Aether quartz. A stone vital to the Lumineth Realm Lords, cloistering away their emotions, empowering their magic, and indeed, is the secret to their long life.

One of their larger mine workings has all but come to a halt. With the devastation caused by Nagash's skeleton elite, no further military can be spared to investigate.

With the desperate events of your binding behind you, this has been deemed a good first test of the power that is now yours.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:25, Sat 02 Apr 2022.

Beyond the realm gate, the air was bracing, the winds fresh.

Clumps of grass and peaks of heather stretched out across the moor, all sparkling with an early morning frost that seemed to be trying to compete with the sky.

It was hard to believe that today would be a day of troubles, or that even such could exist, but the small banner of warriors and horses approaching you suggested that even perfection could be, imperfect.

Of all the things one might say of travelling by realmgate ‘comfortable’ was an unlikely word to appear with any frequency. Certainly they were a miracle of magic, a thing invaluable to trade and transit alike, but it was every bit a small miracle when one arrived in their destination not feeling at least a little turned inside out - or quite literally so when the malign interfered.

Sebhata wasn’t wholly new to intra-realm travel. Passage to Chamon years past had left her pale, shaky and tasting copper for hours after, and she’d nearly baulked at the eventual return journey on the weight of that memory alone. It was a worry that still ate at her in the now, and indeed a reason she’d been all too eager to believe them based in Aqshy at the time of the binding. Each moment leading up to their transition had set a weight building on her chest. Upon the cusp of the portal it had become truly crushing, and simply putting one foot before the other had seemed a feat worthy of a champion of her stature.

It wasn’t the light that told her they were in Hysh, it was that her lungs no longer felt like pressed bellows.

She blinked her eyes accustomed to the brightness, painful tension ebbing from her limbs but far from leaving them entirely. It was a momentary lapse before her instincts kicked in, and then Sebhata was immediately on high alert. Her hands were at her daggers in an instant as she scanned for threats … and came up empty. She straightened, pried her fingers from her weapons. Breathed.

That tension eased back just a little more. She was herself again, all that weakness buried deep and smothered down in the dark.

“Company comes” Sebhata declared, chin pointed proudly to the welcoming committee. “So try not to embarrass us. We are their saviours after all.”

Grimvine stood a few paces behind Sebhata to the right, drawing deep breaths, but otherwise standing eerily still. Every now and then the Spite-revenant suddenly moved, a bit like undergrowth might move in a forest when a predator was prowling. Grimvine cocked his head slightly to the side, his glowing orange eyes fixed on the arriving group and sharp claws twitching occasionally. He made sure to position himself in such a manner he could step in front of Arthenadon, should the need arise.

Arthenadon... now there was both a miracle and mystery to the Spite-Revenant once known as Durcaeth. As Sylvaneth they were the only ones present, but even they still created a small bud of a Spirit-Song between them, and the sensation currently meant more to Grimvine than anything else. Decades severed from it, not counting the melodies of war... It was wonder Grimvine was standing there at all.

The trip through the Realm Gate had been a tumultuous experience, the powers contained there pushing and pulling his life force. The Binding had protected Grimvine from the worst of it and the humble beginnings of the Spirit-Song between him and the Branchwych had helped to guide him. Still, such a form of travel was not and would never be pleasant.

"Hrrmmmmmmmmm... Are you sure... this is not a trap and treachery...", the spite-revenant asked from the she-aelf, Sebhata, in a tone filled with some kind of longing.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:05, Sat 23 Apr 2022.

Arthenadon did not mind Realm Gate travel.  He was resigned to death, but desirous to do as much good as he could before he did.  So, every threatening twist and uncertain moment of the journey was as much an offer of early release as a flaming axe.

He hummed a peaceful tune with a core of cold steel toward Grimvine.  "Always act as if it is no trap, but be ready for it should things turn sour.  That way, we do not alienate our allies nor give away our readiness to our foes."  He commented quietly.  His first hope was to help the Spite Revenant calm his outward demeanor.  Then perhaps others would treat him with less dread and he could begin to build relations with them.

