Honour among thieves: Into the sewers?

Malmir tapped his boot against the corpse's forehead before wiping imagined filth from its leathern toe.

"He's dead then." The elf commented, nonchalantly before turning away with disinterest. "Quite a tale, "he continued lightly, as if there was no dead man at his heels and his companions were nestled in some comfortable snug in a Delberz inn, "I wonder if its true at all. I suppose we have no options but to proceed, but this gem concerns me... A jewel that can, somehow, disease a man, curdle his blood and turn his flesh to rot is not something to pursue lightly. Yet, someone has clearly taken the damn thing and I wonder if they have left a trail to follow?"


The elf smiled suddenly; his lips parting to show his perfect, straight teeth. His clear, almond eyes glinted in the fading light with mischief as he turned to speak to Kirsten. "I feel it best if you take the lead and I concentrate on, how do you humans say it? You're rear? Yes, I'll follow you with my bow and cover you while you lead us through the darkness into the sewer. My eyes will certainly be best placed there."


Malmir spun on his heel and scooped up his bow. Attaching the cord to its horn tip he indicated that he was ready to move on. The party gathered themselves together, assuming positions in the line that were now becoming habitual before setting off into the gloom leaving the corpses to their eternal slumber and slow, inexorable decay. 

An Offer of Help: Aid in the Dark

Malmir scooped up the crossbow that had clattered into the corner. He looked back over his shoulder to see Johann holding back the arms of the wounded man; not that is was really necessary for the man looked like a corpse already. Returning to the weapon, Malmir gave the piece the once over. Any damage? A weapon such as this would be useful in the dark. All he'd need is a few more quarrels.

He was aware of his fellow companions moving slowly into the room, their outlines a dull orange in the flicking flames. They spread out, filling the room and marking the exits accordingly. As they did so, the prone figure let out a liquid cough, blood running down his chin in thick, sticky streaks. Feebly, he tried to wipe the blood away on the back of a battered sleeve but achieved nothing more than smearing the stuff across his bristled chin.

Harbull, as if sensing his moment had come, scampered forwards, his herbalists' back gripped firmly in his hands. Without a word to the others, he bent over the dying man and began his work.

More Rooms, More Blood: Malmir Moves Quickly

The crossbow wobbled jerkily in the wounded man's grip, the quarrel weaving dangerously between Malmir, Werner, Kirsten and the dark, coarse ceiling. In less than a heartbeat, the elf was moving, his speed appearing almost un-natural to his human companions. Releasing pressure on his bowstring, the elf sprang forwards, sliding the smooth stave through his fingers until it stuck out before him like a thin, inverted club.

Jabbing with the stave, Malmir struck out at the cross point of the wooden crossbow... If he was lucky, he thought, he'd easily disarm the mauled man.

Then questions would be answered!

If he was unlucky..?

It was best not to think about that!

Richer Blood: To Follow a Trial?

Malmir sighed, handing the box back to Wanda. It didn't appear to be magical at all. Just an ordinary, engraved  wooden box. He wondered how much his companions knew about... No! They were best not mentioned, even in thought. Before he left his people, he had been instructed, along with his brethern of similar age, on the foolishness and ignorance of men. Naively they'd plough on through, unknowing and uncaring of what their furrow would bring to the surface.

Still, it was just a sensation. A strange, itching hunch that there was more to this task than simple burglary. Time would most certainly tell, all he (and his companions for that matter) could do was proceed. Malmir braced himself, though carefully so that his companions would not see, to enter the next corridor. Doubtless they were ignorant, but elves suffered from a mild form of what humans would call claustophobia; a childhood in spacious, warm forest glades and abundant treetop dwellings would cause that. Still, it was more than controlled thanks, in part, to his wide ranging experience as a wanderer. Taking the lead, bow in hand, ploughing through the darkness with the strong humans at his back did wonders to alleviate the nagging pull of his anxiety.

Johann mentioned that there might be a trail. Good thinking, though Malmir, for a human. He was more than prepared to lead the group once again; after all his eyes were superior as were his reflexes.

Keeping his concerns to himself, Malmir checked his arrow was placed firmly upon the string and stepped forwards into the gloomy corridor. Automatically now, Werner and Johann resumed there positions behind him and he heard the soft padding of Kirsten further back still. Honestly, he doubted they'd find anything living along the next corridor but it was better to be prepared.

The wizard, if that was the right word, lifted the lamp and illuminated the damp corridor. Scanning the floor with his elven eyes, Malmir searched for a grim trail of blood or crimson, murderous footsteps.

