Wurzag and Taryn's night of quiet discussion and (fairly hefty) drinking at the Wilwarin had not, fortunately, resulted in any sort of fighting or arguing or destruction of property. This had made the barkeep very happy indeed. At some point after Wurzag had stumbled off to wherever it was he stumbled off to, Taryn had fallen asleep across the table, a beatific little smile on his face and a tankard of ale still clasped in his hand. When the pretty barmaid with whom he had shamelessly flirted all night woke him up in order to clean the table, she had steered him with surprising firmness to the room that had been made ready for him.

Now the early, grey light of dawn was creeping in through a crack in the curtains of the bedroom. It barely lifted the darkness, but it still assailed the young mage's eyeballs as he opened them the tiniest bit.

A murmur and a movement next to him caused him to turn his attention to the barmaid who presently graced his bed. He studied her for a while as she slept, as he often did with his lovers. There was something rather satisfying about admiring a young lady as she slept next to him. It was a moment when he could truly be himself without actually having to live up to any standards or ideals.

He reached out a hand and stroked her honey-blonde hair back from her face and, rather to his surprise, found tears springing to his eyes. This morning saw, without doubt, the end of his 'normal' existence and the beginning of one that he could not predict. A man who craved control over his life, Taryn was, in many ways, dreading this trip as much as part of him yearned for the adventure.

He leaned over and placed the lightest of kisses on the young woman's cheek. Their night together hadn't been about love making - it had been about companionship and warmth. She had lain in the circle of his arms all night long, had listened to his drunken ramblings without interrupting, had kissed his alcohol-induced tears away when they had inevitably arrived and had stroked his hair whilst he fell asleep.

It had been normal.

It was something he wouldn't see or experience again for the gods above knew how long.

Carefully, so as best to avoid waking his sleeping partner, Taryn swung his feet out of the bed and padded across softly to the water pitcher and bowl. He splashed cold water on his face and considered the couple of days worth of stubble on his chin. He considered shaving, but decided against it and pulled on his clothes and the new armour.

It still felt vaguely uncomfortable, but he would no doubt get used to it.

The arrangement had been to meet Wurzag and Thal here just past dawn, outside the inn and as was his way, Taryn was pathologically early for the meeting. It gave him time to head downstairs, pay the innkeep (who was already up and about), have a bowl of porridge that put paid to his encroaching hangover and head on outside to wait for his companions' arrival.

For his part, Wurzag had stumbled back to his cell at the battle arena and passed out face down on his straw pallet. At some point during the night the apothecary came and checked on his supine form and probed his various injuries to discover that many of them were healing at an alarmingly swift rate. Whatever it was that had happened to him during the battle with the chaos warrior had clearly altered him in some, as yet undetermined, way. Regardless of any accelerated recovery, the half-orc was not going to be well in the morning. With a sigh, the apothecary left a mug of water and several bundles of his home-made hang-over cure by the 'bed'.

Wurzag finally surfaced just as the sun edged its way toward the horizon, as some mental instinct kicked him into alertness and reminded him that he was supposed to be doing something. He groaned and rolled over which resulted in him not only realising that he was right on the edge of the pallet, but also that there was a terrible pounding inside his skull.

"Tell da dwarf wiv da 'ammer to stop," he grumbled thickly. The thumping didn't stop. He managed to focus enough to spy the cup and herbs and almost instantly recognised the remedy for what it was; this was after all, not the first time the apothecary had needed him to sober up swiftly. He grabbed at the cup, missed and then succeeded at getting hold of it on the second attempt. The water was cool and soothed away some of the taste of festering straw that always filled his mouth when he awoke. Then he braved the herbal remedy.

He pinched his nose with his left hand and popped the parcel into his mouth with the right and after a moments hesitation began to chew. While he could not deny that the medicine was amazingly effective, he was sure the old man made the stuff tatse vile out of spite toward those who tended to imbibe more than was good for them.

Ten seconds later his stomach rebelled and he ran for the privy.

A short time later the half-orc strode, a little uncertainly, but feeling much restored into the pre-dawn morning and ambled away toward the Wilwarin. Sword in hand and pack on his back it felt like the dawning of not only a new day, but a brand new chapter in his life. Hopefully it would be a chapter that would be more successful than any of those that had lead him to this point.

Filled with optimism and feeling remarkable spry given his lingering wounds, Wurzag approached the tavern and spotted Taryn leaning against the wall, ready for travel.

"Mornin'," he greeted the young man, "yooz ready fer dis fing den?"

