The brisk morning had turned warm and bright the higher in the sky the sun rose. With it almost at noon, Skamos kept everyone's spirits up by lightly strumming on his lute. Despite the quiet volume he needed to play at so as to not lure any orcs over, the music seemed to be doing his friends some good. Feyre was going through her supplies, making sure her weapons were sharp and her reflexes quick.

Magra set to work on crafting a disguise for herself just in case anyone like her uncle recognized her and borrowed some of Skamos's things from his disguise kit. After molding a nose from a blob of clay, she turned to her friends and announced with a draw in her voice, "Helloooooo! I'm Dirktasha Ironfoote." They all laughed at her bulbous rhinoplasty, trying to keep their voices down.

"I don't think anyone's going to recognize you with that thing on your face," Skamos assured her between gasping breaths.

Once everyone calmed down, Aeldevan and Ru said they would be back soon from telling the dwarves the plan. Leaving Nick with Magra this time, the druid cast his spell again to avoid detection, but there ended up being no orcs in sight. Once the pair made it to the dwarves' camp and showed themselves, some of the dwarves were startled again, amusing their friends. Dulrik approached them first, offering some deer jerky that the rest were all enjoying.

Trying to not overwhelm Dulrik with their lengthy plan, Aeldevan gave him the main the points. "Once the soldiers arrive tomorrow evening and everything turns to chaos, Ru will start helping people out of the city through the mines. We'll need you and your men to be ready at the mine entrances in the hills to make sure they make it out safely."

With a determined face, Dulrik nodded. "We'll make sure no'in gits lost. Good luck to ye both and yer friends." The leader bowed, as did Aeldevan and Ru in thanks.

The way back was just as uneventful as before. It only got interesting when they saw Magra filing her toenails with her whetstone. If they only heard it, they would've thought she was driving a steel blade across the stone.

Feyre and Ru went to forage for mushrooms and other plants so that they could have a hearty meal before their plan began. Although they couldn't start a fire, Aeldevan focused his magic to heat their metal pot that held clean water he pulled out of thin air. Magra made sure everyone's weapons were in good shape while Skamos tended to the animals and tuned his instruments. Once the pot of water was almost at a boil, Feyre dropped in handfuls of caribou jerky to make a protein-rich broth along with her and Ru's assortment of vegetation. 

"Ugh, do we have to go over this again?" Magra whined, swirling a bowl of soup in her hand.

"I'd rather be safe than sorry," Aeldevan replied, "especially since-"

"Since you and Skamos are the only ones not leaving the forest?" Feyre interrupted, a friendly sneer on her face.

The druid chuckled, "I guess you're right about that."

Ru cleared her throat. "Yeah, Magra. You and I will at least have each other if things go bad. Feyre will be by herself, and we have to think about what could happen."

Magra rolled her eyes. "I know, I know." She lifted her bowl and swallowed the rest of her meal before filling it back up from the simmering pot.

"Why don't we make a song so that it's easier to remember?" Skamos suggested. He immediately put his half-empty bowl down and began drumming his knees to start a beat while Magra smiled and bobbed to the tune.

Magra and Ru, just them two,

Will go into the city to see what they can do.

Hiding in plain sight, while they seek,

They search for hidden tunnels and the lady orc freak.

Once they know what the forges are for,

They'll tell a little birdy what the orcs have in store.

Then Feyre flies in, before chaos begins,

And swipes the lady's staff and stone, invisible to them.

As the soldiers charge the wall, fire and ice will fall,

Prisoners are freed and Haven's Blade's name they'll call!

They all continued to hum the tune as they cleaned up and made final preparations. Unfortunately, Magra quickly became bored again and threatened to expose their position by practicing attacks on the surrounding foliage with loud grunts. To keep her busy, Aeldevan drew a door in the dirt. The barbarian immediately went over to it and started stomping on it; unsatisfied, she plopped down and began bashing her head on the ground. After doing this for several minutes, she turned to look up at Aeldevan.

"Hey, I think it'll be convincing if I go in with a black eye. Why don't you give me one?"

The half-elf looked taken aback. "Didn't you just do that to yourself?" He indicated the ground where there was a dent roughly shaped like the half-orcs head.

She responded with a quizzical look. "There's different hitting parts of your head."

Stifling a laugh, he turned to walk away, shaking his head. "I'm sure Skamos's kit has something you can use," he called over his shoulder.

