OOC- Were in a Inn waiting for all the players. Gandalf is the neutral character everyone knows. So ideally you just show up introduce yourself and get some conversation started with the characters that are already here

After the great flood that destroyed much of Tharbad only a few building remained standing and the town tried to rebuild itself. The Inn was destroyed in the Flood. So a new Inn was made, named The Floating Log. The Inn has Four floors, the main floor is the common room where a big oak bar is located on the right and tables are scattered around the room. The bottom floor is a cellar where food and drink is stored. The two top floors have rooms in them. On the roof lies a garden where one can watch the stars and listen to song of the river. It is in the common room where Gandalf sits by the fire smoking his pipe. Its cold outside and Bartolomeo hurried into the warm inn. Going to the Bar he ordered something Hot and a pint of Cider for supper. He then made his way to where Gandalf sat. Removing his wet coat and hat and placing them on the coat rack by the fire, Bartolomeo sat down in in one of the chairs beside Gandalf.

"So am I the First one here then?" inquired Bartolomeo

"That you are, but the others should be arriving shortly" Replied Gandalf

Bartolomeo was satisfied with that and relaxed in the overstuffed armchair, awaiting his supper and the others.

The girl walked down the street and toward the new inn of the town in silence, her light brown eyes flicked around every time she heard a sound as rain lightly dripped from the sky and shizzled against her skin where it touched her. She wasn't sure why she was even going to the inn, all she knew was she had gotten a strange letter from a wizard or warlock of some sort asking her to met him their; of course anyone normal would not dare to go to such a place knowing this but it made her want to go even more! She was curious of magic, the thing that many people wanted to control and possess power over, she often said: "Magic is only as powerful as the person who controls it." Power meant other things to her than it do to others. Most people believed power was wealth and how high up of rank you had where ever it was you worked. To her, power was how you acted, if you were wicked you were powerless, and if you were kind then you were the most powerful being of all. She held high respect for people who treated her just as kindly as she treated them; those who didn’t look at her as if she was dirt just because she was a homeless girl who lived on the streets where ever she could find a open space for a night or two.

“Powerful, hmph,” Rayne said to herself out loud as she thought about so called ‘powerful’ over-lords of lands, “Just big jerks.” She commented before she smiled as she came to the inn, her eyes looked over the sign for a few moments before she walked to the door and opened it lightly; she peeked inside before she walked in and closed the door behind her. She ran her fingers through her white hair and shook her head to let water droplets fall from her hair. Her bare feet were cold and cut up and she winced a bit when they touched the stone floor but she ignored the feeling as she walked up to the bar, rinsing water from her battered red dress as she did so, she asked for some warm milk and the bartender laughed at her but did as she requested and gave it to her anyway.

Her eyes went to a bearded man by the fire and then to the other male beside him, she took her cup and walked over to them softly, her footsteps barely audible, she paused a few feet away from them , “Are you Gandalf?” She asked softly, her music was like a music note and at the sound the fire leapt just a bit.

The man turned slightly and gave her a smile, “That I am, child, sit down anywhere.” He told her before he looked back to the man he had been speaking to before she asked him if he was the man she had been looking for.

She looked around before she sat on a wooden chair just a few feet away from them and set her cup down in front of her after she took a small sip, she let her attention go to the fire in the burning fire-place as she shivered just a bit, wet from the cold rain outside.

The raven-haired elf entered the Inn on light steps, eyes watching curiously. Her pointed ears gave her away as not human, but she appeared to not care, as any other elf would. She didn't order anything, but took a small piece of lembas to pop into her mouth and swallow. Others were already there. Lumina walked gracefully over to Gandalf. "Mithrandir, my friend, it has been a while since you visited our woods. What is it that postpones your return?"

The old man replied to her question quietly, and with a wink. He went on to explain why he was here, and she nodded, listening with a careful ear. "That is interesting, surely. I hope you do not mind if I sit and rest a while. My journey has had some unforeseen troubles." He, of course, nodded, and she took a seat at a booth nearby, in the corner. Lumina drew up her legs and fell asleep, eyes open in the classical elven way. If anyone were to approach her, she would wake, but for now, her mind was in the backseat.

