[Avashka]

Adrius was bemused, watching the man rise. He knew he wasn't in the least imposing, so the legless man's reaction was not expected.
"Now, now, don't do anything rash... I got what you want, and I'll gladly give it to you..." the man said, making some movements Adrius couldn't see. "You just... stay there and look pretty, and I'll hand over anything you want."

What did this man take him for? A petty scoundrel? He was dirt-poor, certainly, but-- oh. Knife. Were it possible, Adrius would have gone even -paler-, rigid with terror. It was a gamble, rousing the sleeping. The legless man's reaction seemed more befitting one of the orcish mercenaries in the Val'Nar'Sarkoth stronghold than a beggar. Adrius didn't hear the rest of the man's threats, eyes big and focused very intently on the blade at his neck. This would be a rotten way to go, but perhaps he deserved it; one who lived most their life in the safety of the stronghold, thinking himself able to live on the streets...

Then the blade was removed. Adrius practically collapsed, relieved, as his gaze returned to the legless man's face.
"Pleasure meeting you, young lady." said the man, triggering an involuntary twitch of Adrius' eye. "Don't follow me." And then the man was off, hobbling down the alleyway and into the street.

Adrius spent a few moments blinking dumbly at what had just happened. "I.. Who-- what?" The chemist finally regained enough composure to stumble out of the alleyway after him. 'What could have -him- in such a tizzy?' Adrius wondered, watching him go. Adrius' musings, however, were interrupted as a number of shallow coughs passed through him. The folly of fumes and their exposure. He doubled over for a moment, one hand to his diaphragm and his inner elbow to his mouth--less for the admittedly-low force of the coughs, but more for the abdominal discomfort the fit brought-- before straightening with a high-pitched gasp. Curiosity filled the gap in his thoughts the fit left. He had to know what had that cripple in such a hurry.

Adrius peered out of the alleyway, spying the legless one's retreating figure distant down the road. After a few moments of consideration-- the cripple's warning, the nasty-looking knife-- the chemist straightened up, tried--and failed-- to lift his shoulders, and hurried on after him toward the city gates.

[TheTatteredKing]

Fal'ruthiel had no business to tend to or even a shelter in the city. She simply found an alley near the gates where they would meet and set her strange large box down. When sure no one was looking Fal'ruthiel had climbed into the box and went to sleep. Groggy and still tired after waking up she head for the gate, it would be a hard walk on such little sleep but at least this meant she would likely be early.

[Glithrien]

The movement finally awoke Belrik. What alarmed him was not the movement around him, but the sound of rustling paper. He opened his eyes and observed his room to find he seemed to be sleeping in a pile of sketches, 'Sleep drawing again?' He pulled himself off of the bed and rifled through them to see if any of them held promise for a new invention but was disappointed once again to only find sketches of animal joints and subconscious drawings of old black powder weapons of which he already knew. More fuel for the stove was all they were to heat his kettle. This constant consumption of paper was becoming costly and the lack of employment was slowly draining his resources. It was hard for a Dvergar to find work in a city like this as an engineer since there were always some drow who could do it better than he could. He walked over to the stove and placed the drawings inside and grabbed the kettle from the top to fill it with water. This would be the beginning of him fully waking up. It would consist of him filling the kettle, lighting the stove, making toast and when the kettle was boiled making some tea.

When this was all done he sat at his wooden table for one with his breakfast and begun his musings. He reached for a piece of paper and pen with one hand while he ate his toast with the other. With the writing instruments acquired he begun writing some notes. Brushing his hair back he begun ordering the list of things to do for today.

Reminder: Get a job! Restock on paper! Sort out sleep pattern so I do not wake up in the night!(Possibly some mechanical device to sort this out? Must investigate further)

With that written he threw it onto the floor because it would end up there whether he tried to keep it somewhere or not. It was mostly for his memory's sake anyway he found if he wrote things down he would remember what was written easier.

'Well I could go to the white lion with a sign reading "Engineer for hire and see if any one is interested... Sounds as good of an idea as any. I just hope that I do not become too drunk to accept any offers while doing so.'

