The dawn broke, and by the time it broke there were tabels surrounded by caravan carts outside of the Stone Inn walls.

The sky was over-cast, not raining but just blocking out most of the sun's light. Three dwarven judges were sitting on tables, and a long line of people had already formed, the cold wind still blowing and the earth with a muddy consistance.

The sign hanging from the table says in common. "Inteviews for Hired Blades, 8 spots open."

Zane hopped from one foot to another like a man dancing on hot coals. He kept looking from Mehairme, who was still getting her boots on, to the growing line. Another person joined the line and Zane moaned his displeasure.
"Come on, ME-hai-Meeeee," he whined. All the big jobs will be taken, and we'll get stuck carrying stuff ... or cleaning up poop."
There was no telling were he got these ideas from.

"I want to be a guard," Zane declared, switching tone. "I'm a good fighter and I want those dwarves to know it. Then we get rich, famous," he looked confidently at Mehairme," and they sing songs about you ... and me. We go home important people."
He was absolutely sure of that; going from caravan guard to legend all in an afternoon.
His smile was infectious though, for those who could tell he wasn't snarling at them.

Reya eyed herself in the small mirror, carefully tying on her scarf so that it covered the thieves' mark the prison branded on her forehead, then leaned back to get a look at herself. The leather armor was... different. Almost decadent.

With a sigh, she put the mirror away. Picking up her short sword, she slipped it into scabbard belted at her waist along with her dagger.

All of her gear she'd repacked except for the crossbow and two quivers of bolts. Reya slipped on her pack and carefully adjusted the two quivers with her crossbow bolts until they were secure and handy, then shouldered her crossbow.

"This should impress," she nodded, slipping out the door.

She frowned when she got outside. Already there was a line of applicants. Reya bit her lip, then sighed and slipped into the back of the line. If she was lucky, she'd get hired. If not, there was the job board again.

Morning prayers were becoming automatic. He no longer had to remind himself about the ritual water libation sprinkled to Berthe each morning. It was symbolic of the fertility of the earth. After sealing his small vial of blessed water in its ouch, he grabbed his gear and hurried downstairs.

These scene awaiting him in the morning overcast was disheartening. Not only was there a long line of applicants for the caravan, but worse, they were conducting interviews. As he looked over the situation, he realize that Dwarves were going to be the judge. Dwarves! Yes.. I might just get lucky! He hoped that it was a beneficient omen by Berthe to his morning's libation. Dwarves were earth creatures...or at least, as rumor had it, born of the earth.

The others from last night were already there, waiting. The big orc, Zane was boucing from his left to right foot. Maybe he forgot to use the bathroom? Zane did have a big smile, so he might just be excited. The other one was with him too, her hair contrasting against her olive grey-green skin. There was that elven figure he saw briefly the night before, with a cloth wrapped around his forehead. Everyone looked ready to travel.

There was nothing for him to do but wait in line with all his gear, for them to call on him.

Mehairme grumbled unkindly as she finished pulling on her travel boot and stood up. "Go," she said, waving. "Get in line. I'm right behind you." Zane bounced ahead, a puppy released from its leash as she moved more slowly.

She hated mornings. Mehairme had inherited so many things from her human mother, including a drabber version of her red hair and Jenna's complete inability to function before mid-day. Yawning, accidently showing off her small - by comparison to Zane - tusks, she trundled over, got into line, leaned against Zane and promptly started to nap.

"Morning, bah!" Bloody topsiders and their bloody love of daylight! Why couldn't these people do things at night like decent folk? Shrugging he finished dressing and quit grumbling to himself. He made sure that his long dagger was at his waist and visible and he threw back his cloak around his shoulders, but not so that it would interfere with his wings. Those were sticking through slits and the wing flaps which had protected them from the rain last night were tied down so that they wouldn't flap loose and interfere if he were to fly. Finally he placed a pair of dark tinted lenses on his eyes attached with a leather strap to help protect his eyes from the accursed brightness outside, not that he strictly needed them, but it certainly made it more comfortable.

He gave the room a last look over to make sure he didn't miss anything then headed downstairs to turn in the key and get some food on the way out the door. When he finally walked outside with a pair of warm meat stuffed biscuits in hand, he cursed to himself seeing the line. Sighing he walked over and got in line behind the priest. He was sure these dwarves would underestimate him based on his size, but he'd show them what he was worth.

Ulric had been up since dawn, perform what little of his morning excercise regimen he could in the cramped sleeping room he'd rented. When he was finished, he'd gotten something to eat and then prepared his gear for travel.

