Chapter the Second: In Which Bill Is Summoned, And We Meet The Rest Of The Party

“There're a lot of things I will stand for. You can take the piss out of me, out of my family, out of the bloody family goat, yeah? But this is one thing I cannot abide. This has gone too far. You have gone too far. This is an outrage up with which I will not put!” Lyne declared. 

She puffed out her chest, and pulled herself up to her full height of four feet. The thick shock of hair jutting out from her scalp added another four inches to her height and she used that to her advantage, with the intent of striking fear into the heart of the stray dog crouching a few feet in front of her. 

The dog paid her no mind and kept gnawing on the roll he had swiped from her. She knew, however, that if she advanced on him, he would skip back another few feet and then carry on eating what was meant to be her breakfast. 

“Alright, bugger this,” she muttered, drawing the short sword from her hip scabbard. “We're eating dog tonight.” She advanced on the dog, and chased him across the courtyard. “We’ll see who has the last laugh, yeah? Gonna roast you. Cut you into little bits. Kebab you. Maybe feed you to a dog, just for the laughs. C’mere, you little b*****d.” 

She fixed him in her sights, roll soaked through with dog drool still clenched in his jaws and swung at him. Despite what she’d just vowed to do to him, Lyne pulled her punches, missing the dog’s head by inches. The poor beast startled back, and Lyne lifted the half sword, to prevent him from decapitating himself. Then he tore back across the courtyard. 

She burned the remaining half hour she had until this mysterious meeting with The Collector chasing the dog, long after he'd finished the roll. He humored her as if he saw it as a game, as if her sword was made of rubber. For all the use Lyne put the sword to, it might as well have been. She chased him until the dog lost patience, reared back and went on the offensive, chasing her in turn with teeth bared and hackles raised. Just like Lyne, the dog appeared to pull his punches too, leaving both of them unharmed by the end of mock-scuffle.

She was the last to show up to the meeting, with an empty stomach and a disgruntled look on her face. She was out of breath and her sword was still in her hand. The blade was noticeably clean of blood and tufts of dog hair. 

There were already a few people cluttering the empty hall of The Collector's building, but The Collector himself was not amongst them. Lyne looked them over and thought what a sorry mismatched lot they were. She could see what had to be the wizard, decked out in a robe that didn’t fit him quite right. It might as well have been embroidered with jewels for how high he held his head. 

She could see a ranger too. They were tall, so blonde their hair was nearly white, and appeared to exude grace without moving more than the tilt of their head toward Lyne's entrance. Lyne didn't like the ranger on first sight. You couldn't trust something that graceful. People that graceful usually ended up trying to kill her, so it was a well earned mistrust. 

Then there was a dwarf who by Lyne’s estimation was probably a cleric. He was stout but taller than Lyne, which again she didn't trust. Really, she didn’t trust anything bigger than herself, which to Lyne included just about everyone alive. Certainly it included everyone in this room.

Lyne never said it out loud, but she counted the height of her hair into the full height of her body.

The kid with the lute and the startling grin on his face must be their bard. She failed to see the point of him. What could he honestly do? Sing the dragons to sleep for them? 

A final dwarf rounded out their lot, and Lyne’s eyes lit up when they fell on her. “Oi,” she said, walking into the room, sheathing her short sword. “Been looking for you, lass,” she said, cross the room. “Got us a score to settle.”

“Have we, then?” The dwarf inquired. She had a shock of red hair that settled around her shoulders and down her back in tufts and scattered braids. Her face was solid, cheek bones rounded above her beard, the same color as her hair. The beard and mustache swallowed up her lips before falling down over her chin and spilling down her chest, twisted together in intricate braids. “Did we not appreciate the wake up call? It came with bells. And water.”

“Took a page right out of my book, you did,” Lyne shot back. “Think ourselves clever, don't we,” she accused. She got right up in the dwarf's face as much as she could.

Rather than reaching for her axe, the dwarf grinned, noticeable mostly in the way her beard shifted with the movement of her cheeks. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, if I remember correctly.” She produced a buttered roll from the traveling pack she'd packed that morning and presented it to Lyne, who brightened up considerably. “Best to begin this one on a full belly.” 

Lyne took the roll, ate it in three bites, and beamed, again drawing herself up to her full height. Her gaze roamed over the group. They had shifted away from the two of them, all except for the one she had pegged as the cleric " he hadn't moved at all, or looked away, in contrast to the others who were now almost pointedly ignoring them. They probably figured it best to remain separate until their mission was revealed to them, Lyne mused. Up until then, they were all just a group of strangers, unattached and individual. It was funny how this group of individuals acted as one in their response to a potential conflict.

The wizard was inspecting his nails, and the bard was tapping his fingers over his lute, not yet making a noise, but looking like he wanted to. Perhaps he was already composing a ballad for them, before they'd even begun. It wasn't every day that one was contracted by The Collector, though he did provide steady work for adventurers far and wide. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, one that made it impossible for them all to stand still.