The wind felt good on Gregory’s face. It carried the hint of morning dew; the sweet sent that tickled the nostrils in a pleasant fashion. His horse, Swift, trotted along the mudded path towards their destination. A long sigh escaped the from soldier’s lips as he reminisced about the journey they had taken. It hand been a long ride, through rough country to get to the town of Tharbar from Minas Tirith, around three days of near non-stop riding. Gregory couldn’t wait to arrive and order a nice pint of ale to wash down the stale tack rations he had been eating for the journey. He breathed in a large breath and pushed onwards, he was only a few hours away now.
As he looked around the Soldier of Gondor was filled with sorrow. The town was hardly even a shadow of what it once was, devastated by the flood. A sad tale that would be sung for ages to come, of that Gregory was sure. He rode through the water town, his horse’s hooves clopping on the wooden walkways until he came upon the inn. A ragged sign swung lightly in the breeze, “The Floating Log”. Gregory smirked; even with the town destroyed someone still had a sense of humor about them. A good sign.
After Swift was strung up to a water trough so she would not be startled or wander off in search of food, Gregory adjusted his flog and waltzed into the The Floating Log.
Gregory paused and let the smell of stale beer, wood floors, and working men’s leather, seep into his senses. While most would find these smells to be repulsive, or mildly disgusting at least, Gregory felt only comfort. He had spent a lot of his time in taverns as a Sergeant in the army since it was a ideal place to get acquainted with new additions to the regiment. The smell reminded him of home, and home made him feel safe.
It didn’t take but a few seconds for the aged eyes of the senior soldier to seek out the gray robes, the flowing beard, and the lit pipe that hung from the corner of his mouth. Gregory had only met the magi on one other occasion, when he had visited Minas Tirith to consult the vast library in the city. Gregory had been assigned to guard the mage, but had done more to help locate various texts then actual guarding. The Gondorian soldier approached with a smile, his leather boots thudding lightly on the wood floors.

“Gandalf, you old salt. It’s been far to long! Why exactly am I here? The steward was less then vague about me coming.”

The old man smiled. He knew that the current steward of Gondor held no love for him.

“Who are your friends?”

The inquiry bore no fruit and the mage simply replied,

“All in good time. Please, have a seat.”

The soldier shook his head and gazed behind him towards the bar.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have a desperate urge to grab a pint. I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

Gregory saluted Gandalf the way he would an officer of the army, for to him, the old mage was wise and deserved such respect. Then he sauntered off towards the bar and wasted no time in getting a large frothing mug of ale.

Bartolomeo viewed the elf, the white haired youth, and the soldier of Gondor with a pleased smile on his face. They would useful in the adventures to come. He knew only what Gandalf had told him.

"There are many rings of power, some can only be used by certain races, some only do little thing while others hold great amounts of magic. But the smiths of Eregion did not only make rings they made many other artifacts. Thats why I need you to meet me at the Floating Log."

Gandalf had approached him in his house in Bree with this segment. He was now curious and getting impatient.

"Settle down Bartolomeo, you are as impatient as your father! You see many are arriving and I advise you to talk to them."

Gandalf relaxed and started conversing with the Elf next to him. Mostly on any word of recent Ork action, and where she was travelling next to. So Bartolomeo grabbed his drink and made his way to the bar where the soldier of Gondor was seated. Bartolomeo took the seat next to him and lifted in hand in greeting.

"So you must be some soldier to attract the attention of Gandalf!"

Vaguely, Lumina was aware another man had entered and spoken to Mithrandir, or Gandalf, as they called him. He was a Gondorian soldier, with the telltale accent and armor. Her eyes watched him as he walked to the bar, and then switched to the other one who was speaking to her. Oh, it was just Mithrandir about Orchs. The raven-haired woman blinked her eye slowly to show she was sleeping, and he hushed. But her subconscious mind couldn't take her eyes off of the two men at the counter. So, the elf hummed a quiet elven tune to herself, wondering why she felt like another, larger adventure was coming.

Gandalf pondered everything whilst he waited. Pondered the meaning of life, why the sky was blue, and why he dressed in grey. Everything but the topic of whence he summoned these people.

Gandalf usually a patient man, was growing ever impatient. Only a few of the summoned had show, but the night was still young he told himself. Either way he did not want to keep the collective waiting. He decided to wait no more and would start his tail and hence the adventure. He called over the two men by the bar who were conversing and had the barmen refill everyones drinks. He put his pipe in his moth and began.