"Oh yeah!" Magra quickly got up to go add more to her dirty face.

◊◊◊

They all waited until the sun hovered over the treetops in the distance. The low light would create better cover for Magra and Ru, and the evening would undoubtedly bring with it drunken orcs who would spill some intel. Before the two set out, Aeldevan used his magic to check for any traps that might lay between them and the south gate, but all seemed clear. Ru, with her faced dirty and scuffed up to play her part, emptied all her weapons and items into Aeldevan's bag of holding. The only things she kept were her two daggers that she somehow managed to sneak under her breasts without cutting herself.

Magra cleared her throat to test out some different voices, and she settled on the one from before with drawn out words. Focusing on her, Aeldevan closed his eyes and concentrated; seconds later, the phantasmal shape of a golden eagle surged around her, leaving a faint gleam in Magra's eye. In her new accent she said, "Well now I've got that southern charm," and winked, making her friends laugh.

Skamos held his Doss lute and sang a song softly to Ru about the other side of a rainbow, imbuing her with the ability to fly should they need to make a quick exit. With Ru's hands tied firmly with rope, Magra would need to hold onto her while Ru flew them out of the city and into the west woods, steering clear of the hidden dwarves.

The barbarian and fighter did a final check to make sure they were ready. Magra kept only her great axe, necrotic halberd, and brass knuckles along with some potions. She wore the one-eye insignia on her chest and a fake nose that was bigger than it should be. With her face and clothing dirtied, she looked just like any of the other orc soldiers after a long time of travel. Ru fixed herself to ensure the daggers weren't going anywhere until she wanted them to. She roughed up her hair, littering it with leaves and sticks, and made sure her face looked worse than Magra's. She also had Magra leave a boot mark on her chest for good measure.

With Ru stumbling in character in front of Magra, the two made their way towards the southern gate. Magra whispered, "I'm going to use some strong language and might have to hit you."

"Anything you need," Ru quietly replied, not taking her eyes off the gate and the sentries above it.

"Halt!" one of the orcs keeping watch shouted when they got closer. "What do we have here?"

Forgoing the unusual accent she had practiced, Magra replied in a growling voice, "I found this one hiding in the woods." Ru tugged a little to show Magra was able to restrain her with one arm.

The sentry looked at his partner, unsure what to do, and stayed silent.

Double-tapping the insignia on her chest as was customary for this clan, Magra shouted, "Let me in!" The sentries were noticeably intimidated, and one quickly disappeared. Moments later, the sound of large objects scraping against the ground could be heard. Once the gate opened, Magra and Ru saw they had piled boxes and carts to block the entrance.

As they stepped through, the surrounding orcs looked at them hesitantly and with a little bit of fear, having heard and seen the sentries react to Magra's demand. In return, Magra leered at them to take stock of their situation while maintaining her clout. After passing over them all, she landed her eyes back on the sentry that had let her in. "Not sure where to put her," she said, more of a demand than a question.

"Toss her in there with the rest," he grunted, gesturing to a two-story building not too far in the distance. "Does she know how to work a forge?"

"I don't know," Magra spat. "I didn't stop to have a fucking conversation with her!" She effortlessly kept up her short-tempered charade, causing the sentry to recoil in surprise at the reply. Jostling Ru, Magra then shouted at her, "Answer, dwarf!"

While nervously nodding, Ru whispered under her breath the same words that Magra wore on her fists. Magra heard, but didn't say anything in case she let out a laugh. Instead, she gave Ru a mean look. She looked back at the sentry impatiently, waiting for him to say something else.

The orc began to stammer but shook it off and stood up straighter, not wanting the others to see him belittled by this newcomer. "The useful prisoners are only kept to work in the forges. Take her over there," he repeated, motioning with his head in the same direction as before.

Magra huffed and grumbled in annoyance, loud enough for the others to hear. "Move, dwarf!" she shoved Ru but only enough to make it look convincing. The surrounding orcs moved out of her way and went to pile things back up at the gate. 

With no one close enough to hear, Magra whispered to Ru, "Argue with me." Ru didn't get it at first, almost making Magra shout it after the third time, but finally she understood. After a brief squabble, Magra shouted, "Don't argue with me!" and hoisted Ru over her shoulders like a sack of flour. At this height, Ru was now able to see both behind them and into higher windows.

