenish her dwindling supply. Maybe it even had something to do with the bandits she was chasing. She smirked slightly. Yes, that would be perfect.

At the base of the Creht Mountains, in the Foothills on the mountain road, the six adventurers came together. The first to arrive was the Dwarf with his personal caravan of carts, oxen and mules in tow, loaded with everything needed to survive a trek in to the mountains. Next came the party of four, following the lead given by the Old man who joined them in the Inn. Finally came the Half-Blood, the last to join. As the six stood in the road, a familiar face came over the hill in front of them. Smiling, the elderly man stepped towards the group.

"Greetings my young companions. I am glad to see you all accepted my request. You all know the rumours of Dalhurst, and I can tell you now that something sinister is indeed at work. Today is the start of our journey to discover what has truly happened to the people of this town. We leave at once, as you can see our Dwarf friend here has all the necessary equipment for travel. We can get better acquainted with one another on the road."

The elderly man climbed up in to the back of one of the carts and called out to the assembled groups. "You may call me Arvin, now let us be off young ones. Dalhurst shan't wait forever!"
Zilvra stood silently among her possible new companions. It had seemed that she had not been the only one summoned. She shrugged. Whatever. This wouldn't be the first time she worked with others. Hopefully, these one's faired better than the others did. She paced behind the rest of the group, waiting for the old man to show up. She coughed slightly, and felt a warm liquid pool above her upper lip. She did not remove her helmet, tolerating the uncomfortable feeling for now.

And he did. He wasted no time in introducing themselves, and having them go. Apparently, this was an urgent thing. That was fine with Zilvra. The sooner that they completed this mission the better. She pulled herself up on one of the carts. Still saying nothing.

(OOC: Zilvra is 5'9, in battered banded mail armour. Her helmet completely obscures her face, though it is possible to see her grey/blue eyes if you look closely.)

All this hiking and walking about was not the easiest on the small man. He was small, for a man or for a human, however you wanted to look at it. Kherast was just over 5ft tall and barely a hundred pounds. Small of frame, little muscle to him. His mind though, that was his tool. One look into his eyes and you could see the fire burning inside of them. And so, though he huffed and puffed, miserable to be hiking with his pack on his back, the fire burned inside of him, the determination pushed him onward.

For five days, the troupe of companions had been marching on the road after the man had came to them. Kherast knew that whatever source gave him his power over magic would want him to go, to solve the mystery of this town and help those whom he could help. His pack sat upon his shoulders and a set of grey robes covered the rest of him. A hit of his mithral chain shirt could be seen where the top of the robes did not come all the way together. A belt cinched the waist together and swinging from it was a light mace with some bolts for the crossbow that was attached to his pack and a pair of daggers. On him could be seen a handful of what could either be map or scroll cases. A golden symbol of a lamp hung from his neck.

Kherast was a mage priest, a servant of the folds of magic itself, though his strength drifted towards that of a wizard. He vowed to be prepared for what would be coming his way and took everything in sight as they party arrived at the point the old man had said.

Five days ago
An observer standing on the outside of the inn would have been surrounded by stillness and tranquility, amongst the other mundane conditions that accompanied the end of a busy day. One would have heard the occasional rustling of leaves tickled by the evening breeze, and come to notice that the birds had ceased to sing as they hunkered down for the night. No wise travellers would come by at this hour, and the sky would grow darker and darker as the sun continued to set.

All in all, a rather dull and uneventful affair... that is, of course, if an observer was standing outside the inn.

Inside held a scene which contradicted the one previously mentioned in every way possible. Instead of growing darkness, the great stone hearth cast a warm firelight across every expanse of the homely ground floor, and the air was alive with loud, jovial voices and laughter from the visitors who'd happened to come by. Here, the food was good, the stories could captivate, and the song and dance that lilted amongst the people seemed to lift even the most somber of hearts.

Around the centre of the noise and the music sat one particularly colourful individual with a long, golden trumpet wearing silken threads of blue, white, and crimson, his head topped off with a wide-brimmed cap and a puffy red feather to boot. When the man was not playing his instrument, he was telling jokes and levelling comedy, prancing about with some pretty young thing, and performing tricks with juggling balls, dice, and cards; and the audience cheered and revelled along with him. A swashbuckler by trade, Kestross Gallaharn enjoyed such flashy play when he was not out fighting goblins, and he relished turning settings like these into nights to remember any time he got the chance.

