The Chosen and their new companion were nervous enough about the idea of being watched they decided to head out to the Silverglooms that same night. They packed up their rucksacks, surreptitiously slipped the rest of their belongings into Rory’s storage, and then paid Tilly for another week, before heading out for “dinner”.

“I feel bad lying to Tilly,” Erin complained.
“Yeah but, what if that’s not Tilly,” Layla whispered.

One of the passersby a few yards away laughed, probably at something said by the man walking next to her, but paranoia had taken root, slowly blossoming into a maddening flower, and the sound made Layla jump, which set Erin and Rory on edge as well. Maggie simply pulled the lead edge of her tricorn down and walked closer to the Chosen.

“Why are you so calm about this, Jackson?” Layla eyed him.
“The way I figure it is, if we die, we die. Or we pop back up on the coast. Who knows? We can’t fight… hmm… you’re right, this is hard. Anyway, can’t do anything about it, no reason to worry,” he shrugged.
“Yeh won’t pop back up,” Maggie replied softly.
“Hmm?” Rory leaned in.
“If’n she kills yeh. When the Chosen fight each other, it’s fer keeps,” the dwarf explained.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Layla grumbled.
“Aye, lassie, ‘tis,” she sighed in reply.
“This is the place,” Rory said, before ducking into a shop the others hadn’t seen before.
“The Dapper Scale? What kind of shop is this?” Layla looked up at the sign.

Rory’s hand emerged from the door and gripped the hem of Layla’s combat robes, dragging her inside. The others followed the succubus as she was hauled into the little clothier’s shop.

“Rory, seeker of knowledge, this humble merchant welcomes you once again to the Dapper Scale,” the brilliant blue lizardfolk female greeted him as he stepped inside.
“Good evening, Snipper, esteemed merchant and tailor. I’d like to see about some off-the-rack items for my new friend here,” he gestured at Maggie. “Maggie, what kind of armor do you wear?”
“I once wore the finest desert dragon leathers, laddie, gold as the glittering sand, and enchanted by a transcendent master o’ the art,” she smiled wearily. “But they’ve long since been lost.”
“Well, we probably can’t outfit you in the fashion to which you’re accustomed, but we can at least make sure you have clean clothes and some leather,” he smiled.
“Oh, yeh dinnae have to do that, boyo. There’s like nothin’ round here could injure me, anyhow,” she waved him off.
“It’s not up for debate, Maggie,” he replied sternly.
“Arright, arright. Signs, yeh sound like Tyler,” she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Who’s Tyler?” Erin asked.
“The last o’ Brandon’s friends ta pass. Only one was left by the time ah came to be in his company. Wee li’l git sounded like he were raised by dwarves. Said he were from somewhere called Scotch-land. Always use ta scold me an’ look after me as though he were me mum, even though he weren’t but twenty summers,” she stared at the floor.
“It’s okay, Maggie. Things are gonna be different this time,” Jack smiled.
“Dinnae say that, Jack. Dinnae say it till yeh understand,” she replied.
“Less talk, more clothes,” Rory grabbed Maggie’s hand and led her over to where Snipper was laying out several outfits. “Try everything on. If it fits, we buy it.”

An hour later, they exited the Dapper Scale, coin purse significantly lighter, and their companion dressed like an altogether different dwarf. Maggie’s tricorn cap had stayed, but she now wore a lightly armored greatcoat in the Valla Corsan style over a set of light leather armor. None of her gear was magical, or of particularly high quality, but she had wept and held onto Rory and Erin when she saw herself in the mirror.

“Alright, so, straight to Split Watch, then up to Olvayn’s Lift, right?” Jack whispered to her.
“Aye, Jack. It’s a bit of a hop, but if we make good time, we should get ta Split Watch in time ta sleep til mornin’, then Olvayn’s lift by tomorro’ evenin’, then ta Caer Canwyn the next afternoon,” she nodded.
“Sounds good,” he nodded back briefly, then set his eyes toward the east.

“We have one more place to stop on the way out. Maggie, what kind of weapon do you use? I saw you were swinging a busted cutlass?” Jack asked.
“T’were just somethin’ I took from a couple toughs tried to rob me a few weeks back on the road here. Prefer a shield and hammer,” she had a distant look, as though lost in memory.
“Alright, we’ll check out the shops on the way out of town, but if we don’t find anything, we’ll dip into Ashhand’s place,” he replied.

They never made it to Ashhand’s. Maggie picked out a decent quality round shield from their first stop and a short-handled, incredibly heavy horseman’s hammer of dwarven make from the second shop they tried.