On their way to the makeshift prison, the two were able to figure out that the prisons were kept mostly to the right with about a half-dozen orcs guarding each building. Young and old folks made up the majority of the prisoners, their hands unrestrained. Meanwhile, people of working age were kept at the forges on their left with chains around their ankles.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to move around at the forges to gain intel, Ru whispered to Magra,  "Throw me down so I can pretend to break my wrist."

Magra did as she told but a little too well. Slamming Ru onto the ground, she shouted, "That's what you get, you stout mother fucker!"

"You knocked the wind out of me," Ru wheezed. Her hands were still tied together, so she did what she could to look like she was injured. "My shoulder," Ru cried after she caught her breath.

"Ugh. Dwarven scum," Magra replied, rolling her eyes. She dragged Ru by the rope on her wrists to a nearby prison. "Obviously you're just fucking useless." The guard at the door looked bored just standing around, but he looked at the pair when he heard Magra's berating. Pulling Ru up on her feet, she said to him, "Got one more for the useless pile." He stepped out of the way, and Magra shoved Ru inside. She tugged out the rope's knot, "You don't even need these," and threw the rope at Ru as the dwarf crawled on the floor towards the crowd of prisoners. Turning to leave, Magra addressed the guard again, "I don't think you'll have any problems with that one. Can't even get her to walk."

With him distracted, Ru snuck the rope into her pocket in case she needed it for later. She slowly stood up and meandered through the group to try and find anyone that matched Jorvik's description. Since he only had one eye, she figured he would more likely to be kept in one of the prisons rather than made to work at the forges. While looking around, she noticed a set of stairs leading to an upper floor as well as different tools laying around, indicating this building had been some type of workshop or storage. In addition to the guard at the door, there were a few more around the room looking just as uninterested.

The twenty-or-so prisoners, on the other hand, watched Ru warily. She could hear some of them quietly talking to each other, and the orcs either couldn't hear them or didn't seem to care. She took the opportunity to ask around if anyone knew Jorvik. Although she didn't learn anything about him after talking to a dozen people, she was able to confirm that the city was attacked suddenly and that able-bodied people had been sent to work at the forges. She also found out that a couple wagons of cold iron had been sent out west. Ru asked about guard shifts in order to come up with a better escape plan, but she was told there was no noticeable pattern or regimented time blocks. Despite being disappointed that she wasn't able to find out what she was hoping to, Ru stayed strong and started planning.

◊◊◊

Back outside and now alone, Magra walked off to check the perimeter of the city. She kept an eye out for the woman with the staff as well as for any sign or mention of Jorvik in case he wasn't being kept prisoner. Not long after she left Ru, Magra came across a tavern with the front window smashed in. She made a mental note to come back if it was the only tavern since Jorvik could be bartending there for the orcs. 

Magra made her way to the north-west part of the city, looking for the great hall and to see how heavily guarded it was. On her way, she passed by another guarded building, presumably containing more prisoners.

Not long after, an orc walking towards her stopped when he got closer. "I haven't seen you before," he snarled. He eyed Magra up and down with a smirk as if trying to be flirtatious.

"Maybe your eyes don't work," Magra growled back, no hint of flirting in her voice. "Didn't you just see me come off patrol?"

Surprised by her abrasive response, the orc quickly apologized before starting to scurry away.

"Has Zorgoth arrived yet?" Magra called before he got too far. "I've been gone awhile, and last I checked, he hasn't."

The orc stopped and looked back at her suspiciously. "No, Zorgoth remained behind at the grove."

"And who made that decision?" Magra demanded.

"I-I don't know," he stammered, his shoulders shrugging.

The words barely out of his mouth, Magra laid into him. "He requested I bring a dwarf with an eyepatch and red beard."

"We haven't found anyone like that," the orc admitted, putting his hands up in defense. "He could be hiding somewhere."

"Are there any other red-headed dwarves?" Magra thought Jorvik could be hiding in plain sight without his eyepatch. "Sometimes the filthiest rat will come out if an example is about to made out of it's family."

"Half the dwarves here-," the soldier started, having no time to react to what came next.

"Worthless peon!" Magra growled, grabbing the nape of his ragged shirt and shoving him against an alley wall. "Don't lie to me." Her voice was low and came through clenched teeth.

An awful stench came from the back of the orc's pants. "W-we've been finding s-some people from the woods," he offered.

"Anyone similar?"

"N-n-no," the orc was afraid to say anything else.

While she had him here, Magra thought of what else she could make the orc say, although the smell from the soldier made her want to be done with him.