In this way he ran the night away, paying little heed to the venerable man who occupied his travelling companions and caring even less to listen to what he had to say. It would only have been by the morning after that they'd filled him in on the task they'd been assigned- to meet with 2 others at a designated spot somewhere in the mountains.

"Yeah, I've heard a bit about Dalhurst- only in passing from some of the travellers around here," he'd said of the matter. "But If there's someone's safety at stake as the rumours say, I'd say we get on it."

---

Present day
The others seemed to recognize the elder who stepped over the hill before them, and it turned out that it was he they'd talked to. Kestross had never spoken with him, of course, but greeted him in kind all the same. He'd examined the other two who'd arrived before and after him; a dwarf with his own caravan of mules and oxen, likely a traveller familiar with these parts, and a half-elf in battered armour that'd seen better days. His gaze rested upon her for a few moments before he turned his attention to the old man.

"Greetings, my young companions," he said. "I am glad to see you all accepted my request. You all know the rumours of Dalhurst, and I can tell you now that something sinister is indeed at work. Today is the start of our journey to discover what has truly happened to the people of this town. We leave at once, as you can see our Dwarf friend here has all the necessary equipment for travel. We can get better acquainted with one another on the road."

He'd left no room for question, but Kestross' interest had been piqued. Apparently, they were to leave at once. "You may call me Arvin; now, let us be off, young ones. Dalhurst shan't wait forever!"

And off they'd gone. Following leisurely behind the oxcart with his old and new companions, whistling cheerfully, Kestross withdrew three of his beanbag props and tossed them effortlessly in his right hand, a favourite trick. He noticed the half-blood a few metres in front of him and trotted past the struggling Kerhast to sidle up beside her.

"I noticed you seemed a little lonely on your own, ma'am," he said with a smile. "The road doesn't need to be so long."

---

((OOC: I sent you a PM, Kamina, regarding Kestross' next action.))

"You may call me Arvin, now let us be off young ones. Dalhurst shan't wait forever!" Takrome stared shocked at the man before her, the elf had to remind herself to stay her tongue lest she yell at him. Turning to the Gnome chuckling slightly seeing her companion and friend gazing down at the gathered parties footwear, "He called us young ones Zarzuket.. I'm unsure how I feel about that."

The gnome flicked his hand absently. "He might be older than me. Just." He turns to examine Arvin's feet coverings as well.

"It matters little to me. How long do you think he's worn those?" Takrome tilts her head and gazes down slightly,

"Far longer than he probably should. But he called us young!"

"Yes, yes, duel him at dawn for the sleight against your elven personage. Which reminds me, how are those boots holding up? Do you need a new pair? Did they stand up to travel better than the last ones?"

Takrome shrugged her shoulders, flicking her tan hair over her shoulder, "They're fairing a lot better than the rags I had before, thank you." Pausing for the moment the Elf eyed the old man, pondering the outcome within her mind before shaking her head, "He'd probably drop from exhaustion before he could strike me."

He nods in agreement. "It must be all that travelling. Look at that." He then points at his boots. "Substandard, that's what they are."

Takrome laughs lightly at him, "Perhaps you can persuade him into letting you make him a new pair. It's obviously that he needs them. Though, I think I shall let it slide that he called my glorious self a young one, I will take it as a compliment."

He replies sarcastically "Well what a relief that's resolved. The job would be a good deal harder if you killed him before we properly found out what it was, no?"

She gasps lightly, "I would never kill him Cobb.. Maim him yes.. Kill no."

((OOC: Both of them follow along, not sure if they're supposed to go in carts or on foot. ))

Zarzuket pondered this as the group began to move. He wondered if the sudden aggressive streak being shown by his elven companion was being caused by a possible tightness around the toes of her shoes. Perhaps a small stone in the heel, missed in morning boot clearing? He shook his head. Takrome was always like that, and almost never meant it. He then chided himself. Of course the toes weren't too tight. He'd measured and crafted them himself, hadn't he?

The gnome scowled. He'd been put out ever since they'd first been visited by their mysterious... employer, he supposed was the word.


--Five Days Earlier--
It was one of those rare days. Zarzuket was content. Not burning with curiosity, or driven with a need to research. Just content in his work. The goblin cave had been less than a joke with his current travelling companions, and he was now able to focus on his real job: Shoe-making.

