---

---

Dorian nodded in agreement to the Northern Orc as he would explain. He looked at Faline, who had been expressionless while Maltar expressed his questions and Amandine spoke of the dead not paying taxes asked. She gave a silent nod of acceptance of the position. "Maltar is correct, this is about Duskrot cases rising. Your mentors are out in search of a cure for the disease. Some may call the disease by different names, however, everyone agrees with how devastating its effects are," the host spoke as he circled a village nearby on the map that lay on the table before him.

"This current outbreak is traveling faster than previous times. Usually, the Emperor has been able to order guards to quarantine sick people. The spread has spread so rapidly that this village on the map has a border built around it. No one, except secret personnel, is allowed in. This is where your mentors will meet you all, hopefully with a cure. We've already received reports of outbreaks happening within cities, which means-," Dorian began to speak but was quickly interrupted by the redheaded half-Elvian.

"Someone is deliberating releasing diseased people within the city," Faline finished as she stood up from her chair and stretched, then crossed her arms as she looked at Dorian as if she already knew this information. Dorian raised an eyebrow at Faline.

"My uncle was receiving mysterious reports in a code from the city guard in Volenstul, asking what they should do in the meantime. Hopefully, some mages would have been smart enough to escape the Gallows. They removed the mages and relocated them to a makeshift camp near the Docks. Not by my uncle's recommendations, by the Emperor's," Faline explained.

"Thank you, Faline, for being brash as ever," Dorian said with an annoyed tone while Faline rolled her eyes. "To answer your question, Torsten, the group is being asked to travel to the woods to retrieve an artifact. Legends surrounding this piece have been rather intriguing. The Emperor believes that the artifact could help halt the Duskrot outbreak," he said as he laid a book with the legendary artifact on the table. "That artifact is The Amulet of Selene."

Faline peered at what this possible goose chase was supposed to lead them to. The artifact was the product of a war chief who had fought the First Emperor when the ruler was trying to unite the land under one power. Before the First Emperor, Vradia was divided among war tribes. Now, many of these customs and cultures of said tribes were left to myths and tales.

"The Amulet of Selene is just an old tale of the Hiemaquas Dragonian tribe. All that is in here is the general whereabouts of what could maybe be the general area of the battlefield where the First Emperor fought them," Faline said as she bit her lip in nervousness. This old tale wasn't a lot to go on, especially without talking to the mentors directly about what they thought of it.

Suddenly, a hissing sound like a bottle of wine slowly being corked open, a man stepped out of a heap of armor. Faline arched her eyebrows and didn't know what to say. The suit of armor began to move towards the table and sit amongst them. Was there someone inside there? Sure enough, such an inquiry was answered by the armor man reaching forward for food and drink.

"To answer your question, Torsten, the group is being asked to travel to the woods to retrieve an artifact. Legends surrounding this piece have been rather intriguing. The Emperor believes that the artifact could help halt the Duskrot outbreak. And Sir Anviltank, how kind of you to officially join us," he said as he laid a book with the legendary artifact on the table.

---

---

The man who complied with Pebble's requests was not only embarrassed by his less-than-average 'stature' but was now lame and served up to the Rotted that began to creep and crawl through the spiked fences. The Rotted got a few bites into the man's flesh before Pebble's deft-tone voice froze them in stride. They followed her along the fencing until her voice was too far away to be heard.

---

Maltar gave Amandine a nod and a slight grin when she gestured with her sandwich to make note of his point about Mercenary work. Maltar had also observed Faline's lack of expression toward him and Amandine while they spoke their piece, which he deduced at first to be aloof. But it was only while the Half-Elvian woman began to express a considerable amount of knowledge on the Duskrot situation, that he figured she was probably just being patient with his lack of knowledge. Apparently, Maltar's mentors had been a little less forthcoming than Faline's were about their work involving the disease. Not that this surprised Maltar. While most of the knowledge he had acquired over the years had come from his mentors, he had of late spent much of his time away from home hunting the monsters that plagued the northern borders of Laelilon. It therefore stood to reason that Maltar may have known less about the current circumstances than some of the others in the room as well. He thought it best to bite his tongue for a while and listen.

Dorian's confirmation and consequential explanation was illuminating, to some degree, and the task the group was being asked to do in retrieving The Amulet of Selene from the woods did provide insight to Maltar's second enquiry about mercenary work. It was soon after Faline spoke of the Hiemaquas Dragonian tribe that the newest member of the group, a Dwelf decorated in heavy armor, made himself known and approached the table. Once the Dwelf positioned himself, Dorian answered Torsten's question for the second time, confirming that they were indeed being asked to head into the woods to retrieve The Amulet of Selene.