His studded leather armor was well cared for and he took his time as he dressed to make sure all the buckles were properly fastened. He hung the he hung the Elven carved club off of his right hip and the quiver of crossbow bolts off of his left. He slipped the straps of his travelling pack over his shoulders, being careful not to snag them on any of the metal studs fastened to his armor.

Pulling on his buckler, gloves and cloak, Ulric headed into the street. Upon seeing the Dwarven caravan and the line of potentials, Ulric reread the job posting and shrugged his shoulders. Work is work and I'm running out of coin he thought as he stepped in line behind the little gnome-elf creature.

The line worked its way forward.
Zane nudged Mehairme a step or two ahead, careful not to wake her too much.
Zane stood around.
Zane grew bored.
Zane looked about and ...

"Hey! Its the little Not-Elf Creature. Hi little Not-Elf creature. What are you wearing on your face?"
"Hey! Its the Earth Mother Cave Mother ... uh, the priest-shaman type person. Good morning. Nice and cloudy. Good traveling weather eh?"

He saw the elf and in the dim recesses of his brain a memory flag was raised, but went unseen. He struggled in a losing battle to be truly self-aware, to remember seeing her by the post - this elfish man/woman/person. Instead, he stared at her for an uncomfortable moment before looking back to his companions of last night.

The Line slowly advanced, the Dwarves seemed to be pretty harsh judges as many a willing job taker was turned down, some where kept.

The Dwarves deliberated amongs themselves as the next in lane turn's came, an elvish looking person with a scard around it's head covering her hair and forehead.

"State your Name, Age and Experience." the lead Judge asked, he had a no business tone, while the second judge looked more than happy to be there, and the third judge was napping. "If you may?"

"Reya", the half-elf stated flatly, not offering a family name. The brusque dwarf made her bristle.
"19," she added. "Never guarded a caravan before but I've guarded a room." Although the guards might argue prisoners weren't suppose to be guarding themselves from them.

Zane watches the elf-person reach the head of the line. While some people might think he was sizing up the opposition, Zane was in reality looking to be amused. Any martial show, good or bad, would do.

Something in the undercurrents of what was going on bothered him. He acted decisively. Nudging Mehairme,
"What does X-spear-ants mean?" he whispered. I was a word. It meant something, of that he was certain. Maybe it was a magic word, or a song word, or a magic-song word. Zane was almost afraid to know.

Donny heard what the orc was saying about experience, and seeing as Zane's companion was sleeping, he offered to help the big green guy.

Tapping Zane on the shoulder. "He is asking if it is something you have done before. They want to know your name, your age, and whether you have done any guard duties before." Donny hoped that this made things clearer for Zane. He may be slow, but as long as he swings that sword of his at the right people, I will trust him.

Joram smiled at the interaction between the priest and the orc. Nothing wrong with having a weapon swinger around to stand between you and the enemy, bright or not. People tended not to notice a little guy like himself when there was a big cleaver swinging towards their heads. That of course, was their fatal mistake, after all I am no less dangerous than that big brute of an orc, he thought to himself.

Moving over and standing in front of one of the free judges, "Joram, I blast things." Turning toward a pile of debris that had washed up against a barrel during last night's storm, he casually gestured with his right hand and the pile exploded in a fountain of muck and shrapnel. Luckily it was far enough away not to hit anyone in the line.

"I see, do you got any martial ability that might help the caravan?" The harsh dwarf asks Reya.

The sleeping dwarf wakes up long enough to look at Joram. "I like your spunk, but stick to the line, I like to do this in order."

The Jovial dwarf looks up to the sleeping, "We should interview one person each to make this more expeditious, or we will have to stay for another day in here." the Jovial dwarf signals Donny. "You, the one with the Berthe symbol, come here."

The sleeping dwarf sighs and follows suite "Ok small guy, come here. The Orcs and and that claoked guy with the studded armor, stand in front of the line, you all are next."

Both dwarf state at unison asking on the two new guys. "State Name, Age and Experience."

Nervously, Zane took his place in line. He didn't like being seperated, even figuratively, from Mehairme. He drew strenght from her steady calm (read sleepiness). To keep himself occupied, Zane went over the crucial questions at hand.

Name ... Zane ... or Zane the Orc, or Zane of the Iron Fang, or ... what would Mehairme say ... were was I?

Oh yeah, Age ...-Observant people saw Zane cound on the fingers of one hand three times- ... 13 ... 14 ... 15. Hey, I'm 15! When did that happen? Did I get presents? Wait, wasn't Mehairme there?