Jorik stepped out behind the others and took a position on the left flank. The eldritch energy of the gate had made his beard and hair stand up giving him an even more crazy appearance than normal.

His look might say crazy but his eyes said otherwise and he studied the approaching group as a predator would prey.

"Bah trap be damned I'll take the left side and you can pick off the stragglers if you wish....of course thats if they decide to attack first after all we are here t save them so they say"

The sound of metal clad footsteps approached the travelers from the destination side of the gate, with the two step cadence there also came a repeated third sharp rap upon the reinforced ground at the gate.  After only a few moments of that approaching noise the vision cleared (normal after a trip through a realm gate) and a towering figure in brilliant armor of ivory and gold drew close.  The rapping noise came from the staff that he bore and struck the ground with each step.  As he arrived he looked impassively at those gathered (and surprisingly he was eye to eye with many of the towering group).  He kept his peace for a few tense moments as the smell of ozone seemed to waft from him.

"I am Kaltos Stareye." he finally said just as the silence threatened to become awkward, his voice was low and while it did not carry loudly was easily heard by all present.  He gave a brief nod of his head.  "I am a Knight Incantor," he gestured with his right hand carrying the tall enameled staff "bearer of one of the Pillars of Stormkeep." he looked at the group again and arched an eyebrow.  "Are you all arrived?  Were any lost in transition?"

It took a moment for Zakarr to adjust after exiting the realmgate. For whatever reason, the magics inside of the gates always messed with the systems of his aether-rig and it took time for the interference to recede.

Inside the containment of his suit, he can't take in the smells of Hysh and the sounds are dimmed from his helm, but he can easily take in the sights. His presence is quite a stark contrast to the more idyllic hills, a smudged metallic armored duardin in a smoke-spitting rig trundling through with all the grace of a cogfort.

"We're all here, Drongi (Storm-person)!" He barks out through the emitters of his armor. "Gimme a minute to make sure all my gear's in shape. Can't be presentin' myself to the clients in shambles..." He grabs a cloth to try polishing off his armor while running through his diagnostics. Once he's cleaned off, he shoves the cloth into a pocket in his suit and slings his massive hammer above his shoulders.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:45, Sat 23 Apr 2022.

Kaltos pauses a moment as if counting and assessing both what was said and who stands before him.  While his expression was mostly blank, inside his head he experienced something he hadn't felt in a long time.  Uncertainty.  The stars had been a map of destiny for him for centuries now, through multiple reforgings.  Now he stood before his most recent assignment, believing before this moment that he would be guiding them through prescience and foresight.  But he could not divine the future of this binding, nor even what his own presence in it would bring.  Was that why he was here?  Far from bringing comfort, knowledge of the future often brought despair to mortals and false hope at best.  He had long grown accustomed to that fact.  But now...

He tapped his staff once on the ground producing a resonating thump and spoke again, his voice still low but carrying easily over the wind and occasional noise of the Realm Gate.  "I would know your names, Soulbound.  And how this...fortuitous group may be called."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:14, Sun 24 Apr 2022.

From the left came a growl like stone grinding on stone "I am Jorik and in case the hair, size and runes weren't a give away I'm a fyreslayer"

If it was actually possible Jorik crou he'd even lower to the ground his double headed axe held in both hands he looked like he'd just been moulded out of the very ground he was standing on

Grimvine listened intently to the words of Arthenadon, like a hungry creature drinking up. "I hear wisdom in your words, Revered One" the spite-revenant replied in a melodic tone to the branchwych. Grimvine straightened his posture from the usual slight crouch and there were a numerous popping can cracking sounds from his bark, like a beast stretching itself after a long period of slumber. Even when the spite-revenant stood up he was a intimidating sight, but at least he did not look like he was going to pounce on the next victim any second.