He turned his eyes upon the.... strips of cloth masquerading as footwear his elven friend was wearing. It was an old argument, but damned if he wasn't going to have it again. He pointed, nearly incensed with anger, at her feet. "Look at that! Just look! Disgraceful I tell you. When are you going to wise up, and give your poor feet a break? Thats torture that is." He widened his eyes a bit, trying to appear as earnest as he felt. "Just give me a day, I've got a brand new design. You'll swear they've been hit with a Levitate."

Takrome eyed the gnome, "Cobb, the moment I give up my boots is the day my heart fails me."

The little shoe-maker sneered at this. "Then your heart will fail on the morrow, for those.... things.... shall give up on you before the day is out."

She narrowed her green eyes slightly, but there was a flicker of indecision there. A hesitation that had never appeared the times they'd argued before. "Cobb, enough.. The boots are fine." Perhaps at long last...

Zarzuket prepared his final blow, the one he'd been saving for the first time she showed weakness. It was time to drive in the final tack. "One day. You wear what I'll make for you for one day's travel, and if you're feet haven't build a damn shrine to my skills, you'll never hear from me on the subject again."

A glint of humor flashed through her eyes, and only experience with the elf told him he hadn't imagined it. It was followed by a sigh, and shedding of the monstrosities on her feet. "I hate you, small gnome," she said, a slightly softer tone belying her words. "Do not make me regret this, Cobb." A few measurements later, and the gnome was off and happily working once more. Or he would have been, had they not had a visitor immediately after.

The old man beckoned, and he could tell by the others expressions they would be rushing to answer. A small sigh escaped the little blue gnome's lips. He hated rushing a job, but they'd be setting out tomorrow, and he had a challenge to win. He'd leave out a few of his more... extravagant features, but the result would be head and shoulders above the standard boots.

He looked down in distaste at his own footwear, nearly purchased from a general good store. He hated treating his feet like that, but how was he supposed to improve his craft if he didn't know how the common gnome suffered?

((OOC: I'll npc Salvator for this time around, I'll fire him a PM as well))
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Delecard eyed the letter over again as he and his caravan sat off the side of the road waiting on the five others mentioned in the letter. As the sun lazily rose in to the sky he saw four figures approaching from the southern road. An Elf, two Humans, and a Gnome all came up to his caravan, none of which gave him more then a glance. A while later the fifth arrived wearing battered armour and a helm obscuring their features. Delecard sat upon his main wagon as they all waited on the one who brought them together. Then over the hill he came, the Old Man walked up to them and spoke. "Greetings my young companions. I am glad to see you all accepted my request. You all know the rumours of Dalhurst, and I can tell you now that something sinister is indeed at work. Today is the start of our journey to discover what has truly happened to the people of this town. We leave at once, as you can see our Dwarf friend here has all the necessary equipment for travel. We can get better acquainted with one another on the road."
Delecard watched as the elderly man climbed up in to the back of one of the carts and called out to the assembled group. "You may call me Arvin, now let us be off young ones. Dalhurst shan't wait forever!" With that he turned to his Oxen and snapped the reigns in his hands. Slowly the caravan started moving down the road on to Dalhurst.

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For seven days the group travelled through the foot hills and in to the mountains. There was little to do as the caravan travelled, and Arvin spoke not at all about what awaited them in Dalhurst. He'd only ever say "It is not something one can explain. It will all make sense why you are needed once we arrive."
On the fourth day of their travels the clouds started to roll in as they entered the mountain path. The clouds only got darker until the sixth day when they let loose their torrent of rain. The day only got worse as the wind picked up, buffeting the canvas covering of the wagons and the travellers. On the seventh day, as the storm continued to torment the adventurers, a shape could be made out in the distance. Those who looked close could see the south facing log wall that presumably ran around Dalhurst. In the next hour it took to traverse the path, the storm slowly subsided and the clouds withdrew enough to allow the sun to greet the adventurers. By the time they reached Dalhurst it would almost be noon.

