The half-elven man who greeted them may have been strong and handsome back in his day, but time had not been kind to him. His hairs were gray and his back was hunched, he looked almost skin-and-bones, with pale, unhealthy skin. Unlike elves, who never lose the vigor or beauty of their youth until the day they pass, half-elves had much longer lifespans than their human parent but would inevitably age still.
"Finally! I know this may be a small town, but there are lives on the line all the same. The Guild should understand that by now," the old man said in a shaky voice. He leaned heavily on a gnarled cane. "Name's Illithor, I'm the mayor of this town. Come," he said, ushering the duo inside and closing the gate behind them. He then waved for them to follow as he made his way towards the central keep.
The population of this town couldn't be more than two score from what she could see, just hunters, lumberjacks and farmers with their families. One thing that stood out to her was how nigh-everyone here was armed with bows, axes or spears, something she hadn't seen before among the peasantry of either Birchhaven or Wildbrook. It didn't take her long to figure out the reason, far away from any guards or adventurers to protect them these people had to fend for themselves.
Illithor paid them no heed, hobbling along. Alanna suspected nobody bothered them because the old man was guiding them, otherwise they'd probably get more than just a few stares.
"Grandfather, who are these strangers?" a voice called from a distance. Alanna turned and saw a young elven woman carrying a woven basket of fresh laundry, running rapidly towards them. "You know you aren't supposed to be out of bed!" she yelled at the old elf, who did not even flinch, merely continuing to hobble on his way to the keep.
"Enough, Rumi," he said dismissively. "I am still mayor of this town! Who will watch the gate if not me, hm? I can't just be on my back all day."
The younger elf looked apologetically at Alanna. Her long auburn hair was unusual among elves, who gravitated towards white, black or perhaps blond hair, and Alanna figured it was because of the woman's grandfather. Humans and orcs could mix with any race, but human half-breeds like herself bore the name of the non-human parent. When those half-breeds then proceeded to have children with one of the two parent races it would produce either more half-breeds or more of the full-blooded parent's race. Alanna always wondered why the blood didn't just continue to be mixed all the way down, but she did know certain traits could be carried on, such as unusual hair colors for a race.
The young woman saw Alanna stare and she bowed. "I am so sorry about my grandfather. He has been ill for about a week but refuses to take any rest! He's the only level three peasant in town, so he has been a tremendous help in making sure our crops have remained healthy and bountiful, but he always pushes himself too hard! I hope he hasn't been bothering you, we don't get guests out here often."
Alanna smiled. "Don't worry, we're the adventurers the town sent for."
"That I sent for!" Illithor said.
"That Illithor sent for," Alanna corrected. "We're here to help you find your missing people."
"We're so grateful you showed up," Rumi said. "We haven't seen Erlathan or Veefra in days. We sent out search parties, but we can only venture so far out of town. Not like you adventurers."
The group continued on their way with Rumi accompanying them. Farthest from the gate was the most solid building in town, a small keep. The masonry was unfamiliar to Alanna, though she got the vague impression of dwarven handiwork. The walls were made of thick stone and the double doors of solid iron. Though rusty, they opened with little effort from the old man, creaking as they swung. The area within was used as storage by the town, with barrels of food, hides or other goods stored in neat stacks, but this was clearly meant as a shelter of some sort. Alanna figured the idea was the same as that of the walled cities of the world: If the outer walls risked falling everyone would retreat into this inner keep, which most creatures wouldn't be able to break into. Then they would just hide inside, hoping the monsters outside would lose interest.
Illithor walked up to a large table in the center of the keep. He bowed down onto one knee, reaching into a crate, taking out a rolled piece of parchment, which he unfurled onto the table. He blew the dust off of it. It was a map of the surrounding area. To the south-west was the dirt road that Alanna and Nywen had followed to reach the town, to the west and north were more woods, and to the east and south were vague drawings of the swamp.
"Everyone who lives here knows the area like the back of their hand, but when you hear a hungry troll stomping around nearby you could end up fleeing to hide further away from town than you may like. I'd recommend looking here." Illithor pointed a gnarled finger at the northern woods. "There's all kinds of hiding places there, old hollow trees, caves set in the northern hills..."
Rumi made eye-contact with Alanna. The slight frown on Rumi's face signaled to Alanna that Rumi had issues with her grandfather's reasoning.
"Grandfather, Veefra went to gather chokeberries in the swamp to the east, remember?" she said, pointing at a place that was clearly deeper into the poorly-charted parts of the map with a slender finger. "This is where she would have gone. And Erlathan went to fetch her when she didn't return by nightfall. They'd have no reason to be in the northern woods."
"Of course I remember!" the old man responded with irritation. "I've lived in these lands since I was but a young lad. If you're getting chased by something, you run out of the swamp, not further in. If you can't run towards town then the only smart direction to run is north. That's just the way it is." The intensity of his argument made him break into a fit of coughs, Rumi helping him clear his airways by padding him on his back. She ended up having to fetch him a stool, despite his protests.
There was clearly some disagreement between those two, and Alanna wasn't sure who to believe. Illithor was clearly the most experienced, but his health was less than stellar and he seemed as stubborn as a mule. If he was wrong she doubted he'd admit it easily. Especially in this cramped environment she could smell the man's sickness. His sweat smelled sour, like someone who couldn't stop overheating in their own bed while trying to fall asleep, and the vague scent of blood clung to him.
Meanwhile, Rumi carried an invigorating, flowery scent. It clung to her like a perfume and Alanna wondered where she could have gotten the ingredients for it out here in the wilds.
"Don't worry, we'll find them!" Nywen said, puffing up her chest. "They can't have gone far, and if something chased them into a cave or tree we'll take it down so it won't bother your town anymore."
"We really appreciate the help, miss..." Rumi said questioningly.
"I'm Nywen of the Desert Catfolk," she said with a slight bow. "This is Alanna."
Illithor scratched his chin as he looked the two up and down. "May I ask what Class you both have? If you don't mind me asking. I'd just like to know exactly who we hired and what you're capable of."
"I'm a Rogue," Nywen said, almost as a reflex, but Alanna remained silent. She found her tongue frozen when the question was uttered. Every time she brought up her Class it ended up being nothing but trouble, and she didn't want to ruin this quest by giving these people a reason to mistrust her abilities. Still, she had trouble lying about it.
"She's a Ranger, new to the profession," Nywen said, taking the choice away from Alanna. Despite hating she was now an accomplice in a lie, she breathed a sigh of relief. Nywen put her arm around Alanna's shoulder, smiling brightly. "I already taught her everything I know. We'll set out in an hour after we've had a chance to rest."
