Ebele falls in line to cross the bridge, then takes the silence as her queue. Although she hasn’t fully recovered from her last contribution to the ‘mission’, she continues as expected. The blonde walks a few feet through the winding hallway only to pause. Sniff. Sniff. She perks, makes an abrupt turn and presses herself up against a door. Ebele continues to huff at the cracks. “Brewery!” She blurts.

Rheghys dark cloud of a mood continued. They had been dealing with writer's block for the better part of the day, and what good was a bard that couldn't put words on paper? No good at all, that's what. They had been afraid to cast any incantations, fearing that without their usual inspiration and creativity, the magic wouldn't take hold. Luckily, the rest of the party could step in and take care of things while Rheghys needed their "creative break", but it didn't do much to make the satyr feel better about themself. After all, things didn't look so hot there for a minute, and all they could do was to stand by and gawk.

Cautiously approaching Kerric, the satyr would tap the elven warrior on the arm: "Kerric, I... uhm... I think it would be good if you could, maybe, show me some ways to be effective beyond my voice and words. Maybe teach me some things with my rapier and daggers, or maybe some lessons with a crossbow? " The usually self-assured and smiling satyr seemed deeply uncertain and full of self- doubt.

Kerric:

Smiling, Kerric says, "But of course, Rhegys, for everything there is a season and a purpose, and sometimes a blade is mightier than the quill--but not always...The right tool for the job, and all..."  Still bringing up the rear due to the threat of the troll behind them, Kerric lets others take point.

"Right, well, once we're out of this temple or whatever, would you mind taking me on as a pupil for a while? I've seen what you're doing with Lathna, and I think I could use some of that myself."

As Ebele reaches the brewery and Kerric and Reghys have a quiet exchange, T'chal'fronack'zcinicker sneaks up to the door next to Ebele. From beneath his brimmed hat he glances at the young girl.  In a whisper he says, "Hey, I didn't think, but..you've had a rough go, I think we should probably let you have a breather. You know, as a contractual member of the party I encourage you to leverage your ability to request reasonable respite from further action."  Then he pauses, taking a deep breath, "Ooh...ya...I smell that....it is a brewery.  I guess we've stuck ourselves in a spot fighting the troll to get back over the bridge...or this brewery, to earn ourselves a rest.  Darn.  Sorry about that.  Look, just...take this one easy, stay near the back....the rest of the group is rested and Kerric has that sheet of steel protecting his body...ok? Taking a more conservative position in battles doesn't affect your earning percentage or negatively impact your performance ratings one bit." 

She thinks he may be trying to be supportive, but...it's hard to tell.   Meanwhile, he looks to the rest of the group, and makes some expressions and motions that check to see if people are ready to kick down the door of the brewery. 

The young woman tilts her head towards the sound of T'chal'fronack'zcinicker‘s voice. She dips her head in acknowledgement of his words. “I won’t be a liability.” Ebele side steps from the door and leans back against an adjacent wall. She takes out her healing kit and focuses on bandaging herself up while someone else takes the door. 

Healing Kit: 5 

Rheghys clears their throat, and under their breath, but loud enough so that Ebele can understand, the satyr says: "I think he means to say he's worried about you and cares for your well-being- but he's struggling with that, since it's not something you can easily express as a contract..." The jibe is lighthearted, but Ebele can hear the rolling of the eyes that is heavily implied.

T'chal'fronack'zcinicker raises an eyebrow at the Satyr, and mutters, "Worry is for infants. I am concerned for her well being. If you'd like me to define the difference between worry and concern let me know." 

Then, hoping to stave off any reply, T'chal'fronack'zcinicker turns and tries to push the door open, and then levels his crossbow into the open doorway. 

With things being hard to tell for Ebele, she just kept her head down and focused on putting away her kit. Hearing the sound of the door scrape against the floor, she waits for most of the footsteps to pass her by before taking her turn to move.

Sealed copper vats stand in two rows in the middle of this large room. The vats are old and completely covered in verdigris. Most of the paint on the walls peeled away long ago, but a few hints of murals remain, showing dwarves working in fields and tending hop vines. Three new, backpack-sized glass tanks with carrying harnesses are stacked neatly at the end of the row of vats. Coming from the east entrance, doors exit to the west and south.

