The Find 5.

Autumn.

The town of Peacesmith. The southern edge of The City of Ruins. Early evening.
And Dorc da Orc says "Hmmmm don't fucken think it's here" the large ork then adds "What you think killer?".
"I think you're right Dorc" says Mira Reinholt the mage, who knew it wasn't here.
As he's pretty certain it's in one of the other towns further to the east of here.
"We'll try again in the morning, in one of the other towns" says the once powerful mage, who gestures away to their right, and adds "Look, there's a tavern down the street, we'll go and get a drink and something to eat".
The ork warleader who was so excited to find his bakery, and was feeling glum that it wasn't here in the town of Peacesmith.
Brightens at the prospect of some booze and food. The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world loudly murmurs "Get some".
As he and the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil start making their way to the tavern down the street.
The ork weaponsmith and the mage who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
Are followed by Shur Kee the monk, who lord Farque has asked to keep an eye on Dorc da Orc and Mira Reinholt.
Meanwhile, on the west side of town, Tamric Drubine the field commander is saying "Wonder how far it is?".
As he looks down into the giant hole in the ground, within which is The City of Ruins.
"At least five hundred feet" says Tovis the war engineer, who follows that with "And that's just here, it's deeper in other places".
Although it's early evening, there's enough lamps, torches, and even fires that are lit to see by, down in the ancient city below.
Not to mention, away to their left. Is the first of the stone ramps, that go down into The City of Ruins.
And even now, people are either going down into the ancient city, while others are coming up the ramp.
That is lit with torches, that are on either side of it, all the way along it's length.
The young war engineer and the young field commander. Are with Lisell Maera the scout and Saanea the witch.
And they watch as everyone from children on carts, pulled by their parents, to mercenary companies, hundreds strong.
Head down the stone ramp to The City of Ruins, down in the giant hole in the ground.
Peacesmith, like any of the towns close to one of the ramps. Is a bustling place, even at this time of the night.
The four of them then look away to the north, where about a mile away, there's a flash of light down in the ancient city.
Followed by a few moments later, of a dull thud of an explosion from that direction.
"Lively place" dryly says Lisell Maera the scout.
The other three nod in agreement with the attractive young woman originally from the city-state of Brattonbury.
Then all four of them turn, as Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy walks up to them, and says "There's an inn a couple streets back".
The elf, who hails from the principality of Alínlae, and is now a company commander in the armies of Farque, then adds "The lord is there".
Tamric Drubine, Tovis the war engineer, Lisell Maera, and Saanea the witch, follow the spy Tanith, walking away from the edge of the giant hole in the ground.
Lord Farque, who has got one eye on sir Percavelle Lé Dic, making sure the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic doesn't cause any trouble here in the common room of the inn.
Looks up, and sees Helbe the elven thief, and Jarjin Littlefoot enter the inn.
The undead warlord, who senses five others in the group, heading this way to the inn.
Watches the elven masterthief and the halfling former air sailor. Thread their way through the busy common room.
To the table in the quiet corner, where the heavily armoured deathlord is sitting.
"Bit of luck" quietly says Helbe the elven thief once he and Jarjin Littlefoot are seated at the same table as the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"A merchant here in town, says there's a trader a couple of towns over, who deals in ancient tomes and maps" continues the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
"Probably the best hope to find out about the ancient kingdom of Gilbanath" adds the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who follows that with "Especially here, along the south of the hole".
Nodding his full helm head, lord Farque says "The same town i seem to recall Dorc's bakery is in".
The heavily armoured deathlord continues with "Go with Mira and that fat fuck in the morning, and see what you can find out".
"Where are those two?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit as he looks around.
"In a tavern a couple streets away to the east" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who follows that with "Shur Kee is with them, keeping an eye on the two of them".
Both the elven master assassin and the halfling former air sailor, who are two of the members of the personal council to lord Farque, nod when they hear that.
The deathlord of Farque, who also has the name of Draugadrottin that his people know him by.
Senses the group of Dalinvardèl Tanith, Tamric Drubine, Lisell Maera, Tovis the war engineer and Saanea the witch about to enter the busy inn.
And he says to the highly talented elven magic user "Get rid of those two sitting at Percy's table".
The two customers sitting at the next table with sir Percavelle Lé Dic, suddenly get up, and move off, much to the annoyance of the large, heavily armoured knight, who was in the middle of telling them one of his adventures he's got up to in his life.
"How rude, wot" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic with a shake of his head in disgust as he watches his two table companions walk away.
The nobleman who hails from the kingdom of Druvic, looks at the three sitting at the corner table next to his, and says "I say, did you three see the shocking behaviour of those two?" he then adds "Just got up, and rudely left, wot".
"No" replies lord Farque, followed by "No" from Helbe the elven thief, and a "No" from Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit.
The member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che grunts in disappointment that he can't vent to the three at the next table.
Then he sourly smiles, as the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, and the elf and hobbit, who are two of his councilors.
Go back to their conversation in the elven language, a language the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic doesn't understand.
Dalinvardèl Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group. Leads the others with him into the inn.
The spy who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland, the elven principality of Alínlae.
Sees how busy the common room of the inn is. And though a full on fight might not break out anytime soon.
The tight confines, and the amount of people in here, there's bound to be some arguments and scuffles in here if one isn't careful.
The spy Tanith leads the others through the crowd, to the only quiet corner in the common room.
As he slips between customers, people of all races, from old men, to dwarves and halflings, and even a troll of all things.
Dalin hopes none of the male humans try anything on with either Lisell Maera or Saanea the witch.
As the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury would more than likely gut the first person who touches her inappropriately.
While the pretty looking hillwoman would likely turn someone into a puddle of goo, if they try to grab her.
