The elf shook the monks hand suddenly with a hand that might aswell be made out of pure, unapologetic iron. Her grip was that of a vice, a terrible 'your bones are better suited as bone meal' kind of vice. Few luni would be able to rival the woman in hand strenght, sure, but with this kind of grip even a orch would think twice to shake her hand. Of course, poor Joshua have had no way of knowing this, and was now reaping the rewards of courteus bahavior. When she finally let go, she stepped back and looked him over with some smug look on her face. ”Ah... A briar are you. Not one to wear my pieces then I take it. Damn shame, you'd be a real menace, wearing my armor. Unless you are going for the whole Legato Crusader look. Those holy men wear armor as thick as a door.” She chuckled. ”I am Aluiwé Saälmir. Formerly a scholar from the *Golden Embrace. But alas, i found engineering much more enterteining then old philosphy and stale magic invocation. So I ended up here.” She grinned at the mention of engineering like only a true engineer could. ”Besides,. The only argumenting you have with a set of gears is the cursing as you kick it” She added thoughfully, rubbing her chin. A action that only served to smudge more grease and sot into her skin. ”Perhaps, you should kick less, and fix more then.” Grashnak guffawed and then devoured what was left of the chicken. It was quite a sight to behold. All that food, vanishing down his body at a rate that should be criminal on account of all the starving people in the world. As he finised, he let out a big belch and swept the entirety of his mug in one go. Aluiwé gave him a look of amazement and disgust both. ”Weren't you out on a recognicance mission Grashnak?” She asked, eyebrow perpetually raised at the orc at this point. This got a response from the orch, who got up from his seat and was suddenly towering over everyone inside. His small eyes stared them both down. ”Oh. Right. ” he said, sounding utterly confused. ”I was here to request a garrison to be sent.” He looked at once more alert. He turned and walked towards the door, each step making the boards under his feet creak. To see a creature the size of him move with the sudden grace that he had by the time he had gotten trough the door, would scare any sane man. ”..A garrison? For one of the old forts? That means things are moving quicker then we thought.” The elf mumbled at this new revelation. Untill she realized she was spacing out and turned to Joshua, scratching the back of her head. ”Tell you what, I buy you a beer and your breakfeast friar, and we'll take a walk back to the keep. I believe this something none of us should miss. Mess hall. The slender, dancers physique of the tindra warrior belied the sheer physicality of his lifestyle. Yet here he was, and everyone watching him somehow knew better then to judge him by appearences. He appreciated that, made for a much more fun fight should things come to that. He had the necromancer fixed with his eyes, red irises belied anything but keen interest. If the Necromancer thought he thought less of her for her talents, she was wrong. But, Mother Death had cursed his kind with fleeting lives that were snuffed out at the cusp of their existence. So necromancers were merely seen as something other races did, no Tindra wanted to face Morbidias rage ever again. Never the less, he spoke to her directly. The reason to his scowl, was the fact that to the Tindra, all necrmancers were supposed to be shriveled husks. Here was youthfull woman. It was new, and somewhat confusing. Iano only knew one way to act around people who attracted him. He smiled like the most deviant of people. ”A joke?” He asked, his head pivoting to take in the increasing audience. He waved to the disgruntled Dwarf as he just now seen him. ” Well now. ” He tilted his head as he seemed lost in thought. He looked happy, to happy. And he was still sitting ontop on the table, not budging. ”Do not take my choice of words for dissaproval. Tindra do not judge. Although, Gravespeaker, Mother Death has short temper. As my people have seen once.” He spoke witha voice that indeed, held no judgment or dissaproval in it. No chiding or comment about the fruitlessness of pursuing life after death. No damning of messing with the souls of others. Just, experience of a people who drew the Goddess ire once to many times. That is, they drew it once. He could see another had joined them, a shadowbourne. And a Luni, no less. Again, the twitch in his face. Elves were always attractive, and his eyes took in the form of her. Warrior. Yet, something told her she was more finesse then strength. He turned back to the necromancer. ”I have a joke for you.” He grinned. ”What do you call a woman who raise her lover after his death? ” The double entendré of his words hung in the air. He had never been one for subtle humor. --