[h2]Quille[/h2]

It was Day Two of Quille's observation of the functioning of the guild. Day one had yielded less insights than the elf had helped, borne by one simple fact: she had spent most of it slumped over at one of the tables wondering when her head would stop feeling like it was trapped in a cave-in. By the time she had mostly recovered, everything that she had wanted further information on had slowed to a crawl, and she spent the remainder of the day taking care of her knives and being awkwardly aware that she had a tab running up in the background.

At least nobody had made her pay for the drinks on that first night. It would have been so much worse.

The point of interest was to see how jobs were claimed. Adventuring was rarely a solo profession – although exceptions existed, anyone going down in song for reasons other than a glorious death could likely clear anything short of that dragon job alone – and so the questions on her mind were: did everyone arrange groups for an individual job or were they all lasting teams? Was it a mix? And did some people just sign their name up and see who else came along until they hit the body count?

She wasn't making much headway from observation. Most of the experienced adventurers were smart enough to not crowd the board and just sent one person up, and there was too much noise for Quille to reliably overhear any single team. Even without this large lamia had come over and struck up a conversation that the dark elf carried on without really focusing on it, she'd not been able to pick up much beyond the occasional objection to going on [i]another[/i] orc-clearing mission.

… honestly, that was terrible civic pride. Everyone's first duty was to exterminate Hidroroth's vermin.

Maybe she should stop hanging back by the bar and just ask the receptionists? Even if they were rather overwhelmed at the moment.

[@Rune_Alchemist]