Quest Dispatching Kraits

Elbion proved a place far outside of Reven's reckoning. Now he'd of course heard of it over in the Reach, how could you not, but word of mouth, even the tallest of tales, didn't do the actual sight justice. Magic he'd not seen often in his lifetime. But in Elbion? They had floating buildings. Floating. Buildings. Hell not all of them, but even just one was one enough to give Reven some considerable pause and have him commencing to gawk at the sight. Maybe nothing yelled outlander more than that, standing in the street, staring.

But he wasn't here to spectate open displays of magic and wonder at buildings reaching for the sky. He was here for work—turning swings of his sword in the right direction into pay. And that pay was to go toward something important.

Inquiries pointed him to the "Chamber of Preservation". Fancy talk for Elbion's lawmen. They had work—plenty, and often enough, as he had been told—and they didn't disappoint. Open contract on some monsters called "kraits". Reven didn't think himself a monster hunter of any notable description, but the krait contract would do.

He stood now in the office of one Captain Gilcrest, him along with a couple others. The Captain had gone out, saying that he'd return in a moment or two, as he had a witness or something who could aid in the details of the contract. Outside the office Elbionese Marshals and guardsmen and mercenaries of both local and foreign outfits walked by the open door, spoke on their own matters, gathered and departed, and altogether busyness defined the whole of the Chamber of Preservation's Headquarters. Nervousness clawed at Reven's chest, being around the weight of all this authority, but he kept a cool head about it.

"Ain't never heard of a krait before," said Reven by way of light conversation with his soon-to-be fellows. "You boys ever see one? Kill one?"

Kaelan Pomrick Bloomsfield

A vote of confidence from the elf. Well and good in Reven's book. And the elf's gear didn't much surprise him; not on account of him having some preconceived notion about elves and their gear, but because some men in his old Company of raiders preferred roughing it, making their own gear from what the land and their own two hands could fashion, and the like.

He didn't know what to make of the younger man though. Best he could reckon was that the redhead inherited a bunch of mismatching, poorly-fitted gear and decided it was good enough.

"Well shit I ain't got no magic," said Reven. "But I figure we can bait em one way or another. Wipe em out. Stab anythin enough times with some steel and it'll die. These kraits can't be no different."

He cut a glance specifically to Pomrick then and said, "Stand up straight and act like you've killed somethin before. Wouldn't want the Captain thinkin otherwise."

Kaelan Pomrick Bloomsfield