“I’ll go,” Rory stepped up to the counter.

The dwarf picked up another badge and imbued it with her mana, then set it back down and pushed the obalis toward Rory. He poked his finger, smeared his blood on the badge, and fed the item a mote of his mana. 

The embossing on the badge instantly turned an even grey.

“Ah, path o’ smoke. Doesn’t shock me at all,” she smiled. “Most courtiers are. Arright, next?”

Erin approached the counter, repeated the process, and smiled as the badge’s embossing turned crimson.

“No surprises there, eh lass?” Brire giggled. “Late lambs are last ta eat, lad,” she smiled at Jack.
“I don’t… really… have blood,” he pulled back his hood.

There was a flicker of surprise in the dwarf’s expression, but her professionalism was top notch.

“S’arright lad. We’ve another obalis in the back special fer yeh. Jus’ let me fetch the Guildsmaster to get it, and ta approve yer badge,” to her credit, she was still smiling.
“No rush. We’re not really in a hurry,” he replied.

Brire stepped off the riser she had been standing on and walked, very professionally, to the door behind the clerk’s counter, where the Guild bank, the storage vaults, and the Guildmaster’s offices were located.

A few minutes later, she reemerged, followed by a middle-aged human with salt-and-pepper hair and steel grey eyes. 

“Master Jack, I presume,” the Guildmaster smiled warmly.
“Yessir,” Jack replied with a serious expression.
“We don’t get many awakened undead in the Guild,” his warm expression continued, marginally easing the Chosen’s concern.
“I’ve sort of accepted I’m a rare bird,” he smiled wryly.
“Indeed you are,” the Guildmaster chuckled. “Do you have any special dietary needs that the guild should be aware of, such as, but not limited to, the need to drink living blood, eat awakened flesh, or consume the souls of awakened creatures?”
“No, sir,” Jack answered.
“Excellent,” the Guildmaster smiled, and the expression seemed more genuine. “Only a few more. Do you have any conditions or abilities which might make you inherently dangerous to the citizens of Moryven or any village the Guild might dispatch you to for inquest? Keep in mind, such abilities do not automatically disqualify you for membership, but if you, for instance, have an aura that saps life force from those around you that cannot be disabled, you’ll be barred from inquests involving unranked civilians. Understood?”
“I have no such abilities, and I understand,” Jack replied.
“Good, good. Finally, does any portion of your flesh or body pose a danger to awakened creatures in the course of normal activities? For example, do you have acidic or poisonous sweat or saliva? If the latter were true, you would be asked to bring your own cutlery and mess gear if you chose to eat here at the Guild. Can you consume food? Nevermind, off track. This question does not apply to abilities that are triggered under abnormal circumstances, such as blood that is poisonous to creatures that consume your flesh. Though, since we’re about to spill a drop of it, I’d appreciate a warning,” the Guildmaster chuckled.
“No, sir. I don’t believe any part of me is poisonous. Though, my blood is black. Does that mean anything?” Jack asked.
“All undead have ichor instead of blood, my boy. It’s not dangerous unless imbued with abilities that make it so, though a large amount of it soaking into the ground can alter the local mana. With all of that out of the way, I can approve your guild registration. Here’s the obalis,” he opened a storage ability identical to Rory’s and produced a black spire, tipped with a white needle. “Do you eat, by the way?”
“Yes, sir. I have the Cook class,” he grinned.
“Excellent. I’d like to try some food from wherever it is your bunch come from,” he smiled.
“I’ll see what I can do, sir,” Jack poked his finger onto the obalis and smeared the black ichor onto his badge.

It flashed and the embossing turned black on the left and crimson on the right.

“My, my. A hybrid path. Flame and Blood. I’d like to see you fight sometime, my boy,” the Guildmaster handed over the badge. 

“Welcome to the Moryven Guildhall, young hunters. Clay rank inquests are over on those two boards. Just pull one down when you’re ready and bring it to any clerk. They’ll register the inquest with your badges, which will update the Webheart as long as you’re inside the Guildhall when it’s done. When your path has progressed to an appropriate weave, and you’ve completed enough Clay rank quests, the Web will notify the guild that you’re ready to ascend to the next rank. At that time, you’ll pay a small fee and be issued a new Copper rank badge. Happy hunting,” he grinned.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a luncheon appointment with the city watch and several patrician houses. Something about some caravans missing on the Saltwind road,” he waved at them as he walked toward the door.

Erin: Anyone else find it odd that he knew Jack’s name.
Rory: He told the guy outside, who walked back in not long after us. Then he went into the back.
Layla: Point for Rory, paying attention like a big boy.
Jack: Off to the inn for dinner and baked goods?
Erin: And beds.
Layla: And beds.
Rory: And beds.

The four shared a look and laughed, then said their goodbyes to Brire. Once out of the Guildhall, they turned right onto the main street and walked until they saw the hanging sign of the Molten Yam, which was done in gilded letters and featured a large, half-melted yam with stylized steam.

“Well, this is the place,” Layla pointed up at the sign.
“You know… part of me wants to just skip this place and head back out into the woods. Keep camping in the dirt, ya know? We’ve already met half a dozen people here, and I just feel like we’re dooming them all to an early death,” Erin cast a worried look back toward the Cross Gate.
“Look, what happened to Isenmar was bullshit. But Toben and Enora are ok,” Jack smiled at her.
“How can you know that?” Erin turned to him.
“Because I put their marks on them, and I know they’re okay,” he took Erin’s hand in his and put his forehead against hers.
“You can really tell that?” Rory asked him.
“Yeah. I can tell Toben is tired, and working in the sun, and that Enora is happy, drinking tea maybe” Jack grinned as he looked upward, his gaze unfocused, and gently touched his lips.
“That’s neato,” Layla said. “But there’s beds and dinner and probably… oh god… maybe they have meeeeeeeeeaaaddd…” she moaned.
“Yep, that’s all I needed to hear,” Erin pushed the door open and went in.

As their vision adjusted to the dimmer light inside the Molten Yam, they began noticing subtle familiar aspects of the interior, from the golden lighting to the warm, dark woods. The smell of quality beer, roasting meats, the scent of spilled mead soaked into wooden floorboards for decades, the pleasant clove-like smoke of mountain pipes.

The Molten Yam was a dwarven inn.

“Fuck, kids. I think we’re home,” Jack smiled.

Layla: Oh, fuck you, Jackson! Everyone here is as good as dead now, and it’s your fault.

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