When Kaltos addressed them as a group, Grimvine turned his attention to the Stormcast, his glowing orange eyes fixed into him, and head slightly tilted to the left. When Jorik had said his piece and there was a moment of silence, the spite-revenant spoke. "I am Grimvine, once upon a time known as Durcaeth of Ironbark Glade" The affiliation was easy to see for those in the know, for Grimvines bark covered regions shone slightly in the morning light and veins of crystals and minerals ran like numerous scars through it.

Sebhata did her best to remain inconspicuous while the others made themselves known. It was a challenging thing to do when you had upwards of two feet over some of you peers, but it came as naturally as breathing to one of her talents. She observed Kaltos with something dark and heavy behind her eyes, her face shuttered. There was some vague and nameless emotion there: not hate, not anger, not frustration, but … something.

And then it was gone.

She strode past Grimvine, suddenly very loud and present – all confidence. Despite being the shorter of the two Sebhata still managed to look down on Kaltos. She regarded him with disdain that smoothly gave way to amusement, a sharp-toothed smile pulling at her lips. It was theatrical, fake, and yet somehow strangely genuine for it. It rhymed with the truth.

“Kaltos Stareye. All the Stormcast in all the realms and they send you.” She lightly shook her head, a mocking sort of affection to her tone. “Well I suppose this does save me an introduction. We both know quite enough about one another after all. Enough to last a lifetime – or several in your case.”

“Died any deaths since we last met, or are you the same old stoic peacemaker?”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:22, Tue 26 Apr 2022.

Kaltos nodded as the various mortals either introduced themselves or acknowledged himself.  His impressions were inscrutable, was he impressed or amused by some of their brashness?  Was he annoyed or put upon by this assignment?  He let on none of his feelings or thoughts with his expression and bearing.  When the Aelf stepped forward so boldly and addressed him with casual familiarity he cocked his head slightly as he gazed at her.  After another moment he spoke.

"We have met." he finally said, but it was almost both question and statement at once.  "If you knew me as a stoic peacemaker, than I doubt you'll be disappointed.  I...have likely died since we met as my own memories of you are...unclear.  Such is one of the possible effects of being reforged.  Did I leave any last words with you that you recall?  I am told I have left messages to some that have lived long enough to meet me again."

Kaltos’ uncertainty seemed contagious. Sebhata found herself looking at him in a new light just as he had her, almost taken aback and hardly so bold as she had been. For moment she held as if expecting him to retract all he had said, expecting the penny to drop and this to all be just some joke. But then Kaltos had never been the most jovial sort, nor had he had much reason to be in the atmosphere they shared.

When no such retraction came she let out a bemused hum, lips pursed, and shook her head again, struck sombre. “I doubt very much you hoped to meet with me again.”

“We weren’t enemies, but I would hardly call us friends. Our lives crossed and then we both spent our days longing to be apart again.” A shrug. “Or I did anyway. I never understood what thoughts passed through your head.”

She gave him one last good look as if seeking out some small detail she had missed, some remnant of the man he was, and naturally came up disappointed. Sebhata exhaled sharply then pulled herself back up, straightening to her full height. A little of that warmth stirred again. “If this is to be a new beginning then: Sebhata Jetsoul, once bane of your days ... and likely to be so again I imagine.”

Jorik watched each introduce themselves each name registered a memory that wasn't his into his thoughts. These echos were bitter tasting like sour milk.

He knew he'd been killed he remembered the moment it happened and he knew this unlikely group had given him something of themselves so he could live again and this made the taste even more sour he was not used to relying on other he was the one others relied on.

He sighed partly because of his situation but also because he was exasperated with how mortals needed to introduce themselves  while at the same time vaing for group position all the while a group of unknowns were approaching.