He stepped forwards.

Richer Blood: Malmir's warnings and questions

"Werner's right! Its best if we avoid that body." Malmir said. "Though the dead fellow's disease did little to hamper the actions of whoever cut off that arm! Why was the limb removed? A ring? A chained cuff attached to a box or case? Why not just sever the hand?"

Malmir scanned the room with his elven eyes as if the answer to his questions would be scattered somewhere amongst the drying blood.

"That box that Oldenhaller mentioned, who has it? He made reference to this gem having rather unpleasant qualities and that once in our possession it should be placed within its confines. Could we be looking at the previous owner of the gem? Is disease its gift to those that handle it? If so, why would a man like Oldenhaller employ us to retrieve it for him, eh?

To Werner, who had stood as a silent sentinel during Malmir's monologue, the elf seemed to withdraw into memory once more. His eyes taking on that familiar glazed look as he drifted through his memories for something. A clue perhaps? What did elves know of the world that mere men did not?

"A quick search here but don't touch the body or the blood. The air should be safe for a short time. I'm heading back to the others, I want to ask Wanda if she can identify if our box is a magical item or not. Things are certainly becoming interesting..."

With that, the elf turned and left the room.

Clues in the Blood: Malmir Searches the Corpses

"At least we now know why no-one bothered to answer the door!" Malmir grunted as he rolled the remaining body onto its back, its sightless eyes staring awfully up at the grimy, soot stained ceiling. His nimble fingers made quick work of the the dead man's pockets, seams and pouches though, of course, nothing of value had been left by the killer or killers.

Sighing, he reached out for the cheap, pewter disc that hung from around the neck of the cadaver. Slipping it from the corpse's neck, he examined the disc more closely. It was a made from a cheap pewter, crudely stamped with the imprint of what looked like a fig leaf and buffed with oil. Malmir had seen similar totems around the neck of dead goblins, clan symbols or signs of dedication to a powerful leader or deity usually, and he surmised that these simple pendants must of  represented loyalty to one of the gangs that Oldenhaller mentioned. Slipping the disc into his pocket, Malmir stood up and returned to Johann's side.

"Crossbows and blades," the elf said, almost eagerly, eyeing Werner's axe appreciatively , "at least we know what might be pointed at our skins, eh? The crossbow is a powerful weapon but slow to reload, we'd have to risk the quarrel and then get in close, quick. The blades I think we can handle. These bodies are well dead and have lain here undisturbed for some hours. Looks like someone else was here before us!"

Nocking his arrow once more, Malmir cooly considered the exits to the room. There appeared to be two; one appearing to be another corridor whilst the other looked like the opening into another room. Perhaps they'd be answers in there to what had happened, he thought.

"Werner, could I possibly borrow you and that axe, I want to search through that entrance, it looks like a small room and there may well be more clues to what happened here in there. Kirsten," the elf continued, turning to smile coyly at his companion, "any chance you could bring that torch, it would certainly prove useful to our search!"

With the smile still strong upon his lips, Malmir stepped forwards to explore the would be room.

Crouching like a wardancer, Malmir swept gracefully into the hall, his eyes quickly assessing the bloodied, bulky forms for signs of life. He doubted that there'd be any. Experience had taught him bitter lessons in the past, trapped doorways not withstanding, and individuals who ransack squalid shitholes teeming with society's ne'erdowells would be dangerous men indeed.

Dangerous men tend to leave few witnesses living.

If any.

In the halflight, Malmir observed the human woman stumble and struggle to a nearby alcove. The sour reek of vomit assaulted his nostrils violently. Relaxing his fingers on the arrow nock, the elf felt his bowstring weaken as he stepped silently towards Kirsten, he crouched down alongside her in the darkness and laid his palm against her shoulder.

"You did well," he said, "that sword was out of its sheath as silently as the spirits of a forest glade. Few could have done better! Hold it together, now..."

He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He'd seen men built like bullocks shit themselves at the first flash of a sword blade, let alone a corpse, and this young woman had done well to react as she did.

"Looks like this room has been thoroughly looted too, but you never know..." Malmir declared in a whisper. "Kirsten, see if you can detach that torch as it may prove useful in this gloom. I'm going to poke though the debris and check the bodies while we wait for the others... I may find something useful. Secondly, the way a man meets his end leaves clues for the living. Let's see what weapons our foes are wielding, with that knowledge we may be able to craft and more informed defensive strategy."

