The sound of snow crunching fills Irithiel’s ears as he walks down the snow-covered road leading to a small, quiet town. With nothing but a cloak to keep warm, Irithiel shivers from the cold breeze blowing from the north.

Reaching the middle of town, Irithiel wonders if this is the correct town he’s been told about. It seems almost peaceful with only a few townsfolk wandering about in the cold evening. ‘That must have been a lie.’ Irithiel thought. 

Staring up at the large inn in the middle of town, the faint sound of music and voices flood through the doors. Above the doors is a sign that reads “Ye Ol’ Bed and Breakfast”. ‘How peculiar, it looks more like a tavern than an inn,’ Irithiel thought to himself as he entered the inn. With drunkards and people having hot meals, no one seems to have taken notice of his presence. 

‘This place reeks of humans….’ Irithiel thought as he gazed upon the customers. Finding a seat away from the patrons Irithiel truly must wonder if he is in the correct town. He was told to meet a source for a high paying job. The source was said to be a dwarf, there seemed to be no dwarves in this town, let alone elves. 

Enough time has passed for Irithiel is about to give up, when a loud thud rings in his ears. Glancing up from the sudden noise, Irithiel sees a drunken dwarf taking a seat across from him. Her messy brown hair covers her face the whole time. The smell of booze reeking off of her as if she were filled with booze. A dwarf who seems more drunk than possible, yet there she sits in all her drunken glory. 

            “We don’t get many elves in this area.” The drunken dwarf slurs in a thick Northern accent. “Let alone dark elves.” She adds with a smirk. However, her thick Northern accent almost makes her slurs all the more difficult to understand. 

“That may be,” Irithiel says on guard, “but I’m here for someone.” Being careful as to not give out too much information, just in case. Unsure about the dwarf, Irithiel moves his drink away from her and the dwarf chuckles.

“Aye,” she smirks, “that’d be me.” 

Unsure of how to respond to the anomaly that is this dwarf, Irithiel sits there, contemplating whether he should leave or not. The dwarf smirks even wider as she notices his slight annoyance. Taking a swig of his ale Irithiel urges the dwarf to speak. 

“The name’s Thavroline,” she enthusiastically says, holding out her hand to the obviously unhappy elf. “And I hear yer the infamous ‘Ripper’.” She chuckles. “Yer one hard man, well, elf, to find.” Laughing even harder, the dwarf, Thavroline, takes a drink from a new cup that Irithiel hadn’t even seen her have. 

Confused about what exactly this dwarf is supposed to be, a magician... or even a wizard, Irithiel just sighs and gazes upon the dwarf once more as he removes his hood. “I do not approve of that nickname,” Irithiel says leaning back in his chair, “and yes, I’m supposed to be hard to find. That’s the point…” He says with a snarky attitude. 

“Aye, ‘tis true.” She giggles. “But anyway, the tale is that yer lookin’ fer a job, a high paying one at that.”  

“Yes… I am.” Irithiel replies, still unsure of this Thavroline in front of him. She lets a smirk slide upon her lips as her eyes narrow. This answer seemed to be the correct answer, as if no other answer would do. This makes Irithiel wonder, what if perhaps he said no? 

“Good… good.” Thavroline nods with a devilish smirk. “Just what I was hoping to hear.”

“So…” Irithiel lifts his chin ever so slightly, urging Thavroline to speak.

“So,” She repeats, her smirk vanishing, “this job is no easy task.” Her voice tainted in what Irithiel could only guess was a hint of dread. “This piece of paper has everything ya’ need to know. Read it in the safety of yer’ own room.” She adds reaching into her seemingly bottomless breast pocket of her cloak. Rummaging around for what seemed like an eternity, she slowly pulls her hand out and a crumpled piece of paper sticks out like a beacon between her index and middle finger. 

Softly putting the paper on the table, Thavroline slides the paper across the table to Irithiel. Slowly reaching for the paper, Irithiel stops as Thavroline holds the paper with a death grip. 

“Something wrong?” Irithiel asks. Thavroline gives a quick glance around before speaking. 

“.......No. No.” Thavroline mutters as she pulls her hand back. Irithiel then takes the small crumpled piece of paper and stuffs it in his most secure breast pocket. “Here’s half pay now.” Thavroline says with a groan. 

The chair she was sitting in makes a loud creak at the sudden weight shift, and her smile seems to have returned as quickly as it vanished. Her hand reaches behind her and she pulls out a small coin bag. Thavroline then tosses the bag at Irithiel and he catches the bag effortlessly with the sound of the coins clinking together. Quickly looking at the small coin purse Irithiel looks back up only to find Thavroline gone without a trace. 

In the room Irithiel just paid for, he sits down on the bed with a soft thud. Roughly running his hand through his hair Irithiel lets out an exhausted sigh. Reaching into his most secure breast pocket, the paper crinkles between Irithiels fingers as he pulls it out. Slowly uncrumpling the paper, Irithiel realizes that there are only a few lines of words. 

‘How odd… I thought there would be more written down, since she was being so secretive. At least I can read the note… I thought for sure it would be illegible.’ He thought to himself. However, the note read as such….

“To whom it may concern, there is an abandoned warehouse in the next town over. It is near the docks of the river leading to the Imperial City Port. In this warehouse is a group of individuals who have named themselves as the Brotherhood. We ask of you, whoever is reading this, to go to this warehouse on the next full moon. We wish for you to, however you wish, disperse of the menace that is the Brotherhood. Discreetly, we might add. No need for any unwanted attention.” 

Having memorized the note, Irithiel lets out a small sigh as he holds the paper over the light flame of his candle until it’s nothing but ash. And with that Irithiel undresses for bed and blows out the candle leaving him in complete darkness to contemplate the note before he drifts off to sleep.