"As you know that the rings of power are made by the Elven Smiths of Eregion. But the Elves also shared their talents freely with the Dwarfs of Moria and many powerful items were made, not connected to the rings of power. The Elves also made other items other than the rings of power. How many we do not know, but its believed that Sauron had made more than the one. Many of these items had been destroyed by war, dragons, and other tings. But some of the more powerful still exist. Some increase your life span, others make you blend in your surroundings, others are a light in the dark, and one will allow the wearer to cast dark magic but slowly transform him into a servant of Sauron. After much research I have definite locations of some, and possible locations of others. They are scattered around middle earth and the surrounding lands, a few are necessary to find, as this world does not need another dark lord. Thats why you are all here, to locate these artifacts and help restore some beauty that has been loss in middle earth. The rewards are extremely good but the travelings great. Can I rely on all of you?"

Gandalf relaxed in his chair and let his words sink in. He was confident that they would all accept. He blew smoke rings and directed them around the room changing their colors. Reminding him of adventure long past and made him glad that he had changed back into his simple grey robes for this occasion.

“So you must be some soldier to attract the attention of Gandalf!”

Gregory took a large swig of ale and then shook the man’s hand. His grip was iron, strong a sturdy from years of gripping a sword. He had already taken his helmet off and placed it on the bartop for comfort, letting his baldhead shine in the dim glow of the bar’s lighting.

“In truth, I’m not sure why the man chose me. True, I’ve seen my fair share of combat with the wild-men, and a few ork encounters but… There are others far more prestigious then myself.”

The soldier took another swig from his tankard and pondered the situation a little more. In truth, he hadn’t thought about it much, he was too caught up in the glory of being sent on a quest with a legendary wizard.

“Perhaps he knows my father… Though my father never mentioned knowing the Grey Wizzard.”

Gregory shrugged and let out a small belch.

“Bah! Whatever the case, I’ll serve till my dying breath, as any good soldier of the White City should!”

The army Sergeant raised his mug once more in a toast.

“What about yourself? Why are you here?”

He paused… He didn’t even know why he was here! The time Gregory had spent with Gandalf was somewhat limited, but he had known him long enough to realize the old man didn’t like revealing too much about anything. It was rather annoying in situations like these. After all, you didn’t call for an army Sergeant unless you knew there was going to be some kind of combat… or at least had a large suspicion there was going to be.

Bartolomeo and Gregory made their way to the fire where Gandalf and the others sat. He listened to the tale that Gandalf has spun and remained silent throughout it. At the end of the Narrative he let out out a loud low whistle and stood up.

"Gandalf" Bartolomeo drew his sword "You have my sword and wit for this journey" And he placed his hand on Gandalf's shoulder smiling.

Lumina awoke as Gandalf spoke, but she remained still. The way he spoke made the Elves sound responsible for a terrible toll. Nevertheless, she had orders, and so rose out of the shadows. "Mithrandir." Her voice permeated the Inn's atmosphere, a harmonious inhuman melody. "I understand why you would want to collect such items. And, as you say, restore Middle Earth. But you speak as though you forget the greed of Man and that there is an Elf with you, one who knows much information on her race."

Gandalf did not look perturbed. "No, no, I did not forget. It is always better to guess you are not coming than to hope you are, because then you will get your hopes crushed." Lumina's eyebrows rose in response, waiting. " My dear Elf. We would be greatly pleased to have you on this journey, as an Elf can always come in handy." To the Elf, it still made her sound like a possession, but she nodded, sitting back down at the booth and leaning against the wall, ankles up and crossed.

"Very well. I shall join. And I shall not back out. But do tell why you have chosen us for the case, and not other elves, other men, other Dunadan."

Was it so wrong to fear the unknown? Did not every man? Kelda had been crouched beside her horse in the inn's stable, sitting there silently.

If people had known about the flood, it would not have been so bad. The same destruction may have been wrought, but people could only blame nature for so much... ultimately they would know it was their fault and could even find solace in that...

Death was unknown. It was the only reason people feared it. Closing your eyes, unburdened by breath. It seemed nice. Yet this wasn't even death! This was opportunity. Why did she feel so much fear?

She stood up, she had to decide. She had never known anything save life in a high house of Dale, a few feasts in a magnificent Dwarf-Hall, and the utter crushing misery of a loveless life in Rohan.