T'chal'fronack'zcinicker, crossbow leveled, moves into the room quietly and glances around.  He covers the other doors, swinging his crossbow from west door to south door.  

He whispers, "Maybe we can rest in here? Good exits. Seems quiet. Beverages." 

Xalkas enters the room and begins furiously taking notes on the set up and how to utilize things for EMBK and his shadowed everywhere he goes be Berd. 

Kerric:

Coming in at the back of the group, Kerric closes the door behind them as he enters.  “Indeed, this seems a good place to catch our breath, though if we plan to stay longer we may want to check the doors first,” agrees the elven warrior.

While T'chal'fronack'zcinicker and Kerric discuss their next steps, Xalkas immediately gravitates towards the three new, backpack-sized glass tanks with carrying harnesses. He’d be able to note that they were drained empty. It was made up of ten-gallon tank of blown glass and sculpted bronze with it’s backpack-like carrying harness fashioned from tough leather. They could very well be perfect for mobile brewing. Although these don’t seem to have any temperature regulators, there appeared to be opportunity for him to retrofit them with what he’s currently developed with the EMBK.

T'chal'fronack'zcinicker looks to Kerric, "I will defer to your martial advice on this. Well, let's go check them then." Hefting his crossbow, he heads to the west door first, seemingly at random.  He presses his ear up against the door.  Perception : 9

T'chal'fronack'zcinicker finds himself familiar with the sounds greeting him from the other side. A proud prickly prattler pestering pupils. There was definitely one lead voice and shuffling sounds of others. At least four. A sneeze. Five? 

A classroom?  What could they be teaching?!? This was most curious. Unable to help himself he opens the door and looks in, expecting to see a small class of studious pupils, sort of hoping they’re studying contract law. Perhaps he could be a guest speaker? 

T'chal'fronack'zcinicker peers in the room. Parts of this chamber are buried in piles of crumbling masonry, but enough remains intact to serve as an arcane workshop. A long wooden table in the middle of the room is littered with pieces of a complicated apparatus involving a large glass tank, copper fittings and piping, and a leather carrying harness, while shelves full of alchemical reagents stand against the south wall. The air coming from the room is quite cold, and a chill mist clings to the floor. A large adjoining room to the north looks like someone’s bedchamber.

Standing at the table is a large tall man with a coiffed beard. His lecturing is interrupted by the scraping of the door against the floor when the tiefling would take a peek. Icy eyes meet T'chal'fronack'zcinicker's. Three cultists stand at attention across the table from him while another two stand on either end. Someone clears their throat. To the peeper's immediate right beside the doorway is another cultist. That's 6 pupils, with really familiar, and really nasty sharktooth swords.

Map

“Oh, I was hoping for contract studies but I suppose I see value in the formal sciences. Chemistry is indeed a much needed area of study. If I’m interrupting I can come back, or if you’re open to another student joining I’d be interested in hearing some of the theory.”

He nods to the guard next to him at the door. 

The man from behind the table lifts his head and stares down his nose at the intruder. He chuffs when the tiefling would have the audacity to insinuate that administration and contractual studies were superior to his mastery of the arcanes. Pfft, mere chemistry. "You're new." Piercing icy blue eyes looks T'chal'fronack'zcinicker up and down. "And without proper garments." He lifts his arm, hand dangling lazily as he reaches forward towards the man at the door. "You must be Thuluna's pupil." He scoffs. Then with a few flicks of his wrist he makes a dismissive gesture. "Be gone pest."

DM

There's a short pause before he adds. "or I'll have you removed."

The reaver by the door leans in a bit and peers through the crack of the door. He spots an armoured elf smeared in blood and ink. Beside him stands a readied fighter. Then further beyond that shuffles a little gnome amongst the vats with what looks to be a personal body guard. "Aye Morbo..." The cultist straightens up and looks over to the man dismissing the tiefling at the door. "He's got bloody friends snoopin' 'round the brewery." He gestures over his shoulder at T'chal'fronack'zcinicker at the door.

The man pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's MorBEoth." He sighs long and dramatically. "Damned hideous witch, sending her peons to mettle in my affairs." He mutters along under his breath as he walks out from around his table. "Now shoo." This time with both hands he starts gesturing in front of him. "All of you!"