Thal made his way towards Lomedor, his new monk apprentice in tow. He had recently, through approval from Threnody, become an Peace Maker. Thanks to this, he had been given an apprentice, a follower to aide him in whatever he needed. His monk was named Akan. Akan stood at around 5'10", was bald, and wore a brown cloak over dark red pants and tunic. He had a passive face, and watchful, judging eyes. Basically, he was the epitome of the neutral stereotype. He was well trained in hand to hand combat as well, and would surely be of some help in the quest Thal was about to embark on. Of course, he woulnd't be alone. In fact, it wasn't even his quest. He had agreed to help a man named Taryn, and a half-Orc named Wurzag. The man, Taryn, a young mage, had somehow lost his soul to a lich, and Thal had, against his better judgement, agreed to help.

Lomedor was the same as it was a few days ago, when he had left to prepare for whatever he needed to prepare for. It was quite interesting, actually. This monk had been with him for only two days, and already he was proving to be a truly neutral source of information. Though he supported Thal's decision to join the expedition, he provided a completely egalitarian view on the world. In many ways, he was like Thal, only much quieter, and a bit more sarcastic.

Thal's thoughts were cut short as they neared the Wilwarin Inn. His sword was strapped to his back, between his shoulder blades. Akan had no weapons. He seemed to prefer to punch people in the face, rather than slicing their heads off. To each his own, Thal thought.

"Isn't that the Inn up there, sir?" Akan asked Thal.

"Yes. But stop calling me 'sir,'" Thal responded.

"Whatever you say, sir."

Thal let out an exasperated sigh, and continued up to the inn. Taryn and Wurzag were already there, presumably waiting for him. As the Elf neared his two friends, he began to wave to them. He walked up to them, Akan right behind him.

"Hello there," Thal greeted the two. "This is Akan. He's a monk of Threnody, and he will be assisting us on our quest."

Akan bowed to his two new acquaintences. "I understand a lich is in possesion of your 'soul,'" Akan said. "That's a nasty spot to be in. But look at the bright side of it, at least you don't have to worry about keeping it free from sin."

"I have to apologize for Akan's biting wit," Thal said with a slight smile. "He seems to enjoy driving me crazy, and I've only known him for a few days."

Taryn smiled somewhat wanly at Wurzag as he arrived and shrugged lightly. "I'm as ready as I'm ever likely to be," he replied. This sombre-faced, solemn young man was a far cry from the cheerful personality he had thus-far demonstrated. "I guess we wait for Thal and then make a decision about getting across to Estolad." He rubbed at his arms thoughtfully and fell back into silence as he hunkered down to check through his backpack for the several thousandth time that morning.

He had never really travelled other than to get from point A to point B and back again - apart from his doomed trip to Dori'ba, of course, but the less said about that the better. This time, though, he was taking companions with him. This time, perhaps, he might stand a chance.

He noticed Thal's arrival and raised his own hand to return the elf's greeting and noted that there was an additional member of the party. His brow furrowed slightly as he recognised the robes of a monk from the Temple of Balance, a place he himself had visited only days before. He couldn't help but wonder if this was yet another example of the gods mocking him slightly, but pushed the thought aside as Thal introduced him.

"A pleasure to meet you, Akan," said Taryn, feeling slightly perplexed by the monk's utter lack of discretion, but not really all that surprised. "However, let me reassure you that I am still in possession of most of my soul. I will, of course, be doing everything I can to keep what's left of it completely free from sin. Well, most sin, anyway."

And for the first time that morning, a real smile crept onto his face.

Taryn turned his attention briefly back to Thal. "Glad you didn't change your mind or anything," he said. "I've never arranged a trip like this before and I had no idea whether or not you and Wurzag would turn up this morning." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "But bugger me if you aren't all here." He grinned his wicked grin and patted his backpack.

"All ready to go," he said, cheerily. "So all that remains is making the decision of exactly how we do that. Horses, walking, finding ourselves a bodyguarding job - what do we all think would be the best way of approaching this? I know this is my task and everything, but I'd be grateful for your input. I - ah - I'm something of a travelling novice. I'm entirely happy to leave every single one of the logistics up to the pair of you. If you look to me for directions, we'll end up the gods only know where."

He hefted the mace onto his back and stood up a little straighter. The anticipation of the impending departure had instilled a great feeling of enthusiasm in him which at least for now overpowered the anxious fear that had been there before.

"Course I dunt change my mind, gots nuffing better to do an dis town is gettin' pretty borin', plus, we gets to mash an undead," he held up a finger, "duf up is mates," he held up a second finger, "an rob all 'is loot!" He held up all his fingers.

Wurzag grinned at the arrival of the humerous elf and his new travelling companion. "'Ello Akan," he greeted the monk jovially, "yooz gonna give us an 'and smackin' dis lissssh fing den?" The half-orc had never really encountered men of the cloth before apart from the dried up old book-thumpers that occasionally turned up on street corners preaching doom and apocalypse. The bald-headed monk didn't look very much like them and actually held himself with the sort of pois that suggested he might actually be able to take care of himself if the need arose.