Silently, the elf removed his hand from Kirsten's shoulder and twisted away into the darkness...

A Thorough Search: Onwards, don't blink!

Disappointedly, Malmir tossed the empty demijohn into a gloomy corner. Nothing! Whoever had ransacked the room had done a good job of lifting anything useful. One thing that he did find curious was the lack of people, or indeed, evidence of people. Though the room had been thoroughly, and in Malmir's eyes, professionally, searched, there was little evidence of any human (or inhuman) influence. No blood. No shit. No vomit even. Malmir knew all to well the smells of combat and this room was curiously lacking in that tangy, sharp stench, nor was there the heavy, foetid smell of sweat that indicated recent human activity.

This room had been empty a while. Then searched. Then abandoned once more. Strange, and a little unsettling, even for Malmir's elven sense of self preservation. Still, there was little to be had mulling over the vageries of life in the Asylum, Malmir doubted that conventional human activity was far from the norm in the bleak depths of this stinking sinkhole. Years previously the elf had visited another asylum, that time in the company of his friend, the fellow minstrel Orfeo, on a prearranged visit to 'entertain' a deranged noblewoman (known to them simply as the Dowager) from Gascony. He recalled little but the mad, drug induced playing of his comrade, the taste of  brilliantly expensive Estalian wine and, of course, the sensual delights of the lady's smooth skinned body.

Those had been the days.

Malmir wondered, rather absentmindedly, where his friend was now, or indeed, if he were still alive. Human life seemed so fleeting to him, like the flight of some tiny sparrow through the spring air, or smoke ruled rafters of a great hall. Blink and you'd miss it.

Blink indeed.

The elf watched Kirsten pad past him in the darkness. His elven eyes allowed him a slight circumspection of her body in the half-light. Smooth skinned he wondered? Or leather hard and taught, like a good bow string should be? Wryly, he shook his head. What a place to be revelling in the honest beauty of females? A stinking hole in the ground full of who knew what. Still, they'd better be careful, and if this young woman was willing to search out the next room he'd be more than willing to accompany her for mutual protection.

Drawing his bowstring, ensuring with a long, slender finger that the arrow was securely nocked, Malmir followed Kirsten into the gloom and made his way into the darkness.

Better not blink girl, he thought, for all our safety.

Unexpected Discoveries: Malmir searches for answers

"I think you may be correct in that presumption, halfling." Malmir commented wryly. The elf peered around the room as if to double check that the place was, indeed, empty of life. With no breathing inhabitant of the Asylum present, Malmir cast his acute eyes across the debris as if searching for some clue to explain the disarray.

"Bring that lantern closer please, Wanda." He asked gently, before stepping forwards (his bow still taut with arrow) into the chaos. "Perhaps a clue can be found amongst this refuse? If someone would do me the kindness to watch the two doors to guard against the sudden arrival of a 'friend', as being caught amongst this mess will surely invite more than mere suspicion, I shall endeavour to search these remains for any clue of their true nature."

The Asylum: Into the Darkness!

"Well, " Malmir enquired impatiently, "is that door locked or not? Can the damn thing be opened for I am sick to death of standing here in this squalid place?

The elf stamped his feet in sheer frustration. Gingerly, Malmir ran his fingers across his head wound before checking his digits for fresh blood. Finding none, he lowered his hand to the pommel of his sword.

To the others, the unconscious movement was an obvious sign that this elf was determined to readdress the balance with the natives of the Asylum. They had a debt to pay and no door, trapped or not, was going to hinder with his need to see that debt paid in blood.

Kirsten completed her analysis. Such a basic solution! The elf felt his checks redden at its simplicity and for the first time he was glad of the half light. As one, the companions stared down the earthen passageway. The walls were of rough, poorly packed earth and dirty puddles gathered at their footings. Greasy mosses smeared the uneven walls like some awful disease. Fluidly, the elf re-strung his bow and tested its suppleness. Selecting an arrow from his quiver, he readied the flight and half-flexed the weapon before manipulating the bow to lie horizontally across his body. Such a position was useful inside buildings as it prevented the horn tips of the weapon catching unseen obstructions. He took a careful step forwards into the gloom, his progress protected by shining elven arrow tip and narrowed his eyes. He knew from experience that his eyesight was superior to that of a human...

He hoped that this slight advantage would be of aid to them.

