“Spirits, ghosts and apparitions. I feel comfortable knowing we have a cleric within our number,” charmed Jax. “and a good looking one at that.”
“A cleric to combat the supernatural, a wizard for understanding the ways of the arcane should this be more than a simple haunting,” began Rohlen. Jax stood intently listening, curious as to where this was all going. “The dwarf for his muscle and brawn, and we seek an elf that is accustomed to the wildness beyond these walls. Tell me Jax, what part do you play in our little quest?”
“Well that’s obvious my good man. I’m here to keep your sister company.” Yulien and Tumbor both sniggered at the confident arrogance of the fighter, much to the disdain of the mage who simply turned his back with no further response.
“This ‘Fraevon’ character. Where do you suppose we begin looking? Droxburg is a vast sprawling city, and finding one man alone is bordering impossible,” bemoaned Jax.
“We just ask folk!” stated Tumbor confidently as he strolled up to a group of three men stood discussing matters in hushed tones. Jax and the twins all attempted to verbally halt him in his tracks, but to no avail. “Gents, any one of you heard of an elven rogue called Fraevon?”
“Well that all depends on who is asking?” retorted a well set fellow. He stood two god feet taller than the dwarf, and made a point of bending down to look menacingly into Tumbor’s face. “and the coin you have to pay for an answer.” The other two men, both equally as tall, and equally as muscular, began to flank the dwarf.
“It was a simple enough question. Either you do, or do not. Either way I shall not be parting with any coin this day.”
“Then we will just have to take it regardless,” snarled the first of them. At that point three blades, previously concealed, were now pointing in Tumbor’s direction.
“We should assist him,” remarked Rohlen, upon seeing the predicament the dwarf was in.
“I have a feeling he will be just fine.” replied Jax.
The first blade was deflected by the dwarf’s thick leather bracer. The second found only an armour plate made of the same material, however the third found glancing contact with Tumbor’s left cheek. Blood began to well up before running down the side of his face. Tumbor was enraged. Reaching for this axe from off his back, he called out a dwarven battle cry as the mighty weapon arced from left to right connecting with each man in turn.
The dwarven blade was sharp. What little armour the men had protecting their midriff served them badly. Blood oozed from the three fatal wounds, each man instinctively grasping at their stomachs. Death visited them quickly as almost simultaneously, each dropped to the floor laying with pools of their own blood.
Jax wandered over to the three bodies, checking each of their hands in turn.
“What are you doing?” asked Rohlen mystified.
“We’re lucky they were just a couple of chancers. You could a put a price on our heads before we even leave the city.”
Tumbor shrugged, returning his axe to its sheath, whilst Rohlen still looked increasingly confused by the whole checking of hands.
“The trademark identification that someone’s a member of the Thieves Guild. These were not,” said Jax. “Had they been, well then a price would be paid to whom so ever brought us back, dead or alive.”
“Did you know of this dwarf?” snapped Rohlen.
Tumbor merely gave a dismissive snort and rolled his eyes.