The Pathfinders(Open)

[Ravvus Wiseau]

War is a curious thing, economically speaking. In some ways it's good for business. It creates jobs for the unskilled, allowing any nitwit who can do twenty push-ups entry into a reserve corp. It creates a constant source of work for blacksmiths, requiring thousands of tempered shields, blades, helmets, and chest plates. Any fool capable of brewing a simple vulnerary salve also found himself thriving in the climate of war. Even seamstress' find money, knitting blankets and other warm threads for their home's footsoldiers. In this way, war is an economical boon. However, there is another side to the proverbial coin of war.

Embargo. A simple term. It means to ban trade from another country. In the most lax form, an embargo does just this. The goods and services from one country are cut off and rejected by another country. The endgame pursuit of such a strategy is to starve out the embargoed nation. Make them open to unfavorable negotiations in which they have a distinct disadvantage. In one sense, you could consider such tactics bullying on a continental scale. 'We will cut off a vital element of your livelihood unless you do what we want you to do.'

But the embargo is rarely so lax. Usually, it becomes more than just a ban on trade. It can quickly escalate into a ban on travel. Fleets are dispatched to place ports and ships under house-arrest. Ships bearing the insignia of the embargoed country may be raided or sunk by the bullying country. Xenophobia and paranoia set in. Delfian citizens start to ration food or go hungry because their crop shipments from Remi have stopped coming in. Smugglers become increasingly hesitant to risk their ships against Etrurian fleets. Etrurian's have to take absurdly long detours because an idiotic war prevents them from taking the week-long cruise between Delphia and Remi. Instead, they have to travel through Ostia, and risk getting torn apart by the undead, just so they can get back home.

And in this way, war was not good for business. In this way, Ravvus had just traveled through a week's worth of storms and caught a cold just to return to Delfia. In this way his pockets were heavier than they would have been if there had been no embargo.

Raindrops pattered around Ravvus, their cool presence a stark contrast to the ill warmth of his nose. With one hand he maintained a fireball, both as a source of heat and as a source of light. With the other free hand, the mage rubbed his pointer finger at the base of his nose. A tingling sensation skittered through his nostrils, nearly eliciting a sneeze. Ravvus sniffled, clearing his throat. The mage's eyes, itchy, irritated, and wet like everything else, blinked several times. All of this because of an embargo. The mage made his way to the faint light of torches in the distance.

On a strategic level, Ravvus understood the embargo. It provided a measure of security for Etruria's empire. It prevented a naval invasion, the smuggling of assassins or explosives, and other such dangers from breaching the city by sea. But that didn't change the fact the ban had delayed him. Nor did it make amends for his current sickness. As far as the mage was concerned, the sooner the ban was lifted the better. As he understood it, he wish might have already been granted. Rumors circulated throughout the country-side that Remi had fallen. Unfortunate for Ilia. Not so unfortunate for trade.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Peaking through drab, gray rain stood the imposing city gates. Rows and columns of black iron intersected, linking together to form a colossal door. The metallic entrance stood tall at at least twenty feet, stretching another fifteen feet wide. Situated within a stone hold, the outer gate was guarded by the golden soldiers of the city watch. A strict police force, the watch ensure that no foreigners of enemy nations, and sometimes any nations, were allowed entry into the holy city. Their zeal and xenophobia had earned them nicknames among the Delfian citizens. Those who praised them referred to them as 'golden disciples' or 'our gleaming defenders'. Those who opposed the watch derided them as 'gaudy bigots' or 'glistening puppets'. Ravvus preferred the latter of the two sets of nicknames. The watch had given Eagle, and other foreign members of the Pathfinders, trouble in the past. As far as Ravvus was concerned, the city watch was little more than glorified caravan escorts.

Ravvus brought his hands close, warming himself with the heat of his fireball. The mage peered past the iron gates, longing for the cozy Delfia inns. Approaching the gate, Ravvus dissipated his fireball and reached for his travel satchel. Three soldiers, all in gleaming armor, marched towards him.

”Halt traveler!” One of the soldiers, the leader judging by the badges on his breastplate, bellowed. He stood a few paces, but still within lunging distance, from Ravvus. His companions surrounded the mage on either side. ”Stretch your arms out and wait for an officer to inspect you. What brings you to the Prophet's holy city?” The officer ordered in an authoritative voice, deep and commanding. This was new.

Spreading his arms away from his body, the mage was approached by one of the soldiers. With a humorless expression, the grunt sheathed his spear and patted down the mage. Each hand pressed hard against Ravvus' body, thoroughly inspecting Ravvus' shoulders down to his legs. To the mage's discomfort, he found himself somewhat enjoying it. ”Erm-” The hot-blooded scholar began ”Salutations fellow countryman-” The man who'd been patting him down paused, noticing the slight red flush in Ravvus' cheeks, and went to retrieve his travel satchel. ”Please don't touch that.” The soldier ignored him and slipped the bag from Ravvus' arm. The mage's brow furrowed in contempt. ”I'm here on business. I've been traveling Elibe and it has been some time since I have convened with my guild here in Delfia. They are expecting me.” The inspecting soldier rifled through the bag, withdrawing the Trinity tome, and presenting it to the leader.