Into the Asylum: Malmir questions Kirsten

"Thanks for pulling me out of there, "Malmir said awkwardly to his companions, his long, slender fingers running across the white bandage that now girdled his head. "And special thanks to you, halfling, this strapping is first rate. I guess this adventuring business is not as straight forwards as the field of battle. We must all learn from this simple trap, we are sure to come across far more dangerous mechanisms of death in the future. It would be prudent to check for them as standard."

Shifting his equipment (his mandolin was, thankfully, intact) Malmir returned to the edge of the pit and peered back down into the darkness that mere moments ago had held him captive. Looking up, he saw the serious eyes of Kirsten evaluating him.

"Not even elves are infallible, " he smiled, winking a clear blue eye at her. She turned away quickly, to resume her deep ponderment of the door. "Strange that we have not been attacked. I was certain that when I stumbled into that trap that we had been compromised... but there is nothing! Something is not right here. I can feel it!"

He approached the door once again, more carefully this time, his booted feet skirting the edge of the pitfall trap, to stand alongside Kirsten. Malmir could feel the heat of her body despite the cool of the night and the elf revelled in the new sensation for a heartbeat or two... So human women instilled the same subtle excitement as his own race's did. How interesting! The minstrel dwelled on the myriad possibilities for a moment longer before returning to the business in hand. Fingering the rotten wood of the door, he too bent an ear to a crack and listened. It was as the human female had said. No sound except faint scratchings, and those had a distinct animalistic quality.

"What a mystery you are door." Malmir mused. "And it appears that our amateurish ramblings have aroused no consequence. Either this is all part of some elaborate ploy, construed either by the inhabitants of this Asylum or by some unknown influence, or there is in fact no one behind this door and that no-one is coming to open the door either!

The elf turned once more to his companions, a charming smile radiating from his handsome features and he considered each one in turn. "Obviously, I have already made a fool of myself once this night in regards of this door and I feel reluctant to be the fool once again. But we need to establish whether or not this door is actually locked!

He turned to face Kirtsen, his eyes like cool embers that warmed the damp evening. "With respect Frau, you are the most experienced here with locks and the like. What is your opinion? Is this door locked or unlocked and will our meddlings bring us more misfortune? I don't know about you, but I did not set foot upon this path to spend the night standing around in the dankness?"

Kirsten thought for a moment. She seemed to weigh the odds but curiousity quickly consumed her natural caution. She stepped forwards, raised her pale hand to the door and...

Into the Asylum: Malmir's Folly.

"Everyone stay still!" The elf cried weakly. "There maybe other traps! I will survive, though I have a nasty cut on my forehead where I hit the wall on the way down."

His companions could hear the scufflings of Malmir moving around in the darkness of the pit as he pulled himself to his feet.

"I am about 12 feet down. I can reach up about halfway with my arms outstretched. Any ideas about how to get me out? Also, be alert for any guests. The noise of my incompetance may bring us some unwanted company!"

Into the Asylum: Malmir grows tired of waiting

"How long are we going to stand here waiting for a response?" Malmir whispered irritably. "I say force the door, or at least check to see if its unlocked... How do we know that this is not some ruse or trick of the criminality of this squalid town?"

Without waiting for an answer, the elf arrogantly pushed passed his companions and took hold of the mould streaked door...

Into the Asylum: Malmir agrees to knock

"Knocking it is then. So be it. Let's see what a tap upon this door and the woman whispering 'Sweet Hanna' will bring. But if such an avenue does not bring us satisfaction, then the second option must prevail."

Standing aside, the elf cleared the cramped space in front of the mould speckled door. Its iron grille staring like a savage, solitary eye, daring the adventurers to approach and make contact with it's time blistered wood.

Into the Asylum: First into Action?

"So then, " the elf enquired impatiently, "do we knock and wait as the sign decrees or do we make our own arrangements for entry? I would prefer the latter, better destiny in your own hand than that of another, especially as we have our suspicions about Oldenhaller's motives, but I am content to put it out for a vote! We can hardly stand idle here in the darkness for long until we are noticed, surprise is an important factor in any endeavour and we would all prefer to have that hand to play."

Gracefully, the elf motioned his gloved hand towards the door.

"So what will it be? Who's for compliance with these scribblings and who's for direct action?"

Into the Asylum: Malmir suggests a plan.

Malmir eyed the throwing knives with interest. At least here was an individual amongst them who looked like they could handle themselves in a fight, he relaxed slightly and turned to the others.