This was a chance to see things! To let the past be washed away!

It was another chance to be hurt and stepped on and betrayed. Finally she convinced herself. Even if she had to relive every horror, every pain, she would have been something. She would be a tale told in this inn, a woman seen then not seen again. Part of some unknown party off for some unknown means. Someone would remember her as more than "did you hear about Kelda?" Or "so sad about Kelda..."

She walked into the inn, cloak around her, rather ominous, her hair looking filthy, her leather covered in mud.

"A thousand apologies for my tardiness. I was delayed by my own intentions, I'm afraid, but I am here now, and can only ask your forgiveness, and promise my faithfulness." She eyed over the group, her stomach sank at the sight of an elf.

Things were different here, things were different here. How many times must she say it before she believe it? She was already informed of the plan through an... interesting run in with Gandalf. He was purchasing a saddle, only to give it to a young boy outside the gates, when she asked why he dazzled her with stories of youth and beauty and all the world was and could be. It was the "could be" that sold her, and since then she had spoken with him sporadically through letters without destinations.

Things were different here. Life was different now.

Gandalf lifted one of his eye brows at the demanding elf and sighed.

"All will be revealed to you in good time my dear elf, I have told you much and you will find out much in the journeys yet to come. And as about the greed of man, I have complete confidence in man, and let it be know that everything race has been effected by greed."

Gandalf and the party looked at the newcomer who had entered and spoke to Gandalf. She was beautiful but held herself as a warrior.

"All is forgiven, I was hoping you would be here. Talk and get to know you comrades as you will by the end of the journey owe them your life as they will owe you theirs."

Gandalf relaxed in his chair and started puffing on his pipe. Bartolomeo stretched out his hand and said. "Bartolomeo and your service my lady of the blade." It was his people most greatest respects and considered quite polite. But he saw the glance she had casted at Lumina and guessed that she had not liking of Elves.

Rayne stayed silent listening to the other's speak to each other as she took a small sip of her milk every few moments, she shifted on her wooden chair and she then ran her fingers through her white hair as she looked back over at the fire, her light brown eyes reflected the warmth in the flames of it and she then looked away after a few moments and let her fingers run along the top of the wooden table top. She closed her eyes and she coughed into elbow before she straightened up and she looked back over to the other's as she listened to them and she tapped her fingers against the table and then picked up her cup to take another drink.


Her eye brows furrowed and she looked to her cup, to see it was empty. Her lips pursed before a smile removed the blank look from her face and she decided to amuse herself, she drew shaped on the table before she got up and walked over to the fire, sitting beside the warm red fire. She lightly reached out and ran her fingers through it, the flames licked at her finger tips, much like the way a animal would do to it's owner, she smiled once more and her eyes closed. She pulled her hand out of the fire and it followed her fingers, she tapped her fingers against the air and the fire did the same.

The girl's eyes flicked open and she then moved her hand to her lap, it was neither burnt or blistered.

"A pleasure Bartolomeo." Kelda replied, looking him directly in the eye. She straightened up, crossing her arms and raising her head inquisitively, eyes touched more with suspicion than intrigue.

"You have made some deal with fire? You reach out and not even ash tarnishes your hand." She said to the girl who had touched the fire though it were... the surface of water, not even that, water left some residue. As though simply extending her fingers through open air.

"I've never had much love for fire, safe for lightning a pipe." She said, having just taken a breath of Gandalf's pipesmoke. It was particularly delicious, damn near addictive. It was now she wished she hadn't left her husbands pipe. The burden of sweet tobacco was heavier than the sword, half as soothing, and perhaps a bit less intimate. Its absence certainly did sting sweeter than any sword gash.

When spoken to the girl turned her attention to the woman and listened to her words, softly, a small smile staying on her light colored lips the whole time, she couldn't help her smile, it just always seemed to want to be there. "The fire is my friend," She told her, in her soft, musical voice. "It likes me, I do not know why. It likes to follow me, sometimes we play games. I can make fire dance."

She sat there for a few moments in her own little world where fire danced around her as if it were a human being rather than a dangerous element, she then blinked and held back a giggle before she straightened back up just a bit, and rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck.

