As they made their way through the ruined town, Andin's ears twitched. His head was on a swivel and his ears twitched at every little sound. When he heard the Purifier's heavy methodical footfalls, his hand was quick to retrieve a small pouch and keep it palmed as the golden juggernaut approached them. "[b]You're both late, Mulad is in the ruined tavern,[/b]" it spat as it began to move to another, off in the distance. Despite his rudeness, the halfling waved and shouted after him, "[color=steelblue]Thanks![/color]"

They were late? They were? Disgusting. Even a golden wrapping can't make a bug a man. As the town fell, was the wizard not late? As cultists crawled through and razed this landmark to the ground, was the wizard not late? As man, woman, and child burnt and bled, screaming in anguish, was the wizard not late? His call had condemned Six Corners and only a fool would have not seen the executioners blade poised to strike and Andin did not think Mulad a fool. As the armored footfalls of a pompous man receded into the distance, a white-knuckled fist deposited the pouch back into its pocket. "[color=steelblue]We should hurry; the suspense must be [i]killing[/i] our magic friend,[/color]" said the halfling with a morbid edge, his bare feet crunching on ash. 

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At the tavern, the scene hadn't changed much. The carnage outside had followed them inside as Andin grimaced at the sight of the bodies impaled on the wall. At the very least, he felt welcomed when a grey giant of a man saluted him with a deep bow. The halfling gave a flourish of his hands as he bowed deeply in turn. As the others gave him no particular notice, preferred to size up the more physically imposing, Andin cursed his height and pulled himself onto a human chair before hefting his bag up onto a table with a thud. 

With soft steps, he walked over to the bar and climbed into a bar stool. He pulled a shot toward himself. Looking around and eyeing the priestess, he pulled a second shot toward himself. He was sure clergy didn't drink with witnesses. After careful deliberation, a third shot was strategically placed in front of him, there was still plenty left for the others. The first shot was down the hatch as he eyed the fourth and took a whiff of the second. This was good brandy. Smokey. Rich flavor. With the second shot gone, he poured the third into a small flask that miraculously appeared in his hand. With his belly warming up, the halfling skulked off with his topped off flask. 

He made his way back to the table and placed the fourth shot in front of him. As the wizard began to address them all, Andin paid close attention. Certain choices of words made the halfling's ears twitch. He had a feeling in his gut and it wasn't the brandy. He'd have the address it later, he'd heard some things about the Grand Wizard Mulad, mostly about his renowned chess skills but he was not expecting what was in front of them. The cogs in this cog's head turned and turned until the wizard cut off his words. The hairs on Andin's neck and arms stood on end as a certain pressure swept through the tavern. He couldn't place it but he suddenly felt on edge, his stomach slowly twisting into a knot. His heart jumped when he felt his table twitch under him. When Mulad began to brief them, Andin snapped back into reality. His table wobbled as he dropped from his chair and came face to face with the corpse trying to tear him apart. It was male, with a thick blood-soaked beard and its jaw hung by one side of the face, the other side had been cleaves gruesomely by a blade. While not mindless, these creatures were far from clever at first. This one was attempting to reach him while essentially hugging the table's column. Andin drew his own dagger, a thin and sharp instrument  for a thin and sharp Good Folk. While avoiding the creature's grasping hands, he swung around and planted the weapon in the creatures neck before giving it a twist. With a sickening pop, the creature slumped to the ground. It continued to moan at Andin, its tongue lashing around and its eyes rolling in its head, but it's limbs had lost whatever life had been brought into them. With surgical precision, Andin sliced with the dagger across the intact side of the creature and severed the jaw muscle, robbing the corpse of its ability to bite or move its jaw. As the creature's blue and bloodshot eyes stared at Andin with hunger, the halfling, sheathed the weapon and dug around in his coat. "[color=steelblue]Strange day for just brandy, yeah? Ah, there you are.[/color]" he mumbled as he pulled out a pair of pliers. 

Reappearing from under the table, he could see that others had already began to spring to action. He had heard some charge out of the tavern but had been a bit too engrossed to try to keep track. Coagulated blood covered his gloves, as he looked at who was left inside. Seemed as though all of the heavily armed had already left, luckily the old grey mountain had the sense to stay near by. The scout started to head up, arrows clicking in their quivers. Andin's eyes glinted as an idea began to form. 

Jumping to his chair, the halfling retrieved his bag and that fourth shot before running over to the bar, dragging a chair with him. Jumping to chair, then barstool on nimble feet, he pushed away the empty shot glasses and cleared a workspace. Whipping his bag onto the next stool, he retrieved a small wooden carrying case. Flipping it open, one could see a series of labelled vials, liquids of various colors within. The halfling laid out four on the table before retrieving another box, slightly larger. This one revealed several small bowls and dishes, a pestle and mortar, and various tools. 

He turned to the others left in the room and motioned to the vials he had laid out on the table, two of each color. "[color=steelblue]In case of fire, throw the blue ones, if you get hurt, drink the purple, and if you get scared, drink the brandy,[/color]" he shouted, "[color=steelblue]Also, if anybody has any Angel's Feather, bring it here![/color]" It was a rather common ingredient among herbalists and other folk in the wilderness, its primary use being as a good soothing agent against many common rashes, but for his work, it was normally easily substituted with more common substance. Just not in this case. Andin turned sat on the stool as he retrieved and began to pour a clear, yellow-tinted liquid into one of the bowls. Digging in a pocket, he retrieved several freshly harvested zombie teeth and placed them into the bowl. They sizzled within the acid and slowly began to disappear in the frothing liquid. Shouldn't be too long. Depending on the amount of Angel's Feather, he may be able to get to the scout in time before he runs out of arrows. Andin turned around, he had positioned himself so he could see his bowing friend through the doorway, he seemed to be holding his own for now but he may be needing a pick me up soon. The others were too far out to account for. For now, he needed to focus on what he could help with, if something new came up, the course of action would change accordingly. The alchemist sniffed at the sizzling brew before picking up his third shot and pouring it in, stirring gently with a rod as the brew started to thicken. It was almost time for the Angel's Feather.