It's with some relief that the spy Tanith gets the others to the corner tables where lord Farque, Jarjin Littlefoot, Helbe the elven thief and sir Percavelle Lé Dic are, without any incident.
The elven spy sits at the corner table with Draugadrottin and two of his councilors.
While Tamric Drubine, Lisell Maera, Tovis the war engineer and Saanea the witch sit down at the next table, with sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
"Busy place" says Dalin as he joins the conversation at the table.
The elven spy who is a company commander in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque, then adds "Not just here in the inn, but the town itself".
"It sure is" says Helbe the elven thief, while at the next table, field commander Drubine waves to a passing serving maid to get her attention.
Dalinvardèl Tanith looks around, then asks "Where's the mage and Dorc?" he follows that with "And councilor Kee too?".
"In a tavern a couple of streets away" is the answer from the young elven noble who is a member of the royal family that rules the island principality of Laerel.
"Not safe for Dorc to be in here" says Jarjin Littlefoot, who isn't what he appears to be.
"It isn't?" asks the elven spy originally from the principality of Alínlae.
"Not for them" dryly says the halfling from the far east coast of the continent, nodding his head to a table closer to the counter.
Dalin nods in understanding when he spots the pair of dwarves at the table.
"Nor that troll" adds the hobbit, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson.
Who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of the halfling from the far east coast of the continent.
Again the spy Tanith nods as he sees the troll warrior, sitting on the floor, next to one of the tables that a group of mercenaries and adventurers are at.
They're part of largest group in the common room of the inn, taking at least five of the  tables.
While more of their company are standing around, either in the more open areas of the floor, or at the countertop of the bar.
"Got a bit of a lead" says prince Helbenthril Raendril after Dalin orders a wine from the same serving maid who took the orders of the others at the table with Percy.
And when the elven master assassin informs him that the drinks here are of fairly high quality, the food not so much.
The elven spy nods his head after councilor Raendril explains to him what he and Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman found out about a trader in one of the other towns, here along the southern edge of the giant hole in the ground.
Within which, is the ancient ruins of the city of Dalphene, or as it's more commonly known as, The City of Ruins.
After his wine is delivered, the spy Tanith who has been looking around at the customers in the inn.
He quietly says to the others at the table "We're getting a few looks directed at us".
"We know" says Helbe the elven thief, who follows up with "From that large group of mercs".
Dalinvardèl Tanith nods, and wonders if it might have anything to do with sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
As the large, heavily armoured knight from the kingdom of Druvic is being his usual, loud boisterous self at the next table.
But the elven spy originally from the principality of Alínlae is wrong, for the elven master archer quietly tells him "That lot are wondering if we should join up with them before they go down into the hole tomorrow morning".
"They're hiring eh?" says the elf who is a company commander in the armies of Farque.
"They are" is the reply from the highly talented elven magic user, who then adds "And they tend to get what they want by the looks of things".
"Tough shit for them then" says lord Farque, who pours himself another skop of meade from the bottle at his elbow.
The undead warlord turns his head away, to the corner and lifts the visor of his full helm to take a drink from the small glass vessel.
He's closed the faceplate of his full helm before he turns his head back to look at the others at the table.
"Try not to cause any trouble if you can help it" quietly says the deathlord of Farque, who has the elven name of Des'tier.
Which translates into the common language as, The Destroyer.
"Who me?" asks the highly talented elven magic user in a tone of innocence.
"Yes, you" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Company" quietly murmurs Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson.
"I know" is the quiet reply from the young elven noble who is from the island principality of Laerel.
Who then turns on the bench he's sitting on with his fellow councilor, Jarjin Littlefoot.
And says in the common language "Sorry, we're not interested". To the mercenary who has just pushed through the crowd, to get to the quiet corner of the common room of the inn.
The mercenary, a young man around the age of Tamric Drubine, is about to say something.
But instead he just nods, then turns around, and shrugs his shoulders as he looks at some of the others in the large group of mercenaries, who are sitting at a table.
As the young mercenary walks away, councilor Littlefoot quietly says in the elven language "Looks like some of that lot at that table aren't too happy".
"Told you they tend to get what they want" quietly says the elven princeling from Laerel.
"Now I'll have to cast on a bunch of them" mutters the elven masterthief who is the envoy for the armies of Farque.
"You could just make an example of them instead" quietly says Dalinvardèl Tanith.
"And if you do, word will spread throughout the other mercenary companies here in Peacesmith, and the other towns to leave us alone" adds the elven spy, who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses of the principality of Alínlae.
The elven master assassin looks over at lord Farque, who sighs in an annoyed way, before nodding his full helmed head.
"Company again" murmurs Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin.
"I know, you don't have to keep telling me that" mutters Helbe the elven thief.
The highly talented elven magic user turns on the bench again. And before sir Percavelle Lé Dic can respond to one of the two mercenaries who have just walked over from the nearby table, and said to the nobleborn knight "You lead this group here?".
Helbe the elven thief says "He doesn't" followed by "What can i do for you?".
The mercenary who spoke, the younger of the two, in his thirties in a mix of armour, turns and looks at the elven masterthief.
While his companion, a grizzled veteran in his mid forties, short and muscular, who wears a breastplate and little else in the way of armour.
Watches the group sitting at the two tables in the quiet corner of the inn's common room.
"We're looking for others to join up with us before we venture down into the hole" says the younger of the two mercenaries.
"Thought you lot would be interested" adds the mercenary doing all the talking, who continues with "Looks like you lot could handle yourselves in a scrap".
"We can" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who briefly pauses before he continues with "But we're not interested in your offer".
"It wasn't exactly an offer" says the talkative mercenary, who puts a hand on the hilt of his sword that's on his left hip.
"Hell, here we go" murmurs Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman . . . . . .