Approaching an office near the mine ravine, Bründir seems to ease and become more comfortable. He greets several passing miners before reaching the office door. A few pounding knocks are met with a gruff response from within, "Bründir, I've already paid them for the week, so leave me be!"

Bründir turns a smile to the others and winks, "Seems yer man Tello is at the drink ag'in."

The voice rises louder this time, "Damnit that waste of air and space is getting buried in the mine this time! I'll have him so far down it'll be a week's walk just to see-" the door flies open and Anders stands in a fury before the party, confusion obvious at the new faces. "Bründir what th'hell are you up to this time?"

(Was tempted to describe Anders, but I'll leave that to the DM.)

Anders is a tall man, with sunken gaunt features and the barest smattering of close-cropped grey hair around the back of his balding head. He's wearing a breast plate with leather vambraces and greaves. A longsword in a plain scabbard with a worn haft hangs at his side. He looks old, but his eyes belie the awareness of a man who's mind is still as sharp as it was twenty years ago. He waits impatiently for an answer from the dwarf and his companions.

Hurrig steps forward, "Anders, pal, we're here ta escort that next shipment. Give ya men a break."

Anders looks confused.

"That's the first I've heard of this. I told Quinton I didn't have men to spare for that poncy elf of his. Since when are you a soldier and not a miner Hurrig?"

Hurrig letss out a chuckle, "Always a miner and smith at heart, Moradin knows it. But Grothir asked for us to help get the trade goin back 'is way, and this is what Govna said ta do."

"We're your men! Well ah, not your men but... well we... I mean uh she's a lady.... we're not soldiers... well I guess Sylelor is kinda... uh..." flustered, Vark resorts to sending a small gust rippling around himself, and then letting lightning crackle and jump across his fingertips, while putting on an exasperated smile. "I can do this!"

Hurrig looks at Vark, "It's alright bub, Brundir, Syl and I will show you the ropes. Us dwarves love a good scrap, we'll keep ya safe. But Anders, we're ready to go."

Syl stands up straight, "We are here on orders directly from Quinton."

He then looks at Bründir, "You have the orders correct?"

Valaith waits quietly while the others talk to the Captain, still seething from the treatment they have received (especially Syl) from the guards of the town. She is inclined to say something to their leader who stands before her, but realizes it would likely be a futile effort on her part.

Archibald, seeing Val’s attitude in the corner; walks over and nimbly hops up on an end table to be at least chest height with her.  “Just wait until we do this job and become heros  We get to come back get a sack of coin and rub it in their faces.”

He then waits for her to turn and use this opportunity to sit on the head of her (hammer? Or kind of piggy back on the shaft of the weapon) So he can start getting that ride.

as he begins to sneak he doesn’t see the paper on the table.  He slips and falls face first onto  the floor.

Not feeing very helpful, Vark gets quiet and begins to fade into the background, his usual comfort place. As he sees the gnome eat shit, Vark rushes over. “Archie! Are you alright?” 

Archie gets up rubbing his nose and blink a few extra times. “Yes, yes, pay no attention to the gnome behind the Goliath.”

"Look Anders," Bründir produces the signed orders, "We've got it from Quinton 'imself to chase th' bandit issue down. Lookin' at th' big picture, this is a problem for us all: dwarves lose trade, elves' get killed, an' we're throwing hard-mined ore to bandits who catch it b'fore it gets to our frien's. Can ye give any help or not?"

Anders frowns at the confusion amongst the mismatched group, but when he sees the seal he takes the orders and opens them, reading them carefully with piercing eyes. He shrugs indifferently.

"Have it your way lads," he states simply, before adding "I guess you work for me now," with a smirk. "The convoy leaves leaves at first light tomorrow, don't be late."

Archibald brushes himself off and walks forward to give a handshake.  “Excellent!  My name is Archibald Swiftstep, I speak on behalf of the group with certain concerns about payment.  Of course there is our base pay, if we are meant to continue working under this agreement then we will have to apply our usual retainer fee, provisions fee, stipend for meals, accommodations for sleeping and shelter for the trip, insurance by way of certain healing potions, and the understanding that our group Archie and the Fantastic Five will not be responsible for lost, damaged, or stolen goods or people. Of course we will also take any advice on supplies to take for the travel.”

A look of genuine confusion comes over Vark’s face. “Wait... when did we decide on a group name?” he asks quietly to whoever else is in the back of the group with him.

“Jeshhh, just go with it” whispers back Archibald

Bründir stands with a look of skepticism and confusion, "Eh...D'spite the puffy git there, jes' pay me fer th' food, supplies, and troubles we run into. Sheercleft is m'home an' I don' aim t'lose it."

Archie's inquiries are met with a blank, impassive stare from Anders.

"You are soldiers in the service of Sheercleft and will be treated as such," he replies, curtly. "The convoy is equipped for the journey to Eldren and back."

Bründir, on the other hand, receives a respectful nod from Anders. He has a grasp of the situation and is not acting differently to any other man in the guard protecting his home.

Valaith whispers to Archie. "I'd rather rub my fist in their faces, but that would get me nowhere except placed into irons." She nods to Anders and turns to take her leave. Once outside Ander's office, Valaith looks down at Archie with a frown. "Archibold, the next time you try to climb on me without asking, there will be a new sport in Sheerclift; gnome tossing." She grins wickedly as she begins making her way through the snow.