Dthybadeldth, known to most as Ditha because good luck pronouncing that other thing, decided he was worn yet satisfied. It had been much more difficult that he thought adjusting to life outside the castle for the first year, but now he derived simple pleasure from the somewhat more coarse yet altogether more natural environment in which he found himself. To be honest, what pleased him the most was being able to play his own songs for an appreciative audience instead of being stuck learning advanced mathematics and courtly manners long after he had memorized the portions of those subjects he deemed most useful.

     As Ditha finished his last "rowdy and boisterous" piece (as his music teacher would have called it), he picked up the minor mana gem that caused his lap harp to emit a sort of distorted growl and set it aside so he could switch to more moody, thoughtful pieces. As he glanced up to study the reactions of the inn's patrons while he put the mana gem away, his wandering eyes locked with those of an acquaintance. Said acquaintance seemed to experience a moment of dawning recognition mixed with intense relief, then jumped up and yelled, "He'd be perfect! Grab him!"

   Ditha, as may be expected after a year of avoiding pursuit, instantly sprang to his feet and lunged for the kitchen where the tavern's rear entrance was located. He had learned while fleeing his home that pursuers were to be avoided first and investigated later, if ever. Unfortunately, he had never been very fast due to his epicurean leanings, and this had not changed despite the fact that he had been living in significantly less opulent circumstances as of late. He managed to make it through the door and into the alley before he was tackled from the roof and hogtied. He rolled to his side and glared viciously at what he assumed was a Tribeswoman of Breeze, though Tribeswaif may have been a more appropriate term given that people's generally small, thin build. He told himself that his knees had only given out from the tackle because he wasn't expecting it.

     "This was deliberate wasn't it? You're making fun of my figure with the name of this method of restraint, aren't you?"

     Cold yellow eyes with slit pupils gazed into murky purple ones as a whispery soprano responded, "Maybe."

      He let loose a disgusted snort and set his head down in the trampled dirt while he waited for the approaching footsteps of a man who he would have considered a good friend before now.

      He heard the man inhale through his teeth and then felt a hand lock on his arm and pull him to his knees. Unfortunately, this only resulted in him falling flat on his back as his wrists were tied his ankles. His glare intensified as he stared into the red eyes of an albino who had once served as his escort while he visited the Empire of Blood. "Didn't think that one through, did you Dex?", he grumped.

      Dex smiled wryly with more than a hint of apology and turned to the Tribeswoman. " Khussalleh, could you please untie his feet?"

      "Khussalleh" seemed to take great pleasure in making use of Ditha's ample stomach to roll him back over and untie just his feet, before leading him back around the inn and through the front door to a table near the front wall. Ditha glanced at the table and thought to himself, I suppose it's not very strange I didn't notice Dex come in with how far away he was, and how poorly lit this inn is. I wonder who these two are? It seems like we've got one person each from every major power south of the inn. That is, if this gloomy scholar fellow is from the swamps and this large woman has gained her muscle from working a forge in the Metal Clan.

      Dex sat him down and set a hand on his shoulder as he made introductions. "Friends, this is Ditha, second prince of the City of Arcana, though he seems to have lost that title and become a wandering minstrel since last we met." Ditha snorted in disgust once more, but sullenly refused to comment when curious eyes turned upon him. Dex shrugged and continued, "Ditha, you've already met Khussalleh, once a scout of the Breeze Tribe. Next to her is Synth, once a smith of the Clan, and Glawdoch, once an alchemist in the Kingdom of Swamps."

     Ditha glanced at Dex from the corner of his eye and muttered, "And with you being a former captain of the blood empire from your distinctly non-standard-issue equipment, I suppose we make a full set of losers and outcasts, don't we?"

     Dex winced in pain and Synth got halfway up from her chair in what seemed like the beginnings of anger, but was gently pushed back down by Dex, who pleaded for her to be patient with his understandably frustrated friend. Dex looked over at the profile of a stubborn Ditha and tried to explain, "Look Ditha, we desperately need your help here. I can't run this operation, it'll be a mess within months, half a year if we're lucky." Synth and Ditha seemed to momentarily be having a contest as to who's eyebrows could come closer to touching the bridge of their nose, before Ditha sighed in defeat, slumped down into a chair, and said, "Oh very well Dex, you know my bard's spirit can't resist a tale half-told. What sort of trouble have I gotten myself tied up in, as it were."

      A series of groans and one chuckle went up around the table. The others, including Ditha himself, stared at Synth in no small amount of shock. "What? It was funny", she grumbled with her eyes downcast. Khusalleh rolled her eyes and glanced at Dex. "We start from me again I suppose?" Receiving a nod, she proceeded with her expanded self-introduction.