After Dorian had welcomed their newest member, Maltar turned his head down and to the left and observed the empty air beside him. He raised one eyebrow like he was listening to the empty space quietly speak to him. A moment later, Maltar nodded and turned his face back toward the group.

"Yeah... I agree." He then addressed a question to Dorian; "When do we leave to retrieve this amulet?"

Amandine found herself amidst a scene that felt oddly familiar, surrounded by a motley crew that could easily pass for a circus troupe. The presence of the massive, armoured beast-like figure next to her only added to the surreal atmosphere. In her mind's eye, she couldn't help but envision Maltar donning a top hat and large hoop, commanding the beast to perform tricks, with Gus playing the role of the bumbling clown, Budi as an exhibit, and Torsten as the imposing bouncer. Dorian seemed like the perfect ringmaster, and Faline, with her air of elegance, fit the role of the glamorous assistant seamlessly. As for herself, she resignedly joked that she could serve snacks, envisioning herself selling popcorn to the audience.

However, Amandine's amusement quickly faded when she realized that the plan involved raiding the ruins of her ancestors. It struck her as a simplistic solution to a complex problem, one that seemed to prioritize disturbing the dead over finding more practical solutions. "Isn't it ironic," she remarked dryly, "that our kingdom's go-to solution for every problem seems to involve disturbing the spirits of the past and antagonizing the living?" With a touch of sarcasm, she suggested, "If we're in dire need of Dragonian artefacts, why not pay a visit to the Emperor's treasure vault instead of rummaging through ancient ruins? We might have better luck finding what we need there." Her suggestion hung in the air, "The Dorado tribe supposedly possessed a stone that could turn lead into gold. It's likely sitting right there in the vault." she shrugged, expecting to be met with mostly indifferent expressions from her companions.

Setting aside her reservations, Amandine approached the book laid out on the table, flipping through its pages to gain a clearer understanding of the task they were signing up for.

---

---

Pebble sure was happy toddling along, singing her songs, knocking critters dead, making travelers sick, flipping her shiny gold coin as she went along. That was until she came to an intersection in the road, giving her a whole new three directions to choose from. Pebble didn’t at all like making decisions, especially when there be more than two options to choose from. Had there only been two options, she could have gone ahead and flipped her shiny new coin to make her decision for her. But by all manner of avalanche, that just wasn’t the case!

The little dwarf human stopped her lovely singing and stepped on up to the big old road sign to have a read of her options, but not before an opossum fell dead from a tree. According to the sign, if Pebble continued on ahead, she’d wind up in the town of Somerset. That was actually the direction she was meant to be headed. But if she made a turn to the right, she’d end up in a small village, which wasn’t as far a journey as Somerset was, and she really did want to buy herself a pie or something. Better yet, Rock Candy! Her favorite candy ever! Then there was Pebble’s third option, by heckers, to turn left down the road that led through the woods where the ancient battle between the Hiemaquas Dragonian’s and the armies of the First Emperor took place.

Pebble really did figure that finding her ma and pa was possibly important, and for that reason, getting to Somerset would have to be a thing to do sooner or later. But her stomach was rumbling like an active volcano, and she really could have done with a quick detour to the village for a snack before recommencing her way to Somerset. However! Pebble really did fancy the idea of checking out the old woods and the sites of the ancient battles as well. There were rumors of all sorts of ruins in them woods that she felt herself a hankering to explore. Who knows what she could dig up in old ruins like that? It was glorious as ore to think about!

The more Pebble thought about her options, the harder it was to make a decision. So, she just went ahead and stopped thinking. She plunked her cute butt down under that big old road sign and ate a bug. And "Heckers" that bug was tasty.

"We will likely leave on the morrow; time is something that is fleeting for most." he slowly relaxed back down, looking at the armor and smiling at another fellow connoisseur of size and heft. Nodding towards the other figure of extreme bulk in the room. He closed his eyes and smiled, "So, find the artifact of an ancient civilization that's been looted, well, what hasn't been looted in history? But it's likely in a vault of it's own, or some form of dungeon or hiding spot. Somewhere not easily accessible."

He smiled at the woman who seemed to have a fuss about things, "People look to tradition to solve problems, like finding weeds and certain trees to remedy illnesses and sicknesses, or stories to keep you from eating something poisonous. But with antagonizing the people, that is what people do, we fight. It might not always be verbally, but we enjoy it for sport, or debate. But the governing bodies will always try to look over those others in the world to have control. Those that break away from the mold are those targetted by the loudest minorities, mostly those who hold power, and others will flock to their desires."

