Ian considers the opportunity at hand. "Before we make any decisions let's talk compensation...per diem, workers comp, etc"

Gundren continues to stroke his beard. He looks at each of the pairs of eyes looking at him and then sighs. "Barthen's Provisions agreed to pay me 60 gold pieces upon delivery to Phandalin. If the five of you agree to escort the wagon, that would mean 15 gold for each of you. I hate to give up the coin, but my impatience is getting the better of me."

Glynquinal winces, but tries to hide it, quickly replacing it with a broad smile saying to Gundren, "It would seem a fair price for a friend. I'm willing to lend aid." Who knows Glynquinal though. I might find some heavy purses along the way to add to the pay.

"I, too, offer my aid and assistance, friend dwarf," says the Herr Doktor Professor.

He adds with a smile: "I would also relish the opportunity to learn more dwarven drinking songs from Nundro and Tharden."

The Herr Doktor Professor continues: "As Glynquinal has said, the per diem is a fair one among friends.

"I would like to ask, however, about the availability of provisions for the journey. Is there any equipment on the wagon we can use while facing the dangers of the road, such as healer's kits or alchemical items?"

Ian mulls the offer over. It's not an overly great sum, but it is a job from a reputable businessman, and a friend, and that could mean more jobs in the future. "I don't have anything else on my plate, so I guess I'm in, Gundren." It's 15 gold pieces for riding somewhere and riding back. How hard could that be thinks Ian. "Besides, I can think of worse ways to spend my time than riding around with my friend Glynquenal and having the Herr Doktor serenade me."

Ian smiles and looks at the other companions, but is secretly making the hand signal in thieves cant for only Glynquenal

Glynquinal, eager for the chance to do something as sitting around has led to great boredom is itching to get the show started. What few things he owns not carried on his body were already packed ready for a quick exit should it become necessary. Who knows what the next few days might hold in store for the small group? Glynquinal thought. 

Glynquinal Speaking to Gundren "I assume since you are in a bind we need to leave quickly. I'm ready to go whenever."

As each speaks, Gundren's look of slight disappointment brightens to one of appreciation. "This is wonderful. Thank you, my friends." He points a finger at Herr Doktor Professor. "I'll tell Raphlane to give you one of our healer's kits when you pick up the wagon. You might have to remind him," the dwarf smiles. He strokes his beard and then nods. "Aye, this will work out splendidly. I'll go tell my escort we can leave immediately for Phandalin. If you four will be at the Three Picks in the morning, the last of the supplies are supposed to be ready bright and early. Raph can get you set up and send you on your way." He stands and picks up his pack. "Again, thank you, friends. I'll see you in Phandalin in about four days." Gundren says his final good-byes and leaves the Brawling Bard.

Ian looks at the others, "well, I guess we got ourselves a crew. I'll see you all in the morning. Glynquenal, stick to the shadows".

He excuses himself from the table, and exits, while Tess is distracted.

When he leaves, he heads for home where he gets a few things in order, gathers his necessities for the coming adventure, and goes to meet his contact in the criminal underworld, Apollyon, and asks him to look after things while he is away.

Since he doesn't need to sleep, Ian spends a few hours in trance (gaining the rest of 8 hours sleep) and heads out to the Three Picks mining company  early, sticking to the shadows, to see if he notices anything strange and to pick up any helpful information at the Three Picks before the adventure gets underway.

Glynquinal smiles at his friend Ian, "May you pass unseen friend."

Glynquinal departs as well to spend some time in a restful trance pondering the next few days, and the possibilities they represented. Staying away from the better lit areas he makes his way back to a small room at one of the cheaper taverns. Rising after resting in an elven trance, Glynquinal makes his way over to the Three Picks company. Being suspicious, and always on the alert he makes a habit of taking the chance to sit quietly with his back to a wagon taking a look around to see who if anyone was in the area while waiting for the day to begin.

"I got nothing better to do and some coin sounds good.  See ya'll in the mornin'"

Gruxx will place his glaive back on his back and return to the room he is renting to gather his backpack which is everything he owns.  He will spend one more night sleeping indoors before heading out to Three Picks in the morning.

The next morning ...

The Three Picks Delving Co. is housed in a squat building built mostly of stone located a short walk from the Brawling Bard. Two larger buildings hem in the smaller building, obscuring it. Ian arrives about two hours before sunup. About an hour later, Glynquinal also picks a spot under cover to watch the area. This time of day, even the drunks have found somewhere to sleep, and there is nothing going on. About 30 minutes after sunup, workers and early risers begin traversing the road. A human farmer drives a few sheep by. The elves notice nothing of real interest.