"The grove," she began. "Where is it?" 

The soiled orc looked at her with fear but now also a bit like he thought she might be crazy. "Y-you know. The grove."

Magra leered at him. "Zorgoth gave me a map, but it was damaged in my battles since."

"I-it's out west, in the low mountains," he replied carefully, fearful of what else she would do.

Magra grunted in agreement. "That's right." She let go of the soldier. "You think I'd need a map for that place?" she scoffed. "I just needed to make sure you were really one of us, since I've never seen you either, and yet somehow you don't know where that dwarf is."

The orc was still rattled and didn't move, but made a gesture as if of course she was right in her actions.

"Now be gone with you," she waved him dismissively, "and get that filth out of my sight before I string you up by your ears!"

The soldier hurried away awkwardly with one of his hands clutching the back of his pants.

Dusting her hands off, Magra continued her exploration, finally finding the great hall at the very end of the street. It had a large porch, and at its center stood an ornate and heavy door. Several orcs were lined across the porch, leaving no space to sneak around. The weapons and armor they held were of better quality than the ones Magra had seen at the gate, and their muscles were much bigger, too. Magra took all this in with only a few glances, trying not to draw their suspicion. Not wanting to hang around longer than she needed to, she took the next corner and made her way back towards the tavern.

◊◊◊

Once her eyes adjusted from the bright outdoors to the unlit tavern's interior, Magra quickly scanned around. A few orcs sat at the bar with fistfuls of meat and bread but paid her no mind. Behind the bar was nothing but a mess of broken dishes and mugs mixed with spilled ale and spoiled food, the rotten stench making her almost gag. The air inside would have been stale and more foul if it weren't for the tavern's broken window.

The early afternoon sunlight coming through the remaining windows showed smashed tables and chairs that littered the seating areas, and only a few had been left still functional. "It doesn't look like anyone's been keeping up with the place, so I guess Jorvik isn't here either," Magra thought to herself.  A staircase towards the back led upstairs, most likely to a living space, that she'd have to check out later. Finishing her assessment, she noticed at the side of the bar was a door that presumably led to the pantry. 

Magra took one of the intact stools and sat at the bar, keeping some space between her and the other customers. She noticed one of them reach over with their mug and pull the tap to fill it up. She managed to find what looked like a clean stein at the side of the bar, and she too reached over to fill hers up.

"Where do we get the food?" she casually asked before taking a sip. She almost popped her fake nose off but quickly corrected the mug's angle.

The orc closest to her replied by pointing to the pantry door with his tankard without a word.

She grunted in thanks and walked around while avoiding hazardous spillage and wreckage on the floor. The pantry was a decent size with shelves lining the walls and even had a rug although quite worn. There was a surprising amount of dried meats given the number of orcs and how long they'd been there, although they undoubtedly raided most of the homes by now for their food. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head when she noticed a cheese wheel with a large bite taken out of it that had been left on one of the shelves.

After perusing the room's contents, she looked down to admire the carpet when she had a thought. Still having hope she could find Jorvik, she quietly but casually closed the door while making sure neither of the orcs were watching. She swung down the small block at the top of the doorframe that acted as a simple but effective lock before kicking up a corner of the rug. Underneath, the wooden floor's pattern changed directions. Magra bent down, grabbed the carpet in both hands, and tried to slide it to the side, but it was stuck to the floor. She turned up the edges of the carpet until she finally found a handle that was flush with the floor so as to make an even surface.

Magra gripped the inlaid ring and quietly flipped the door and carpet open to rest against the shelving. The musty smell that wafted up from the dark hole confirmed it was a wine cellar. In the dim light of the storeroom, she couldn't even make out where the ladder leading down touched the ground.

"Hello?" she whispered. Nothing came back from the dark. "I'm a friend of Jacob, the traveling alesman."

Immediately, she heard fingers snapping from further in the cellar.

"Keep tight until tonight. I'll be back." She reached down and held out her mug of ale. She let go of it once she felt it gripped by someone else, and it was taken without a word.

Magra gingerly laid the door back in place and made sure the rug was just as it had been. She unlatched the pantry door and was about to leave when her stomach gurgled. "Well since I'm here..." Grabbing an untouched wheel of parmesan, she tore of its parchment wrapping and took a bite before leaving.