"Would you like to see the fire dance, ma'am?" She then asked the woman politely and then stumbled up and gave her a curtsy, even though her dress was just worn out material and her skin dirty, "They call me Rayne, what's your name?" She asked her before she sat back down, hoping she wasn't bothering her, she hadn't spoken to someone other than herself in quite a long while. She felt silly speaking out loud again.

“UGH!”

There came a loud thud and a crash, then an echoing of laughter from a group of men gathered around the bar. Gregory was at the middle of the group and appeared to have punched a man in the stomach so hard that he had fallen backwards into a chair, which had then collapsed into a pile of broken splinters.

“Haha! I told you!”

Said Gregory as he retrieved his tankard of ale and took another deep swig. The man who had been knocked on to the ground was now struggling to his feet, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. A few men in the group were still laughing uncontrollably.

“B-bastard.”

The man on the group spoke softly, his lungs yet to recover from the blow. There came a roar of laughter from the group and Gregory leaned down and offered the fallen man a fresh beer with a grin. The man smiled and took it gratefully.

“You’re a brave man. I respect that. Now get up and have a drink with us!”

More shouts continued to echo from Gregory’s group and the barkeep was kept busy walking back and forth, fetching all manner of drinks for the men whose thirst never seemed to be quenched. The barkeep wasn’t complaining, of course, he’d keep pouring till the inn was out of drink, as long as the men had coin to pay him with.
Soldier’s of Minas Tirith lived around some of the most wealthy and noble lords and ladies in the land, because of this, vary rarely were they allotted any type of revelry. When a soldier was caught having too much fun in the city, often he was discharged due to some noble complaining about the soldier’s ‘inappropriate actions’ which could be something as insignificant as not bowing when the noble entered the room. So when the white knights had a chance to drink and let loose, they never looked the gift horse in the mouth. Gregory was no different and intended to drink as much ale as he could afford.

“Cheers! To the good people of Tharbad! May you swim with the fishes, and drink like em too!”

A thunderous roar of cheering erupted as the men all raised their mugs in a toast.

Lumina's soft lips creased into a soft sort of frown. She unfolded herself and walked over to the man at the bar, Gregory. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder and in her elven voice stated "We're heading out tomorrow morning. Is traveling hundreds of miles with a hangover really satisfying, or do you want to be left behind?" Of course, she had never gotten drunk, and so never had a hangover, but had heard men speak of it with fear, loathing, and dislike.

Her raven hair glinted in the poor lighting as she waited for this soldier to reply, the fool. He would be responsible for his own actions, but she did not want to travel with a whiner. Gandalf chuckled at his chair, and she shot him a look.

Kelda smiled. She seemed entirely unfazed by the frivolity at the bar, it was something she might have been a part of if she had the time or the inclination.

"I'm Kelda," she said, walking closer to the fire, and returning the curtsy. "Now, when does one, exactly, realize that fire has an interest a non-violent relationship?" She asked, sarcastically, imagining the young girl trying to cook something, only to find the fire ran away from her whenever she came near, so the bread never baked and someone went hungry for a day.

"You know I saw someone move fire before, they played a flute, and with each tone the fire would move to a different height or sometimes sway. You should look into that, that girl was always given a steady supply of coin to continue."

Rayne jumped a bit when the other side of the room got loud, she was used to complete silence, not loud noises and voices. The fire beside her leaped and ran along her hand.

She had a feeling this 'Kelda' was just messing with her so she shut up about fire and just nodded at the woman's words, she could have snorted and laughed, a flute? This person she was talking about had to use a flute to control fire? That was a first year move when it came to learning the ways of fire, you know you've mastered it when you can set the wick of a burning candle in your mouth and not be burned by it. She then decided she would answer her question anyway just to be polite.

"I found out the fire likes me when I was about a year old, I was shoved into a fire by my older brother, the fire didn't hurt me so I became curious of it." She told her with a smile before she brushed her bangs out of her face, "I've tried that, but most of the places I go there are no humans to give me coins to do it, and I doubt an animal has money, ma'am."

"We're heading out tomorrow morning. Is traveling hundreds of miles with a hangover really satisfying, or do you want to be left behind?"

Gregory scratched the stubble on his chin and shrugged a little before smiling as best he could.

“Ease up, milady. I’ve been riding for almost a week now without any drink t’all! Besides, it takes a lot more then this tavern has to get me drunk! I’m like a dwarf, only taller and more handsome.”