As they drew closer Arvin spoke again. "Now everyone be on your guard, we are not as safe as you'd like to think." When the caravan finally drew up the gate a lone guard halted them. The guard looked haggard and worn, and his armour and halberd did not look any better. "Who goes there? No one has come up this road in many months. What is your business?" Arvin climbed down from out of the wagon he had been sitting in and walked to the guard. He handed the guard something and the two exchanged whispers. As Arvin walked back to the wagon the guard stood aside to let the caravan continue. "Welcome to Dalhurst adventurers, pray the gods be with you on your journey."
Once they were well within the gates Arvin stopped everyone and brought them together. "Before I can explain what is happening here I must go find the mayor and tell him you are here to help. Meanwhile make your way to the Grey Leg Inn, tell them Arvin sent you and they will get you set up with room and board, and have somewhere safe your wagons and livestock my good Dwarf. Now be off with you, await me at the Inn and I'll return before sundown." At once Arvin turned and disappeared in to the town.

The party slowly made their way to The Grey Leg Inn, trying to avoid the worst parts of the muddy road. Very few were outside to greet them, and those that were only gave frightened and tired glances to the new arrivals. Around 1 in the afternoon, the party arrived at the Inn. Outside on a small wooden stool sat a grim looking, bald Half-Orc smoking a pipe. He stood up from his stool and waved everyone over. "I assume you're the ones Arvin said would be arriving. The names Pynn, head on inside and I'll get your animal in the stables. You all have separate rooms upstairs, just claim one and let me know the number once I'm back inside. Pynn came up to Delecard and took the reigns from him. As the party walked in to the Inn they looked back to see Pynn taking the wagons and animals around the side of the Inn.

Inside the Inn was quite bare. There was a fireplace on the Eastern wall across from the door, the bar along the North wall, the stairs on the South wall led upstairs to the rooms, and only four tables were scattered throughout the centre of the room. At this time there was no one inside and the fireplace only had dying embers within it.

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((OOC: Feel free to back-post over your week of travel, get to know each other better if you don't already. Decide which room you want at the Inn, #'s 1 through 14, and then do what you'd like. Also each room has a bed, a small empty chest, and a window boarded up with closed curtains. Either wait in the Inn for Arvin or feel free to wander Dalhurst!))

Takrome looked around the inn and listened to the innkeeper and smiled requesting room number 7. She then proceeded to head to said room and once inside sat on her bed in the room she had chosen. Sighing the elf covered her green eyes with her arm as she thought back to the week of travel. She had not liked the rain, it made her sorrow strike for a mere moment before she promptly squashed it and was a bit of a crank the rest of the travels to Dalhurst. Sighing once more she had tried to summon the strength, the will, to even want to explore Dalhurst. Instead she simply stayed where she lay. Yes She decided, I will wait here for Arvin to return

Zilvra did not like being kept in the dark. Several times, she had approached Arvin, and each time he gave the same response. Something was definitely strange here. She doubted this was a ploy for them to give him wealth. It didn't look like any of them had anything really anyway, except the dwarf. Alternating between riding on one of the carts and walking as they travelled, Zilvra felt unusually content on the third day. This was the first time in months that she had not felt like something had to be done. She was free to relax, even for a little bit. On the second day, when the animals rested, Zilvra took the opportunity to train. There was no point in letting the free time go to waste. Besides, she wanted to be in peak condition when she went after the bandits again.

The 4th day was definitely a mood changer. It went from pretty nice weather to a storm. Zilvra remained in the cart. It was too miserable outside, even for her to mope. When they stopped for the animals to rest on the 4th day, she still went out to train. Since she didn't want her steel armour to be battered by the elements, she instead wore her lighter studded leather armour. Once they began to move again, Zilvra sat inside the carts again, though now muddy, wet, cold, and miserable. Once again, she trained in the miserable weather on the 6th day, and once again, she received the same results.

On the 7th day, the began to approach the city. As they did so, Arvin said, "Now everyone be on your guard, we are not as safe as you'd like to think." Zilvra said nothing, instead drawing her Falchion, and walking outside of the carts as they neared the city.

The guard stopped them, seemingly completely against their entry. Surprisingly, Arvin easily persuaded the guard to let them in, completely changing his attitude. Zilvra's eye's narrowed something wasn't right. Falchion in hand, she entered the city, carefully examining the buildings around her to see if anything else seemed out of place.

