The Find 23.

Autumn.

Midday. In the City of Ruins. In the northern area of the central region of the Southlands.
Mira Reinholt the mage and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit follow behind lord Farque as they head through the neutral zone.
The term neutral zone or neutral area down here in the pit is a bit of a misnomer.
For here in the middle of the giant hole in the ground, it's pretty much a free for all just like most of the City of Ruins.
It's just that in this mile or so long area, where there's more ruins than anywhere else in the giant hole in the ground.
The mercenary companies, especially the larger ones have some semblance of truce between one another.
So though violence, usually fights break out here. Out and out battles in the neutral zone are a pretty rare occurrence. Even in such a lawless place as the City of Ruins.
Still for all that, people will attack others if they feel there's a chance they'll get away with it.
It's one of the reasons why Jarjin Littlefoot is keeping as close as possible to both the undead warlord and the once powerful mage.
Infront, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque points away to their right.
And they go that way, through what's essentially a market in an ancient plaza.
The mage Reinholt slightly nods his hooded head as he recognises the place from the last visit some of the group made here to the City of Ruins, over eighteen years ago.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil sees that there's way more vendors and stalls here in the marketplace from the time he was last in the pit.
It's a thriving town market more than anything else. And though there's a large number of mercs and adventurers from various companies and bands. All in all, there's a semblance of normalcy here in the marketplace.
That's until an argument breaks out at one stall, and a fight breaks out between about a half a dozen people.
And though punches and kicks are thrown first, daggers are soon drawn, and blood sprays as the fight escalates.
Infront, the undead warlord ignores the deadly fight away to their left in the marketplace.
And heads out of the ancient plaza, going through one of the ruins. One of the many buildings in the neutral zone. That though still standing, is basically a shell of what it originally was.
The halfling from the far east coast of the continent, the Sultanate of Dreese to be exact. And the Vexilian mage in exile follow the lord of the death realm through the shell of the building, then out of it.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who to his people is also known by the name of Draugadrottin.
Turns right into a narrow walkway, which by the looks of it was probably an alleyway in the ancient city of Dalphene.
Near the other end of the alley, sits a large figure on the ground, who stands up as they approach.
It's a troll, standing at least ten foot tall, and weighing just over a thousand pounds, who easily towers over the large, heavily armoured deathlord who stops infront of it.
"Open it" says lord Farque to the troll, who slightly growls as he looks down at the two humans, and the hobbit.
Getting nothing but a growl in response to what he said, the undead warlord switches to the troll language and says "I said open it you big green cunt".
The troll, originally a hill, or mountain troll, who grew up away from any kind of society with the exception of his own kind.
Blinks in surprise when the large human in the full suit of dark plate armour speaks at him in trollish.
The troll then blinks in surprise again, as he actually realises what the human just said to him.
He growls in anger this time, and moves forward to grab the human, to crush the man's skull inside of his helm.
Sitting at one of the corner tables, Helbe the elven thief looks up, as does about everyone else in the underground tavern.
When the troll who guards the door up top, comes tumbling down the steps at speed, and comes to a stop in the middle of the bedrock floor with a thud.
The trolls legs are splayed out in different directions, and it's head is at an odd angle on it's neck, a sure sign it's dead.
Within the hood of his cloak, a faint smile appears on the face of the elven masterthief as lord Farque walks down the steps, closely followed by Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit, and Mira Reinholt the mage.
Once he's down in the underground establishment, lord Farque looks at the stunned looking tavern keeper behind the bar, and tells him "You need a new doorman".
The undead warlord continues with "Three ales too" then he gestures to the corner table where Helbe the elven thief is sitting.
As the large, heavily armoured deathlord and the former air sailor from the Sultanate of Dreese, and the once powerful mage make their way to the corner table.
The conversations resume in the underground tavern that had gone silent when the dead troll came tumbling down the steps.
"Making an entrance i see" says Helbe the elven thief when the other three join him at the table.
"That tavern keeper looks pissed" says Mira Reinholt the mage, who continues with "Probably wondering how he's going to get that big, bloody dead troll out of his place".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel nods his hooded head in agreement to that.
Then he flashes a grin, when his fellow spellcaster, the mage Reinholt asks him "How did you cast that illusion spell?" followed by "The one with the image that could talk?" he then adds "While you were here, over half a mile away".
"It's just a normal greater illusion spell" says the highly talented elven magic user, who after a brief pause, adds "With a few tweaks to it".
"A few tweaks he says" dryly murmurs the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
"What was it that you wanted to tell us?" asks lord Farque, interrupting the conversation between the two spellcasters.
"Some of that company, the one captained by Maygam are here in the neutral zone" quietly says the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who has cast a spell so that the others here in the underground tavern can't hear the conversation.
"They did a job further north in the pit, and returned yesterday" quietly adds the elven master assassin, who like Mira Reinholt and Jarjin Littlefoot, are members of lord Farque's personal council.
"The one we're looking for with them?" asks the undead warlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer.
"Not that i call tell" says the highly talented elven magic user, who continues with "That doesn't mean they're not here in the neutral zone".
The grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel then says "Others remained behind here in the neutral zone as that lot were up north".