”Have you any documentation confirming your association with this guild?”

”It's in the bag. If you'd allow me, I could find it for you easily.”

Both soldiers ignored him. The inspector continued to rifle through the bag, withdrawing and presenting a set of Sacaen finery and the dessert rock to the lead soldier. A switch clicked in Ravvus' head. That was his stuff. Those simpleton soldiers were touching his stuff. He hadn't given them permission to touch his stuff.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

”Allow me.” Ravvus continued, right hand curling into a fist. ”To find the documentation.”

The soldiers ignored him and continued to sift through his bag. The hot-blooded mage felt his arm twitch. Ravvus had come far in controlling his emotions. The expedition with Duma had been proof of that. And having heard Mimi's story, the mage was trying to find his calmer side. But watching these tactless soldiers plunder away at his belongings caused Ravvus' ire to swell. The mage could feel his right fist becoming warmer.

The inspecting officer grabbed something in the bag and suddenly stopped. Withdrawing his hand, the inspector presented the head officer a small golden badge. A pin, really. It bore an outstretched hand with a gleaming sun in the background. The insignia of the Pathfinders. The two soldiers quickly funneled Ravvus' belongings back into his bag. ”You did not mention that you were a member of Goeke-Morey's guild, citizen.” A hint of concern, perhaps fear even, crept into the lead officer's voice. With surprising swiftness, the lead officer seized the bag and the badge, presenting both to Ravvus within a tight fist. ”Your belongings, citizen.”

Ravvus reached out to claim his effects, only for the soldier to withdraw his hand. Bad idea. Very bad idea. ”One thing, citizen. Regardless of your association with the Pathfinders.” More like his association with Goeke-Morey. ”You may wish to leave the... saintless items behind next time.” The lead officer spoke, referring to the Sacaen finery. ”There are those who would look upon them disdainfully.”

”Noted.” Ravvus stretched out his arm, motioning for the lead officer to return the items.

The lead officer complied, then snapped a sharp salute. ”Glory to the Saint and her most holy Prophet. May they forever brighten Etruria's future.” With that, the lead officer motioned for the gate to be raised.

Liked a pained moan, the groaning gate rose from the earth. Ravvus moved past the flanking guardsmen, catching a dirty look from the one who'd inspected his belongings. Seems the redness in Ravvus' cheeks had rubbed him the wrong way. The man did not realize what a tight rope he walked. Were circumstances different, were it just him and the mage, he'd be little more than a pair of charred black boots. Ravvus made a mental note to remember that particular guard's face. Big nose, small eyes and mouth. Light blond hair. Just in case circumstances were ever different.

Ravvus stepped through the gates of the city and entered Delfia.

The streets of Delfia were warm where Edessa's had been cold. Although if Ravvus had to choose between the two, he'd go with Edessa. Despite having a more agreeable climate, Delifa felt more restrictice, oppressive. The holy city's streets were paved with two-man teams of golden guardsmen. The over-saturated military presence made the mage's skin crawl. He kept getting strange looks from the guards. Accusatory glances which made the mage question if there was something off about his own appearance or movements. More likely that was just the look the city watch gave everyone. Even so, the mage didn't appreciate it.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Making his way through the overly militant capital, Ravvus arrived at the Pathfinders headquarters and entered. The building had a similar setup to the Pale Compass HQ back in Edessa. The primary room was an average-sized foyer complete with receptionists desk. The room was filled with pieces of art, primarily paintings which lined the walls. There were two non-painted works situated within glass sanctuaries on opposite sides of the room. One of the sculptures was a porcelain model of the Saint. Smooth and sleek and a uniform ivory in color. An elegant and tasteful piece. Ravvus was not a particularly religious man. He held the eight heroes in equal esteem, considering Elimine no better or worse than, say, Brammimond or Durbans. However, it was undeniable that Elimine was the fairest of the eight heroes. Her presence added a touch of serenity to any room. The other sculpture was of Aries the Pious, a long deceased King of Etruria. Despite his title, Aries was a controversial figure in non-Etrurian culture. Not so unlike the Prophet, he had embarked on his own violent crusade in the name of Saint Elimine. Some sources even rumored the King to have been insane, suffering from some sort of psychological affliction. In other places of the world, he was known as Aries the Mad.

Ravvus had less of a rapport with the Pathfinders' receptionist than he did with Ivan. Ivan was a former sage and a kind old man. A helpful man. The kind who greeted everyone with a smile because that was the standard he held himself to. Ravvus cared little for kindness, but preferred it to pseudo-professionalism. Keira, the receptionist of the Pathfinders was largely indifferent. Fair of face, attractive just short of being beautiful to some, Keira performed her job with a mechanical efficiency. Not emotionless, mind you, just mechanical. She would greet guests and guild-members alike with a simple hello, before asking them what their business was. When she smiled it was only ever faintly. The corners of her lips would curl slightly as a form of professional courtesy. There was no underlying warmness to her smile. It was just a routine performance. She would direct guests and update guild-members on what they'd missed, but she never engaged in small talk. Just business.

