Ember isn’t far behind the party as they enter, eating the porridge-textured mush out of her cupped hand, her pockets now bulging with swiped food.

The weary-looking blonde bearded warrior lumbers into the bugbear's office, too tired to stand, slumping down into the closest chair he can find, even if it should happen to be the client's own chair. "Bart the farmer is dead, and so are all the others on that farm, now you know what's going on there." Thurodim says plainly, considering his report fully adequate and seeming to expect to be payed for the team's services rendered.

Ozyre fills in a couple of the details that Thurodim seems to have missed.

"Bart was a wizard, not the best of wizards, but he was trying to cast spells that were pretty up there in difficulty, and that was really taxing on the environment, not in like a wildfire way but more of a demonic rift kinda way. As in there was a demonic rift. Demons lurched out, as demons are wont to do, and a lot of them were these big weird shadow guys that have this really annoying lethargy-inducing scream, and a bunch of them lurched over to the farm. Bart locked them in the cellar, but they still affected the whole farm and made everybody more and more tired until they couldn't wake up. So that's about when you stopped hearing from the farm. And then we showed up and the demons lurched at us but we killed them, and then we also figured out where the rift was, went there, killed a bunch more demons, closed the rift, got a couple demons on the way out, and set off back for here. A job pretty well done, if I might say so myself. There was a bit of extra less relevant stuff along the way, but basically we got back to the town, went into your tavern, went up the stairs, went into your office, and then explained what had happened. And I think that's basically everything, so you should be up to date now."

"Yes, that too." Thurodim mutters tiredly from his chair.

"We buried them," Ember adds helpfully as she crouches on the floor. She puts half a brick of bread in her mouth to hold as she continues drawing symbols on the floor with a piece of chalk. She writes copy after copy of the phrases they found in the tomb, all in that unfamiliar language and written with the fluency of a native speaker. "And we saved a forest god," she mumbles into the bread.

There’s a stunned look on Brugg’s face who has not had an opportunity to speak yet. He sits down in his chair behind his desk and sighs. "Well. Ya certainly don’t beat aroun' the bush.", the bugbear says as he pulls out a glass bottle of amber liquid. He pours himself a glass and downs it in an instant. 

"So? He was dead, you say. Shame. Damn shame. To be honest, I was almost startin’ to think his project might not be ALL foolish." He sighs again. It’s almost as if this news is more of an inconvenience to him than a shock. "Still had a lotta coin to pay back though. That’s not good fer business." 

He suddenly finds himself distracted by Ember as she mentions the "forest god". "Ok…not sure what that actually means…", he says, shrugging it off to youthful imagination. "Hey! Stop doodlin’ on my floor. It’s not yer playground here."

The bugbear then stands up after downing another shot of the amber liquor. "I digress. I imagine your waiting to get paid now. Am I correct?"

Cork follows the others upstairs to Brugg's lair, his steps and heavy trunk making their usual racket... squish-klik-klik-squish-klik-klik-THUNK... squish-klik-klik-squish-klik-klik-THUNK... squish-klik-klik-squish-klik-klik-THUNK...

He lets the others do the talking, explaining the results of their expeditions in ways he cannot.  When Brugg asks about payment, however, he nods solemnly.

"...Job’s to get down to his home and figure out what’s goin’on... happy to help…for a price...." comes an answer to Brugg, in his own voice.

The still seated blonde bearded warrior merely grunts and nods from his chair.

The bugbear pouts and sighs. You can tell this turn of event is not what he had hoped, and now he has to pay you your due. "Alright.", he simply says.

From a drawer in his desk, he produces a silk pouch that jingles with coin. He pushes it against his desk for one of you to take.

(The pouch contains 150 gold pieces)

He then once again turns to the child drawing letters in an unknown language on the floor.

"Don't go thinkin' I fergot about yer...special request. I had one o' my guys ask around town for a gnomish mage named Zulgrim.", he says unenthusiastically. "It ain't much, but I might hav' a lead. Been told that someone fittin' that description's been seen at a book store just a bit north of the Market Square. Don't think he's still there but might be worth askin'."