The lack of any visible weapon was a little troubling however. Perhaps the man had a holy hitting stick secreted somewhere within his robes. Wurzag certainly hoped so. "Oo is Frenody den? Some sort of God ov kickin' in undeads?" He scratched his head and looked at Taryn, "yooz cud av dun wiv goin' to dat temple an gettin' an 'ittin stick from der!"

Then he turned his somewhat fragmentary attention to the important subject of travel arrangements.

"I still reckon we shud 'itch a lift wiv a merchant caravan or sumfing, dey dunt get bovvered dat much on da road an we gets to ride on da wagon for nuffin," he shuffled a little uncomfortably, "might av trouble wiv 'orses see ... dey dunt like me much."

This was largely the reason the green-skin tribes tended toward boars and other such beasts for their mounted combat; something about the scent of orc unsettled horses. Most simply refused to bear an orcish rider, bucking and prancing until the unfortunate green-skin was thrown from the saddle or trampled, but more skittish horses had been known to bolt at the smell of orc-flesh. For that matter, some humans had been known to bolt at the smell of orc-flesh, but for reasons that were far more to do with personal hygiene than visceral fear.

"Or," the half-orc continued, "we cud always walk it." He shrugged, "sure, might take a bit longer, but den wots da rush? Is da lisssssh goin' anywhere?"

He really hoped that the lich wasn't going anywhere; it would be terribly disappointing to get all the way to this supposed monsters lair only to find it empty and abandoned without so much as a shuffling zombie to fight.

"I wouldn't miss this for a room of gold," Thal said. "Two rooms gold, though... that's a different story." The Elf smiled a bit, before returning to think mode. How to get there? That was the true question here... Well, at that moment it was at least. Later on there would be the question of how to find the lich, how to kill the lich, and, of course, how to not starve to death.

Akan turned to Wurzag and responded to his question, "Yes, I will assisting you with your battle agains the lich." Akan put a small emphasis on the word "lich." 'Twas obvious that this Orc had no idea how to pronounce things correctly. Akan supposed he would have to deal with it. "It's not like I have much of a choice." The monk continued with a sideways glance at Thal.

The Elf ignored the monk. His reluctant servant act was getting very old, and it had only been two days since they were brought together by Threnody. Of course Thal would get paired with the one non-submissive apprentice that Threnody could dig up.

"So horses are out of the question," Thal thought aloud. "We could hitch a ride with a merchant's caravan, but there's always the problem of them finding us and getting their bodyguards to kill us, and I think that we'll be having enough near-death experiences on this little journey. We could always rent ourselves out as bodyguards to a merchant caravan. Of course, there's the problem of us actually finding a caravan that's actually going to the haunted city of death that we are going to, and that's not likely to happen."

"We could just walk," Akan said. "It's really not that big of a deal. Sure, it will take longer, but if that lich has stayed in one place for this long, what are the chances of it actually going someplace else?"

"Well," said Taryn, rubbing his nose again in thought. "Our first port of call isn't actually the City of the Dead, but my family's farm up near Estolad. I have to go there in order to check my mother's stuff, see if there are any clues to the object I have to find. Of course, that means going through the village nearby. Doesn't have a name, it's that small. We always just called it the village. That's not an entirely bad thing: my aunt and uncle own the tavern there."

Aunt Min and Uncle Donald. He'd not seen them in the two years since his mother's death.

"I reckon we ought to go for the hiring ourselves out idea. We might even make a bit of cash that way - and once we get where we need to be, we can part company with our employers." Most travelling bodyguards were entitled to receive at least a few hours of free travel on one of the wagons in the caravan. It would speed things up a little, certainly.

And time was an issue, although Taryn wasn't sure exactly how rigid the lich's seven year promise would actually be. He sensed that it was drawing close, but also had the feeling that he had time for this journey. It was a supernatural force that pulled him forwards, after all, and he had already made the decision not to even attempt to resist its pull.

"There was a man in the inn last night talking about a spice caravan that was heading west. He didn't say how far they were planning on going, but it wouldn't hurt to offer up our services. It's certainly a start point." He looked around his companions, although he felt a faint wave of uncertainty every time he looked at the monk. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was: perhaps it was the fact that looking into the monk's solemn face, he felt the own disturbance to his personal sense of balance. Whatever it was, the monk made him feel uncomfortable.

"If you all agree, I'll gladly go back inside and speak to the spice merchant on our behalf." A slightly sly grin. "I'm good at speaking to people. But I won't be overpricing our services - we may as well ensure we get the job, after all."