”Keira.” Ravvus spoke, walking towards her desk.

”Mr. Ravvus. What brings you here today?” Keira did not look at him when she spoke. Her attention was focused on some paperwork at the desk.

”Just checking in. Any work?”

Mmm. Keira grunted. ”We have a team shipping out for something in Vinland soon. Another for Bern, but that group won't be moving out until the end of the month.”

”Will Eagle be leading either of the expeditions?”

”He has been demoted. Goeke-Morey believes Eagle is no longer fit to lead.”

”What? That's-” Ravvus composed himself, being careful not to deride the leader apparent of his guild. ”Has something happened? Why has Goeke-Morey done this?”

”I don't know.” Keira tapped a finger on the letters, looking upwards and meeting Ravvus' eyes. ”Perhaps you should ask him.”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

”I'll keep it in mind.” Ravvus grunted dispassionately, deliberately avoiding the receptionists' gaze. He had a pretty good idea of why Eagle had been demoted. The man wasn't Etrurian. ”Given his demotion will Eagle be participating in either of the operations?”

”The one to Vinland, yes.”

”I see. When will the guild be heading out for that job?”

A tickling sensation snaked through Ravvus' throat. Mucus and other unsavory fluids were building up. The mage reached for his neck, lightly stroking the irritated area.

”By the end of the month. Next week.”

”Understood. Sign me up for- erm” The mage interrupted himself, clearing his throat. ”For that one.” The receptionist flipped through some papers and jotted down Ravvus' name to a list of others. ”Do you know if Eagle is in the city? Or perhaps Emil?”

"They were here earlier. Said something about going to a pub.”

”Which one?” The mage asked, tapping his chest with an open palm.

I don't know.”

”Could you hazard a guess?”

I don't think so. Not really.” Ravvus pinched the bridge of his nose. This was precisely what frustrated him about Keira. She had little interest in helping the mage, but rather than saying so outright, she danced around an explicit response. She adopted a deliberately ignorant but, strictly speaking, polite facade in order to evade a direct answer. Frankly, the mage would have preferred her to tell him to 'piss off' and be done with it. But that wasn't her way.

”That's fine. I know a few of the places they frequent. I'm sure I can find them.”

No response.

”Thank you for your help. Have a pleasant day.”

And you as well.” Keira muttered, failing to make eye contact with the mage.

Ravvus turned about and exited the building. He could feel a tenseness settle in his body as his right hand curled into a fist. First the guardsmen; now Keira. It seemed providence wanted to see the mage angry today. With a rehearsed calmness, Ravvus uncurled his fist. Bringing the open palm to eye level, the mage could see faint crescent imprints in his skin. An urge crawled upwards and out of the mage's throat. The mage bent over, coughing several times. The taste of something slimy and salty escaped his lungs, falling to the earth as a yellow-clear liquid. As the fit subsided Ravvus composed himself, wincing at the sight of the spattered fluid. By the end of the day the mage was going to need a medicine man. Not to mention a good fight. Feeling a tickling sensation return to his nose, Ravvus made his way through the city.

The Pathfinder's main building was located in an up-scale neighborhood in the center of Delfia. The pubs and taverns Eagle and company frequented were located in less scrupulous areas. The military presence there was more relaxed. Pious though they were, the soldiers had little desire to police their favorite vice. Most patrols avoided the district entirely, at least until their shift was over. Although with the Delfian police becoming more militant, Ravvus had to wonder if that policy had changed.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

It had somewhat.

The seedier part of Delfia had less vagrants and more glistening puppets than Ravvus remembered. The streets no longer reeked with the smell of piss or spent vomit, allowing the scent of cooked food to permeate outside of the restaurants. The various dens of alcohol continued to operate, but were less noisy. Loiterers were few and far between. The handful Ravvus had seen scurried off at the mere sight of the golden boys. For what it was worth, the military crack down made the city marginally safer.

To the mage's relief, the rain had let up at some point while he was speaking with Keira. Though the cobblestone roads were drenched with rainwater and the clouds overhead were drab and gray, Ravvus was no longer being pelted with cold drops of water. Rubbing the bottom of his nose, the mage was thankful for the change in atmosphere. He didn't need inclement weather further irritating his ailing body.

Moving along the road, the mage picked up a familiar tune coming from one of the taverns. Ravvus came to a stop, the sloshing of rain underneath his boots ceased, outside of A Rock and a Bard Place. Rock and Bard, as the company shortened it to, was a pub Ravvus had visited with Eagle in the past. With ale and musical entertainment, it was a good a place as any to spend an evening. The sickly mage stepped inside and hoped he would find his coworkers therein.

Rough coughs escaped Ravvus as he entered the tavern. The pub was everything he remembered. Before the entrance lay a rug, bearing the insignia, a surly minstrel sitting atop a boulder, of the tavern. The walls were lined with a diverse display of animal heads, furs, and instruments. Bartenders, some of friendly dispositions, others not so much, manned the bar behind an oak counter and a sea of rowdy patrons. At the back of the establishment was a small stage where a trio, two male musicians and a female singer, performed a lewd ballad about a hero and a randy boar. Before the performers sat a small basket for the gold coins from the more generous patrons. Scattered about the tavern were tables, their respective motley patrons, and waiters and waitresses. The ratio of of ruffians and working men to golden boys was about five to one. That would change later in the day once more soldiers finished their patrols.