X-spear-ants ... mmmm ... what am I thinking about again? Oh, -hearing the word caravan used- a caravan guard, were I get to kill things. Did someone mention getting dead too? Oh well. Hmmm ... I've killed snakes. Really big snakes. I've killed a small pig too and really big wooden dummies. I miss the practice dummies. I broke them good. Hey, is that a blue bird?

"Wha..Oh, yes..!" Donny hurried up to the happy seeming Dwarf, his tools and gear clanking.

He was so nervous, that it felt like an apple sized ball of ice was pressing against his stomach. He had to swallow hard several times to make sure his breakfast stayed down.

"My name is Donovain Hollistone. I am 22 years old. I...I am a priest of Berthe. I carry the blessings of our Earth mother with me." He didn't know what to say next, so he said what first came to mind. "I have spent some time in this area studying local geological formations. The composition of the rocks in this area is really remarkable...." Donny paused as he realized that he was probably boring the Dwarf.

"I can heal people." He finally added.

"I'm a good shot with my crossbow," she stated confidently, hefting the light crossbow and resting the butt on her hip, "and I can use a sword. And bad light isn't bad for me."

The harsh dwarf looked over at Reya. "Hmm, you might make for a good scout. Hired."

The Previously sleeping Dwarf looked at Joram. "Compact and packs a punch, Hired."

The positivly happy to be there Dwarf looked at Donny. "Can heal people, men of the faith are always good to have around. Hired."

After reviewing each other's hirings, the Angry dwarf looks at the Orcs and the man in Studded leather armor. "You three, step forward. Name, Age and Experience."

Zane hops up before the Sleepy Dwarf.

"Orc, 24, Zane!"

After a pregnant pause, Zane licks his lower lip and kicks some dirt with his boot.

"Uhhh ... that's Zane. My name is Zane. I am uhm" he looked down at his wiggling fingers" ... 14, and I kill snakes. Want to see?"

Not waiting for a reply, Zane trotted over and picked up a large log yet to be split for a fireplace ... with one hand. He placed it on the ground and stepped back. With a quick flourish of his massive Falchion, Zane brought the blade up high and came down with a resounding crack. He slip the log clean in two on the first blow.

Zane sheathed his sword, picked up the two seperated pieces of the log, and handed them to the Dwarf for inspection. His ape-like arms were corded with muscles, but not one twitched as he held out the lumber.

Either because he had forgotten Mehairme was close by, or maybe he had an unexpected fountaining of willpower, Zane kept his gaze steady on the Dwarf.

Reya stared wide-eyed at the dwarf for a moment, then bruskly nodded. "What's the pay?"

The dwarf stops paying attention to Zane for a bit. "Pay is wathever we give you on the end of the journey, plus food and shelter. Now, go over there to the group. and strip your forearm, we are going to mark you as a scout."

The Dwarf points to another dwarf with a bucket of green tint. "Scouts are precious few and we need to identify them immediatly." The mna returns to stare at Zane as he shows off his strenght.

Donny began to walk away from the caravanners- dejected. He would try not to sulk. It was just another in a series of rejections. It was his life story.

As he got 10 or so paces away before the Dwarfs words reverberated in his mind. . "Can heal people, men of the faith are always good to have around. Hired."

Wait!?

I got the job! I got the job! He tried his hardest not to prance in excitement. For once he had gotten a break. Maybe it was a sign from Berthe, that he was favored.

Reya scowled but turned away, reluctantly began undoing her armor sleeve and presenting her bare forearm to the dwarf with the bucket.

"What is that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Ulric stepped up to the dwarf responsible for assessing him and stated bluntly, "Ulric Gyldendal, age 19. I was trained by the imperial military academy and served 6 month in the imperial militia," That was as close to the acual truth as he was willing to get. "I'm fast and stealthy so I'd work well with your scouts. I'm good with a crossbow as well, particularly at short range. I have no problems with killing if I have to."

He stopped talking and waited for the Dwarf's response.

"That's green Ink girl." The dwarf with the bucket calls out. "It's made of...you know? I don't actually know, but it is colorful and let us color code you all light-walkers." The dwarf proceeds to smear the green ink all over Reya's forearm.

---------

The Dwarf looked up at Zane and motions the happy Dwarf towards Ulric. "Take care of the up-star here."

The Harsh Dwarf looks over Zane up and down. "Huh, Big and strong. I like you kid, and an Orc is fine too. Go over there with the girl, have them mark you with the red dye, you are on Bodyguard duty."

----------

The Happy Dwarf looks at Ulric. "Trained in the Imperial Militia, I beg you, of which Empire? This continent has a lot of em."

Reya shuddered as the green ink was smeared on her forearm - but it made her think. Why color-code? Did the Dwarves have a hard time telling everyone apart? Maybe it was a big caravan?