He goes to grab a quill and starts scribbling in one of his ledgers. "Now, if there's nothin' else, I figure you can see yerselves out."

Ember had looked quizzically up at the Bugbear, not at being scolded, but at his mention of a... play? Ground? Not having any sort of normal childhood, she wonders what that could be. Somewhere they do plays? 

Then, as he mentions information about her grandfather, her eyes go wide. The bread drops from her mouth with a dull thud to the floor and she springs upwards. "R-Really? He's... he could be..?" Her little lower lip trembles as she rushes around the desk to glomp Brugg, her tiny arms not able to reach around much of his large form for a bugbear hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

When she finally lets go, she seems seconds from sprinting off into the night. 

A smile comes to the massive blond bearded warrior's face as their hairy client pays up and also mentions a lead on the little ones grandpa. Realizing the fiery-haired girl is about to run off, Thurodim stands up and unceremoniously grabs the pouch with an nod to their furry host, then turning to Ember. "Alright, I guess we won't keep you from running off to that book store." He says with a small sigh, but then he smiles encouragingly. "Let's go and find gramps." He adds, and unless the diminutive giant or the birdman objects he stomps out of the office, pondering if a bookstore would be open at this hour.

Ozyre responds to Thurodim, "I concur! I want to meet up with this Grandpa as much as anybody." The gnome espies the physical embodiment of giddiness that seems to have replaced Ember. "Well, maybe not quite as much, but still a fairly significant amount."

He starts to head out of the room with the others, and gestures to Cork to come with. On his way out, he adds to Brugg, "Thanks for the job! Keep us in mind in case your future holds any problems that only a tangled mess of hammers and spellcraft can solve."

Ember is the first through the door, down the stairs like a fiery blur before she bursts out of the tavern and into the night. 

An uncanny sense of direction guiding her, she runs towards the Market Square with Aggie hanging on for dear life. 

"Here we go." Thurodim groans as the little one scurries off into the night, the massive blonde bearded warrior briskly marching after her.

Leaving a confused Brugg in his office, the party exits the tavern, but not at the same time. Many patrons are startled by the red flash that bolted out of the establishment. Meanwhile, the other party members walk at a steady pace after the little wizard. They have just enough time to hear comments like: "I swear to you, I saw a little girl with a squirrel running through just seconds ago." Or even "Where did my food go? I was gone for 5 minutes and my plate was still full."

Finding the Market Square is not too difficult a task. Many signs point in its direction and you came by here earlier tonight. It is actually a fairly large plaza with currently closed stalls and a considerably tall willow tree. It’s sort of tranquil and silent at the moment but you can easily imagine this place being more active during the day.

Almost like on a compass, there are large streets leading in all four cardinal direction.

Cork hurries down the steps and out into the street after the others, his case bouncing along behind him. 

Despite his exhaustion, he keeps pace with the others and opens his beak, a happy whistled tune emerging.  It is somewhere between a march and a dance tune, the kind of whistle a group could lock arms and skip down the road to.

The massive blonde bearded warrior is focused on not losing sight of the little one that scurried ahead, but as he reaches the market square he looks around for any book shop signs too.

Perception if needed: 15

Despite it being dark, Thurodim, due to his naturally higher vantage point, can spot a sign for what he believes to be a book store. It is shaped like a piece of parchment with a quill, and reads Pages of History. In his flawless logic, Thurodim knows that books have pages and that parchement and quills are implements to write books. It makes perfect sense.

It is located, as Brugg mentioned, near the north road of the plaza.

"Over here..." Thurodim grunts. loud enough for his smaller adventuring companions to hear him on the empty market place, stepping over to the sign with paper and the pen, hoping to find someone to talk to.

Ember, who had started down the north road itself, turns on a silver and sprints back to the book shop with Thurodim. Immediately, she smushes her face up against any windows to look in then tries the door to see if its open. 

"Hello? HeEelLlLlOoooo?" The group would certainly know by now that no door nor window can keep her out if she sets her mind to getting in.