As the new arrivals made it to the gate, two other curious companions showed themselves. The first one was a dashing young man clad in  leather over a chaimail shirt. He had twin arming swords strapped to his back, and his blue eyes bespoke a passion and an inner wisdom. He looked about the place, and gave particular appraisal to the walls as if he wished to climb them himself. 

The next companion was someone that had the Guards going to the hilts of their weapons for. They'd been wary around the towering Orc approaching, but the sight of a Duergar of all things gave them pause. Broad shouldered and thick limbed, though wiry in build (compared to others of his stout race, at least). His coal black skin matched the black leather tunic and gambeson he wore. An assortment of pouches and large daggers were strapped to his trim waist. A dust grey beard was the only hair visible on his head, and his eyes were red like the pits of hell. He looked about with a professional and pragmatic gaze, as if he expected to have to kill his way out eventually. 

The Sergeant was close to middle age, wearing an iron cap atop his head to match his military garb, and the tabard with the shield symbol of the Shieldsworn. He had a round and blunt head, like the end of a hammer. "Hold." he said to companions as they stood before him. "We are in need of aid, and we do not bar anyone's path. We shall escort you to the Harmarch, if you have truly come for the Summons. And no, there is no need to confiscate your weapons. You are the Harmarch's guests." A few of the guards gazed warily at the Orc and Duergar, nodded to Darius, and gave quite the appreciation for the beautiful gypsy.

The young man raised his brow at Sergeant's claim, clearly surprised but impressed at the hospitality shown to them. "Well, alright." he said, his tone indicating a quick wit, as if he could find sarcasm to be used in anything. The Deep Dwarf nearly huffed, and crossed his arms. 

The Portcullis was opened, and the Sergeant introduced himself as Kolton. He lead them across the stark but fair furnished courtyard into a wide set of steps climbing up between the barracks, stables, armories, and storehouses of the Shieldsworn. The stairwell made it up to an oaken door that led to a hallway, that turned into a wider corridor. 

The inner furnishings were modest, at least for a wealthy home. Merely pictures and tables of vases and lamps lined the wall. They then found themselves entering a Great hall lined with stout stone pillars, as dining table to sit on with 8 seats readily available. An older man stood at the head of it. "Well met." he said with a kindly smile. Blue and grey banners emblazoned with shield symbols lined the ceiling about them. Behind the man, a great hearth fire was lit. 
[@Vor][@Assallya][@Not Fishing]