And so they slew the Deathknight and the bandits alike. And so they became verified mercenaries. And so did a week pass.

And yet did everything remain about as it was for Nuva Doer. He would probably receive no greater respect from the populace for having become a mercenary, if anything losing some in the eyes of some for the very same reason, his weaponised arm continuing to restrain his ability to lurk in public places without being ostracised nonetheless; furthermore, he continued to remain highly secretive about his true race whilst about his would-be companions, eating separately to all and sundry as desired, and indeed doing what he could to avoid notice when plausible, or to push the others away when necessary. If they learned of his heritage, that he was the spawn of dark elf rather than woad, he was quite certain they'd be just as unforgiving as any farmer... and he wasn't too keen on befriending them regardless.

Yet he couldn't help but ponder about what the Captain had stated the week before about his informant, the elf called Secret. "The girl who did her research on each and every one of you." Again the query passed through his head: [i]how much?[/i]

It was almost a shame he couldn't ask either of them about it for the moment, for Kayden was at the official guild hall, and Secret was nowhere to be seen, whilst Nuva had remained in Hillcrest Fortress, along with Morek the dwarf and Jex the drabarian. Neither were particularly good conversation, which suited Nuva just fine; so long as his only need to talk to either was to acquire access to food supplies, he was more than content to wait out the time until his next mission came up. And in fairness, he'd gained a degree of restrained fondness for both the dwarven ale and elven wine in the vault. Both were exquisite in their own ways, though he'd so far restrained himself to just a glass of one or both per day. He'd rather not tempt more than his fair share of any supplies- a fight with an opponent of unknown skill, let alone an ally, was undesirable even considering his own experience- and he was sure Morek would let him know when he'd had too much either way.

Speaking of which, it was, he felt, about time to acquire some sustenance. As he walked down to the vault, Nuva idly pondered his eating habits: he tried not to eat too much to accompany his drinks, but his size alone guaranteed that he would need a greater quantity of food than most, never mind the need to maintain himself in his downtime through training, itself inducing yet more hunger in him. At very least, he believed Jex needed to eat about as much as him, if not more, so he could hardly be accused of taking more than his fair share... not that he was entirely certain. Once he'd acquired his portions, he'd depart to a more remote section of the fort, there to consume his meal apart from the others in the building. He hardly wanted to risk...

Well, it wasn't worth considering that. He'd reached his location, and the dwarf guarding the vault, and to Morek he stated roughly what he desired: 'Ham, bread, ale. Perhaps some carrots if they're present.' If he was being impolite, he hadn't noticed yet; maybe the dwarf liked his gruffness, or maybe he despised him for a perceived lack of respect on his part. Telling was difficult, for those who cared to try, and again, if the dwarf would rather not associate with him, so much the better.