Once they were well within the gates Arvin stopped everyone and brought them together. "Before I can explain what is happening here I must go find the mayor and tell him you are here to help. Meanwhile make your way to the Grey Leg Inn, tell them Arvin sent you and they will get you set up with room and board, and have somewhere safe your wagons and livestock my good Dwarf. Now be off with you, await me at the Inn and I'll return before sundown." At once Arvin turned and disappeared in to the town.
Zilvra watched the man leave, then proceeded to the Grey Leg inn. Going up the stairs, she chose the room near the end of the hall. Room number 14. She went back down the stairs, and got the key from Pynn when he came back. With Arvin's words in her head, she locked herself in the room, and began to search for anything suspicious.

(OOC: I have beginning of my post in a combination one with I-Binary. It should be on pretty quick. It was basically Kestross flirting with Zilvra, and her being completely unimpressed with it.)

As the door closed behind them, the party stood in the silent and empty Inn. They fanned out and slowly moved up the stairs towards the rooms on the second floor. All the rooms were empty and held very little within them other then some basic furniture and boarded windows. As these rooms were claimed, some ventured back to the ground floor to retrieve their room key so they could secure their belongings in the rooms, some stayed in their room uncaring in the key after finally being able to rest properly, and the others stayed on the ground floor for a drink and some cold mutton.

For the rest of the afternoon the party went about their business, enjoying their feet being on solid, unmoving ground. Around 5'0'clock Pynn started up the fireplace again, throwing in some larger logs that would last well in to the night. "Drinks are on the house tonight, courtesy of Arvin."
Late in the night, as most of the party was preparing to sleep in an actual bed after so long on the road, Arvin finally arrived at the Inn. Exchanging a few curt words with Pynn, he turned to the party. "I apologize for coming to you so late. My business took much longer then I anticipated. At the request of the Mayor you all shall meet me outside of his Office's tomorrow morning shortly after dawn. I hope you have all settled in nicely, I'll see you in the morning." Arvin turned once more to Pynn and murmured something before leaving the Inn.

It never hurts to drop a one-liner, Kestross thought as he awaited Zilvra's response. Pausing slightly as she turned her head, he brought the juggling props to a halt with a flick of his wrist and took a breath.

Zilvra glared at Kestross. "What makes you think I'm looking for company? The last people I was with got themselves killed. Who's to say you won't do the same?" She harshly said.
Indeed, the response he'd awaited was quite sharp. Kestross' right eyebrow rose; he'd been caught somewhat off-guard, though by the looks of her armour and similar behaviour it wasn't terribly surprising. Nevertheless, ever the prince charming he strived to be, it didn't hurt, still, to try just once more. "Would such misfortune have brought me to you if I was so much more nimble the ones before?"
This man was oddly persistent. Did he really think he was as good as four people? "I hope your dodge is keener than your wit. If it were a sword, it couldn't take out an unarmored goblin,"Zilvra said, staring knives into the larger man.
At this, Kestross beamed, a twinkle flickering in his eye. This was no longer a playful or casual remark; no, this was a challenge. It was time to take it a mite further. "Maybe not- but if it is keen enough to break the barrier around your heart, than it'll be all I'll ever need."

Cheesy and foolish had worked all right sometimes before...
Zilvra snarled. Why was this guy so persistent? He must be a scoundrel of some sort, she suspected. "My heart is as covered in steel as my body." Tearing off her helmet, she stepped up close to her offender, and wiped her nose with the back of her left hand. She had a fairly attractive face adorned with white hair, near-grey eyes, and whitish-grey skin. "You really think that you are anywhere near my equal?"
Zilvra's last word left an audible silence between them like a vacuum as Kestross took in her features. She was as lovely as he'd fancied her to be off-hand- perhaps more so- but he needed to be careful. The deciding terminus could be his if he retained a composure equal in resolution to hers and precise enough to prevent the exchange from going astray. He never removed his eyes from hers, and said "Perhaps we shall wait and see."
She glared at him. Why was this man so persistent. "I guess you won't learn without an actual lesson, huh?" Glancing at the back of her left gauntlet, she proceeded to wipe it across the front of Kestross's fancy clothes, eliciting something of a grimace from him. Without another word, she stormed off, replacing her helmet.
The momentary stun that had come upon him crept back up for a while as he watched her leave. There was nothing ordinary about her, he knew; too much must have happened during some other time, some other place. Nobody could be so staunchly cloistered emotionally without having... something to happen to them. Though he didn't expend much effort doing so, Kestross couldn't imagine what that thing could have been, and set it aside for another time. The props were returned to their pouch on his belt, and his attention shifted to the smudge Zilvra had left on his silk shirt; an unfortunate victim of his efforts' collateral damage. However, it was far from the worst she could have done to him.

