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Rorngar had finally gained access to the city after a slightly annoying encounter with a  sleepy guard and his racist superior. He had to show the call to arms to them, which they had sneeringly rejected as being something only for the humans. He had argued for almost an hour before someone who had seemed to be the highest rank of the lot had them all cut the BS on the spot.

Now he strode through the city, finally coming upon a bar.

“Ah… here we are!” he kicked the door and yelled, “Well then! Shall we get drunk?”

To his embarrassment, everyone looked at him, from the barkeep to an obviously drunk fellow in the corner.

“Yeh…” he muttered and went up to the barkeep, barely being able to look over the counter. “Whatever you humans call it, that strong stuff… err… Barnacle something.”
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A little while later, Kozmar had found his way along the main road and saw the city in the distance. “About time…” he muttered.

“Mason, go first, see how the territory is over there”.

Mason nodded and walked, rather slowly, in the direction of the palace.

“Move faster, dammit!” Kozmar imbued a small spell of vigor on the old man with a touch on his shoulder.

Mason, more enthusiastically, walked towards the city gates.

“Cheap labor these days…” Kozmar muttered. He still wasn’t sure why he kept that old fart around. He was nigh five times the man’s age and at least walked with a stride.
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