Scoffing down the last piece of toast and draining his clay cup of its contents he got dressed in his work clothes. He wore his works clothes in public most of the time, they made him feel comfortable wearing the heavy leather apron and the thick gloves. He also grabbed his goggles placing them on his forehead and his person war axe placing it into the back of his belt so it was out of view but within reach. Finally he grabbed his back pack which contained his scratch boards and a large pin to scratch on them with it also contained some tobacco and smoking paper to create his handmade cigars. As he was leaving he remembered to place some change into his pockets otherwise he would be a thirsty dwarf at the tavern.

And as thus begun his journey to the white lion...

[DestyNova1]

Isabella wandered out of an alley near the front gate and warily looked around for the caravan. The main street was rather busy and not the place for a dwarf, so she had taken a somewhat longer but safer route through the back streets and now made her way were the caravans often gathered before heading out. Stretching her slight frame some, Isabella foudn what she was looking for and ambled over to find the dwarf in charge.

[Sir Malifact]

Murados made his way through the cities crowded streets, slipping between the masses of Drow with a practiced ease, skirting the edges of the main crowd so as to quicken his route, taking a series of side-alleys and passageways that he'd learned of only a few days into his arrival at the city. He did not make for a noticeable figure; at only 4'8, he came only up to the belly against most of the Blackskins, and swathed as he was in a filthy beggars rag, he appeared as just another poor, jobless Duergar. It all served to mask himself from their view-one such as he would hardly be worth the effort to rob. Not that he feared the prospect, no no, he simply had no patience for a killing now; and the weapons he used were costly to replace. So he continued on his way, head down, a cowl of cheap silk thrown over his head, casting his harsh-cut features into shadow. He had an appointment to meet, and though the caravan was not scheduled to leave for many more hours, he always liked to get himself situated before a job. If he arrived early, he'd be able to profile the others who would be accompanying the caravan, mark them in his mind as threats, assets, or useless clouts who'd only get in the way, should things turn ugly. Which, in his experience, was inevitable. He'd spent his entire life preparing for such things, and he wasn't prepared to give it a rest now.

A few minutes later, he'd managed to get to the main gates of the city. The place was deserted, save for a few bored Drow guards who slouched against the stone walls. He paid them no heed, instead moving to the side of the gates and sitting down in the shadows, his beggars rag blending with the mottled stone and masking him from view; but not only that, the chilled steel-and-leather of armor set he wore beneath those rags served to mask him from the prying eyes of curious Drow, whose dammed red-eyes seemed to be able to pierce any shadow. He placed his rucksack on the ground beside him, the coins and explosives stuffed within making an odd clinking sound as he did. He nestled his crossbow, a squat, powerful piece of machinery into his lap, sliding an armor-piercing bolt into place and winching the locking mechanism slowly, till it could draw back no further. A cold twitch of a smile tugged at his haggard features; all that was left now was to wait.

[Malyuta Skuratov]

'Back and forth, back and forth,' was the mantra Torgall chanted in his head. It was almost midday, and he was just finishing up loading the supplies onto the carts. He had everything he thought would be necessary on his list, as well as a few things his benefactor had suggested. There were the medical supplies, of course. Those bandages, antidotes, sutures, and anything else to cure ailments and mend wounds. There were the non-perishable foodstuffs, the tents, the tarps, the stakes, the picks, the shovels, the hammers, a few empty barrels, the aforementioned carts, and a team of ten koa'naka to pull the aforementioned carts.

It was here Torgall's mind was addled with doubt. What if the cripple from the tavern was right, and no one would show up for this enterprise? Bergthalsson would most likely wish for his provisions back, realizing what a fruitless aim this project was, only lending support in the heat of the moment. He would have even less than what his parents originally gave him, perhaps forced to return to them hanging his head in shame. Torgall, sullen and distraught, made his way to the city gates with the carts. He had covered the supplies with tarps, and using the commands the dealer at the corral had taught him, with some blundering coerced the koa'naka into following him. If all of this did indeed fail, what would he explain to his parents, or worse, his peers? No. This was something he had to follow through to the end. Even if he was the only one "foolhardy" enough to accept such a task, he would not cede his pride to the likes of them.

When Torgall arrived at the gate and saw what at first he thought was a slump of blankets and clothes soon realized there was a head sticking out from the top. It was the cripple! Here then on, Torgall's fears and doubts were partially alleviated, and the sight of this dirty, foul-smelling man gave him hope for some reason.