"But semantics and politics is something unjoyous... we should enjoy the rest of the night before we begin our journey; I assume we will not have much time to ourselves or to liberties and niceties in the near future, so... enjoy the night however we can before heading out early."

With that, the man slunk onto the couch more and closed his eyes as he looked at peace from his long-winded comment of wisdom.

Budi was an orc, not assiduous or given to self-conscious tendencies. Robust and jovial in his own way, crude and primal, he would do as he pleased and say what he wanted, with never a second thought.

The orc could not establish deference for Dorian's pretty man appearance and choice of shiny armored attire. Budi was of barbaric temperament and found armors of the type to be of cowardly creed. The orc could not help recurrent cynical looks for the pretty presentation of the governor's son. However, such did not mean Budi was bugged. It was merely Budi's archaic nature. Furthermore, the orc did feel respect for Dorians simple acknowledgement of the concerns for his mentor. Budi open-mouth grinned. He thought it was amusing to mock Dorian by using his finger to flick off a small particle of dust from the man's armored shoulder while he explained things to the group.

Budi had a keen sense of smell, like all orcs, and his primal nature was strong in carnal liberties. Pleasures were to be taken from the scents of women, no permission required. One of Budi's favorite aromas was a woman's hair, as Faline was the first to discover. The orc did fold close and sniff her fiery red hair at the time she completed her mentions of the mages of Volenstul. Faline's hair produced a delicious aroma that caused Budi to simper and moan. It would do the fair woman well to, perhaps, ignore the orcs advances.

Maltar, the hunter of monsters, was an intrigue to Budi, a sexual rival to note, and a man he would not pause to belittle if only for the sake of maintaining alfa status. The orc did puff his mighty chest with curios confusion when the hunter spoke to the empty air beside him. Maltar's behaviour caused Budi to snort with amused derision. He would not pretend to understand. On any accord, responses of derision were of common value for Budi, indeed an aspect of an orcs need to conserve dominance of a primal nature. He would naturally respond in similar ways to everyone, and often.

Amandine was not excluded from Budi's advances. While the small, blonde lady finished speaking of the emperor's vault, a magical stone, and approach a book laid out on the table, the towering orc found convenience in partaking of her scent from a position behind her. Amandine, too, was of an aroma that produced a simper and moan from Budi.

Truth to be of note, the massive orc was getting to know his company in his own unorthodox way. The sniffing of admirable women. Dusting of a shoulder. Derisive snorts. There were many facets and means by which Budi expressed his interest in others. Yawning was another, yet his yawn was done with a teasing grin while Torsten spoke of remedies and antagonizing people. A joke, perhaps, only Budi would appreciate. Nevertheless, Torsten did strike a chord of interest in the orc. Seizing the night to enjoying niceties, definitely right up the alley of the orc.

Budi may have appeared distracted by his behavior throughout discussions among the group. His behavior, perhaps, may have been misunderstood as insolent or not paying attention. He was not the most intelligent of brutes, and his playful, robust personality did betray an attention disorder. The orc, however, was well aware of everything everyone had said. The knowledge was stored in his walnut brain.

The great mountain orc chuckled as Torsten closed his eyes and slept. He gleamed wide at Maltar and snorted. He playfully glowered to Amandine. His eyes roamed the body of Faline with a laden grin. He scratched his chin thoughtful about Sir Anviltank seated in runed mechanical armor at the table. Last of all, Budi turned his best twinkled smirk to Dorian.

"Budi has not left home in mountains since he was a boy. Budi is adult orc now. Budi is happy Hon is alive. Happy... to be here." Budi's face stretched with an enormous blue smile as he looked around at everyone. "Like big-little talky man says, we leave in morning." The orc looked at Dorian. "Where do we play niceties?" He looked at Faline. "Where are beds?" Budi winked at the half-Elvian woman.

---

---

One look at Amandine and Faline could tell that she was less than happy to hear that they were to retrieve a lost artifact from ancient Dragonians. She listened to the petite woman and took another look at the legend in the book, she noticed the markings in the margins of the book while she began to write notes on a blank paper.

Sir Dorian gave a sympathetic smile to Amandine as she explained one of the many legends of her people. "While I understand your sarcasm and notion about the Emperor, Amandine. This disease has been proven to affect all races throughout Vradia, not just humans and Elvian. This is much bigger than protecting an ancient trinket with magical properties," he explained as there was a look in Dorian's eye that Faline didn't like.