"Some good parmesan," she said through a mouthful of the cheese. The orcs at the bar barely glanced at her, and they luckily didn't notice her mug was missing. She swiped one that was under the counter and filled it up before heading back outside to walk around some more.

◊◊◊

Having spoken with some more fellow prisoners, Ru found out that not only did the mines that used to operate in the hills tunnel under the city's walls but that they also terminated in the south-west forge area. A female dwarf with a long white beard explained that they used to use the tunnels to bring in other supplies than just what was from the mines, but now most things were brought in through the west gate.

"The mines have collapsed, sure," the woman had whispered, "but they haven't been checked in some time. Who's to say whether they've all fully collapsed or not?"

Ru had thought about that last part and wondered if everyone would be able to get out even if they could find the entrance to the old system. As she mulled over their options, or lack thereof, the front door was pulled open. The sunlight was immediately blinding as almost everyone put their hands up to shield their eyes.

A large figured stomped over to the current guard, "Go on break. It's my turn."

Without any objection, the guard walked out. Once Ru's eyes adjusted to the dim interior again, she smiled and stepped closer to the visitor.

"I thought that voice sounded familiar," she whispered. "What's the plan?"

Magra smiled back over her shoulder, not wanting to blow her cover. She whispered back, "I don't think much, but I thought you'd want to get out of here."

"I'm okay here," Ru replied. "Although I'm not finding out as much as I'd hoped, and no one seems to know where Jorvik is," the disappointment in her voice clear.

Magra looked sideways to make sure no one was listening and brought her volume lower. "I may have found him but won't know for sure 'til tonight."

Ru tried to keep her voice from rising, "That's great! If it is, ask him about the south-west forge tunnels." Her friend gave a subtle nod that she heard just as the door opened again.

"Got another one," spat the snarly voice of another orc.

While the newest prisoner was thrust into the crowd, Ru stepped back unnoticed.

Magra merely grunted in response, taking another bite of her cheese before washing it down with the ale she still had in hand.

◊◊◊

The sun was beginning to set when Magra was relieved from her guard position. She knew her best chance of going into the tavern's cellar would be when the orcs were drunk, but that would still be some time from now. So instead she took her time meandering around the city a bit more, soon realizing that it was much smaller than Everlit. The great hall was still guarded, but Magra took a different path that led her to an quiet area of the city that was closest to the western forest outside the wall. She figured this might be a good place to return for her and Aeldevan's rendezvous the next day. Magra also made a note of how many soldiers she saw and where they were posted. The walls had  a good number of sentries, but they were still spaced quite a ways apart.

Becoming incredibly bored and tired after walking around the streets for several hours, Magra was glad when she heard awful singing coming from the tavern down the street. Under the pale light of the moon, she started heading back in hopes of discovering if the person in the cellar really was Jorvik.

The raucous songs and shouting were deafening when Magra opened the door, a stray mug shattering on the wall by her head. She thought she had been found out, but there were no further assaults. No one threw it at her intentionally, so proceeded as if nothing happened. She carefully weaved through the crowd, making her way towards the pantry.

Halfway there, she came across two orcs having a fistfight. One of them came tumbling backwards, landing on his rear right at her feet. She looked up just in time to see the other one give her a left hook to face, just barely missing her clay nose. The drunk didn't seem like he meant to hit her, but he showed no signs of regret as he laughed about it. The others surrounding them stared between Magra and the drunk that hit her and waited to see how she would react. After wiping her mouth with her forearm, she looked him in the eyes and laughed loudly before giving him a one-two-punch to the face with her brass knuckles, stamping him with the dwarvish insult. His stupid smile quickly faded as he fell to the ground out cold. After a brief stillness of everyone's surprise, they all began laughing again and pointing at their fallen brother while others slapped Magra on the back.

"Dumbass," she quietly muttered, stepping over both bodies in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the first orc crawl over to help his friend to a seat.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the pantry door, but her shoulders sagged once she stepped inside. Sitting in the middle of the carpet was another drunk orc gnawing on a cheese rind. He barely acknowledged her when she came in but then offered a piece of his cheese after a moment.

Having worked up an appetite with all her walking, she accepted his offer and ate it in one bite but immediately regretted it. She realized the coloring on the cheese wasn't what it was supposed to be and almost spit it out but kept her composure, reluctantly swallowing the mouthful. "Wait, what's your name again?" she asked him.

"Krusk," he replied through a mouthful of spoiled cheese, bits of blue and green smeared on his teeth and fingers.

