Ieannia slammed the door on the ranting priest outside and slumped against it, her forehead resting on the cool wood. She closed her eyes, inwardly cursing her decision to stay in Lower Wyrmling. She could be in Carasgorn by now, wandering peacefully through the fir and pine. Instead she was stuck out here in a festering backwoods hamlet, where the main pastime of the locals was the growing and distribution of 'Boom-Boom buttons' or 'Magic Mushrooms'. There weren't any true Sindarians to talk to, and she'd just had to listen to her native Sindarian, the true tongue, being mangled by a half-bred lunatic who howled out his message every morning to a deserted plaza.
"Focus woman," she muttered, remembering her mission. This was no time for distant musings. She straightened up, adjusted her cloak and flicked her hair behind her ears before turning round, searching for her targets. Her gazed passed over Carmina, and she felt the familiar flash of resentment and irritation at the sight. It wasn't just the fact that the half-breed's combination of exotic features, dark skin and stark white hair rather threw Ieannia into the shade, but also her personality, which combined child-like naivety about mortal nature with an obsession with music and worse, a complete lack of discipline. How the Half-Drow had been allow to live by its parents was a complete mystery to Ieannia.
Her gaze swept on and found who it was searching for. She felt a brief flash of lofty superiority for the two figures in front of her before admonishing herself.
"They are what they are," she thought as she hurried forwards "And it's not their fault they've turned out as they have". She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered her Aunt's principles of enlightened tolerance towards the lesser races. Pulling herself together she held up a hand in greeting as she approached the pair.
"Wotcha slim," slurred the Dwarf in greeting before belching to himself. Next to him the Half-Orc rumbled something she construed was a greeting and carried on cleaning it's nails on it's axe.
'Terrible way to treat a weapon,' thought Ieannia sniffily as she pulled up a chair and sank down stiffly.
"What can we do for yer?" inquired the Dwarf with exaggerated pleasure, peering at her with the reddened eyes of the functioning alcoholic. Next to him Urg yawned massively, revealing rows of serrated teeth, and stretched his hulking frame out, to the popping of stiff joints. Ieannia refused to be intimidated by the display and scowled at the Half-Orc.
"Our mutual friend," she began grandly.
"Who?" interrupted the Dwarf.
"Woz mutural?" rumbled Urg, his brows wrinkling in a huge intellectual effort to understand Common, not his natural tongue.
Ieannia's already delicate temper frayed still further. Couldn't these two imbeciles perform the simplest task without interrupting her? All they had to do was sit and listen for Ellonna's sake!
"I meant our employ-,"
"Ah, she meant the boss!" said the Dwarf in tones of revelation to his partner.
"Why didn't she juz say so den?" asked the Half-Orc grumpily "Insteada bringin' dis mutteral bloke inta fings."
Ieannia closed her eyes again and began to recite to herself "I am an Elf, I will not let them get to me, I will behave rationally and thus set a superior example to others...sod it!". She drew her dagger a slammed it point first into the middle of the table where it sank into the wood, quivering.
The reaction of the other two, now in the middle of a debate on how 'mutual' was pronounced was immediate. The Dwarf rolled off his chair to the left and whirled away, fumbling for an axe that wasn't there. The Half-Orc moved from sitting on the bench to a defensive crouch with his axe raised without seeming to move in between the two positions.Ieannia was impressed but didn't let it show.
"Torfindel," she said, maliciously emphasising every word, "Would like you and the girls to meet him outside in Central square," here she glanced at the sundial "10 minutes ago. He says he's got some bad news, but that he may have a job for us."
She saw the immediate quickening of interest in the Dwarf's eyes at the prospect of violence. He leaned forward and whispered "He give you any details?"
Ieannia shook her head and got up to go.
"I hopes its better then the last job he had for us," muttered the Dwarf. "Parading about all night looking for that lost pillock of a wizard of his, we were. An' he still owes me ten gold for that job too."
Ieannia smirked at him and strode off. As she stalked off, she heard the Half-Orc spit something after her in his kind's mangled speech, but she ignored it. Bracing herself once more for the attentions of the Cleric, she wrenched open the stiff doors and stepped out.