It was a stormy night in the Highlands, a temepestous and dark cloud rolled over the small town of Kaith, nothing more than a caravan stop and a few watering holes for the travelers, a general shop with some trinkets, pitful for a town, but more than enough for the travelers.

The main attraction in this small town are two places:

The first, the Stone Inn, a large building dedicated to serving Caravans, it has everything any Caravan could need, water, food, entretainment for all ages, and hands for hire for cheap, and the wine is cheaper yet! But the Stone Inn is a building of many misteries and many faces, with enough money or leverage anything can happen on it.

The other attraction is the locally famous "Driven Dog" Tavern, where rumor goers always hang out, where hired hands who lost their job in caravans gather and where the underworld does not fear to show it's face, Currently it was First Drink Free night on the Driven Dog, the general populance was already on their third or fourth drink, because of the damned rain there was nothing better to do and the wenches and the owner were having a bit of a hard time keeping up with the costumers.

The rowdy crowd of the Driven Dog shouted and sang as they become slowly inebrated, Orcs and Dwarves, Humans and Elves, side by side getting hammered like a good tavern should be, a plaque stating "Will use lethal force if necesary" above the entrance door probably the only thing keeping them in check, barely even while at that, the sounds of a happy tavern didn't travel far in the sheet of rain that was covering the whole of the town unfortunetly.

Meanwhile....

Out side of the Driven Dog Tavern, there is the "Job Post" a big post where people post simple jobs that aren't done by normal people, so that desperate people pick them to get quick money, tonight in the stormy night, with a thick shower of rain that let's no one without a light see farther ahead than their own hands, somebody is on the Job Post, hanging up a new advertisement for a job.

The coach swayed and bobbed as it rumbled through the rain-swept night. The passengers slumped in their seats, some dreaming of comfortable beds and profitable ventures while others passed the ride lost in their own thoughts or whispered conversation.

The pale half-elf in the corner had her head leaning against the side of the coach, her eyes closed - but she wasn't asleep, merely avoiding conversation.

"Whoa! Whoa there!" the driver cried out, the coach swaying and bucking as it slowed and rumbled to a stop.

"Wake up folks, we're in Kaith!" he yelled out as he climbed down in the rain. He pulled open the door and poked his head inside. "We're at the Stone Inn in Kaith. We gots a hour break here. Everyone gettin' off, let me know so's I can get yer bags."

Reya stirred, grabbing the strap and pulling herself upright. Her green eyes flashed in the dim light of the coach lantern as they swept over the others, firmly affixing her hat over the scarf on her head, then accepted the driver's hand as he helped her out of the coach.

"I'm getting off here," she said quietly, turning back to the coach and pointing to her backpack sitting on the roof. "That's my bag."

"Regis!" the driver called out, pointing it out to the man on top. "Fetch the lady's bag."
"Right!"
The bag was handed down and the half-elf took it, checking the knots before stepping under the shelter of the porch entrance.

"Excuse me," she asked the boy next to the door, there to see to the passengers needs. "Where can I find the job post?"

"The job post?" the human boy gawked, staring up at her with a curious fascination. Reya's right eye arched questioningly.

"You do know where it is?" Reya prompted, just a hint of amusement in her voice. The boy blushed.
"Yes ma'am! It's just down the street, in front of the Driven Dog."
"Thank you."

Sholdering her pack, Reya went in the direction the boy pointed her, towards the torch lit taven entrance and the job post just beyond. The rain tapped on her new hat and leather coat, keeping her warm and mostly dry. She knew she should wait until morning, after the rain had stopped but having come so far, she couldn't wait any longer.

She paused as she reached the entrance of the Driven Dog - over the sound of rowdy patrons inside she could hear the tap of a hammer - and a dark sillouette standing next to the job post.

"Is that a job?" Reya called out, her hand wrapped around the hilt of her dagger still sheathed on her belt as she came closer.

A soggy figure shambled towards the dim lights of the Driven Dog. Water had soaked the figure thoroughly and it shivered slightly. Splashing through the puddles, the lone figure cursed as it stumbled in a freshly made wagon track. After a few minuted, it stepped out of the rain and onto the porch of the tavern. It tossed a shovel, some tools and a sack that landed with a thud on the wooden planks.

*****

Thunder pealed in the distance, as Donovan 'Donny' Hollistone packed up his tools and slung the sack of rocks over his shoulder. Donny knew he should have left an hour before, but the rock formation he had stumbled upon was so interesting he had to dig up a sample.

Donny half fell, half slid down the rockslide to where the rented horse lay hitched. As he rose from the gravel, he dusted himself off and turned to where the horse was. It was gone. Panic washed over him as he realised that if he lost the horse, he would have to pay for a new one. And since the money was with the mule, he was in a bad way. Some things never change he reminded himself, as he picked up his gear and started the 10 miles back to Kaith.

It started raining just before hinghtfall, and there were still 6 miles left to Kaith. The flashes in the sky worried him, because Berthe and The Lord of Air were on shaky terms. By the stones of Berthe! he swore under his breath, as he kissed his silver holy symbol. I'm going to be cooked like a halfing who stumbled into a dragon's lair. Just in case, he said a few prayers to Berthe to protect him from the lightning, as he hefted the shovel onto his shoulder.

*****

As Donny stood underneath the awning of the tavern, With longing, he looked over to where the horses were stabled. His eyes widened in surprise and jealousy, as he saw the horse, dry as a bone, staring at him. He could almost imagine the horse laughing, as it chewed on hay.

He turned and headed towards the tavern entrance. A slender figure stood next to a short and wide one. The short one was hammering something onto a poster board, and the skinny one was staring at it. He stopped next to the figures to read the new posting.

Mehairme trudged forward, her head down and pulled back into her cloak. It would have been the perfect scene of two travelers walking doggedly through the dismal rain. But if one got closer, one could hear a deep, smooth yet feminine voice talking. And if one got closer still, one could hear, "...legends of a red dragon had arisen in the land, and all the knights and protectors-at-arms gathered themselves to fight the beast. They rode out, alone and in groups, but one and all they were defeated. Finally, Jenna's own father prepared to fight the dragon, and Jenna faced the fact that her father would likely die as well. The family gathered for a last dinner together, when a roar reverberated from the rooftops. The dragon was here!"

Mehairme glanced at her taller companion, giving him an encouraging smile. "I'll finish later," she said, pitching her voice to be heard over the torrent. "We're in town, now, Zane." Silently, she pointed at the cheaper of the two hotels; they would be far more likely to lodge the an orc and a half-orc. They'd also have poorer entertainment, and would be more likely to let her play onstage. "What do you think of that one? I want to get into some dry clothes, and make some coin for tomorrow's dinner."

Zane followed Mehairme doggedly, his big, broad boots making sucking noises as he pulled them out of the mud. A wide brimmed hat kept most of the rain out of his eyes. These eyes followed in the way Mehairme pointed and he nodded.

"I'm really hungry," he said, stating an all to often obvious fact. He still managed a lop-sided grin for his companion. Getting rained on didn't hurt his good nature. Instead, he was making a game of catching rain on his lower lip and spitting it out between his teeth. He liked to watch the water spray out. It took a moment for him to realize he had been asked a question.

"Ummm ..." it made sense that Mehairme wanted to get out of the rain. Most people were silly like that. She had been pointing at a building. Maybe wanted them to go inside?
"Okay. It looks waterproof. Ughhh ... darker is nicer, so ... ummm ... lets go inside."

As they came into the feeble light of the Driven Dog, it was easy to see why Zane might be mistaken for a jungle gorilla dressed up in a rough facimile of a man. He had a broad, muscled chest, thick, long arms, and a face made to scare small children. Fortunately, there were no small children out tonight.

The man, on better checking, a Dwarf keeps nailing the parchment to the post. "Aye, it be a job. My Caravan be needing guards, some of them fell to a recent raid in the way here." The Dwarf quickly inhales air and then sneezes. "Damnit, we paid good money to get on the highlands to avoid this kind of thing!" The dwarf huffs. "If you are interested go to the Stone Inn in the morning, we going to go north into the plains we only going to need the guards for as long as we stay in the high lands."

The Dwarf somberly enters back into the Driven Dog "I need a stiff drink" he mumbles as the rain and the ruckus in the tavern drown out any other sound

Through the rain, Zane caught the gist of the Dwarf's one-sided conversation. Bandits ... Highlands ... morning ... Stone Inn. So, someone was willing to pay him to kill people? He hoped there was food in it. Mehairme would know were this Stone Inn was. She always knew these things.

His attention hadn't wandered long. There were the two figures by the post ... he wondered why someone had stuck a post there. One was a human girl ... or an elf. Its figure was muted by its leather coat. The other was a soggy human man. Maybe they were together.

The drink the dwarf was hunting down sounded good. Hopefully Mehairme would lead him inside, though it was a part of her nature, Zane dimly realized, to speak with strangers met on the trail. His feet squished in the mud and he spit some rain from between his teeth.

Reya's eyebrows arched questioningly at the dwarf, but she was surprised when another figure loomed out of the rain, a strange fellow soaking wet - but didn't look like much of a threat. She thrned to follow the dwarf and caught sight of another two next to the tavern - the big one definitely looking dangerous.

It was too crowded here in the rain. Eyeing the two in front of her and the soaked man to her right, she said loudly, "Excuse me," and tried to head back towards the Inn.

Mehairme huddled under the eave of the building, easily looking past the two traveler's shoulders to peer at the post. After reading it, she heaved an uneasy sigh. It was a gamble; it was work, and therefore money, and most people thought she could actually handle the large double-headed axe on her back, but Zane was her responsiblity. They could take the job, but she had to make sure that it was a good job, and not a death trap.

The smaller figure moved away from them; Mehairme was used to it, and let him/her/it move past her into the inn. She hoped Zach wouldn't stop him/her/it.

The dwarf hanging the notice had gone inside; Mehairme decided that following him would be the best course.

The skinny one was an elf. At least it looked alot like an elf. A little taller than other elves he had seen. Half-elven perhapse? The other one was most definitely a Dwarf.

As he read the posting, he noticed the female elf looking off into the rain with concern. He turned his head an saw orcs. Orc! Oh god, they have come to kill us all! Donny began shaking visibly as visions of being cooked and eaten ran through his head. When they didn't chop him to pieces right away, he started to relax. Maybe they just want to get out of the rain? Even so, he said a few quiet prayers to Berthe to protect him...just in case.

As he turned back to the posting, he noticed the elven woman heading into the tavern. "Hey...Wait!" He shouted to her. "You don't happen to have a lantern or torch, so I can read the posting?"

"It says there is danger in money." A voice spoke from behind the vale of darkness, than stepped out moments later. It was a long, black haired female woman with a band of loose cloth around her neck. She wore all black, and visibly carried no weapons. "And its what they all say." She smiled at him, than took a long look at the posting. "And further more, I can read shit."

She looked at the Orc, Half-Orc, and caught a view of the Half-Elf. "But given where everyone is going, and what the guy just said, I have all the information I need." She smiled at him one more, an average looking girl, and heads towards the tavern.

Seeing the little people scurrying toward the door, Zane steps arounnd Mehairme. Two broad strides take the large Orc within and ape-like arm's reach of the door. He catches it before it slams shut from the dwarf's passage. Zane catches it and looks to the two womwen then past them.

"It says Caravan Guards - Good Money - Passage through the High ... highlands - First Light at the Stone Inn To-to-to-something," Zane rumbles slowy, as the teases out the words out, to the soggy human.

"It actually says, verbatium, 'For those interested, 50gp per head to the first 5 guards to offer themselves up to the Dwarven Caravan on tomorrow's morning. Danger is not only possible, it's probable. Thank you.'," The voice that spoke to Donny came from under the hood of the smaller orc, and was cultured for an orc, despite being deep enough for one. It was also clearly feminine.

