“Roryn Goldrivver… how did I know I’d find you like this,” Coran taunted as he approached the stocks in Glen’s village square and the dwarf occupying it. He, Tessele, Zharilee and her tresssym familiar Nykodaemous had spent the last five days trekking along the Halfaxe Trail and Moonsea Ride to reach the dwarven village. Their first sight of it, when they left the main road, looked like just a gathering of few stone walled, thatch roofed huts, but once they reached its outskirts it’s true nature and extent became clear. Nestled in a small gorge, what was visible from the road was just the upper floors of the rather short, three-story buildings. Unseen were the number of single and two story structures that filled the space between. “If I recognize that voice as I think I do… You find me as you thought you would because you know me all too well,” Roryn replied in a rather nonchalant tone, considering his current position, unable to turn his head sufficiently to see the speaker, but certain that it was a human monk he once endured the dangers of Myth Drannor with. “If he’s such a skilled thief… why is he in stocks?” Zharilee mocked, clinging to her prejudice against dwarves and still unwilling to accept Coran’s assertion that he was essential for their expedition. “He’s a good thief, but a terrible drunk,” a deep voice from behind them drew their attention to an approaching well-dressed dwarf with a greying beard and hair. “That’s not true, I’m an excellent drunk!” Roryn shot back in an indignant tone, staining to try and see all of the people involved in the conversation, especially the woman who had spoken. “As I recall, you’re excellent at getting drunk, but not so good at being drunk,” Coran taunted, then turning to the approaching dwarf, who he recognized as the village constable, he asked; “Just how much trouble is he in this time?” “That depends on what you want of him,” the older dwarf replied. “He made quite a nuisance of himself last night at the ‘Door, but didn’t do any real harm to anyone, so if he behaves himself, and pays for the damages, I’ll consider letting him out.” “How much damage did he do?” Coran inquired, sure that the figure would be inflated quite a bit. “500 gold pieces should take care of it,” the constable announced with a wily grin, knowing that Roryn didn’t have anywhere near that much available. “That’s outrageous!” the dwarven thief exclaimed from the stocks. “I’d had to burn the whole place down for it to be that much.” “That includes you bar tab… and the fine for making me haul your drunken butt out here and hoisting it into the stocks,” the constable snapped back. “But if you can’t pay it, you can stay there until someone comes up with the money for you… maybe your friends here will bail you out.” “That’s a lot of gold to put up,” Coran taunted, knowing that Roryn would have little choice put to agree to join them now. “But if he’s willing to join our little expedition I think I can come up with it.” “I thought you might,” the constable sneered as he moved to the lock at the side of the stock, producing a key and unlocking it, he lifted the arm to allow the thief out. “Well than, what’s this little expedition you need my assistance with?” Roryn asked as he cracked his stiff neck, surveying the small group with an approving grin as he eyed both the gorgeous red-head and beautiful moon elf.