The elven master archer follows on from that with "The thing is though, that's only a pretty small number of the company".
He briefly pauses before saying "The rest of them are elsewhere, best guess is they're up towards the very north of the pit" followed by "Which if you don't know already, there's a fairly large battle going on up there".
The elven princeling falls silent as the serving maid comes over with the three ales lord Farque ordered.
She takes the undead warlord's coins, and hurries back to the bar as the tavern keeper looks this way.
As Draugadrottin picks up the mug of ale, Helbe the elven thief says "You know that's poisoned".
"I know" says the large, heavily armoured deathlord, who turns his full helmed head to the corner of the room, lifts the faceplate of his helm, and drinks the ale in one go, before closing the faceplate of his helm, and turning his head back to the others.
"Lucky for some of us who are already dead" sourly says the mage Reinholt who looks at his mug of ale in disgust.
The halfling from the Sultanate of Dreese, who isn't what he appears to be. Is also looking at his ale that he can't touch.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril rolls his eyes, then says to his fellow councilors "Pass them over".
They do, and the elven masterthief passes a hand over the mugs, then says "They're no longer poisoned".
Taking back their ale, both Mira Reinholt and Jarjin Littlefoot look sideways at the young elven noble who is a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel.
"It's fine, here I'll drink it myself" says the elven master assassin.
It's only when lord Farque says "It's fine" followed by "It's no longer poisoned".
That the halfling who is a former air sailor, and the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, drink their ale.
While behind the counter, the tavern keeper who was trying to suppress a smile, suddenly frowns as he watches them drinking at the corner table, and nothing's happened to them.
"Anyway about that battle up in the north of the pit" says the elven princeling from Laerel.
"We saw those warships go up there early this morning" says 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 who is a former air sailor in the fleet of the Sultan of Dreese.
"And we've heard them firing throughout the morning" adds the spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Who was stripped of most of his powers when he went offworld through a rift, void spell that he cast by accident a number of years ago.
Nodding his hooded head, Helbe the elven thief says "It was between two of the biggest mercenary companies in the pit" followed by "Now a third one, Jorkamin's company has moved in, hoping to eliminate two of his biggest rivals".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel then explains "As usual when there's a large battle here in the pit, a bunch of other mercenary companies and bands of adventurers are hanging around the edges hoping to take advantage of things".
The elven master archer continues with "Unfortunately for us, I'm pretty sure most of Maygam's company is up there, and are probably caught up in the battle up there".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque slightly nods his full helmed head, then quietly says "If the one we're after isn't here in the neutral zone, then they're caught up in that battle at the northern end of the pit".
"More than likely" says the elven princeling who is the envoy for the armies of Farque.
"They bloody well better not for die if they're up there" says the large, heavily armoured deathlord.
The other three at the table nod in agreement with the lord of the death realm.
Then the elven masterthief says "There's a fence here in the neutral zone who will probably know all of the spots Maygam's company hang out".
Prince Helbenthril Raendril continues with "He's the way they use to sell the antiquities they dig up here in the pit".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel then adds "I could be searching for days trying to find all their hangouts".
The elven master assassin gestures around them, as he adds "There's loads of places like this here nowadays".
"I don't recall anything like this the last time we were here" quietly says Mira Reinholt the mage.
"There was a few" says the highly talented elven magic user, who follows that with "But in less than twenty years, there's now dozens of these places" he then adds "There's way more people here in the neutral zone than there was back then".
Lord Farque nods his full helmed head in agreement to that. For when they arrived at the City of Ruins a few days ago. He sensed way more life in the pit compared to nearly twenty years ago, when members of the group were last in the giant hole in the ground.
Within which is the ancient city of Dalphene, or as most people call it, the City of Ruins.
"We'll continue the search here, before even thinking about going up north" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The halfling former air sailor, the once powerful mage, and the elven masterthief.
All nod in agreement with the undead being, whose personal council they're members of.
Then Helbe the elven thief grins, and softly chuckles, as the tavern keeper topples over, smacking his head on the corner of the bar, before hitting the floor, where he lies completely still.
"What was that?" asks Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman who wonders what just happened to the tavern keeper.
"The idiot just killed himself" says the elven envoy who continues with "He was wondering why you lot aren't all dying, so he took a drink of ale with some of the poison in it".
"Idiot alright" says Mira Reinholt with a shake of his hooded head as he looks at the tavern keeper lying on the floor.
Who tried to poison him and the halfling former air sailor, and the undead warlord.
All because the large, heavily armoured deathlord killed the troll that was guarding the door to the underground tavern.
"I think it's about to get rowdy in here" says prince Helbenthril Raendril as many of the other customers realise that the tavern keeper is dead, or is dying.
Some of them are already trying to get behind the bar to get at the drinks, with the serving maids yelling at them to stop.
"We might want to get out of here before a full on brawl breaks out" says Jarjin Littlefoot.
Nodding his full helmed head, lord Farque says "Drink up your drinks" followed by "Then we're leaving". As a scuffle breaks out behind the bar between some of the other customers, who are fighting over the drinks that are now unattended in the tavern . . . . . .