"This does wash off eventually, right?" she scowled. Another marking - why did everyone she come across want put some sort of mark on her? Her eyes narrowed. "How are they going to see it when I put my sleeve back on? Or must it be left bare and exposed this entire trip?"

Zane's gaze followed were the Harsh Dwarf was pointing. Zane had thought that was the elf standing over there, but if the Dwarf thought it was a girl, so be it. Zane nodded his understanding and he was understanding it too.

Bodyguard Duty and Red Dye

Zane stopped himself in mid-stride, turned and waved to Mehairme. His grisly smile was his symbol to her of the good news. He went back on his path and came up behind the girl. Zane wondered were the elf had gotten to.

"Hi," Zane said. "I'm Zane and I'm on Bodyguard duty."

Though he was speaking to the girl, he was overheard by the wielder of the brush. While switching brushes he tapped Zane's vambrace.
"Remove it."
Zane was confused for a second, not sure why he had to take off a piece of his armor, but complied. He then held out his arm so he could be painted just like the girl had been. After all, she didn't look like it had been painful for her. Zane figured however bad it was, he could take it.

Joram waited patiently for whatever came next. This was the problem with working for others, you had to do much sitting around twiddling your thumbs. On the other hand, it was also a benefit as well. Not having anything specific to do meant he had time to relax and to study the people around him. He was pretty sure he had placed what everyone was, at least their race and professions. He was the obviously the only true wielder of magic here, though there was the bard and the divine caster.

He sighed to himself. All this time searching the 'above' and he hadn't found a decent teacher yet. Well, if he didn't find one soon, he might just take what he could from the books and start practicing the Arcane arts on his own. He was sure he could figure things out. Meanwhile, this caravan would get on the move eventually and might provide some excitement if they got attacked.

Reya turned, blinked and looked up, eyes wide. And took a half-step back. Only someone looking close might have noticed a faint whitening in her prison pallor.

"You must be," she said faintly, a rictus of a smile on her face. It was the orc from last night. The one that didn't tear the soaked man apart when he pulled out his weapon. He seemed... friendly. Like a puppy. A really BIG puppy.

"Reya," she managed as the dwarf begain brushing red ink over the orc's forearm, "Scout". Bodyguard? She glanced back narrowly at the table where the three dwarves were still interviewing. Was he going to be a bodyguard for one of them? Or for all of them? Or someone else in the caravan?

"I am pleased to make your aquaintance Zane," Reya replied, bowing her head slightly. She winced mentally - the ever-so polite greeting she learned so correctly in her Uncle's house. She let a note of warmness creep into her next words. "It seems we will be working together on this trip."

She hadn't seen many females so far in the caravan. Becoming friends with Zane could keep at bay the offers to share a bedroll from the other men. And the orc seemed like he needed someone to take care of him.

"Your... friend," Reya asked, unsure of the relation between Zane and the half-orc, "from last night. The singer? Was she hired too?" Reya hoped she was.

"Reya Scout! Got it."

Reya, Reya, Reya, Reya, Reya, Reya, Reya ...
Zane looked confused for a moment. He had introduced himself, right? Thankfully, the pretty elf girl kept talking.

"My friend?"
Did he have a friend here? Who could it be? The singer ...
"Oh! You mean Mehairme. She is a pretty singer, though her tusks are too small. Don't tell her that. I think that bothers her - her tusks being so small and all."

Zane looked over to Mehairme.
"She should be hired. She's much smarter than me, and she's quick, and clever and smart."
Looking back to Reya, he grins - a horrible, tusk and toothy sight.
"She has one hell of a war cry too. One of the best in the tribe!"

"They were smart enough to hire you and me," Reya replied. "We'll just wait for her, then. While the ink dries."

She eyed the green pigment smeared over her arm with distaste.

Zane leans in and smells her arm then his own.

"I don't think they mean to eat us," he says quietly but with a sense of making some important pronouncement.

"I don't think Dwarves do that, but I really can't remember for sure."

Then the winds of fancy take Zane.
"Hey. Have you seen the other elf around here? I'm not sure it its a boy or a girl. It wore a cloak just like yours."

Mehairme smiled as Zane was accepted by the Dwarven caravan. Her smile was still in place as she told the dwarf looking up at her, "I am a bard. I can lift spirits and fight, as well as having some skill with the healing arts."

Now to see if they were open to bards or not.

Ulric bit his tounge before answering to suppress the less than respectful comment that lept to mind. The dwarf was a potential employer after all.

"Zetaginea," he said finally. "I was trained in Zetaginea."

"Is it the one they're talking to now?" Reya asked, nodding towards the hiring table.