His stout muscular body tensed as he focused on the approaching group to study the numbers spotting any potential fighters he might need to confront. He realised yet again he was going to have to be the group's protector yet again as he was in his previous life.

His ur-gold runs that could be seen under his heavy armour glinted in the morning sun.

He grunted at the others " great we all now know each other can we now focus on those approaching, stormcaster you may have died many times I've died once and didn't much like it can we at least be standing here tonight to watch the sun set"

The wisdom of his assignment was starting to become apparent to Kaltos, these mortals in the Binding...they worked contrary to fate and destiny and would forge their own.  Was that why he couldn't see what was to happen with them?

"Let's hope not." he said to Sebhata.  "I don't collect and nurture banes.  But, if we have met before, then I greet you again and perhaps you can tell me of our past at some point."  He glanced down at the Duardin.

"I understand your impatience Jorik.  You, all of you, may get started on your service.  I am here to provide my insight and power, but I am not a guide nor leader.  I have not been informed of what you shall be doing and what accomplishments you may win.  Bindings are composed of mortals and as such, it is upon you to what you shall do next.  If you have been told by your divine sponsors what you are to do, by all means you may begin and count upon my aid."

Zakarr coughs, "Right, well...if it was worth and remembering, you'd have written it down somewhere." Sebhata and Kaltos' interaction gave him a bit of a spook, something he disliked dealing with while handling negotiations.

He lifts his helm, exposing his oil-stained and ruddish face and black hair to the Stormcast. "Zakarr Kromnarrson, Licensed Endrinmaster, merchant, mercenary of the 55th Tarrakian Explorator Corps." He tentatively extends a hand as far as his suit could let him, partly concerned if he was breaching some protocol by greeting the demigod in an unfamiliar way

He then turns towards the approaching guests and takes his position, snapping his boots and straightening his back. He was going to offer a military salute as he lowers his hammer as a soldier would a rifle.

Kaltos turns to regard the Endrinmaster, he knew nothing of the arcane equipment or training he had, but felt both were impressive.  He takes the offered hand and shakes it, a slight shock coming at the instant his fingers touch.

"Well met Master Zakarr Kromnarrson of 55th, now a member of this Binding.  I am sure you will contribute a great deal."  After that he regarded the two Sylvaneth.  Even with all of his experience he had little knowledge of their kind and their proclivities.  He finally settled on nodding at each one.

"Well met."

When Kaltos turned his attention to the Sylvaneth, Grimvine fixed his eyes on him. The awkwardness of his greeting seemed to please the Spite-Revenant, who offered him a toothy grin. "Likewise", Grimvine simply said, his melodic voice almost overflowing with bubbling mirth. From his intonation it was clear he had concentrated to not say more.

The conversation with the stormcast tickled something in the back of Arthenadon's mind, but he could not quite grasp it.  The Sylvaneth looked slightly alarmed at the past conflict between the outsider and one of their own concerned him a small bit, though not nearly as much if the conflict had been between the stormcast and Durcaeth.

He shook himself out of his pondering.  "Arthenadon, well met, servant of Sigmar."  He provided simply.  The absence of a grove name was noticeable even to fleshlings after the introduction of Durcaeth.

Turning his attention more to the oncoming host, he stepped up next to Jorik.  "What do you see, master Sternbok?"  He inquired quietly.

' I see a number of warriors approaching on horse back they will be with us shortly"

He looked at the ground around him not liking to be charged by horses. " Let us hope they are our welcoming party from this realm otherwise we will have to deal with charging horses not something I like but if needs must go for the creatures legs it will bring it and the rider down"

Sure enough, the riders draw close to you and rein in.

There are seven of them, and the light glitters off mail and horse alike. All of them are dressed in standard lumineth armaments but none are aimed at you.

Two of them appear more ornamented than the others, and it is the first of these who swings down from their mount and approaches you.

"Welcome esteemed Binding. I am Lyrsis Draelin ul Kybarech, Lieutenant of the 20th Wind." Her voice carries strongly.