Ravvus scanned the interior of the pub, trying to discern whether Eagle and company were in fact at this particular tavern. At one table, he could make out the unmistakable bronze skin of the Nabatan, accompanied by two other familiar faces, Erin and Emil.

”Excuse me, sir.” The hostess of the bar spoke, attempting to gain Ravvus' attention. ”Will it be just you this day?”

”Oh, no. I'm joining another group already here. Excuse me.” The mage responded, hastily moving past the hostess and then maneuvering throw the ocean of crowded tables.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Erin was the first to notice him. A simple wave of her black leather glove acknowledged the mage's presence. The rogue leaned across the table, tapped Eagle on the shoulder, and pointed in Ravvus' direction. The burly Nabatan turned and flashed Ravvus a smile in acknowledgment. Following suit, Emil turned his head and gave the blonde mage an enthusiastic wave. With them were two others, a man and a woman who Ravvus did not recognize.

The mage maneuvered through the crowd of patrons and stood before his guildsmen. ”Hey everyone.” Emil rose from his seat and heartily embraced Ravvus. ”Been a while, hasn't it.” Ravvus stuttered, not entirely sure how to respond to his companion's show of affection. Emil in turn broke off, realizing he might have overstepped his boundaries. ”Oh yes, it has, I suppose. I apologize if that was somewhat invasive, it's just a pleasure to see you again.” The cavalier scratched the back of his head, evading eye contact. Ravvus reached out, planting a firm grasp on his guildsman's shoulder. ”It does me well to see you too, Emil.”

The timid cavalier playfully batted Ravvus' hand from his shoulder and returned to his seat. Next to rise was Eagle and the Nabatan reached out to greet the mage with a firm, strong handshake. ”Greetings Ravvus. Your travels have been safe enough, I hope.”

The mage met him with a reluctant smile. ”Some safer than others.”

”Well you're not dead or dying. Although I can't say you're looking too well. Did you catch something out in the rain?”

”Yeah. I walked all the way here from Ostia. Weather had been good until last week.” The conjurer rubbed the bottom of his nose. ”Would have traveled by boat, but the embargo makes that pretty hard.”

Eagle forced a half smile and let go of Ravvus' hand. ”So it does.” The Nabatan turned his face to one of the, as of yet, unintroduced members of the table. ”We might have someone who can help you with your ills.” Eagle gestured towards the two unnamed people at the table. ”This is Conway Massey, a mage, like yourself, and an experienced tracker. Goeke-Morey has hired him and our other guest for an upcoming job.”

”Pleasure." The tracker flashed a toothy grin. "I prefer Mr. Massey, thank you.” Massey looked to a man in his mid twenties to early thirties. He bore cracks and lines in his face where age was starting to show. The top of his head was shaved bald, emphasizing his slanted, snake-like eyes. He looked more hunter than mage, sporting a sleeveless tunic which showed off a set of robust arms. Sewn onto the tunic was wolf's head hood and the shoulders bore a fur trim. Massey wore black baggy pants and a set of leather combat boots. Indeed, the only mage-like thing about this man was the chain-bound Gaea tome on his hip.

”And this...” Eagle gestured towards the unnamed woman. ”Is Dahlia North. She's a novice archer and a practicing herbalist.”

Dahlia's lips curled into a welcoming smile. ”How do you do?”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

The mage smiled in return. Dahlia was a fair woman. Ironically, she looked more like a mage than Mr. Massey. Dimples appeared on either side of her cheeks as she smiled, much to the conjurer's delight. Her hair was red and short, by female standards, just stopping at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were teal, open, and just as inviting as her smile. She wore a blue, wool cape which draped all the way down to her heels. Like Conway, she wore leather boots and black pants. But, unlike him, her pants were tight and not baggy. As for her upper body, Dahlia wore a flowing white blouse underneath a tight, black corset. The blouse covered her breasts, showing no signs of cleavage, but the corset did an exceptional job of emphasizing her chest. She somewhat looked like she should have been serving tables. Somewhat. The bow and arrows lying next to her told a different story. As did two large pouches on her hips.

”I'm well.” Ravvus responded, practically beaming. ”It's a pleasure.” Dahlia answered with her radiant smile. Ravvus was finding himself somewhat smitten.

”Dahlia may be able to help you with your ills. She doesn't use staves, but she might be able to make you a potion.”

”Is that true?” Ravvus questioned the red-head, casually taking a seat next to her.

”Perhaps. What ails you?” Dahlia cocked her head, her hair falling limply to the side.

”Oh, well, I think I caught something on my way into town. I've been coughing, my forehead feels warm, umm... my nose is stuffy, and there's something building up in my throat.”

”When you say your forehead feels warm. Do you mean to say that have a fever?”

”That's right. ”

”Just wanted to be sure.” Dahlia smiled warmly.

