[i]Underdeep Mustering Hall
Deliv of Bold Red Petal[/i]

Deliv of the Bold Red Petal wrote last words in his poem, and then wrapped it into a roll. He closed the ink bottle and then put it and the quill away into one of the backpack's pockets. He had finished his poem just as the Half Giant was lumbering to the lot. Not for everyone else, but to his own amusement. In the new world and the old one he had liked to read poetry the town's wisest ones created, and when he had learned to write and read properly, he had started to create his own. He was proud of his poems, but unfortunately others didn't think them too special. It hadn't been many years before only people he wrote the poems for were he himself and Faebold. 

The Dwarves had taken the attuned one with far more uncertainty and loath than was necessary, even if Puafria Aupa( or Puafaria of Wide Wicked Grin as it echoed in Deliv's mind) had attuned to decay. Problem was that the Dwarven warriors were needed in front lines too; as it stood now, they were without a group of local warriors. The Orc with Lonely Blade had been right to roar at them lot. Though in his mind "Now get. OUT." could have been changed to "Now get. BACK".

But after that the High Elf with a lute had started to acknowledge them lot, praising each one of them that had stayed behind to meet Dain's call. Deliv had been writing in peace another verse in his little poem, when he was called. "Brother in Exile" He had started. "Truly those of us who are less than us would hardly last a day in this world" He had finished. Deliv had sat straight and turned his left side to the High Elf, and nodded as the small praise had ended. He had turned back to continue with his poem. The Elves were right to think themselves lasting better in this world than anyone else; They lived long and had experience. Humans spread their fingers everywhere to try out everything, Dwarves shut themselves in mines and forges and crafted weapons and armor and jewelry. Half Giants were excellent workers and fighters but their wits weren't up there. And Mermaids... They had been cowards. Thanks to that cowardice they had kept their kingdoms. They were right to remain hidden. Orcs were barbaric, but at least they protected themselves and fought evil.

No... Only elves were noble. But among elves, only Wood Elves had what it took to survive in the new world. Tenacity and knowledge about nature. Experience with wilderness. They were good people, hard working and in harmony with Faebold (and Cynid, as some did remind), and thus they did deserve whatever Deliv could do for them. He hoped Dain's call was worth the travel...

The Bard had acknowledged them all, save by the cloaked half giant. The Templar had introduced herself as Atalee Vayshalum from Order of Vexa. Deliv had heard very little about it. They had only women in their ranks. Some said male were killed, others that they were all heartbroken women and would never take a mate. Druid in his village had once said "They worship Cynid by different name. Life is their calling". This had confused Deliv more and more back then. It still did, but he didn't put much emphasis on the matter. Woman herself seemed trustworthy both by her nature and by her sword and armor.

And finally, the Elf introduced himself as Davanteaux, servant of Icthus "in this grandest of ages". Deliv doubt the grandest of age he spoke so much about and the skills to stay alive. However, the name Davanteaux had rang a bell. He had heard about him once, but he couldn't say when and what he had heard. Probably some High Elf long time ago in the Old World Amaroth, when their culture had been at it's finest.

Half-Giant, who looked oddly... Asymmetric, approached the lot, and told them shyly a simple "Hello". Deliv fingered his roll of parchment that had the poem written inside. He knew they were strong, hardworking and trustworthy but not too bright, them half giants. This one had cloaked himself, as to hide his body. Probably he had been a malformed as a child and still hadn't gotten past it. And now he would be here to prove it. Though if Deliv was to guess something, he was shy and first time going to an adventure. Looking to prove himself so his malformed body wouldn't be a mark of shame but a mark of pride. Deliv nodded to the Half-Giant and greeted back. 

"Greetings, Half giant. " He said as he put the rolled poem inside his leather jerking. "What are you called?"
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[i]Dark Mountain and it's dwarves. Black city and fiery forge. People look up and see no skies.
It's not sun that brings the heat. It's not water that fills the stream. Always night, no sunrise.
The tower is big, moat is fire. Hall is tall and ahead a road. Folk around, men or mice?
Dwarves fill the wall and chair. Humans here wait for Dain. A giant is wider than me by thrice.
An elf comes inside for sings. Lonely blade here laughs and grins. Woman does not recognize.
Giant whispers to himself. Introduction by orc and elf. Lady with grin does likewise.
Death and decay walks with us. In the front so many to push. From behind the arrow flies.
Dwarves, elves and humans for task. A Lonely Blade and Giant with mask. People whom a caller ties.
The cowards are gone, heroes stay. In front of us waits the pray. In the evening we celebrate twice.
They were called, one by one. Praised like the morning sun. The elven praise, truth or lies?

Let there be a one last praise. For one who melt my heart like ice. Let me meet the lovely eyes
of Fabiola, a hunter raised.
 [b]Deliv, Of Bold Red Petal, in Underdeep where the sun doesn't raise[/b][/i]