"My Breath.." she indicates the remaining six behind her, "have been sent to provide guidance to the area, and protection on the way if it should prove necessary.  If you have any questions, please ask them as we travel, since it is a matter of some import that has required us to ask your assistance.". She turns on her heel and begins to walk back to her waiting mount.

Waiting ‘til their company turned to shoot Jorik a smug look – her read of the riders proven quite correct – Sebhata made swift pace to catch up with their escort. Though she brought herself alongside Lyrsis as the Lumineth made to saddle up, Sebhata pointedly kept her attention elsewhere as she went on through the motions, seemingly more concerned with the horizon than her fellow aelf. The message was quite simple: they were keeping her waiting. Even if the binding needed the locals’ aid and guidance she would not scrape to begging at their heel like an eager-to-please hound.

“Sebhata of Aqshy,” came the lukewarm introduction once she had the rider’s eye. “Tell me, what efforts have you made to uncover the root of your problem? I acknowledge your recent troubles, but are we the first sent to investigate this mine of yours? No word from the site itself or scouts your own?”

While doing her best to stay civil and professional, Sebhata couldn’t help but show a little of her incredulity. It crept into the edge of her tone and left something expectant there; it had a knowing look pulling at her face, her head set to the side just so, and all of it against her wishes. Scathing and scornful came naturally. How could it not when the self-proclaimed lords of this realm failed to keep their own house in order.

“Is there anything at all you can offer to explain what might have happened here?”

Jorik relaxed slightly once he know the riders bore them no ill will, well relaxed was not the word for it all that happened was his furrowed brow lessened and his bushy eyebrows raised slightly

He watched Sebhata interact with the lead rider and he suddenly got an echo of a taste in his mouth, arrogance, ego, self inportance even betrayal but then it was gone but it was definitely associated with the lady.

Oh well so be it, he thought the binding brought stage bed fellows together in times of need and even the ale maker would make do with a bad crop by sweetening its taste.

The stocky Duardin stepped forward to address the rider also.

"my lady I hope that over the centuries us Duardin have taught you others a thi g or two about mining and you have mapped your mine as you dug. Also what was the mines cumpliment of guards all mines have guards and to k ow their number will tell us the size and type of enemy we might have to go up against and lastely have you had any attacks or raids in the last few months not just at the mine but else where "

Grimvine remained in place, as the riders approached. They would most likely not like the sight of him, but the Spite-Revenant seldom cared for the opinions of others, especially some recently met quicklings. When it became clear, that the riders posed no threat of immediate violence, Grimvine felt something rare. It took a moment of focused introspection to pinpoint the feeling. The realization made Grimvine shudder momentarily, his seaweed-like hair and branch-y growth on his shoulder rustling.

I enjoy the idea of not having to cut and kill those Lumineth! the spite-revenant thought. It was not to say that he would not have liked the idea of tearing them to pieces even more, but this fleeting moment of peaceful mind was precious to him.

When the riders' intentions became clear, Arthenadon's gladness nearly spread to his face.  The possibility of attack was always real, these days, but it was not constant.  Hopefully the rest of this mission would go as straightforwardly... if likely not as easily.

Content with the questions of his compatriots, as they seemed both wise and sufficient to him, Arthenadon prepared for a long hike.

At the arrival of the riders and the prompt response of the Binding, Kaltos stepped aside and allowed the rest to fall in and attend on the one who had called upon their power.  Kaltos would provide his power and advice when needed.  He followed with them, his staff thumping on the ground, punctuating each of his long strides.

From out of a pocket of his suit, Zakarr pulled out a notebook and quill to begin documenting the request. "Alright then, let's get to the basics then. What are we looking at, who are we supposed to grab, how clean you want the job..." He grumbles as he writes the notes, "We'll work out rates when we get there, if we get there..." While it sounded perfectly clinical, there was no doubt that a particular listener might interpret his statement to be an insistence to get to the heart of the matter. Let the rest of the relationship build upon that initial transaction.

