[center][h1][color=f7941d]T H A D U R I M[/color][/h1][/center][hr][hr]
Thadurim opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the fog of sleep that had fallen upon his mind. He could still hear the monotonous noise of carriage wheels and horse hooves on the cobbles and was immediately relieved he had not quite slept for the entire journey. The trip from the walls of the city to the manor at its centre was hardly a long one, but it didn't take a scholar to know that it would probably be the last decent sleep they'd have for a while if even half of the ramblings in Lord Lochborne's scrawled letter were true. There would be plenty of time to make friends while the four of them were mopping up whatever mess it was that Hedlef had made for himself.

The old dwarf's arms were folded tightly across his chest, nestled in the thick white fur of his beard as he had slouched back into the carriage seat in as comfortable a position as he could manage. Yawning loudly, he straightened himself and laid his hands in his lap, looking around at his travelling companions with a lazy and still-half-asleep smile. It was an odd mix to be sure, the kind that set alarm bells ringing in the back of Thadurim's head. Hedlef had never been hesitant to call on others when he needed something done, but it looked like he had dragged up everyone he could muster. The situation must have been dire indeed.

Looking around the carriage, Thadurim tried to get a better look at his new companions, although it was difficult in the dimmed lighting. One was a woman, with skin kissed by the sun and raven black hair, shrouded in a cloak. His eyes fixed on the tattoo that swirled over her sharp features, unlike any even he had ever seen. To her side sat a younger man, akin to a brick in his shape, his hair a crisp white and a perfect antonym to the coal-coloured hair of their female companion. The final member of their bizarre travelling group was buried in robes and pouches. Thadurim guessed from her narrower frame that they were a woman, but with her hood drawn and her facing elsewhere there was little more he could decipher. It was only when her attention turned and Thadurim got a better look at her that he was able to spot a pointed ear and aged skin; an elderly elven woman.

Thadurim spent a few long moments trying to think of something witty to say, but ultimately could manage little more than a smile, hoping to invite someone into conversation. Nevertheless, the solemn atmosphere remained. No one smiled, no one spoke. It was clear everyone was thinking the same, wondering what they'd been sucked into. This wasn't a bandit job or lost livestock, it was serious. How does one initiate a conversation in circumstances like these? [i]Hello, it'll be a pleasure dying with you.[/i] Somehow, he didn't think that would help lift the mood in the slightest.

Eventually their carriage crawled to a halt, all the while in stony silence. The thick wooden panelling of the coach muffled the noise somewhat, but everyone exchanged nervous glances as a member of a shouting mob was slain, prompting screams and a rush to flee. The metal gates groaned open once the crowd had dispersed and the carriage crept forward into the shadow of Lochborne's manor. Thadurim's knees weren't best pleased with him as he made the leap from the carriage to the cobbles; human carriages gave little thought to the plight of Thadurim's short-legged kind it would seem. The old dwarf rubbed his left knee absent-mindedly as he gazed up at the familiar shape of the manor, wondering if it looked half as foreboding to someone who wasn't the size of a child.

The opening of the manor doors snapped Thadurim out of his daze and he waddled after his companions, making an extra effort to keep the pace that the younger group members had set. Hedlef greeted them. An uncomfortable smile had been forced upon his lips and it was far from reassuring among the bloodshed at the gate and the ominous fog that had seemed to follow them since they reached Malcast. Ultimately, however, Lord Lochborne dismissed them. He had summoned them all from gods only know where and upon their arrival had basically told them he was too busy to talk to them right now. It irked Thadurim, but he held his tongue. First impressions and all that. 

The four of them were ushered by a servant into a dimly lit room lined with bookshelves. Hedlef's dining room had hardly ever been a comforting place at the best of times, but now it seemed ominous, like the shadows in the corners might take up the cutlery at any moment and begin their assault. The stony silence remained. Thadurim circled the ornate table in the middle, casting a lazy eye over the rows of dusty books without actually seeing them, just relieved to be out of the carriage and on his own feet again. “I suppose that’s enough silence for a lifetime.” A woman's voice cut through the eerie silence like a hot knife. Thadurim snapped round on his heels to look at her, relieved at last to discover he wasn't lumbered with three mutes. “My name is Aemma.” 

"Thadurim." His name burst from his lips as he took the seat opposite the elven woman, the chair squeaking against the floorboards as he tucked the chair in. He let his signature grin split across his face, glad to just be chatting to anyone. "I'd say it's a pleasure but," he glanced around the dark room and at the fog visible through a crack in the curtain and waved at the grim-faced servant standing in the corner of the room. "I think we both know I'd be lying."