“Can you really wield that thing?” Rory asked her.
“Aye boyo. They make these fer heavy vanguard once they get ta round the fourth or fifth,” she grinned.

She gave the war hammer an experimental one-handed swing, swishing it through the air and reversing it with more ease than Jack swung his longsword.

“Holy shit, Maggie. How strong are you?” Layla gawked.
“Dinnae exactly, lassie, but I reckon me strength is as good as a warrior in the third weave or so. Let it fall behind quite a bit once I hit the fifth,” she responded absently, moving the shield and the hammer around together, testing her long-disused footwork.
“Maggie…” Erin touched her shoulder, “umm… how… how powerful are you?”

The dwarf looked up at the taller woman and shrugged.

“It’s been a long time since me last audit, girlie, but… mmmm…”

“If’n ah remember right. Healing, mmm, Block, Meditate, oh, Prayer in the sixth…”

“Providence, Hammers, ummm, Brawn, Endurance, oh, Axes, Fortitude in the fifth…” 

“Day, Night, Pestilence, ah think, Blades in the fourth... 

“...and Wood, Brawlin’, Hide, and Sneak in the third. Got a smattering o’ other Skills, but a fair bit o’ ‘em dinnae have any abilities attached ta ‘em, so they’re not terrible impressive,” she finished.

“What the fuck?!” Layla started.
“Is… that nae enough? Ah’m sorry. Ah’ll work hard ta catch up to yeh,” anxiety began to creep into the dwarf’s expression.
“Maggie…” Jack’s frozen shock had begun to thaw first.
“Dinnae throw me away, Jack, please. Ah thought ah could be useful, since yeh all jus’ got here durin’ the Festival,” she pleaded with him, taking his hand in hers.
“Maggie, you’re twice our level,” his surprised expression melted into a soft smile as he realized the dwarf had misunderstood their shock.
“Oh… OH…” she shook slightly. “Ah, ah thought yeh might nae need me. Ah dinnae want ta crawl back ‘neath the mountain and hide, Jack. Ah dinnae know if ah’ll live another hundred years,” her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“It’s okay, Maggie,” Erin gathered the dwarf into a hug.

Erin: We’re gonna take care of her, right?
Jack: I think once she recovers some, she’ll be the one taking care of us for a while.
Rory: Isolation is a hell of a thing.
Layla: Do you guys think it’s odd that we’re showing her so much trust?
Jack: Big Noodle vouched for her. That’s good enough for me.
Layla: Right, but like… she’s… not really one of us. I’d feel better if she were ‘in the party’, ya know?

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Jack grinned at the green panel that had just popped up in front of all four of them.

He immediately punched Yes, then swiped his panel away. Layla and Erin also poked the same option and dismissed their panels.

Rory: That was a pretty quick about-face, El.
Layla: I mean, this is pretty much all the confirmation I need that this dwarf threw herself in front of something big and gribbly and saved one of us. Big Noodle literally hit her with “Exalted” as a status effect. What else do you need?
Rory: I suppose.

The salesman reached out and poked Yes, then swept his panel to the side. Another thin line appeared, asking if they wanted to add Maggie to the Mindlink, and they all quickly confirmed.

Rory: Hi Maggie.
Maggie: Oh, Signs. Yeh dinnae have ta do this.
Jack: You don’t sound surprised.
Erin: Ha. It puts your accent in the chat.
Maggie: Ah was in Brandon and Tyler’s party fer a long while. But, these are yer private thoughts. Yeh dinnae have ta let me in here.
Layla: Listen here, short and stout. You’ve been adopted. Roll with it. Time to get our butts to the secret save-our-asses, hide-from-monster-satan shrine.
Maggie: As yeh wish, Layla.
Layla: Did you just… no. Couldn’t be.

The dwarf just winked at her.

“Cheeky little shit,” the succubus turned and walked toward the Hollow Gate.

-----

The road between Moryven and Split Watch was patrolled regularly, and the garrison town itself was well-defended. They arrived around midnight and rented a pair of cheap rooms, Maggie bunking with the girls. The night passed uneventfully, but they still had the eerie sense of being watched as they entered the small town. Even Layla was willing to pass the willies off as perfectly justifiable paranoia.

In the morning, they checked out, tipped the innkeeper, and headed north toward Olvayn’s Lift.

“Do you guys feel like it’s, I dunno, sort of ominous, that nothing has happened,” Layla pondered.
“I feel like we’re in a civilized locale with regular patrols and hunts along the road, and it’s perfectly normal that nothing gribbly has jumped out and tried to eat us,” Rory replied.
“So, it’s bugging you too?” Layla asked.
“... yes,” the salesman grumbled.

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