”Right, right um... haha.” Ravvus chuckled, finding himself enthralled with the herbalist's dimples.

”Something you find amusing?” Dahlia's lips assumed a neutral look, making her appear more quizzical than welcoming.

”No, no. I just seem to have a case of the giggles.”

”Ah. Well then. I think I might be able to throw a potion together. Just a little something for nasal decongestion and coughing relief. Come with me once we're done here.”

”Well, thank you very much, Miss North.”

”Dahlia's fine.” She spoke, resuming her pleasant smile.

”Dahlia, then. So...” Ravvus voice trailed off. The mage turned his head, looking in the direction of the performers on stage. The trio had finished their lewd ballad and moved onto a more romantic piece. ”How have you come into the employ of the Pathfinders?” This song was about a pair of lovers in a field of flowers. There was an upbeat tune to it.

The evening was filled with laughter and merriment. Ravvus and Dahlia talked for a time, enjoying each other's company. Eventually the mage began conversing with Emil, the two of them shared stories of their adventures since the desert expedition. What a terrible idea that job had been. Not to mention a waste of time. All Ravvus had gotten from it was a strange rock, which he still had yet to identify. As the two conversed, Dahlia and Erin found pleasure in each other's company and Eagle and Mr. Massey discussed their preferred methods of hunting.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

”Taller than Eagle, you say?!” The colossal Nabatan quickly glanced at Emil and Ravvus. ”And it... sapped your energy just by staring at you?” Emil leaned in close, rapt with interest. Saint's name, the undead in Ilia sound a lot worse than the one's we've fought in Lycia.”

”Well...” Ravvus scratched the back of his head. ”I think they're growing stronger in Lycia too. I cut through Ostia on my way here and came across an undead bear. And this... creature.”

”Another animal, you mean? Or was it like the gargoyles we encountered in the mountains of the spine.”

”Neither. It was tall and imposing, not as large as Eagle or the Scorched Behemoth, mind you, but above average height. It wore pitch black armor with a blue trim. It spoke with the voices of many, not one. It carried a long spear which oozed a black tar-like substance, most likely the nether. It emanated a black smog, as if the body beneath the armor was alight with flame. And it commanded the bear as if controlling novice-level magics.” Ravvus paused, visualizing the harbinger of death. It's burning red eyes peered through the slit of its' ebony helm. ”It was what I could only assume to be a manifestation of the nether like no other. Though human in shape, that was a form given life by magic alone.”

”Sounds like Lycia is going to need to get serious about clearing out Ostia.” Eagle remarked curtly.

”The other Marquess' collective greed for power, particularly Laus, and fear of the Etruria have rendered the country impotent.” Mr. Massey drummed his fingers along the wooden table top. They can only ignore that which lurks within Ostia for so long.

”So it would seem.” Ravvus concurred, downing a drink from his cup of water.

Emil eyed the mage as he brought the cup back down to the table.”Hey, Ravvus. How come you always get water when we go out drinking?”

”Hmm? What?!” Ravvus blurted out, clearly startled by his companion's question.

”It's just that when we're at pubs, you never order ale or brandy. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you drink anything even remotely alcoholic.”

”That's not true- I... Don't you remember, there was that one time after the Bernese mountain expedition...”

”You mean when we stopped at a place called Wyvern Wings and you cracked a joke about the name? I distinctly remember you ordering a brisket and some lemon juice at that joint. Eagle interjected, poking fun at the scrutinized mage.

”Of course you remember it, Eagle.” Ravvus muttered, placing his elbows on the table and rubbing his eyes in mock frustration. ”You remember everything.”

”I certainly do.” Eagle spoke with a confident voice.

”How come you don't drink, Ravvus?” Dahlia, smiling as usually, decided it was her turn to jump into the conversation.

The mage ceased rubbing his eyes and turned to Dahlia. ”Well...” Goodness. Those dimples of hers could bring a man back from the brink of death. ”It's not that I don't ever drink. It's just that I tend to like the taste. Most alcohol tastes awful to me, if I'm being honest.”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

"Heh heh heh." Eagle interrupted, shaking his head.

”That and it tends to give me a headache.” Ravvus continued, trying to ignore his former boss. ”If I'm going to get incoherently inebriated, I can get past the taste and anything the beverage does to my head. But, otherwise, I can't say I see the appeal of casual drinking.”

As the table of six conversed, more and more golden boys began to trickle into the pub. What had been a ratio of five to one was now a roughly even three to two.

”Hmm.” Dahlia hummed, tentatively tapping her chin with a slender finger. ”What if you enjoyed the taste? Do you think you'd drink casually then?

”I'd certainly be more inclined to.” Ravvus shrugged.

The herbalist glanced at Emil as the young cavalier downed a gulp from his mug. ”Emil, what are you drinking?”

”What, me?” A slight redness rushed Emil's cheeks. ”It's just a hard cider with some honey flavoring. Why, would you like a sip?”

”How strong is it?”

Emil leveled his hand flat and shook it slightly. ”So-so. It's not vodka, but it's not piss beer either.”

