Levin the Spellsword sat at a round booth with his five companions.
“Cap’n!” said the young Fae girl at the end of the booth, her pink and purple eyes swirling, “that last mission was bo-ring!”
“Any mission that doesn’t poison someone is boring to you, Xaia,” the young Dark Elven woman said from across the table.
“Well, yuh-huh! I mean, C’mon Zasha!” Xaia whined, “poison is kinda my whole shtick!”
“I see both sides,” said a man sitting beside the Fae girl, his long curly red hair matching a thin red mustache. “It is not glamorous work,” he smiled, “but it buys me ale, and I like ale, y?”
Y, the word had always amused Levin. When he first encountered Merciardo, he found it interesting to find a Hume with such a thick Dwarven accent. Merciardo had never explained it, and Levin knew very little about the bard outside of what he cared about. Merciardo was an excellent musician and even greater fencer. He was a competent addition to the Vanguard Star, and that was enough.
“Ale,” said the large Orc on the other end, his armor silver and polished. “Ale and meatpie,” he smirked, his wrinkled green face creasing.
“All you ever think about is food, Bones,” Xaia sighed.
“By the way,” Merciardo spoke up, “where is the professor, y?”
“You know the answer to that, Merci,” Levin said with a shrug.
“Talking to himself,” Zashazyn said as she took a swig of her cheap wine.
“At least, I hope it’s himself,” Bones cut in.
“Who knows...”
“Gents and gentle...men...women!” A loud voice boomed.
“Hello, professor,” the group replied impassively.
“See,” the professor said into the air. “You see how I’m wasted here?”
“Well,” Levin said, leaning forward, “what do you have for us, Irenaeus?”
“Well,” the Grand Elf said as he scooted into the booth beside Xaia, his seven-foot-tall frame dwarfing the tiny Woodlander.
“Nothing of any worth,” the professor said. He turned to his side. “No, I’m not just picky,” he snapped back at the empty air.
Suddenly, a golden flash flickered as a shiny coin landed in the center of the table.
“Perhaps you might find worth in this?” A soft voice spoke.
Levin looked up to see a young man standing before him, a pearly-white mask donned over his face.
“And who might you be?” Levin said, raising an eyebrow.
The young man stood silent for a moment, then said, “A paying customer.”
“Good enough for me!” Bonecrusher chuckled. “What’s the verdict, Zee?”
“It’s real,” Zasha said, inspecting the coin, fidgeting with it, “pure Dwarven gold.”
“And there will be more where that came from, should you accept my offer,” the young man said.
“Well, we should at least hear him, Captain? Irenaeus said, standing so that their patron could sit at the table in his place.
Levin shrugged. “Alright, what’s your job? Need a mistress killed? The man who slept with your wife? The killer of your dog? The...”
“I want a vampire lord dead. I want the head of Gzerren the Bloodhound, and I want it before sunup on Myrdey.”
“Myrdey?!” Xaia gasped as she counted the days with her fingers. “Bu it Leydey now!”
“You give us two days, y?” Merciardo spoke up, his Dwarven accent somewhat musical. “It is doable, yes, yet...close, y?”
“I know that the time is nigh, but the fate of the world rests upon it.”
“Fate of the world?!” Bones laughed, “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
“No,” the young man said, “because in two days, he will marry my half-sister. He wants to use her blood for some ritual.”
“I don’t understand?” Levin said. “How exactly is this a world-ending event? She’s marrying a vampire, stuff happens.”
“Because,” the young man said in a stony tone. “She is the last remaining descendant of the Witch-Queen Raven.

“That means nothing to me.” Bones said with an impassive shrug.
“Yup,” Xaia yawned, “I got nothin’.”
“You said the bloodline of Raevn?!” Professor Irenaeus gasped. “Does the Black Blood still truly run through the veins of the living?”
“Yes,” the masked young man said, “And Gzerren is aware of that. In two days, he will perform the Black Moondance and blot out the sun forever.”
“And if he does that,” Zasha said to herself, pondering.
“Then vampires win...” Levin said.
Merciardo smiled and met eyes with Levin. “Sounds fun, captain, y?”
“Alright, stranger,” Levin said with a smirk. “Let’s do business...”