"A man a yer word, I see!" Torgall greeted the derelict as he walked closer.

"What? Yeah. I said I'd be here, didn't I?"

"Well, most lads I meet in pubs normally don't keep their promises, hm?"

"So..." Malyuta began as he eyed up the carts, "All of that stuff ours?"

"Ye can be sure o' that." An awkward silence followed as Malyuta nodded his head up and down.

"... Well, where is everyone else? What time is it exactly?"

"There's about 15 minutes left until noon. Once everyone gets here, we'll be off on our grand adventure and subsequent settlin' o' tha Phoenix Eye! Ah! There should be some people now!"

[DestyNova1]

Isabella noticed Torgall talking to some begger and sauntered up. "Morning, Torgall." she eyed the supplies and the scant group that had gathered at the gates. "When will be heading out? I sure hope we get a larger group than this." Isabella nods to the begger in greeting.

[The Watcher]

((Sorry guys, been having extreme difficulty in writing up a post. Consider this a placeholder and expect one soon. I haven't dropped off the face of the earth yet! =P))

[The Watcher]

((OOC: Gilthrien, I hope you don't mind my slight presumption in assuming some actions from your character, just so that we can get this thing going sooner))

------------------------------------------------------------
Durin had clearly been busy last night, for this morning a small caravan had arrived at the gates of Raveran- wagons and packbeast laden with saddlebags,supplies, basic weaponry and equipment galore. He had come by early to oversee the organization of all the materials and ensure they met their destination, before taking off again, explaining that he still had "a few matters to attend to." Throughout the morning, additional dwarves had been showing up- several with the initial supplies, several more later. It was clear that between Torgall's loud declarations and Durin's quiet rounds of the city, several more duergar were inspired or convinced to join the mission. Each would introduce himself as an overhearing bystander or an acquaintance of Bergthalsson's, and most had the look of industrious workers; amongst them were several 'boys' Durin had previously employed for various bits of business.

Meanwhile, Durin himself had just finished closing up shop and making his rounds, elsewhere in the city. As he headed back towards the Gate, pack slung over his shoulders and pulling a cart carrying most of his tools and possessions with him, passing through the route he normally took to the White Lion, he spied a dwarf hurrying along the same way, with a sign slung under one arm that said "Engineer for Hire." Raising an eyebrow and smiling at the serendipity, Durin raised his hand to catch the dwarf's attention, and called out, "Hoi! Have I got a job offer for you..."

--------------------------------------------

A short time later, Durin strode into view of the group at the gates, conversing animatedly with the engineer he'd bumped into- a dwarf named Belrik Malode. Breaking off from the chat as he came close, Durin gestured his hello to Torgall and the group and introduced Belrik as a skilled engineer who would be accompanying their expedition.

As he strode up to the group, Durin waved and smiled as he caught sight of the healer, Isabella. "You woke to a pleasant surprise this morning, I trust?" he called out as he made his way towards the conglomeration of wagons, bags, pack-lizards, and dwarves. It had clearly been a late night, judging by the shadows underneath Durin's eyes, but he seemed in exceptionally cheerful and lively spirits nonetheless. Today was to be the beginning of grand things.

He stepped over and, after stowing his things in one of the other wagons before tying his emptied handcart up to a free pack animal, he exchanged a quiet word with the Doombreaker, voicing his gratitude to the mercenary for putting in a show. Durin had propositioned him earlier to help keep the caravan safe due to his fell reputation as a warrior of consummate deadliness. This Murados seemed a rather standoffish, unpleasant sort, but his skills should make him useful enough regardless. And perhaps he simply had to know people well before he warmed to them? After all, in his profession being too friendly and open could sometimes carry deadly cost...

As he merged back into the expedition group, with a kind word, genuine smile, and warm handshake for each person involved, Durin caught an odd, fleeting glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye before it ducked behind the corner of a building- a pale apparition, like a tall girl bleached of all color, reminding him of the unfortunate, destitute rift halmes the merchant had seen back when he lived in Chel. Immediately, he was on the alert. It could be nothing, but sometimes street nobodies like rift halmes were somebody's eyes and ears... or worse. "Say," he wondered aloud, pointing in the direction he'd seen this apparition from, "What was that? Did any of you see something, like a pale human girl?"