"There's this big orc at the bar I heard mention Krusk," Magra lied. "Said he had puny arms, big ears, and couldn't fight worth his shit." Krusk looked up at her, trying to focus through his haze. "If I were you, I'd go out there and set 'em straight, 'cause he's running his mouth to everyone."

Krusk's brow furrowed, and he shakily got up from the floor, almost pulling down one of the shelves. Puffing his chest, he started for the door, snarling. "He's right about the ears, but the rest is bullshit!" As he went to push the door open, it held firm and his face smacked into it. Shaking himself off, he grumbled and pulled the door open, leaving with his rancid cheese still in hand.

Magra quickly latched the door shut before anyone else could come in and put a spare board up against the handle just in case. Throwing back the rug and cellar door, she spoke into the darkness, "I'm coming down to you." She carefully climbed down the ladder and pulled the door back over the opening in case anyone barged through her barricade. Once her feet hit the ground, she took out a small torch and lit it. She held it out to look around, only seeing wine barrels on racks.

"Over here," a gruff voice said.

She spun around, and the light illuminated a dirty dwarf looking up at her with a knife glinting in the light.

"Woah woah!" Magra exclaimed, stepping backwards and waving her empty hand.

The dwarf didn't come at her, but he wasn't readily accepting her company as nonthreatening. "Who the fuck are you?" his raspy voice questioned.

"I'm a member of Haven's Blade," Magra started, but the dwarf had no reaction. "We were sent here to look for you."

That statement made him react. "How do you know who I am?" He gripped his knife tighter.

"You're Jorvik, aren't you?" Once he subtly nodded, Magra continued. "Olorin said you might be able to help us, but when we got here, we figured you were the one who needed helping."

"Jacob mentioned Haven's Blade once or twice," Jorvik replied, his grip on his knife relaxing, "but you don't match his description of the half-orc."

Magra twisted off her nose to show him it was fake, and he snorted with a slight smile. He put his knife away and waved her over to the back corner of the cellar where a makeshift desk stood covered with paper. "So, what's been going on up there?" He nodded up towards the thumping floorboards above them. Despite the noise, they still spoke in hushed voices.

Once Magra finished adjusting her nose to make sure it was back the way it had been, she held up a hand to start counting on her fingers. "Well, there're about two hundred orcs being led by some woman with a staff. We're trying to steal it and stop them from summoning Gruumsh, but we don't know how long we have." Jorvik's look of shock didn't phase her as she deeply inhaled to say more. "A hundred soldiers from Everlit should arrive by tomorrow evening, and that's when shit's going to get real. My friends are going to try stealing that staff and cause chaos so we can help the prisoners escape through the mines." As Jorvik absorbed all this information, Magra asked slowly, "Do you have any information that could help us?"

Jorvik sat down on his worn wooden stool and exhaled before thinking about his answer. "There's one passable path in the mines, although it's not in great shape." Magra's look of interest encouraged him to keep going. "There's a tool shed with a red door in the west side of the city. Its basement has a mineshaft that joins up with the main tunnel outside the wall." He invited Magra to have a seat on a nearby crate and leaned on his elbows. "As for the summoning, this is the first I've heard of it. Sure, there have always been rumors but nothing beyond there being a summoning ritual. However, I've heard bits and pieces of there being a portal being constructed somewhere using cold iron."

"That could be what my friend sensed in the city last night," Magra suggested.

Jorvik pursed his lips and squinted his one good eye. "That could be the case, but I'm not sure if it's being built here or outside the city." He noticed Magra's disappointment. "But I do think that woman you mentioned goes by the name Vrazhura, the ash fang. Every time I've heard the orcs say that name, they say it like they're terrified of her."

"What about the artifact?" Magra asked after a moment. She explained more when Jorvik responded with a puzzled look. "It's a magical spear, the Blood Spear. We think it might be the staff Vrazhura is carrying."

Jorvik nodded in understanding. "I've only heard rumors that it's north of Everlit, but I don't know how far.  And then there's the history of Gruumsh which most folk already know."

Magra didn't expect him to know much about the spear, but at least his information matched what Olorin had told them. She reached her hand into one of her inconspicuous pockets and pulled out some parchment. Opening it up, she walked over to Jorvik's desk and laid it flat for him to look over. When he looked at her in confusion, she simply said, "This is our plan."