Dahlia gripped her mug and downed what was left in a single gulp. ”Just a little, if you don't mind.” The herbalist reached out her, now empty, cup to Emil. The cavalier complied and poured from his mug until Dahlia's cup was a fourth full. ”Thank you, Emil.” The herbalist spoke with a smile. Emil smiled back, bashfully avoiding eye contact.

Dahlia set her mug down and grabbed a small flask from her belt. She unscrewed the cap of the metallic container and poured a yellow-green liquid from it into her mug. ”Ravvus, if you don't mind, I need you to be my guinea pig for a moment.”

”What for exactly?” The mage assumed a look both suspicious and inquisitive.

”Just let me know...” The herbalist delicately placed her mug in front of Ravvus. ”How this tastes.”

Ravvus shrugged. The mage was more than a little tentative about consuming the beverage, but Dahlia was giving him an easy chance to score points with her. So, score points he would. Ravvus gripped the mug and brought the drink to his lips. ”Mmm.” The mage hummed, consuming the mixture. The amber fluid ran down his throat, filling his mouth with the taste of butter and honey. Smacking his lips, Ravvus placed the drink back on the table. ”It's like drinking butterscotch candy.”

”So, it's tasty, then.” Dahlia inquisitively cocked her head to the side.

”Hmm? Oh, absolutely, it's very tasty. I could still taste the alcohol, but it was diluted, much more tolerable. Where'd you find this?”

”I made it myself. Many of the people I've treated have complained about the bitterness in the herbs and medications I use. I wanted to make a brew which overwhelmed those offense flavors.” A smile of success spread across the herbalist's face. ”I'm glad to know that I succeeded.”

”Well. Happy to have been your guinea pig, then.” Ravvus spoke, meeting Dahlia's life-saving, dimpletastic smile with his own.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

”You haven't served a single one of us yet!” Amidst the dull clamor of voices, a shout erupted near the bar. Ravvus and Dahlia stopped making goo-goo eyes at each other, turning their heads to the source of the noise. A handful of golden boys were making a scene by the bar. ”Is this how you repay the kindness of your guardians? Perhaps you have forgotten exactly who it your city guard serves!” The outspoken golden boy was shouting at a very unfriendly looking bartender. It seemed the bartender had been less than open to taking their orders.

”Stay here.” Eagle spoke as he rose from his seat. ”I'll put a stop to this.” The Nabatan walked purposefully over to the bar. Typical Eagle. Brief of word and firm of action.

”Does he... know what he's doing?” Dahlia inquired as Eagle stepped between the golden boy and the bartender.

”Yeah.” Erin spoke for, what Ravvus presumed to be, the first time that night.

”Eagle's a pretty even-tempered guy. And he's a great negotiator when he puts his mind to it. That's how he served as our guild's Expedition Captain for so long.” As Erin spoke Eagle could be seen purchasing a flagon and handing it to the outspoken golden boy.

”You sure?” Dahlia spoke out of concern more than disbelief, ”I just want to know if I'm going to have to break out the healing salve.”

"Pretty sure." Erin took a drink from her mug. Eagle could been seen purchasing more rounds for more of the golden boys. ”Besides. Look at him. Anybody throws a punch at that guy, they're just gonna hurt their fist.”

”Why exactly is he doing this?” Mr. Massey interjected, swirling his finger in a circular motion at Eagle and the city guards.

”Other than the fact that he's a good person who doesn't want a brawl to break out? I imagine it's because he doesn't want to risk the city guard causing trouble. He's rather fond of this tavern, and he knows that the watch can shut it down if they're not fond of it.” The golden boys, many with drinks now in hand, surrounded Eagle, patting him on the back.

”Eagle the miracle worker.” Ravvus muttered.

”Yup.” Erin concurred simply. ”Like I said, the man's a rea-” Erin stopped abruptly as one of the golden boys tossed the contents of his cup in Eagle's face. Another gave the Nabatan a hard shove, and a third a punch to the jaw. By the time the golden boy's fist connected with Eagle's chin, Erin had leapt from her seat and started dashing through the crowded room.

”Oh, crap.”

Maneuvering her way through the crowded pub, Erin quickly came to Eagle's side. Swiveling on one leg and raising the other, the rogue sent a roundhouse kick at the outspoken guard. The loud golden boy was knocked off his feet, as if he kicked by a donkey, and flew over the bar counter-top.

”Oh, crap. Crap!” Ravvus swore. ”Emil, come on, we've got to help them!”

The cavalier required no more urging than that. Practically jumping from their seats, the two Pathfinders ran towards the beginning of a bar fight.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

”Out of my way!” Ravvus grunted, shoving past a waitress. The hapless woman stumbled backwards, grabbing hold of a table so as not to fall off her feet. There was a sea of people between Ravvus and the quickly escalating bar scene. The golden boy who punched Eagle was vigorously shaking his hand. The outspoken one Erin had kicked was back on his feet and clambering over the counter-top. The surly looking bartender now gripped a bottle by it's neck, his eyes shifting from one golden boy to another. Four of the city guard now surrounded Eagle and Erin in a half circle. Eagle kept his hands in front of him, ready to fight but refusing to instigate. Erin, on the other hand, was actively taunting the nearest golden boy, gesturing for him to 'come hither'.