He ran his fingers through his hair.

"On a caravan, we can make the journey in maybe half the time we would if we were walking the whole way. We could spend a day or two back home - Aunt Min will put us up for cheap, or nothing, I imagine - and then I can head up to the farm. I - ah - wouldn't inflict my father on any of you. Trust me, if you met him, you'd much rather we were facing down the lich."

Wurzag shrugged, "works fer me," he announced happily. The prospect of getting some extra silvers along the way for doing next to nothing was a good one and a wagon would mean less wear and tear on his already worn and torn footwear. "Yooz go an sort dis fing out wiv dat trader fella den an get us 'ired as guards. If 'e gives yer any mouf, tell 'im dat da amazin' gladiata Wurzag 'Elmsplitta will be one ov da guards." Not the his name was even remotely famous, but it always helped to mention that potential caravan protectors had at least a modicum of skill in combat.

The idea of being able to stay at an inn at the other end of the journey for nothing was even more attractive. The half-orc could quite literally not remember the last time he had slept near anything even resembling a real bed, much less in one. If Taryn was related to the owner there might even be free food and drink in to the bargain.

In Wurzag terms, things were definitely looking up.

"Sounds a ton better den walkin' dunt yez fink Akan?" He waggled his eyebrows at the bald man whom he strongly suspected was not altogether 'with them' on this expedition.

"I get da impreshun," Wurzag continued, still addressing the monk, "dat yooz ain't entirely one hunerd pursent on dis whole lisssssh bashin' fing," the half-orc nodded slowly to himself, "'ow did Thal 'ere get yooz to come along? Az 'e got some dirt on yer shady background? Or did 'e catch yooz in a compromizin' sichooashun and freatened to tell if yez didn't come along?"

He chuckled and glanced meaningfully at the elf, "dippin' in to da temples ceremonial wine were ya? Or woz it wun of dem priestess types turned yer 'ead?" Then he glanced meaningfully at Taryn, knowing that the mage would understand exactly what he was getting at.

Thal nodded to Taryn. "Sounds like a great idea," Thal said. "We'll wait here for you." He thought about the pros and cons of being a caravan bodyguard. The pros were: a free ride, no walking, and... that's about it. The cons were: possibly being attacked by a ravaging band of bandits, possibly being attacked by a ravaging band of wolves, and possibly being attacked by a ravaging band of bandits riding wolves. Not a promising situation.

Meanwhile, Akan was trying to figure out what in the heck this Orc was trying to say. As soon as he sifted through the Orc's rough speech, he responded. "Not fully with you? Well, that's rediculous. I have no choice but to be with you one hundred percent, else I get smote by Threnody."

"Not a pleasent sight, trust me," Thal whispered to Wurzag. "Picture blackened flesh, singed hair, and lots and lots of screaming... Plus a splatter of blood here or there..." Thal faked a shiver. "Not at all pleasent."

Akan shot Thal a look that said "you're an idiot" before turning back to Wurzag.

"As to why I'm here," the monk continued, "the beautiful Goddess Threnody assigned me to assist this Elf. It is a right of passage on the path of balance to assist a Peace Maker on his journey for balance. I wouldn't expect you to understand, though." Akan turned to Taryn.

"Well?" The monk said. "Get along now. If this matter is as urgent as you say, then no time should be wasted."

A slight smile flickered over Taryn's face at Wurzag's priestess comment. "Alas, my friend, I made a promise many years ago not to allow myself dalliances with the representatives of the gods on the earth. As Thal rightly points out, smiting is particularly unpleasant." He grinned, but the grin faded at Akan's harsh, biting statement.

"I'm going," he said, feeling slightly edgy at the monk's abrupt manner. "I won't be long."

He departed, feeling decidedly unsettled about the prospect of having the straight-talking man of Threnody along for the ride.

* * *

He re-emerged some fifteen minutes later, the grin back on his face and gave his companions the thumbs up.

"I've got us a job escorting the spice caravan. They're actually heading all the way to Estolad, so we've got ourselves a ride. He doesn't think that we're likely to run into any bandits; apparently the roads have been pretty quiet for the past few weeks, although there is a pack of wolves some fifty miles west of here that we might encounter. I'm sure that between us we have the ability to deal with those."

He looked hopefully around from Thal to Wurzag and to Akan and then back to Thal.

"We leave in about an hour. I'm going to nip across to the market place and buy up a few provisions - I'll be glad to do some of the on-the-road cooking. I'm not entirely hopeless." He grinned again. "Plus, travelling with a spice caravan - we'll have lots of flavourings to play with."

All his enthusiasm and energy was back.