About an hour and a half after sunup, an elderly human with a tumbleweed of gray-white hair surrounding his head pulls up in a cart hitched to two oxen. The cart is mainly empty, but there are a couple kegs and what appears to be a dozen sacks of flour loaded in the back. The elderly gentleman climbs down from the cart and uses one of about a dozen keys on a key ring attached to his belt to open the front door of the Three Picks and enter. Shortly thereafter, Herr Doktor Professor and Gruxx appear, spotting the business, and approach. The elves join them, and the quartet enters the building together.

Entering the front doorway, which was left standing open, the four find themselves in a kind of waiting area as wide as the building's front and about a horse and a half deep. A long counter just a little too tall for dwarves, but not as tall as is usual in Neverwinter cuts the room in half. On the counter are scales, bins, some strange brass tubes, and stacks of papers. The wall behind the counter is covered in maps. They can hear some movement in the next room, accompanied by even-tempered mumblings.

Ian attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation in the next room, quietly makes his way up to the counter, and looks for a bell to announce their presence.

Glynquinal strides in at the back of the group. Adjusting his gear a bit from where it was digging into his left shoulder, he scans the room to see what is around him. Happy to be with his friends and on the move, he has a light smile visible on his face. The rest the night before had been pleasing, and the time had passed for him slowly. Up close to Gruxx one he could really appreciate just how massive he was. Glynquinal decided having someone as large as Gruxx around would be handy if anyone thought to try some foolishness on the road. It would be easy, Glynquinal thought, while anyone was focused on Gruxx, to slip around them and take them from behind. 

Most people he had encountered would notice someone else first if he could help it. Not drawing attention to himself was something Glynquinal had some small measure of skill in. Just taking in the room, he quietly observed the contents and people.

The Herr Doktor Professor doesn't touch anything, but leans over to examine the items on the counter, as well as the maps on the wall. Naturally curious, he tries to determine the function of some of the items (such as the strange brass tubes) as well as (surreptitiously) read the maps and documents.

After Here Doktor is finished checking out the papers (OOC and anyone else is done checking the room out - don't want to leave Graxx out if he wants to do something), Ian raps on the counter twice, and clears his throat to get the attention of the voice in the next room.

Gruxx looks around and sees no one.  He will walk up to the counter and bang his fist three times on it.

"Hello?  Somebody back'air?"

Glynquinal listening for some response from the back room leans against the edge of the counter. Looking at the strange brass tubes he wondered what they were, and what they were used for. The maps he glanced at with only a passing interest, as most of the map reflected places he'd not traveled and that didn't seem likely to change anytime soon.

Herr Doktor Professor and Glynquinal look at the brass tubes. They are all narrow, but each is a different height. On the top end of each is a convex glass which is mainly dark, but also reflects some of the colors of the room. The maps are of various lands. One is of the entire Sword Coast. One is of just the northern part of the Sword Coast — similar to the one Gundren had been studying at the Brawling Bard. One is of Neverwinter Wood. One is of the Moonshae Isles. One is of the Spine of the World. And one is of the Evermoors. There are three stacks of papers piled on the counter. The top of one pile is a bill of sale from Waldeep's Emporium for two kegs of ale and a dozen sacks of flour. The top paper on the second stack is correspondence from Barthen's Provisions in Phandalin with a list of items wanted, including two kegs of ale, a dozen sacks of flour, and a long list of tools. The top paper on the third, much shorter stack is a letter from a Duke Magpie asking if the Three Picks would be willing to travel to his homeland of Glissenbell to investigate a cave which had just been discovered.

Ian raps on the counter twice, and then Gruxx steps up and bangs his fist three times. "Hello? Somebody back'air?" the large human bellows.

A raspy voice calls from the other side of the counter and door, “Jus' a min'un!” Not a long wait later, a stooped man wearing a white shirt and tan short pants shuffles through the curtain separating the front room from the next, a ring of keys jingling on his belt. His face is extremely lined, and his dark eyes are almost slits, but his most striking feature is the tumbleweed of gray-white hair surrounding his head. He steps up to the counter, which is just the right height for his stooped posture. "Good mornin'!" he says jovially. "May I he'p you gen'lemen?" he asks with a collapsed mouth. It’s clear the man has little to no teeth.