Other patrons were becoming involved in the fight as well. A table of ornery looking individuals rose from their seats and charged into another table occupied entirely by golden boys. One man had a city guardsman in a headlock. Another was on the floor, being kicked by one of the golden boys. As Ravvus charged towards the bar, a city guard at an adjacent table rose to his feet and threw a right hook the mage's way. Ravvus ducked under the attack, undeterred, all but ignoring his assailant. As if on cue, the performing band began playing an upbeat, fast-paced tune as the tavern erupted into chaos.

Ravvus made it to the bar just in time to see Erin successfully bait a golden boy. The yellow-colored soldier ran headlong into the rogue, throwing a punch only for Erin to catch it in a lock. With a swift chop, the lithe fighter struck the guardsman's neck, causing him to gag and fall to the ground incapacitated. Another member of the watch charged Erin, only to be intercepted by Eagle. The colossal Nabatan shrugged off a flurry of the soldier's punches, grabbing the man, turning him around, and forcing him into a sleeper hold. The golden boy quickly lost consciousness and Eagle and Erin's combatant's dropped from three to two. The count immediately went back up as the loud-mouthed golden boy jumped over the counter-top and landed on Eagle's back. Ravvus rushed in to join the fray as the other two guardsmen moved in to assist their comrade.

Feeling the cold, hard metal of the soldier's pauldron, the mage clamped down hard on the shoulder of one of the golden boys. The man's elbow shot backwards, aiming for Ravvus' head, and narrowly missed as the mage ducked in evasion. Curling his right hand into a fist, Ravvus responded with an uppercut to the man's chin only for the soldier to then intercept it in a catch. Pulling the mage up by his fist, the soldier threw a follow-up punch. Ravvus could feel the hard bone of the golden boy's knuckles, as the soldier's glove-bound fist collided against the mage's naked cheek and sent him crashing into the wooden floor below.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Ravvus's head rung as his body made contact with the hard, wooden floor. The golden boy had a pretty mean right hook. Grinning, the mage could feel a tension snake it's way into his arm as the limb started to twitch. Wincing, Ravvus looked up to see the soldier raising his foot for a stomp. Pushing off the floor and rolling onto his back, he narrowly evaded a boot to the back of the skull. The golden boy, undeterred, raised his foot again and proceeded to attack for a second time with his steel-toed boot. Ravvus, face split by an ear to ear grin, shot his hands up, catching the stomp attack in a two handed grip. The soldier pulled his foot back quickly, escaping the mage's clutches, before raising it again. It seemed the golden boy was entirely content to stomp until an attack went through. Ravvus, however, had other plans.

The mage caught the soldier's boot again, tightening his grip when the golden boy attempted to break the lock. The soldier lurched forward, not anticipating his break to fail. Taking advantage of the blunder, Ravvus reached out with his hand and flicked his thumb against his pointer finger. A flurry of embers shot from his fingertips, singeing the soldier's face three times. ”Argh!” The golden boy grunted in pain, clutching his burns and stumbling backwards. Eyes trained on the soldier, Ravvus sprung to his feet. Suddenly, hit with something hard from behind, the golden boy stumbled forward. In the periphery of his vision, Ravvus could make out the image of Emil, wielding a bar stool, behind the soldier. As the golden boy gracelessly careened towards him, Ravvus curled his hand into a fist and threw a right hook. The attack connected hard with the soldier's cheek, whipping the golden boy's head to the left. Ravvus followed with a left hook, finding much the same results. In a coup de grace, Ravvus slammed his fist in an uppercut against the soldier's chin, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. That golden boy was down for the count.

Placing the bar stool back on the ground, Emil approached Ravvus. His eyes were wide with concern. ”That guy must of hit you pretty hard!” The cavalier spoke above the roar of the tavern fight. ”Your cheek's bleeding.”

Ravvus maneuvered his quivering hand, lightly touching where the golden boy had struck. Running his fingers across his face, the mage could feel a familiar warm liquid. Ravvus brought his fingers to eye level and, sure enough, the digits bore a red smear. ”Damn!” The mage shouted back. ”Couldn't even tell.”

Emil slapped Ravvus' shoulder. ”Come on, lets get Erin, Eagle, and the others and get out of here!”

The two Pathfinders turned, looking for their companions. Eagle was still struggling to remove the golden boy from his back. Erin's opponent had drawn his sword and was trying to keep her at a distance. ”I'll help Erin. You go give Eagle a hand.” The mage ordered, smacking his comrade on the back.

”Got it!”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

The golden boy swung his sword out in a horizontal arc. Swish. Swish. Each attack audibly cut through the air, as the city guard advanced on Erin. The rogue, in turn, back-peddled and sidestepped. Without a weapon, her safest option was to wait for an opening. However, despite the golden boy's aggressive advances, he kept his strikes swift and reserved, like feints. Neither foe could get a good hit in edgewise.