[Avashka]

[ Just so you guys know, I'm still here. Just not entirely sure how to put what I'm thinking of to paper. ]

[DestyNova1]

Isabella turns at the words and scans the area. "Eh? Nope, I don't see anyone." Isabella turned to Durin with a slight look of concern. "DO you think there was someone planning to make trouble?"

[Avashka]

Adrius was wary. There's a few reasons for this; general anxiety, being a lone Halme in the city and all; frayed nerves, what with the cripple''s earlier threats; and then a bit of concern at the heavy presence of Dvergar just outside the gate. Despite being brought up with the Nal'Sarkoth, the Halme was still not comfortable with dwarves, especially dwarves without the clan colours. But then again-- they seemed to be forming a caravan. Curiosity reigns.

Still moving carefully, trying not to be noticed-- not that most people pay much attention to one such as himself-- Adrius continues up toward the gate. At a minimum, however, he's trying to keep himself out of Malyuta's line of sight, and get in range sufficient for a bit of eavesdropping. It may be rude, but Adrius is not bold enough to step forth into a group of Dvergar and confront the cripple.

[The Watcher]

Durin nods and smiles, continuing to socialize with his fellow dwarves as. "I suppose it must have been a trick of the light, then. Pay it no heed. Now, about these supplies..."

After about a minute, the dwarf slapped his palm to his forehead and sighed. "Crush me to gravel, I've forgotten to do something. Please excuse me everyone, there's one last thing I need to take care of." With that, he strode calmly away with a sigh at his forgetfulness and a shake of his head, walking out along the wall.

However, once he was well out of sight, Durin dropped his bashful-forgetful demeanor and hirried to circle back on the group, coming around in an arc to put his approach through the buildings he had seen the apparition from. Peering carefully down each alleyway, until at last...

Adrius's only warning would be a small metallic click, followed by a deep voice uttering "Ha, gotcha." If he turned, he would see a duergar opposite him, blocking off the other end of the narrow alleyway and leveling an odd device, that looked sort of like a small crossbow with a metal tube and a pile of clockwork in place of a bow, at him. The duergar was well dressed, but his free hand rested on the head of a small hatchet, and he looked like he knew how to use it. At the other end of the alleyway, there was only the caravan and exposure. The duergar was standing several paces away, much too far to overcome with a surprise burst of speed.

"So, what brings you skulking about our caravan, rift-halme?"

[Avashka]

"So, what brings you skulking about our caravan, rift-Halme?"

The voice made Adrius -freeze-. Spotted? Well, he was certainly no skillful spy, so that wasn't unexpected.. Had the cripple warned the Dvergar about his attempt at approach? Or was he merely just so careless?

Regardless, the Halme slowly raises hands up while turning. The hands go further in the air when the strange crossbow-like device is spotted, especially given its bearing. Adrius gulps at nothing.

"I, er," the Halme stammered. "It's-- it's nothing bad, I can tell you, I just ran into that man with no leg a bit ago and he ran off with a great hurry so-- er, so I figured I might follow him and see what was up, but he drew a knife on me so I was a little leery and I beg your pardon but I don't see a lot of Dvergar around and I think you're sort of scary but then again most of the Dvergar I knew were mercenary soldiers and thus were naturally kind of scary.." The chemist babbles, panicking, before bursting into a fit of coughs.

[The Watcher]

Durin raised an eyebrow. "Well now, that's a fine story lass. It might even be true. But the thing is, you see, there's a lot of people who might not like what me and my fellows are up to. These people like to use spies, and they have quite a lot of them. And any spy worth anything, well, they'd have a story like that. So I can't really be sure what you say is true, can I? And I can't chance letting you scurry away to report to someone either."

His words were delivered in a perfectly flat tone of voice, and he clearly meant business.

"Now, today's your lucky day, you see. A lot of folks would just shoot you now and have done with it. But instead, I'm going to be nice, and if you behave I let you live and you're going to come with us. So why don't you step on out of the alleyway so you can get acquainted with all my friends, and be sure to say hello because we're going to be spending a lot of time together. And please don't try to run away, or I'll be forced to decide you lied and shoot you." All the while, the weapon remains firmly pointed at Adrius' scrawny chest.