A soft sigh floated out of the hood. "Early mornings," the female orc said. She turned and walked to her waiting companion, revealing skin that was a paler shade of green-gray than expected, with smaller tusks. A half-orc, certainly. "What do you think, Zane? Shall we attempt an early morning rise? Fifty gold is quite a chunk."

Zane gave her a goofy grin, which outsiders might misconstrue as a snarl.
"Early Morning is good for food. Chunks is good. Let's do it!"
He remained by the door holding it for whomever wanted to enter and oblivious to some of the evil stares he was getting from inside the inn. One booted foot figgetted idly.

"Hey...Wait!" The soaked man shouted to her. "You don't happen to have a lantern or torch, so I can read the posting?"
"Sorry, I have no light," Reya shrugged.

"...I can read shit" He hadn't seen the dark figure that materialized from the shadows. The dark haired woman read the paper and moved to the tavern. As she left, he responded to what he had just realized was a slight. "Hey...I can read! I just can't read in the dark!" He watched the dark figure disappear towards the tavern.

He fared no better with the half-elf. "Well thanks anyways!" he said to the skinny her, as he prepared to tear the posting down to look at it inside. Before he could, the two orcish strangers had taken her place.

The larger of the two orcs slowly rumbled, its voice sounding like large stones grating aginst eachother. "It says Caravan Guards - Good Money - Passage through the High ... highlands - First Light at the Stone Inn To-to-to-something," It was obviously male, and either the poster was simple-minded, or the orc was. Still, it had one advantage over him: it could read in the dark.

He didn't expect such an intelligent and well spoken reading from the other orc, and it suprised him. She, it had to be a female, read off what the sign said. It sounded like a great opportunity, if a bit early in the morning.

As they too, headed into the tavern, he turned towards them and smiled. "Thank you!" he shouted over the steady roar of the rain.

He was hungry. Hopefully the locals wouldn't remember his embarassing behavior from the night before. Maybe there is a nice dark corner I can sit in.

Mehairme smiled under the edge of her hood as she recieved an actual thank you. It was nice when her kindness was acknowledged by the humans. She dipped her head in acknowledgement of the thanks before moving past him into the warmth and dry of the tavern. "Thank you, Zane," she murmured to her companion for holding the door.

Finally! she sighed as she was able to flip back her hood, letting a small stream of water escape from the folds of her cloak. In the dim firelight of the tavern, a different face was revealed. For an orc, her features would have been refined with smaller tusks, marking her as one of half-heritage. But even without that, her sky-blue eyes and golden-red hair stamped her as a less-than-orc.

She glanced around the room before moving to the bar. "Keep," she said softly to the person serving drinks, "I'm looking for lodging and a chance to play for the crowd. Can you help me?"

With the rest of the people outside having gone in, Zane follows the herd. He makes his way to stand close to Mehairme. Some people would think his actions protective, but it was much more that Orc was on unfamiliar ground and was keeping close to his smarter and wiser kinswoman.

{Zane holds the door for about half a minute to let anyone who is outside come in. He nods to any words of thanks, but seems to be eyeing Mehairme's bag anxiously.}

The Inside of the Driven Dog is poorly ligthed, there is an empty stage with a stool on it, and several of the tables and booths are already filled with men and women who ask for more spirits and wine, or for more meat and bread.

One of the tables in the corner had a rarity, a group of gnomes that were eating cheese and grapes, and they all seemed to be discussing heatedly among themselves.

The decoration was nothing out of the ordinary for a tavern, candles, torches, hay in the floor, beer stains all over the hay, wenches serving the tables and a bear like man as the keep, bald but with a beard that would make a dwarf envious.

"Keep, I'm looking for lodging and a chance to play for the crowd. Can you help me?"

"Feel free to play, but this people are too busy talking to themselves. Just make sure you are good at dodgin bottles." The bar keep laughed, as he served another tankard of Ale. "If you impress them, your tap is on the house."

While the large orc held open the tavern door, Donny hurried by him and into the tavern. He spied an open table in the corner and sat down, making a squishing noise. He hailed a wench and told her he wanted some meat, bread and water.