Lyris and her company kept steady pace with the group of heroes as they began their journey. While Lyris herself remained in the saddle, her Bannerman elected to walk with you.

Lyris gave him a disapproving look, but made no overt comment, instead focusing on answering your questions.

"The first we knew of the mine failing was when a scheduled delivery was reduced. The next failed to turn up at all.  A scouting group was formed and a preliminary report indicated our miners were not prepared to re-enter the mines on their own. They heard noises in the walls. Given the calibre of our miners and the relative delicacy of our operations, this was of some concern to us."

"The scouting party entered the mine, and have not reported back since. Even given the mines importance to our people, it was considered to be a secondary concern while the vast majority of our forces are scattered right across the realm. So a .. decision was made to ask for outside assistance."

Lyris then directed her attention to Jorik. "There are maps of the works, and I am sure you can be provided with one at the site.  Our miners, like your own, are capable fighters in their own right, but usually there is a complement of 10 guards. I do not know anymore than this regarding schedules and patterns, the mines are not my specialty."

"Regarding attacks and raids over the last months. These are the first identified that have directly targeted our mines.  Otherwise, the remnants of the Undead Lord's army continue to vex us but those are part of a wider problem."

She stares hard at Zokarr, as if trying to understand if he was joking or not, then deciding he was not, she gave a derisive snort and spurred her horse to the head of the group.

Her Bannerman tries to suppress a chuckle as she moves away. "Forgive her, she believes that the 'honour' of helping us should be payment enough. The fact that we had to ask, and that she is the one who suggested it, galls her even more.  In spite of her words, she is attached to our destination, and this situation troubles her greatly. We were not in the area when the disappearances occurred, or we probably would have mustered, orders be... Excuse me." He visibly calms himself.

"Our group does not have the authority, or the present means, to render an appropriate compensation for the task ahead. We accepted the commission as escort, I believe, purely as an excuse for Lady Lyris to return to the mine workings.  As an escort, it was not deemed appropriate for us to carry any significant fiscal properties. My apologies. Maybe, once the task is completed, something further can be arranged."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:27, Thu 05 May 2022.

Grimvine walked forward with the others, clearly having no trouble of keeping up, though he did stay a bit behind the head of the group, not wanting to be in the spotlight. Despite his gruesome and feral appearance, the spite-revenant listened carefully to the tale told to them, for the Sylvaneth of Ironbark Glade were not known for brash actions. I have not really thought myself as a part of the glade for a long time... Grimvine realized, feeling surprised both by the fact and the introspection itself. The decades of madness he had spent as an outcast, felt like dream, a fading nightmare that had twisted him in both mind and body.

Grimvine yanked his mind into the present and continued to listen to the Bannerman. His mouth opened into a amused grin, which in all likelihood was somewhat terrifying to look at. Thus both Grimvine and the skull of a chaos warrior bound into his branches grinned to the bannerman as the Spite-revenant spoke. "You truly are children of Teclis at least, the proudest god. Serving you being a reward in itself, truly...How much of Tyrion is in you remains to be seen" It was clear that Grimvine was being completely honest and a bit mirthful, but there was not a sliver of mockery in his musical voice.

Sebhata was content to listen attentively as the others offered their own questions and received answers. Her amusement at Lyris’ departure shone through despite her best efforts, a tiny sliver of catharsis that made her part in playing politics just a touch more bearable. Even if their hosts’ tempers caused problems later that was a problem for then – later. For now she’d take whatever joy she could draw from this assignment.

It was a shame then that Grimvine seemed similarly eager to offend their more moderate liaison. It was a thing that demanded correction, even if she far from wholly disagreed.