"So what other skills do we have apart from the ability to sound like an inbred local? Can we pick the lock and enter covertly or is that too risky? After all, we don't know who, or what, is behind that door!"

The elf slipped his bow stave from its clasp before drawing the string from a hidden pocket from within his clothing. He balanced the pale wood on the cobbled floor and wound the string around the horn tip.

"We seem well armed enough for an assault, if we agree on such a tactic, and I can supply a ranged attack with this. However, I am more skilled with the sword. But I am willing to use either dependent on our shared abilities. You three, " the elf indicated Johann, Kirsten and Werner, "look like you can handle those blades face to face with an enemy, you could easily take the lead if an assault is agreed on. "The elf turned to Wanda, he indicated her leather bag. "Any tricks to aid us in there? Can you turn men to stone or cast flaming fire balls?"

Without waiting for anyone to answer, Malmir turned back to face the door. Its wooden panels stood defiantly before him.

"I suppose the first thing we must decide on is whether or not this door is actually locked!" He said.

Into the Asylum: Malmir weighs the odds

The sounds of the footman's expensively booted feet faded into the grimy darkness, their wooden heels clacking against the ancient stone steps that lead to what, perhaps very loosely, could be referred to as street level. The sound reminded Malmir of bells. The heavy, dull bells that droned mournfully alongside the awful plague carts he had seen when travelling through Kofindorf.

Each chime a death knoll. A reminder for the living of their own mortality.

Shivering, he pulled his brightly coloured travelling clothes tightly around his shoulders. They usually made him feel secure- safe even, when in human company... Now they seemed inappropriate alongside the squalor of their surroundings. The walls were wet and glistened in the half light. Irregular puddles of suspicious colour and foul odour scattered the floor. Turning, he saw Wanda step into something best left unmentioned. She peered around fruitlessly for something partially clean to wipe her boot on.

Malmir adjusted his scabbard, testing that the oiled wool within had not dried and his blade could be easily drawn. His mandolin strap had already been pulled tight across his shoulders, so that the instrument would not rattle or impede his movement. These old habits... Older than than his human companions he mused...

He remembered...

A clearing in the forest. The bright lights of the enemy's torches. Burning trees. Blood on the ground. The bestial  stench of the greenskins. The waiting, waiting, waiting. The impact and the surge of combat. His feet slipping on the muddy path, as he desperately fought to remain upright. Steel on steel. The sickening sensation of metal piercing flesh, blue black blood running down his arms as defilers fled. The promise of pursuit... Of revenge...

Being told to stop.

"Not beyond the forest, Malnir! We stay here."

Vengeance was a human trait he was told. He would stay in the forest and he would not run.

But he had...

A wet crunch brought the elf back from his reverie. The sound had been so sudden in the darkness that the more military minded individuals spun around, hands firmly gripped on weapon hilts while the others blundered in the gloom. Was it an ambush? Robbers? Daemons?

"Sorry!" Mumbled Harbull, when all of his companion's eyes suddenly focused on him. His trembling fingers were deep inside a leather bag that looked remarkably like it was stuffed full of pork scratchings. Sheepishly, the halfling smiled apologetically.

How much experience does this little group actually have? Malmir thought? Could they bring themselves to push steel into another man's (or indeed, another woman's) flesh and take a life? Would it even come to that? Would the party disintergrate at the first sign of danger as these weak humans fled back to their easy lives? Malmir had no such option, he could never return... It was this jobm this life, or nothing...

The group relaxed, slightly and stood mutely in the stinking half light, their eyes glistening expectantly in the darkness.

"So then, "Malmir whispered, "what do we do next?"

A New Life Beckons: Malmir: A decision, a reflection and a question or two.

Malmir stepped forwards, his boots leaving brown, un-mentionable streaks across the grandiose carpet. That will teach me, he thought, trying to work up a crowd in a place like Delberz, or whatever this human colony was called. He'd heard of far larger, more cultured cities and assumed that the impeccably dressed man in front of him was a good indication of the type who would dwell within them. The type who would enjoy the finesse or elven music and the subtle inflections of his melodious voice. For a moment, Malmir considered dumping his new found acquaintances and making Oldenhaller an offer. Such a man would surely pay handsomely for the skills that Malmir had in abundance- he was certain that he was the only elf minstrel in one hundred leagues. Something stayed his tongue. In later days Wanda would say it was fate, perhaps the insidious doings of a far greater power, while Johann would joke and say it was the prospect of the halfling's meat and potato hot pot. Malmir knew different- though he would seldom admit it, even to himself.