He was still soaked and would not be able to sleep in his present condition. All he wanted was to eat, and then get back to the room he had stayed in the night before. There he could hang his clothes to dry.

"Feel free to play, but this people are too busy talking to themselves. Just make sure you are good at dodgin bottles. If you impress them, your tap is on the house."

Mehairme nodded and sighed. "Very well," she agreed. Part of her desire was coin. But another, significant part was just being on stage, playing for the crowd. Not that this crowd seemed to be particularly into it, but maybe she'd get a few appreciative people. "I need a room to change," she said to the keep. "Thank you."

"You can use one in the back, nobody goes there unless it's to get more ale, but watch out for the rats."

The keep looked around, he had a full house tonight, getting through all of it was going to be hard but the coin was going to be good.

Not sure were to go, Zane followed the squishy human. When he sat down, he put his backpack in the chair next to him (holding it for Mehairme perhaps). Seeing the human draw a serving girl over, he again mimiced him and ordered some sausage, cheese, and bread over. He did order ale instead of water, for two.

Zane took of his hat and placed it on the table while they waited for the food to arrive. He smiled at a nearby dwarf who was giving him the eye. The dwarf's hand tightened on his knife, but Zane paid it no more mind. He had already gone to seeing what was to be seen in the dark tavern.

Zane smiles to anyone who approaches, which mainly entails showing off some largish tusks and snaggly, yet sharp teeth. His eyes hold a cheerful, if dim, light in them and his focus seems to constantly flow about the room.

OK..It's following me. Donny didn't know whether he was shaking from the wetness, or because the large orc shadowed him. Berthe protect me! He's sitting down at my table.

He sat there in silence after ordering his meal, and removed his soggy cloak. Physically, Donny was well built and hearty, but showed little grace or flair in his movements. Under his cloak he wore a suit of scale armor. On the chest was the symbol of Berthe. It had been drawn in freehand with paint. In reality, Donny did it, out of pride, with his own hand to tell his opponents where he got his power. It was a poor drawing, it looked as if it had been done by a five year old's hand.

After several minutes, Donny felt uneasy about sharing a table with somthi-..someone, and remaining silent. He looked over at the the orc and with an innocent look ,decided to start a conversation.

"So, are you an orc?" Donny wanted to smack himself. What kind of stupid question is that!...Of course it is an orc! Donny buried his head into his hands and shook his head slightly, before lifting his head again and looking at the orc.

"So, are you an orc?"

"Yes!" Zane responds ethusiastically once the human looks up at him again. "I'm Zane ... the Orc, of the Iron Fang tribe ... or, I was until I decided to go traveling. Now I'm walking about with my cousin, Mehairme," he rambles on.
"She's pretty and smart and knows stuff. Me," he thumps himself in the chest with a thumb, "I fight."
He slides closer to Donovain, but thankfully lowers his volume.
"So, what do you do? Besides, if you are going to be out in the rain, you need yourself a good hat."

Reki sipped her beer at the bar. The pretty half-orc was going to sing. This should be interesting. She caught a few startled looks at her companion, Zane, who'd sat down at a table with the soaked human. Odd creature. Why was he outside in the rain without a hat?

The orc pounded the table suddenly. Reki's eyebrow arched as she realized the orc was introducing himself to the human. The orc's bass voice cut through the conversation easily.

She returned her attention to the crowd, trying to seek out the face of the dwarven poster.

Donny jumped as 'Zane' heartily made his introduction. Why didn't he scoff at my stupid question?

"I am called Donovain Hollistone. It is nice to meet you, Zane of the Iron Fang Tribe." Beaming with pride, he continued. "I am a priest. I serve our eternal mother Berthe, upon which all grows."

"As for not wearing a hat in the rain...I was caught in the storm when the horse went home without me."

Mehairme nodded a quick thank you, and then she hurried to the room. The room had no lock, but the half-orc compensated by pushing a cask of ale in front of the door. With that done, she muttered a quick chant, feeling that spark of magic in her bones. All of the mud and dirt clinging to her clothes fell away, taking the water with it. Smiling now, Mehairme shimmied out of the clothing and stuffed them into her bag.