Doing her best to ignore the leering skull – not for fear of course, merely avoiding the distraction – Sebhata offered the spite-revenant a chastising look. It was a weapon blunted rather than anything truly cutting, more annoyed than meant to shame. “And which of our people is above that same pride? Would be lining our pockets with ur-gold were we in Aqshy, or would the aqua ghyranis flow freely if your own were forced to call on us?” Sebhata threw out a hand in a dramatic flourish, shifting from overt mockery to dry acceptance as she spoke. “We’re heroes all: chosen of the gods ... and that makes it our lot to labour for pretty words instead of coin.”

That hand smoothly sank back to her belt, coming to rest comfortably upon one of her blades. She clicked her tongue, nonplussed. “I only ask for blood and even I may yet be disappointed...”

Her eyes flicked back to the Bannerman. Sebhata turned, a thought on her lips, but still spared Grimvine a parting look before her attention truly shifted. The message was plain enough: don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.

“You have me wondering,” she voiced thoughtfully. “Are these mines of yours well-hidden or hard to reach? It seems strange that the Pretender God would only strike them now if his thralls have harried you for months. It isn’t the way of the dead to hesitate or offer courtesy in war after all.” Sebhata tilted her head, forefingers drumming on the flat of a dagger. “A change in approach, or perhaps some other threat besides?”

She leveled the Bannerman with her gaze. “Do you have your own suspicions?”
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 03:32, Tue 10 May 2022.

Arthenadon did not bother to disabuse the Aelf of her belief that all were as mercenary as some mortals.  Fighting with the wind broke boughs.  With a wooden chuckle, he did remark to her, "Indeed - skeletons do not usually bleed.  All things feed the trees, though."

As he strode along, he plucked up occasional individual grasses and woody-stemmed plants from the ground whole - not at random but with very particular selection.  As he lifted them, he sang quietly to them of greater purpose.  He then laid the each plant carefully into his satchel.

Kaltos listened to the words of their host, details about the mission.  He examined them for more than what was merely said and also sought out portents and omens.  So far nothing really stood out.  He found it interesting the Binding's banter as well as the attitude of the group that they were to help.  No one called upon the help of the Stormcast lightly, but anyone that received it wouldn't pay with mere coin or other resources.  The Stormcast served, but they expected help in their Father's war efforts.

Zakarr exhales. Leave it to the aelves to make a situation more wordy and complicated than it is. As much as his inner merchant was shouting for him to add on another fee to the deal, Sebhata had a point - Like it or not, he was Soulbound, a hero chosen by the Gods of Order. Bargaining for billing was beneath such noble heroes, and even worse those same gods also sent down one of Sigmar's thunder warriors to keep an eye on him.

He grumbles a lot as he scribbles down the details, but the most audible part was a blunt "Fine."

The Bannerman's face becomes carefully neutral. "I .. do not believe that the undead are the cause of this recent event. We have only so much military, and too many others who might take advantage. Anything might have slipped between the cracks"

The land slowly changed around you, more outcrops of rock became evident, and the grass shifted colours, moving more to red hue.

"We should be arriving soon."

"You're saying that something roused them into action?" the Endrinmaster taps his notebook a bit before scribbling a bit. "Wouldn't be too surprised. Plenty enough undead are too stupid to sabotage a mine for any reason without someone doin' the thinking for them. Who's to say that one of your larger engagements acted as cover for some madman to just make camp in your mine and start ruling them?"

He habitually raises his quill to attempt to add in the hazard fees, but those words kept blocking him. Of course, he's a chosen hero, but heroism doesn't pay for Aether-Gold. His face scrunches as he tries to compromise with his mercenary nature.

Jorik kept quiet for a while listening to the conversation before he spoke up "I wonder if there is something else in the mine the miners found ...it could be that is what has cause the unrest here abouts and perhaps those that have taken the mine are hunting for it"

He pulled one of the braids on his beard as he thought " I hear that certain substances or minerals can be used for evil intent by the undead could this be a shopping expedition of some sort by them"