He was tired of walking away.

As most of his companions, Wanda excluded, seemed a little intimidated by the grandour of the room and stood dumbfounded, Malmir felt that he should ask the first questions. He expected the rest of his companions to do the same and babble out a long list of enquiries that Oldenhaller, a professional man undoubtably, would quietly absorb and answer at the end of the summons.

"It seems obvious sir, " Malmir began, "to discuss payment. What will be the financial nature of the employment? An advance to purchase equipment? Or full payment when the gem has been delivered?

"Secondly, what details can you give us of our destination. The asylum? Are there any dangers we should prepare ourselves to face?

The elf stepped back into the ragged line of adventurers, his contribution made and waited for the rest of his companions to speak.

A Fateful Meeting: Malmir's language woes!

The elf had done little during the curious exchange but admire the simple nature of humans. The way they puffed themselves up like strutting peacocks, spouted hot, but largely meaningless words and gabbled away in their crude, primitive language. Still, there was a rude honesty there, a truthfulness so lacking in his own kin. No lengthy diatribes here, no sonnets, odes or monologues crafted over the seasons to communicate the deeper facets of the natural world. No deadly dance of word play cast down through the years here, spinning arguments and weaving subtle meanings out of half truths and oxymorons.

His elders had a word for discussions such as these. Lotholothan. A rough translation of into reikspiel would have been something like 'the soft blade of eons'. Some of his elders had been arguing their point for decades, content to spend their lengthy lives nestled under the green boughs and waste their breath debating the nature of the fox, the thoughts of a river or even, the age of the world.

Johann had an interesting human word to describe such talk... What had it been?

"Bollocks!" Malmir said.

Harbull, his thoughts of sausages suddenly gobbled up, looked aghast at the brightly attired elf that stood so gracefully before him.

"You name is... bollocks?" The Halfling mumbled in amazement, his quick eyes not quite deciding to focus on the elf or the meat pies that a pedlar had just uncovered amongst the milling crowd.

Johann, Werner and the woman laughed... The tension between them evaporating.

His name's Malmir, " Johann smiled, " and I've already saved his arse once today, I didn't think I'd need to protect him from a hungry halfling. Or from the language barrier!"

The others laughed again, far more easily this time, though Malmir still stood rather aloof. His cool blue eyes turned back towards the town crier. "Perhaps we could gather a little more information about this contract from the hawker, as if you observe, there is hardly a rush of enquirers despite many obvious candidates? This could be a chance for us to make a tidy sum and head to a larger city?"

Just as Malmir spoke, another female human caught his eye. With an air of pompous, arrogance she accosted the town crier and forcefully loosened him of the contract. Within moments she had left the fat, repulsive man blinking in the street and entwined her thin arm with the of the elf.

Without asking any one's pardon she whisked them off towards the appropriate street and, hopefully, the chance of some easy pay.

The elders would certainly have had a word for a woman of this type.

Malmir was sure that Johann also had a word.

Bitch.

Malmir kept that particular piece of new vocabulary to himself- just in case- as he was lead away.

A Fateful Meeting: Malmir the Charmer

A sudden chord is struck across the fret of a gaudy mandolin. The notes seem to quiver in the air. The sound, sudden and sweet in that filthy street, attracts the eyes of wanderer and wastrel alike but few display anything but contempt and mistrust for an elf. Malmir stepped forwards, the short, beautifully carved bow stave tied to his back rattled against his packed quiver. Theatrically, the elf released the neck of his instrument, letting it fall backwards against his right leg as his lithe fingers gripped the pommel of his sheaved blade.

"If there is a chance of work then I would be more than willing to share any danger or deprivation with honest fellows, retrospective of height or gender!" Malmir said, his eyes flicking wryly at Wanda and Harbull. Glancing up, the elf met the hard eyes of the human male. There appeared to be little sympathy there, though that could just have been innocent, rural stupidity Malmir thought.

"I have not dwelt here long but I know the street the hawker mentioned. It is to the north of here past a tavern called 'The Hanged Man'. It would be a simple task to lead ourselves there and take the contract, though time is, as always, of the essence."

The elf cast his eyes wide and held out his left hand to enforce his point, Wanda followed his gaze and saw other armed groups, some obviously professional and well equipped, others less so. She noted that the elf's right hand never left the pommel of his weapon.

"Any other young sellswords willing to join us quickly?" Malmir addressed the rough crowd as a ringmaster might serenade a boisterous, well armed audience.