~*~

The Collector kept them waiting but not too long. A few of the others got antsy and started pacing, but all movement stopped when the stout man walked into the hall. The man hadn’t changed a bit. He was short and plump, a halfling still in his prime even fifty years after the day of his birth. His beard, which had gone white with age, was thin but well developed. Every single bit of the man made it very clear that he took care of himself. His clothing was made of red velvet and embellished with gold trimming. He had a cane and leaned on it leisurely as he entered the room.

Khali watched as he paused to take the six of them in. They were a mismatched group she knew, but he knew what he wanted, and he had been in this business for long enough to know how to put people together to get him what he wanted. He was a professional at this point, and this was not the first time he had contracted with both Khali and Lyne for a quest. They were not in every party, but it was very rare that he contracted with one of them without the other.

“I'm pleased to see you've all settled in nicely. This won't take long.” The man had a rumble to his voice, but he also already sounded dismissive, as if they'd gone through this meeting and it was coming to a close. Beside Khali, Lyne crossed her arms over her chest.

“I have received news of a very valuable, very rare amulet. I want it. I have hand picked this group each for your own particular talents, specifically because I do not have the exact details as to where you might locate this amulet. That part is up to you, and is not my concern.” The Collector moved between the loosely assembled group of adventurers. “Now, these are my terms. I am willing to pay half of your earnings upfront to start you off and keep you going throughout this mission, however long it may take. You will receive the other half of your pay once you've returned, with the artifact I seek. If you do not return with the amulet, you do not receive your pay.”

He didn't add that if they didn't return with the item in question, he was likely to take them for everything they owned, Khali noted. But she'd heard stories about the men that failed and lived to tell about it. More often than not, they never worked again. The Collector had enough influence that he could have any given person blacklisted from this kind of work entirely. They might as well enroll into the Bard University in Arley, and get a local job.

“This is a one time job,” The Collector continued. “You go, you return, you are released from your contract. Until then, you are contracted to me and only me. This job is your one and only priority. Any deviating from the course will not be tolerated. If any of you disagree with what I have said thus far, leave right now before I waste any more time speaking to you. Be warned though: if you choose to leave now, do not ever darken my doorstep with your presence again.”

Khali glanced around the ragtag group of adventurers to see if any of them regretted the decision they'd made this morning, but no one moved. For better or worse, they were all in this together. Khali just hoped that level of commitment lasted.

“That's settled then,” The Collector said. He didn't sound surprised, or especially pleased, as if he expected just this.

“Not quite,” Khali said. She was the first of the group to break their silence. She didn't have a lot of questions, but she couldn't go into any kind of job with inquiring first. “Do you have an idea of where we might find this amulet? What hemisphere we're even going to have to look in?”

The Collector smiled, and then shook his head. “No. Greater effort, greater reward, lass,” he answered. That didn't satisfy the question. Lorien was a massive place, dotted with settlements, with mountain masses, great forests, keeps and castles all along the way. To search every single speck in the world would be impossible. They'd have to do some investigation, some how luck upon that one person that might know enough to lead them to another person that might know enough, and so on and so forth. Even if this was not lethally dangerous, it would time consuming.

“Greater effort, longer wait, sir,” Khali said. There was no challenge to her tone, no warning, really. It was fact and nothing else.

“This will be worth the wait, and worth the reward,” The Collector said. “You have your mission, children, now get out.” That was about as politely dismissive as the Collector tended to get. Lyne headed to the door first. Today would be a day full of settling scores and preparing to leave town for what could be months. Khali followed a step behind her. She heard the movement of the others at her back.

She could hear the bard at the far back, practically bubbling over with excitement. He was whispering to the wizard about how cool it was, working for the Collector, making history, about to do things they'll write books about one day. “Pipe down, will you,” the Cleric grumbled impatiently, as they all filtered back out into the sun light.

Khali noticed a dog sitting on the steps outside. “A traveling pet,” the Bard suggested happily. “To keep us company. I've heard about these, you know, they say -”

“There's six of us, we'll hardly need additional company, let alone another mouth to feed,” that same Cleric cut in.

“You must be fun at parties, mate,” Lyne muttered, setting off down the path, pointedly ignoring that roll stealing dog. “Meet at the Sage and Flagon on the morrow,” she called over her shoulder. 

“Full bellies,” Khali added, momentarily sounding like a mother to the group of them, as they began to scatter. “We got a big journey ahead of us. Don’t begin it hungry, it makes you sloppy.”

~*~

Really, The Collector should have just saved himself the money he was wasting on these other five idiots and just hired Nainarv to retrieve the trinket. Nainarv was all Nainarv needed. He was strong, resourceful and courageous " as a dwarf of Hearda Keep ought to be " and Helfert, god of conquest and victory, would protect him no matter what perils the journey might bring.

However, if he were to be stuck with companions, at least they didn't seem as if they would be much of a match for him in battle. If need be, he was sure he could defeat all five of them.