Jorvik stifled a laugh as he briefly tried to decode the page scribbled with wiggly shapes and strange-looking creatures. "Do you think you could walk me through this?"

"Ah, I see my directions may be a little too detailed for you to understand at first glance," Magra said proudly. 

After the barbarian explained the plan which seemed to not even remotely resemble the drawings, Jorvik offered what help he could. "I'll do what I can from down here, but if your plan works, then maybe I can be of more use." He suddenly realized how long Magra had been down there and ushered her to return to the surface. "Here, take some of these up with you." He rolled a couple barrels over to the ladder. "I don't need those heathens running dry and finding me when they tear up the place looking for more ale."

Once Magra hoisted the casks out of the opening and said her goodbyes, she gently closed the door once again. She moved the board from the door and was just sliding the lock away when  an orc barged into the room in a drunken state. Magra sidestepped just fast enough to avoid being caught between him and the wall which he proceeded to slam into. He mumbled a curse and rubbed his nose while his buddies outside laughed at him, shouting and slurring. He stumbled over to the shelves to grab some food but didn't seem to wonder where the new barrels of alcohol came from.

Magra figured it might be a good idea to act like she was tipsy just in case anyone noticed she had been in there so long. She laughed at the orc who had come in and staggered out to the main bar. Even with her loose movements, she effortlessly threaded herself between brawlers and clusters. Once she was outside, she recollected herself and made her way to Ru to pass on the information from Jorvik.

Before the guard saw her, Magra put her drunken facade back on. "Hey man," she hiccupped, "I gotta take a leak."

He pointed with his thumb to the back of the room. "There's a bucket over there."

Magra shambled over to the bucket, grabbing Ru on her way. "Take out that bucket!" She demanded, slurring her words. "I need it empty."

"Hammer," Ru whispered to her friend as they walked. A hammer laid against the wall close enough to the bucket where she could use Magra's large frame as cover so she could sneak it into her pants.

An elderly dwarf who had overheard Ru started hobbling over to the guard and began talking to him. From the dwarf's expressions, it looked like he was trying to tell a joke, but the orc seemed unimpressed. However, the distraction was still successful as it caused the guard to look the other way, allowing Ru to snatch the hammer. On their way out, Ru subtly nodded in thanks to the dwarf whose eyes smiled back at her.

The guard quickly stepped out of the way and opened the door, not wanting to breath in the fumes from the bucket. "Hey," he snarled, "that's only half full."

Keeping her drunk act up, Magra whirled around and pointed at him. "Well since you ask, I'm gonna need an empty bucket for what I'm about to unleash." Disgust painted the orc's face as he waved them away. Magra spun back around shouted at Ru, "Let's go! My bladder hasn't got all night."

The two friends went around the corner into an abandoned alley with piles of refuse already releasing foul odors. Quickly and quietly, Magra explained to Ru that she had found Jorvik in the tavern basement and about the tool shed that led to the mines. There wasn't time for much else as they worried the guard would get suspicious, so they headed back once Ru tossed out the pail.

Passing back by the guard, he sneered at Magra, "You could've just gone outside."

"And you could just mind your business," Magra retorted, not looking back at him. She went to the back with Ru again and used the bucket. Although she didn't need as much as she said, she wanted it to be convincing, so she made several uncomfortable groaning and retching sounds. Once she was finished and leaving the prison for the night, she gave one last remark to the guard, "Feel free to check it out if you want, but it's best you don't get too close."

She staggered back to the tavern which was starting to empty and made her way up the stairs to the loft. Luckily no one was up there, so she closed off the entrance and sat on what was probably Jorvik's bed and kicked off her boots. It was smaller than she'd like, but it was comfy nonetheless, so she curled up to fit on it. She set her fake nose on the nightstand so that it wouldn't get squished in her sleep. As her head hit the pillow, the fading music and noise of the partiers below helped drift her off to sleep.

◊◊◊

Magra forgot for a moment where she was when she woke up, but she was grateful for the bed even if it was a bit small. Her bedroll wasn't nearly as comfortable as the layers of wool and straw wrapped in blankets. The sunlight coming through the single window told her it was mid-morning and going to be a warm day. She listened for any sounds from the floor below, but all she could hear were birds chirping outside along with an occasional order being shouted. She wouldn't be meeting up with Aeldevan until noon, so Magra took her time getting out of bed and went to look for something to eat.