A brush and shiny piece of metal allowed her to get her hair in shape, though it was still wet. She checked her teeth for food; satisfied, she turned to her bag and opened the top compartment. There was an roll of oilskin; when Mehairme unrolled it on the top of a barrel, a dark red dress was revealed. Mehairme pulled it on with a fond smile, despite the fact that it was scandelous for high society, but would work well for the stage. She always felt better properly dressed.

Some bronze accessories were added to the outfit; they had been polished until they had a golden sheen, not that it would ever fool anyone. The stones decorations wouldn't fool anyone either, but they would look good by the warm glow of the fire. Last, Mehairme pulled on simple cloth slippers.

Her flute was in a velvet-lined box, and Mehairme checked it before pushing the cask aside and stepping out. The room hushed a bit, as people looked at her, paused and then looked away, going back to their conversations. Mehairme wondered if she could hold their attention, but shoved the worry away. At least Zane would appreciate her music.

Mehairme walked to Zane's table and dropped off her bag, then turned and made her way to the stage. She made sure there were no splinters to snag her dress before hopping up onto the stool and facing the room. The flute box rested on her lap; with a touch of dramatic flourish, Mehairme open the box, lifted the instrument to her lips and began to play a simple, straightforward song.

"A priest," Zane said with respect and reverance. "Well, that's good luck for you then. Its always good luck if a God has business with you."
He visible mulls something over for a few seconds.
"Berthe ... that's like the Cave Mother, right? I've never heard her called the E - e-ter-nal Mother before. That sounds big."
Zane seems proud of himself for working his way through the word.

"Doe-na-vein ... that's a long name. You kill many people to get a name that long?"
And since he was a never-ending fount of questions.
"Were's your sacred spear? How are you going to smite your bad-guys without a sacred spear."
Zane continued on in a lower tone now that Mehairme was playing, but he was clearly excited - having figured some deep mystery out.
"Wait! Was that your shovel outside? Is it a sacred shovel? Is that what you kill the foul evilness with? That's so awesome. How do you wield it? Could I have one?"
Even with his enthusiasm for the conversation, his attention is beginning to wander to his companion and her song, which appears to have a calming effect.

Donny was impressed at zane's insight. "Berthe would be the Cave Mother of the Orcs too..at least if I remember from my teachings." He nodded to the now distracted orc.

He wondered why the orc didn't stare at his large hooked nose and bulging eyes. Most people stared at his less than flattering eatures. Maybe we all look the same to orcs. he chuckled to himself. Afterall they all look the same to us...well except for the one on stage. She has long red hair.

His shovel was just a shovel, but the orc didn't seem to think so. Might as well let the orc believe it was a 'sacred shovel'. "The shovel aids me in my priestly duties." he anounced to Zane. "It doesn't smite evil, it works for Berthe in a different way."

He reached down to his side and pulled out a deep bluish-grey cold-wrought iron bladed sickle. "This is what I use to smite evil." he said with a grin. "The metal is a gift from the deep places of Bethe's own body."

Reki smiled slightly as the singer's voice washed through her. It has been so very long since she'd heard a real singer, even it if had been at her Uncle's house.

A glint of metal caught Reki's attention. The soaked man was holding up a sickle to show the Orc.
"A song and a show," she muttered to herself, watching further.

Zane's eyes flash as he eyes the weapon. He shifts his six foot plus frame in his chair and pushes his cloak over his right shoulder. A pommel and three shafts of wood are revealed. The three shafts are bound together. Zane's hands reach back for the pommel. He works his harness around until a huge, curved scabbard comes into view. Zane holds out object, pointed down and says,
"This is my blade. It doesn't have a name yet. Its been in my family since my father took it. I'm not sure who gifted this to those people."

Zane spins the falchion with confident hands as he goes back to listening to Mehairme's music. Somewhat surprisingly, he has remembered to keep his blade sheathed in a public place. When the food arrives, he turns to dig in. The wooden shafts on his back come into view as javelins. Also, glints of a chain shirt can be seen beneath his leather tunic.