His practiced eye swept over the group as they left The Collector's home. The wizard, if he could even be called such, was barely out of nappies. The same could be said of the bard, who was little more than an elfling, all wide eyes and foolish grin. That grin would be wiped off his face soon enough, Nainarv thought to himself with an inward smile. At least he had had the presence of to shut down the bardling's ridiculous plan to bring, of all things, a dog on the journey with them.

The ranger was obviously more seasoned. Elves, Nainarv snorted. All legs and height and hair, and pretending like they could fight worth a damn. Huh! What good was a bow and arrow in close combat? No good, that's what. And that was why, Nainarv thought with a sneer, these elves were rangers. It was so they could hang back out of danger and fling their pointy sticks about and act like they were so useful in battle. Really, they were nothing more than cowards, too afraid to let themselves get into real combat. 

The other two gave him slightly more pause. The halfling had already been eyeing him up with mistrust and frank dislike in her eyes, and Nainarv wasn't afraid to admit that the feeling was mutual. None of his kind, dwarves of Hearda, had any time for halflings. Halflings were the root of all problems.

But the dwarf... Nainarv felt a sudden urge to take off his helmet and do something with his hair, which was not an urge he felt more than once or twice a year. She was a pretty young thing, that was for sure. He turned to her, and opened his mouth to speak, but the halfling was already monopolizing her attention. His eyes narrowed.

He wasn't sorry to go home alone. This would likely be the last time alone he would get for the next few months, and he intended to make the most of it. His home for the time being was actually the Sage and Flagon, where they had agreed to meet in the morning. He trudged up to his room and dumped the bag he had packed on the bed, then clomped back down to the inn proper.

Why, he wondered, had they been asked to bring a bag? They hadn't needed one, not if they were planning to leave that same day. But as he pondered this seemingly unnecessary direction, he realized that the reasoning had been twofold. First, it was to gauge their willingness to follow direction. If a hired hand couldn't follow a simple order, they were no good to anyone. Secondly, it had been to see whether or not they were practical enough to pack a single, small, adventuring pack. He had been mildly impressed to see that the girls of the party had each kept to the one small bag rule. Usually women weren't much for packing light.

“Ale!” he boomed at the barkeep, plunking coin down on the bar. “A flagon for now, and a flagon for later, and a roast lunch for in between!”

It was a pleasantly merry Nainarv that made his way up to bed later that evening. The ale had been plentiful, the food even more so, and rightly so. His belly would not see the likes of it for some time, so he meant to enjoy it while it was available.

The next morning he was downstairs bright and early, waiting for the rest of the party to assemble. In this way, he thought, it would be possible to give each of them a disapproving glare as they trudged in, judging them for showing up later than he had. But he was disappointed. The elf " the tall one, the ranger " was already sitting at a table with a glass of water.

“Elf,” Nainarv greeted gruffly as he plopped down in the next seat.

“Dwarf,” the elf replied mildly. “I am Daneli, of Beofalls. And you?”

“Nainarv,” Nainarv grunted. “Of Hearda Keep.” This he said with no small amount of pride. He eyed the elf with something approaching curiosity. “Just what are you, elf?”

Daneli raised an eyebrow. “I am what you have just said. I am an elf.”

“But are you fish or fowl?” Nainarv asked, his tone turning slightly frustrated. He hadn't been able to peg it the day before, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it now. Was the elf man or woman? The hair suggested woman, and therefore another of the party to simply write off. The build suggested man, and if this were the case, then perhaps Nainarv would be able to overlook the “elf” business and find an ally in this Daneli.

“Pardon?”

“Are you...” Nainarv nodded in the general direction of Daneli's pants. “Well dash it all, are you a man or a woman?”

“No.” The maddening non-reply was immediate and delivered in that same mild tone of voice, but Nainarv was sure he saw the slightest hint of a smirk on the elf's face. 

Thankfully he was saved with making any further conversation with the elf, because the bardling and the wizard boy came bumbling into the inn. The boy shot a glare at the barkeep, but his expression brightened when he caught sight of Nainarv and Daneli. “Hello,” he greeted in a poor attempt at gravity. “I am Minore the Magnificent.”

The bardling burst into giggles at this. “Your mum called you Bill, mate.” 

He turned to Nainarv. “Name's Aramdir, of Arley,” he said, cheerfully. Nainarv winced. Did the bardling have no other moods? He was about to tell this Aramdir to calm himself and act in a manner more befitting an adventurer, when the goofy grin slipped from his face of its own accord. The baby elf was looking at the fully grown elf with something approaching awe. Nainarv rolled his eyes.

The party was two short, and he was about to say something snide about a woman's inability to be on time, when the clock struck ten and the women entered the inn, squabbling amongst each other.

“I tell you we're not late!” the halfling was saying animatedly. “That stupid bell alarm woke us up in plenty of time!”

“But then you insisting on chasing that dog around the courtyard for ten minutes put us behind again,” the dwarf returned. “It doesn't matter how good your alarm is if you will insist on messing about instead of getting bathed, dressed and ready.”

“If you ladies are done swapping hair care tips, we can be off,” Nainarv interrupted. “Places to go, people to see, amulets to track down.”