Faline paused to listen to Maltar and Torsten. She wanted to give a show of support for Amandine's connection to the Dragonian culture and support for the quest at hand but froze upon Budi casually taking a lock of her hair and taking a sniff. Faline didn’t know a lot about Orcs, aside from the fact that they were a race of large, strong beings. She flicked her emerald gaze to the Northern Orcs as he moved on from her. The half-Elvian concluded that scenting must be a gesture of his culture or upbringing. Faline turned her attention back to the book and map on the table.

Dorian was about to speak a reply to the group when Faline stopped him. "Our mentors have already found the ruins," Faline said as she crossed her arms while showing Amandine the code she had broken. "My uncle wouldn't suggest taking something from an ancient culture unless it was agreed upon. He's a negotiator at heart. He could probably convince a tree to give up its leaves if necessary. The ruins they found were void of life, not including forest animals and vegetation. That's my uncle's handwriting and marks in the margins of the book. It was his mission to locate the ruins," she said as Dorian nodded in agreement to Faline's conclusion.

"Sir Nikolai didn't have time to retrieve the Amulet by himself, not with the increase of Duskrot cases. He thought that it would be best to test you younger members," Sir Dorian explained as he placed a different piece of paper on the table. "This is your supply list. I would suggest you rest here tonight and take off in the morning. I'll have the cook bring in a meal for all of you," he instructed before leaving the room.

"Well, isn't that just fantastic? This night is just full of surprises," Faline muttered as she looked at Amandine. "I hope we don't have to use the Amulet and your people can retain the bobble. My uncle noted in the legend that the side effects of the magic aren't great," she explained as a very short, round old woman trotted in. The pot-bellied woman was definitely of Dwarven descent with a long, grayed braid rolled up into two buns on her head. She rolled in a cart with a large stew pot on top, then a basket of biscuits and a few desserts on the tray below with the bowls and silverware.

"Y'll needin' to eat up now, gots to have yas strength. Or so says the boss," the old woman said as she passed out the bowls and soup spoons.

Faline glanced over the list on the table. "Eight-bed rolls and a crate of supplies for the trip, or so it appears. It says that each mentor has placed appropriate weapons in the chest with their symbol on said chest," she announced for anyone’s curiosity. Interesting, there are only seven of us here, Faline thought as she raised her eyebrows at the Orc's advance, or what seemed like one.

"As for your answer, Tiny, I believe those are bunk beds if you’re tired. Also, niceties mean comforts, like beds and access to already made food," Faline explained as she gestured to the eight beds in the room of the opened door as she grabbed a bowl of Cook's stew, not one to pass up a free meal.

"The boss says that ya kids will need to be up early in the morn," Cook said before she placed the rest of the food on the table. "Best be gettin' to bed after eating." The dwarven woman rolled her cart out of the room. The silence is filled with the squeakiness of the wheels on the cart.

After finishing her bowl of stew and biscuit, Faline took one of the bottom bunks and placed her pack on the bed before she went back over to the table to read her uncle's notes. She frowned as there was nothing left to decipher except the location of the ruins. "I have a feeling that there is more going on than just Duskrot. With our mentors being separated on various missions, it almost feels like a deliberate action," she commented as she pulled out her uncle's journal to see if there was anything that she could find that would help them tomorrow on their journey.

---

---

A snow-white owl called out as dusk was uproaching and landed in front of the half-dwarf woman. Its bright blue eyes blinked slowly one at a time at Pebble before hooting at her. The large feathered being rotated its head, then returned to staring at Pebble, tilting its stare before suddenly flapping its large wings. It flew up and landed on the Somerset sign. The bird cawed at Pebble continuously until she stood and then took off to the tree that was the start of the Somerset path, calling out to her again.

---

Seems we have to grab something for the high horsed folks. What a drag… Rather not deal with that filth again. The roguish lad was in deep thought as the others discussed the task they were given. Why would that old fart even deal with people like this? In his own words, nobles are nothing more than idiots to bleed dry and backstab afterwards.

Gus leaned against the wall, flicking his signature coin. He stared at the dwarven woman offering him a bowl of soup. ”Let me just. . . voila!” The coin rolled around his hand before it disappeared in thin air. Now his hands were free to accept the free meal. ”Thank you ever so kindly for the meal. He winked at the dwarven woman before starting with his meal.

He soon would finish his bowl and what seemed like a little prayer before heading to the bedding accommodations and claimed one of the top bunks with a graceful jump. ”I hope nobody minds me taking one of these, but I do it out of my care for everyone here. My radiance would keep anyone from sleeping soundly.” And with a small illusion his face became a playful depiction of the sun. He shall worry about the other details around this task once he wakes up.