There was a chuckling that rose up from behind Gregory. He was anything but ‘handsome’ and it was a rare occasion indeed that any women took an interest in the battered soldier. It was a common joke in the guard that Gregory Farms had a mutated third arm and that’s what scarred all the ladies away. The joke was of course, nonsense. In truth, if the man lived in a different city, perhaps one that wasn’t filled to the brim with stuck-up rich folk, he’d probably have better luck with the opposite sex.
Gregory saw that the raven-haired female was still frowning at him, and he realized his explanation was obviously unsatisfactory. The soldier grumbled and threw up his arms in defeat.

“Fine! Just let me finish my drink…”

Still grumbling with displeasure, Farms turned back to the bar and grabbed his mug. It was already half empty, and the watered down swag that was in it would only last another swig or two.
After he was finished, Gregory walked back towards Gandalf and the gathered group of adventurers. He stood there, with his arms folded and looked between the various members before turning to the Gray Wizard.

“Alright old man, I think it’s time you told us just exactly why we are all here. Just what is this all about? You’ve assembled quite an interesting group it would seem, but to what ends?”

Kelda had figured the answer would be, Oh it's a parlor trick, my hands are actually covered in ash or some slime of some plant like the old mystics in Rohan used to sell her. Either that or the girl would try and sell the talent as some greater force within her, something the old psychics would try and say when the ladies had parties in the high halls, had parties while their men were away...

"A hell of a brother." She said, genuinely satisfied with the tale... being pushed into a fire. If it burned her or not, there was still a rather dark intention there, it was troubling. Of course what else did men live for than to hurt women, unintentionally or otherwise?

The drunk man who had caused a ruckus was actually one of the party. It was certainly a relief that she had someone to smoke with in Gandalf, and someone to drink with in this fellow.

"We're certainly not the most coherently assembled" Kelda added to the man's comment.

Lumina nodded, satisfied. She, for one, would dislike it and knowing her kind manner, would be the one loaded down with the care of such a man. The elf followed him back to Mithrandir, where she resettled one her side of the booth. She withdrew her bow from behind her back, rubbing the string to make somewhat of a tune. As it should. Lumina barely blinked a stormy grey eye at the girl playing the fire, and the shield-maiden near her.

"Do tell, Mithrandir. We'd like to know." Lumina wasn't nervous, exactly, but being in a throng of people after spending so much time alone unsettled her, pushing her to keep a hand on a knife-hilt always. With Men, you never knew what could go wrong.

Bartolomeo had restraining himself in joining in on the mass drinking and showing off his sword tricks. Gandalf had asked him to put his wild reputation behind him for this adventure. At least in till they leave Tharab.

"This is what your here for" Gandalf put up his hand and his ring of power flashed before them. Rayne who was still by the fire, looked at Gandalf , her own ring flashed and the fire suddenly grew. It shot into the ceiling and the Inn went silent."Rayne's ring is a minor ring of power, a early form perhaps of my own Narya. These items like I said before are dangerous and need to be found and some should be eliminated. Now we will be heading to the northern areas of Eriador and then to Forodwaith. It is in Forodwaith where I think you will find a dark ring of power. Something made for the dark army's of Sauron. A hearty race of Dwarfs and men live in Forodwaith, they ride huge steeds of fur and are weary of newcomers. So beware."

Gandalf drew a large pouch of gold and placed it one the table. "You will need this to buy warmer clothes when you get farther north, and the purchase of a caravan would be wise. I am heading South to visit a friend of mine who is an expert on these rings. He will be an asset in helping us find and dispose of the rings of evil. I will locate you when you return from Forodwaith. I bid you all a good night!"

With that Gandalf sat back and waited for a response to this news.

Lumina reached out and removed the bag of gold before anyone else could. "This will be perhaps safest in my hands." She blinked, daring anyone to argue, and drew out an intricate silver ring of her own, along with a larger gold one. "These, Mithrandir, are perhaps similar, no?" The elf tilted them slightly and they gave off a green glint. "I do not think all need be eliminated, as you said. We are to simply locate them all? How many are there said to be?" She sat at the table beside Gregory, having previously been standing in the background. She spun them into the air before catching them and replacing them into her pocket, next to the bag of gold.

She looked around at the assembled motley group. This was who she had orders to work with? Fine, she could do that. As long as none of them turned traitor.