Ravvus barreled towards Erin and her combatant, picking up the bar stool Emil had set down. With a leg in each hand, the mage came within range of the golden boy and swung the piece of furniture. The soldier turned around, swinging his sword in a diagonal arc only for it to be blocked by the wooden stool. Ravvus pushed back against the attack, forcing the soldier's sword hand away. As the mage pushed back, he discarded the stool and wrapped the fingers of his left hand into a tight fist. The mage swung with a left hook, feeling his bones scrape against the golden boy's cheek as the sucker punch connected.

”Contemptible scoundrels.” The golden boy spat, his head rocking to the side and his blade falling to the earth. ”You know not just how deep you dig your grave!” Two small, hateful eyes peered at the mage. The soldier ducked, grabbing his discarded sword with one hand and placing a boot on the stool it was lodged in.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped themselves under and over the golden boy's shoulders. Erin held the golden boy in a tight lock, preventing him from attacking. The soldier scowled in defiance. ”Damn wench, Rele-”

”Ravvus!” The rogue shouted, interrupting her captive. ”Hit him now!”

Ravvus' arm twitched and a grin split across his face. The brawling mage pulled back with one fist and sent it careening against the golden boy's face. The man's head jerked right. Ravvus followed up with another punch, and another, and another after that. Red knuckles collided with the soldier again and again until the mage could no longer punch. Ravvus breathed heavily, uncurling his hands, which were now stained red and blue. The golden boy fell first to his knees and then backwards, hitting the earth with a clunk from his helmet. His face was decorated with crimson blood and azure bruises.

Erin rounded the incapacitated foe. ”Saint's name!” She swore. ”I said hit him, not kill him.”

”He's not dead.” Ravvus rolled his eyes. ”Trust me, a man can survive more punches that." The mage wiped the back of his hand across his chin, smearing the blood on his knuckles "I have.”

Erin shook her head. ”You have absolutely no sense of restraint.” She muttered, her tone somewhere between concerned and exhausted.

Suddenly Ravvus felt someone grip his shoulder from behind. The mage swiveled about, ready to punch someone, only to see the familiar visage of Dahlia. ”Hey, hey! Watch it, I'm on your side!”

”Case in point.” Erin muttered as Ravvus lowered his fist.

"Dahlia- How did you-"

”Mr. Massey and the others are already outside. Come on, we've outstayed our welcome here.”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Dahlia took the lead as the trio made a mad dash for the exit. The level of fighting escalated, with more and more patrons drawing their weapons in self-defense. Curiously, the band played on. The trio of performers continued to put on fast-paced medley's, fueling the bar's aggressive atmosphere. A few ducks and weaves saw the three safely out of the 'A Rock and a Bard Place' tavern. The trio burst out of the bar, nearly barreling straight into Emil, Eagle, and Mr. Massey. Firm hands came down on both Erin and Ravvus' shoulders. Eagle held them in a strong grip. ”You two still in one piece?” The rogue and the mage nodded, both trying to catch their breath. ”Good. Now let's get the hell out of here before more guards show up!” Eagle dashed down the street. The other Pathfinders followed him.

Ravvus' lungs burned as the group ran through the dark city. The adrenaline was finally starting to wear off and it was hitting him hard. The mage could feel lactic acids build up in his muscles. His legs ached, begging for him to stop. His arms felt like a pair of weights swinging back and forth from his shoulders. Sweat poured down his face, running down his eyes and collecting at the base of his chin. The six Pathfinders ran into an alley and Eagle motioned for them all to stop. Ravvus sunk to one knee, gasping for breath. Emil joined him, leaning against a wall, before slinking to the ground. The rest of the group maintained their composure. Erin and Eagle panted heavily, both resting their hands on their hips as they caught their breath. Dahlia took in measured breaths, small beads of sweat dripped from her forehead. Mr. Massey seemed to be the only who could have kept running. His shaved dome was barren of sweat and his arms were folded across his chest. He barely panted, his chest rose and sunk half as frequently as the other Pathfinders.

Half of the group came out of the battle unscathed. Erin had managed to avoid everything thrown at her and Mr. Massey and Dahlia hadn't participated in any fighting. Ravvus had a shiner on his cheek, but was otherwise in good shape. Emil had taken a hit to the nose. Blood dripped from both of his nostrils but, like Ravvus, his wounds were superficial. Eagle might have been in the worst shape. The upper part of his body was covered with blue bruises; the most noticeable of these was located on his chin, where he'd first been hit. He was probably in a lot of pain, but he made no show of it. Hunkered over his knees, Eagle looked exhausted but not hurt.

Dahlia was the first to break through the din of ragged breathing. ”What happened back in there?”

The group shot her a queer look. ”What do you mean? We got in a bar fight.”

”I know that. But why did it start? Eagle, why did those city guards start harassing you?!”

”Probably the same reason Goeke-Morey demoted him.” Erin spat between breaths.

”Erin. Stop.” Eagle commanded, clearly displeased with the rogue. ”You and I will speak about this later.” He turned to Dahlia. ”Something I did displeased them, so they started throwing punches. That is all there is to it.”

”Disple- That's no reason for a city official to start whaling agains-”

”Enough!” Eagle shouted, the sound of his voice amplified by the alley walls. ”It's over. What happened happened. Let us not continue to speak of this.”