Coming down the stairs, Magra was hit with the overwhelming stench of beer and vomit. She almost pinched her fake nose but stopped herself. She decided to just breath through her mouth even if the air left a stale taste on her tongue. Throughout the tavern, there were a few orcs still strewn about in awkward positions that she easily avoided. She laughed quietly to herself, knowing they would be quite sore when they woke up.

One of the casks she brought up contained mead, so she poured herself a cup to rinse out the repulsive flavor from the main room. Most of the food supplies had been ransacked, but she was able to find a small block of cheddar cheese and the end of a rye loaf. "Either orcs don't like cheese much, or this place was packed with them." She would've brought some down to Jorvik if there was any left, but an orc was passed out in the corner of the room anyway and she didn't want to risk it.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust when she walked out of the tavern, but Magra could see soldiers walking around, guarding the prisons, and keeping watch on the city walls. Feeling bad for her friend, she went to check on Ru through one of the windows. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to see the dwarf, but she told herself she'd make it up to her after this was all over. The guard from the previous night was still there struggling to stay awake and didn't seem to notice her. She passed by the west gate and saw two more wagons accompanied some soldiers leaving the city.  

Magra figured this would be a good time to try to locate Vrazhura so that she could give Aeldevan as much information as possible, so she started around the city once more. She headed toward the great hall, expecting to see the line of soldiers standing on its porch like the day before. She was right and assumed the woman was inside for now, so Magra turned down another street.

Once the sun was nearing its peak, Magra went into the westernmost part of town where she visited the day before. The calm environment within the walls tried to mimic the beauty of the wilderness. A small park centered in the square held several small trees beginning to bloom as well as a decorative stone fountain although it didn't currently contain any water. She figured the giant crack in the side was from when the orcs invaded, but most of this area seemed in better shape than the rest of the town.

Magra walked over to a low stone wall bordering one of the houses and leaned against it, making sure she was in clear view of the sky so Aeldevan could see her. She sprinkled a few pieces of cheese close by to see if any birds would come to take some. None did for a while, but then a bluebird landed on her shoulder before hopping over to peck at the cheese.

"Aeldevan?" Magra whispered to the bird.

The bird looked her in the eyes and did a quick nod before resuming pecking to keep up his appearance. It was also good cheese.

Magra acted as if she was just speaking with a woodland creature and not looking for a response in case anyone else came by. "I'll keep things brief. Jorvik's okay and hiding in the tavern cellar. We think that woman with the staff goes by Vrazhura. More wagons left going west, probably to a certain grove somewhere in the low mountains. There are a few buildings of prisoners with guards; Ru's in the first one closest to the west gate, and she has a hammer in her pants. We emptied a bucket of waste together. There's a shed in the city's west corner with  a red door; its basement leads to a tunnel that connects with the mines. There's a portal being created somewhere, but not necessarily in the city. That's all I've got. Chirp once if you understood."

After eating the last crumbs of cheese, Aeldevan chirped at Magra and lifted into the sky. He flapped over to the building Ru was in and landed on a house opposite to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. He thought about flying a little lower but noticed a large group of soldiers nearby. Looking closer, he saw the woman orc, Vrazhura, observing work going on at the forge. He wasn't sure what she was watching for, but he didn't want to linger. As he was taking off again, Aeldevan briefly saw Ru in the window and felt a little more at ease.

Back in the company of Feyre and Skamos, Aeldevan resumed his half-elf self and gave Skamos a peck on the cheek. The Tiefling's tail whipped playfully as his cheeks grew more red than they usually were. Feyre rolled her eyes but smiled at the two.

"Alright," she said, "what did you find out?"

"Quite a lot, actually. I'm impressed with what Magra was able to remember." Aeldevan took a deep breath before regurgitating the same things the barbarian had told him. As his friends let the information sink in, he added, "I also noticed Vrazhura at the forges watching the prisoners work."

"Maybe just to make sure no one was slacking," Skamos suggested. "We should let Olorin know about this, but we're going to have to condense it a lot."

The three of them spent the next several minutes distilling all the information they had found out since the last message. Once they were satisfied, Skamos again imagined the words in his head being sent to the wizard:

"Jorvik tavern cellar. Leader Vrazhura glow amulet staff spear? Wagons cold iron west grove. Shed red door mine. Portal somewhere. Magra undercover. Planar influence nearby."

He hoped Olorin understood. Since they had already prepared everything for the next phase of their plan, all they had left to do was wait for his response.