The rest of the trip hadn't been nearly as eventful as those few minutes he'd spent talking to her. It passed by at a moderate pace for the first while; clear weather and a light, warm breeze allowed him to relax and chatter with his accomplices as he pleased. He especially enjoyed the late afternoons and evenings when they'd stopped to rest, during which he'd bring out his trumpet, cards, props and dice and entertain the night before turning in.
The only frustration he'd encountered during those days was in talking to their escort, Arvin. The man revealed nothing about their travels, no matter how hard he'd pressed, leading him rapidly to give up and ask nothing more.

On the fourth day, however, comfortable weather broke way to one of the worst rainstorms Kestross had ever seen, reducing his previously merry travelling mood to a grumpy doldrum. How he hated the rain. Without a warm inn to retreat to, it left him with nothing to do, for everybody else tended to feel the same way and thus didn't generally respond too well to casual revelry. Instead, Kestross frittered away his time in the shelter of the covered wagon playing cards with anybody interested enough to join him.
It stayed that way right up until the posse arrived at their destination.

"Now everyone be on your guard, we are not as safe as you'd like to think." It was Arvin who'd spoken, and was the first time in a week he'd said anything other than his usual dismisses; by now, however, Kestross was thoroughly uninterested in anything he had to say, for he was sick of sitting on his thumbs for three days with nothing interesting to do. "Danger, shwhatever..." he grumbled.
Arvin hopped out of the cart and disappeared for a few moments before returning and gathering the group together.

"Before I can explain what is happening here I must go find the mayor and tell him you are here to help. Meanwhile, make your way to the Grey Leg Inn, tell them Arvin sent you and they will get you set up with room and board- and have somewhere safe for your wagons and livestock, my good Dwarf. Now be off with you, await me at the Inn and I'll return before sundown." Then, he'd turned and vanished into the streets of the town before them.
"Finally! We made it at last," Kestross exclaimed as he stepped out of the cart, proceeding to stretch himself out. "I'm bushed from all this travel. Let's go find ourselves a place to get some real sleep."

--

The walk towards the Grey Leg Inn was no relief from cramped quarters in the cart. Obviously, it had been raining just as heavily here as it had on the journey. Kestross scowled as he dodged the scores of muddy puddles lining the streets with the most adroit of steps. Despite his best efforts, unfortunately, he still ended up with mud caked upon his boots, and briefly cursed his preference for more expensive clothes. He was so focused upon his
movement that he failed to notice the nervous, apathetic manner of the civilians they happened to pass by.

Eventually they arrived around midday, encountering a grim-faced and balding half-orc sitting on a stool and smoking a pipe. In this weather? Kestross thought, snorting to himself. That's a laugh. The half-orc stood and waved them over. "I assume you're the ones Arvin said would be arriving," he greeted. "The names Pynn, head on inside and I'll get your animals in the stables. You all have separate rooms upstairs, just claim one and let me know the number once I'm back inside."

A half-orc running an inn, eh. This really is a sad place to be. Half-orcs tended to be so dour and humourless; Kestross mostly found them to be a damper upon a good time. He wouldn't be hanging around this bloke too often if he could avoid it. Instead, he made his way upstairs and poked around the rooms. Since number three was not occupied, he took the key for it and laid down upon the bed. It was, perhaps surprisingly, extremely inviting. Realizing how tired he was, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

---

It was nice to be sitting in a regular location in front of a crackling fire at last. Kestross had awoken from his nap, which had lasted a few hours, a while ago, and had spent much of the evening lolling around the inn's living area and eating cold mutton. He definitely didn't want to go outside with all the mud, especially since he'd just had Zarzuket clean off and shine his boots for him. The gnome was amazingly knowledgeable when it came to footwear. Now, it was almost eight at night, and he was sipping at a tall mug of warm mead.

He'd turn in soon enough, now that he and the others had received directions from Arvin to meet him outside the Mayor of Dalhurst's offices the next day. That was all well and good.
Kestross returned his mug to the counter and bade Pynn a curt goodnight as he headed back upstairs. There was no reason to stay up further, and the warmth of his cozy bed was calling to him again.

