Althea and Hired Mercenaries

Althea maintained her smile despite the stern expressions of her new comrades. Admittedly, she herself was an absolute novice in the field, so she was relieved when the temple offered to pay for hired muscle. These men and women though... Althea eyed the first of her new companions up and down. The human was bald with a long, double-braided beard. He wore an eyepatch and had a palm-sized burn scar on his left cheek. His armor was a dull gray with a dark blue tabard, much like the others of his team. A longsword hung on his hip, and he had a crossbow slung over his back. Behind him waddled a stout, dwarven woman. Her fiery, red dreadlocks were tied up in a loose ponytail. She had a sturdy frame, which must have come in handy, considering the pair of heavy battleaxes hanging on her matronly hips. A pair of bandoliers crossed her chest, loaded with small daggers. Each of the leather straps clung to the dwarf's heaving chest, looking ready to burst open at a moment's notice. Unlike her bald partner, she wore no sleeves, leaving her colorful tattoos on display. Althea's eyes lingered on the faded, black rose inked into the dwarven woman's bicep. Only two mercenaries. Thankful as she was, she hoped they would be enough.

"Salutations, my name is Althea Amberhearth!" she called out in as pleasant a voice as she could muster. The bald man gave her a gruff nod, pulled out a chair, and took a seat. Althea noted that the dwarven woman chose to remain standing beside her partner. The bald mercenary leaned back in his chair and plucked an abandoned tankard from an adjacent table. He brought it to his lips and drank deep without question before tossing the dented, tin cup over his shoulder. He belched loudly and crossed his arms.

"What Fabian means to say is hello, and get to the point," the dwarven woman said in a rough but motherly tone. She punched his shoulder, but the man just rolled his eye. Althea nodded her head politely, stifling a gag at the man's foul-smelling burp. It reeked of unbrushed teeth and whatever hard liquor was warming in the tankard.

"Ah, well as you know, you have been chosen by the Temple of Helestria to accompany me--"

"We know that already, why are we here?" Fabian interjected, his voice was hoarse and nasally, as if suffering with a lingering cold. "The letter promised us gold for a simple job, so here we are," he concluded, gesturing for the acolyte to continue.

"We are to investigate the rumor a sacred relic supposedly held by the villagers of Sapila," Althea continued, shrinking down in her seat. She tapped her fingers together before continuing, "Once we determine the truth, we return to the Temple and they will pay you your reward."

"Which is...?" the dwarven woman raised a thick brow.

"Two hundred gold a piece, from the temple treasury," the novice priestess said. The dwarven woman coughed at the amount and locked eyes with her comrade-in-arms. A small glint shimmered deep in her subtle smirk

"Lorna... that's a lot of coin," Fabian murmured, and the dwarven mercenary nodded.

"Aye. When do we leave?" she flashed a grin, wringing her strong hands.