---

Rathiain Bukead Anviltank, reclined quietly, a silent observer amidst the lively chatter of the adventurers gathered in the expansive chamber. Each voice carried weighty opinions on the matter at hand, speculation weaving intricate patterns that mirrored the teachings of the masters. Yet, Rath remained cautious, knowing that truth often hid behind veils of uncertainty. The prospect of embarking on a quest for treasure seemed promising, but he couldn't shake the nagging doubts of potential obstacles—guarded riches or formidable entities—that could thwart their endeavors. A small sigh escaped Rath's lips, the sound tinged with an otherworldly quality, akin to the distant hum of ancient magic resonating through arcane artifacts. He took a sip of his drink, the liquid offering a brief respite from the weight of anticipation.

When Budi, one of the company, leaned in to catch a scent of Faline’s hair, Rath resisted the urge to intervene. His mentor's words echoed in his mind, cautioning against rushing into the role of a self-proclaimed hero. "Wait until someone asks for help," they had advised, "for they may not need nor want yours." And so, Rath remained still, observing each individual's reaction, silently assessing the group dynamics that would shape their journey to find their masters.

Amidst the ongoing debate about their course of action, Rath sensed the group's collective determination to embark on a quest akin to grave robbing, in search of a long-lost treasure. The notion unsettled him, stirring a knot of discomfort in his stomach. Leaning forward, he sought solace in the cold, unyielding surface of the table, the solidity providing a brief respite from the turmoil of his thoughts.

Lost in contemplation, Rath's mind wrestled with uncertainty until a sudden crackle from the fire snapped him out of his reverie. Blinking back to awareness, he watched as an ember danced erratically within the flames. Only after that did a well-rounded dwarven woman enter, bearing trays of food with a buoyant step. Rath observed the cheerful demeanor with which she served, addressing Dorian as "Boss" with a lilt of genuine warmth. Though it seemed peculiar, Rath found himself appreciating the positive energy she exuded. As she approached him, offering his meal, Rath nodded deeply in acknowledgment, a gesture of respect for her hospitality.

"Expression: Thank you for the meal." Rathian conveyed his gratitude to the dwarf woman. Once again, his voice carried an otherworldly resonance, reminiscent of ancient magic coursing through arcane relics. However, this time, a subtle warmth imbued his tone, hinting at a smile that transcended the peculiar sounds emanating from him.

He glanced at his meal, another sigh escaping his lips as he cast a fleeting glance around the room. Reluctant to leave the comfort of his solitude, he triggered the magic within his suit, causing the helm to split into several sections. Each segment retracted, unveiling his youthful visage, devoid of the rugged features typically associated with adulthood. Rath's appearance, akin to that of a young teenager yet to undergo their growth spurt, rendered him distinctly androgynous. Coupled with the suit's modification of his speech to a near-sexless tone and its feminine displacer beast form, Rath feared being perceived as too soft and weak, despite his forty years of age.

Avoiding eye contact, Rath focused on his meal, Rath lifted the bowl to his nose, savoring the tantalizing aroma before invoking a spell, enveloping the food in a shimmering aura of magical energy. With a whirring resonance, the magic infused the meal, enhancing its flavor and vitality. As he ate, Rath consumed his meal with ravenous fervor, as if driven by an insatiable hunger. Upon finishing, exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, evident in his hastened consumption. Glancing around the room, Rath silently offered gratitude to whatever deities may be listening for the lack of attention drawn to his voracious appetite, or perhaps, the feigned ignorance of those who had witnessed it.

Observing others claim bunks for the night, Rath's smile would have betrayed his fondness for sleep if his face were still showing. He sought solace in a secluded corner of the room, away from the bustling activity, ensuring no one would mistake him for a mere coat rack. With a wave of his hand, he cleared the area, invoking the magic of his suit to cleanse and imbue the space with the soothing scent of fresh lavender. In mere moments, the corner transformed into a haven of tranquility.

As Rath reclined back, preparing to surrender to the embrace of sleep, he felt a subtle shift in the air. Arcane energies responded to his need, coalescing into plates similar to those within his suit. These constructs formed beneath him, providing stability and structure, allowing Rath to lay down without discomfort or awkward posture. Leaning back Rath locked his suit into a reclined almost laying down position, embracing the promise of slumber. The weight of exhaustion lifted from his shoulders as he surrendered to the embrace of sleep, welcoming its embrace with a whispered sigh of contentment.