((OOC: In the conversation between Kestross and Zilvra, SirSadaar and I discussed what they said and thought together. Kestross, of course, doesn't know what Zilvra is thinking, so, to differentiate their feelings and quotes, I've given their respective texts different font styles-- bold for Kestross and italics for Zilvra. Hope this helps!

Tonight, Kestross will just retire to his room. Tomorrow he will go to the offices with the others with no other plans.))

Zilvra scuffed her foot across the dirty floor. Not a great place to be, but it would have to do. She'd go to bed soon. But first, she'd get some food. And some drink. It might take her mind off of her current troubles. She lingered in her room a bit, cleaning her gear, then left to the ground floor.

Still armoured, Zilvra walked down the stairs. She took her helmet off, and waited to get some food and drink. She ordered an ale, and a meal, then sat alone at a table. She was there for nearly 20 minutes, before Pynn declared"Drinks are on the house tonight, courtesy of Arvin." Finishing her one drink, she quickly ordered another. It was nice to see that Arvin at least was taking care of them.

Arvin had came in, and told them to meet him the next morning. Zilvra stared down into her 3rd cup, still half full of ale. Perhaps it had not been such a good idea to drink this much. What wasn't Arvin telling them? Why was he staying elsewhere? These reasons were enough to get Zilvra to leave her half empty mug, and go back to her room.

Once there, she slid the chest in front of her door and locked it, barricading herself in; it wouldn't stop anyone determined, but it would buy her a couple of seconds. She changed into her lighter studder armour, and laid down on her bed. Though she had only been there a few moments, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

Zarzuket poked his head out of the fourth room, looked around and, spotting noone, ducked back in. Paranoia was getting the better of him.

He could have sworn he was being watched since they entered town. Of course,he felt that way in every town he'd ever set foot in, but that detail didn't occur to him. He huddled over his latest project. The stroll about town to check out the local footwear hadn't been fruitful in the slightest. Boring, ordinary, and quickly worn out; that summed it up.

Whenever he could be torn away from his quest for the perfect boot, he wondered with no small amount of curiosity what the town had in store for him.

The road was long, and very little gave much for entertainment. But such was the life of Delacard, Hero of these lands, for there was rarely anything that required his attention. His was a simple existence of Altruism and charity. And though the others, one and all hardy adventurers from their dress, might have found the trip stagnent, even gloomy, The light-hearted dwarf rarely let his smile waver. All through the 1st 4 days, he whistled, hummed, spoke with any who approached, joked, and even sang once or twice, though it was far from lovely. He hadn't been to Dalhurst in months, and it would be good returning. Doubtless, the young human boy Tommis would greet his caravan, as he always did.

Delacard patted his belt pouch happily, checking to make sure the honey-glass treats were still there. But as the trip wore on, the clouds thickened, and so did the Dwarf's expression. There would be rain, he knew, and made a small grumble of distaste. One thing he had never gotten used to in human lands, the damnable weather. Dwarven tunnels were not so plagued by such a curse as an open sky, that may spew forth any manner of bothersome irritations. Still, he would not return to such a constricted life.

Amazingly, it did not rain this day, but as the 6th came, so to did the weather. It seemed to come down in sheets, accompanied by massive gusts of wind that drowned out the loud curses of the small bearded caravan leader. And the next day was no better, it's only saving grace being the sight of the Dalhurst wall. And what a welcome sight it was. and as miracles go, the closer they drew, the less it rained, until finally, the sun appeared above, brightening the day, and his dwarven heart.

As they drew closer Arvin spoke again. "Now everyone be on your guard, we are not as safe as you'd like to think." When the caravan finally drew up the gate a lone guard halted them. The guard looked haggard and worn, and his armour and halberd did not look any better.

"Who goes there? No one has come up this road in many months. What is your business?" Arvin climbed down from out of the wagon he had been sitting in and walked to the guard. He handed the guard something and the two exchanged whispers. As Arvin walked back to the wagon the guard stood aside to let the caravan continue.

"Welcome to Dalhurst adventurers, pray the gods be with you on your journey."

Delacard offered the guardsman a nod, though he was surprised the man had not recognized him. Still, it had been many months... As they made their way through the gates, Delacard was met with another disappointment. No Tommis. He had been hoping to see the small boy, all toothy grins and attempted dwarf-speech. Sighing a bit, he removed his hand from his sweet pouch and continued on, until Arvin stopped everyone and brought them together.

"Before I can explain what is happening here I must go find the mayor and tell him you are here to help. Meanwhile make your way to the Grey Leg Inn, tell them Arvin sent you and they will get you set up with room and board, and have somewhere safe your wagons and livestock my good Dwarf. Now be off with you, await me at the Inn and I'll return before sundown."

As they followed his instructions, making their way through the muddy streets, Delacard took more time to peer around, judging how the place looked since his last visit. But he could tell very little, in all honestly. It looked as all human towns did, and to a dwarf, they all looked the same.

Apon coming to the Inn, they met a man, or rather, a half man, half orc that directed them inside, and took the reigns from Delacard. So lost in his considerations was he that, though he had barely heard the man, he gave them over without a fight. This was, after all, a safe place. A place that would remember him, Delacard the Hero, before much longer. Mind still on the lack of greeting from his young friend, the Dwarf made his way inside, at the back of the party, catching wind of free drinks. And he would happily use them, to be sure. The storm had dampened his spirits, and worn his nerves. Tonight, he would drain an entire cask, should his fortitude hold. A small smile entered his beard at that, and he found himself a seat at the bar, ordering his 1st drink......

By the time Arvin had returned, informing the party of their meeting with the mayor, Delacard's face rested on the bar, his hand still gripping his mug, and his back rising slowly with monstrous snores. And anyone who knew a dwarf would know there was no waking the stout man without a good club...

The next morning Pynn went room to room waking everyone, all except for Delacard whom was still sleeping on his barstool. Once they were all gathered in the main room of the Inn, and Delacard awoken, Pynn went about fixing up breakfast for everyone. It was quite simple, just some fried eggs and chunks of bread with a light mead to wash it all down. As everyone finished eating looked to all of them. "Mayor's office is just down the street and to the right. Can't miss it, it's a four story building, big sign out front saying what it is. Glad that someone out there was willing to take this job."
With the strange words from the bartender still ringing in their ears, the party made their way to the Mayor's office. The roads were still muddy and just as empty as they were the day before. Occasionally they would see a frightened villager duck in to a door and slam it shut behind them. Eventually they made it to the Mayor's Office. Pynn was right it was quite hard to miss. Four stories tall, and a large sign hanging above the door. Stranger still, every window was completely boarded shut, and two guardsmen stood at the doorway. As everyone drew closer to the building the doors opened and Arvin ushered them inside. "Come come, we must hurry. The Mayor is waiting for you!" Pushing them along, Arvin led them all to the large doors at the back of the first floor. Once they were escorted inside, Arvin left the room, closing the doors behind him.

The Mayor's office was in a state of disarray. Papers and books scattered across the Mayor's desk and floor. The bookshelves had been pushed in front of the two windows which were also boarded shut. Sitting behind the desk in the chair was a small and pudgy man. His hair was balding and his eyes squinted at them from behind a small pair of spectacles of which the left lens was cracked. Standing up, he walked out from behind his desk and excitedly shook everyone's hand. "Welcome! Welcome! I thank you all so much for heading our call. As you've seen Dalhurst is not thriving right at this moment. We've had many problems you see, many, many problems yes! And you've come to help solve them! Oh joyous days lie ahead!!" The mayor spoke rapidly and excitedly, barely letting anyone else speak. "You've seen our windows boarded up, the fear and exhaustion in everyone's eyes, the empty streets!? Of course you have you walked them to get here, oh silly me. Oh! Oh my oh my! My manners I simply forgot my manners! My name is Oswald Wurz, or Mayor Wurz to my citizens! Now, Dalhurst's problem, oh yes our big big problem!" Mayor Wurz leaned in close to the party as he spoke, this time quieter, yet still very quickly. "The dead walk here in my town. We don't know where they came from, or why they only come at night. But we can't leave our town, oh no we can't do that at all! We tried to get help, yes we did, but no one ever made it down the mountain! Then Arvin volunteered to go, we thought he died too! But now look! He brought you here and my town is saved! It's very easy yes!? You stop the undead, you save our town, I give you gold! You're heroes in Dalhurst! Surely folk such as yourself like the sound of that!? So will you help me? Will you save Dalhurst!?" Mayor Wurz looked expectantly at everyone wringing his hands together, his gaze darting back and forth between their faces and the weapons they carried.