(Nivansrywyllian, LuxGlyph)

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Sam wasn't very happy with the news. He was a very capable hunter, but he could only do so much against an army. He'd have to check for himself, of course, but if Edison was telling the truth, he'd need to gather as many capable hunters as he was able to field against the demonic fortress. One hand rose from Edison's waist, and Sam rubbed at his eyes tiredly. No rest for the wicked.

"When we get to Turley, I'll take you to a cartographer." He said, a plan beginning to form in his head. His hand returned to Edison's waist.

"I'll go to verify this stronghold. While I'm gone, I'm afraid I'll have to ask a favor of you. Rally the hunters that you can find. There are a small band of them that work out of Turley, and they might just be willing to take you at your word if you tell them that you're working with me."

A sick, twisting feeling rose in Samuel's guts. "We're not ready for a war. Any idea on the numbers of this army? How people were being corrupted, and how it is being amassed so secretly?"
 
"Get these chains off of me first and I'll go wherever you want," Edison grumbled, more than eager to remind him of his current state, and still a bit tense with the touch on his waist. "A cartographer won't do you much good though, you realize that, right?" He turned his head, "I'm blind. I'll get on better when the chains are off but books, maps, paper? Never did me any good. I can tell you its east of Vash, in the woods, but unless you take me with you, that is as far as you're going to get out of me."

And god, he really didn't want to go back there, either. He half hoped the man would just be happy with his word, but even the villagers steps were gone by now and who knows if he could follow the right path into the forest, not without rousing suspicion, in any case.

"I was there for several days.. The.. the magic, it seemed to be what was corrupting everyone. Some people were almost human.. others were completely unrecognizable. The horns sprouted after the third day, and by the fifth we were released from the cells. My companions.. well they did not seem to be as resistant as I.. I fear I am the only one who made it out, and only because I thought I could snoop around and find the source of all that magic. They caught me before I could."

He shook his head, "I don't know why I wasn't effected, but there were.. hundreds.. thousands maybe, demons, undead, and the.. the no longer humans."
 
"I'll need to pick up a map in either case." The commission for the last hunt would cover it handily. "I was hoping that this fortress of yours wasn't new. There aren't a whole lot of them in these parts." Of course, with the tireless labor of the undead, it would be a simple thing to construct some makeshift fortress. That would make assailing it a less grisly option, although no more desirable for it.

Biting back another sigh, Sam straightened his posture stubbornly, a habit he had when he was about to dig in his heels, and get his way. "But I am not as familiar as I'd like to be with the area. I'd like you to come with me. With any luck, the Turley boys will be back from their hunt, and we can take a few of them with us for backup. I don't intend to engage an army on my own, mind you. We'll be getting in and out, ideally without raising an alarm."

"You're not obligated to come with me, of course, but I certainly wouldn't ask you to come for free. I pay my guides rather well." He squinted, leaning to look past Edison. "We're in sight of the walls. You're in luck. I've decided that you've got just the right number of holes in your head. I wouldn't want to upset the symmetrical balance."
 
Edison tensed a bit, his back straightened at the prospect of returning to that place, "It is a vile place, you must understand. I escaped it once, at the near cost of my life, and I do not wish to repeat the experience - I am not that lucky." He grumbled out.

But then, Sam seemed to know exactly what to say to tempt him. He was offering an out, and in the same breath he was offering the promise of money. Edison could go on his way, sure, but he was hardly in any shape to function and few people were wiling to stick their hands out without proper compensation - especially this close to winter.

If Sammuel offered to pay for his trip up, he could also return to his original contractors and collect his fees there. They wished to know what happened to Vash and he could give them some answers - and offer advice on moving far, far away from the area. His head tilted up when the man spoke of the wall, and his body shuttered at the thought 'at last' he couldn't help but think. He would be free soon.

He smiled again, slower this time, when the man promised not to add further injury to his person, and he knew he owed this man his life.

"As you can see," Edison began carefully, "I am hardly better off than the suit I was born with. If you can fund new clothes, weapons, and supplies - and a night at a proper inn - I will take you to the area. I will not take you into the fortress, nor within sight, but I will be happy to point you in the right direction and bid you a fond farewell. Those are my conditions." He nodded, stiffly, "Otherwise, you can drop me off at the magesmith and put me out of your memory."
 
"That sounds like a fair enough deal for any man, Edison." He said. "We'll get you what you need, a night in an inn, and I'll provide for the travel to our destination." Equipping a mage wasn't an inexpensive task. "We'll call our business settled when I am close enough to find the fortress on my own, and you can go on your way, no questions asked."

The golem-mount picked up it's pace just a hair, and the walls grew closer and closer.

______________________________________________________________________________________

The gate itself was a heavy iron lattice, raised and lowered by man-power. There were plans to improve upon it soon, but no further improvements had been implemented since it's installation. The gate-guards waved Samuel in calling to him familiarly. He raised a hand in greeting as his response, as he rode beneath the lattice.

The city beyond wasn't exactly bustling, but it was certainly busy. Everybody was in the middle of doing something, from the elderly to those just old enough to walk. Everybody in Turley had a job. Fletchers and loaders, chemists and alchemists. Tradesmen, guards, and hunters. The two men -one shackled- riding a stone golem-mount drew a few stares, but nobody stopped them.

The magesmith was his first stop, to get the binding shackles free from his newfound guide. "I'm going to let us down." Warned the hunter, outside of the shopfront.

"We're just outside of a magesmith. I'll get the door. There's a step up just in front of you." Said Sam, pushing the door open. A bell chimed to announce new customers.
 
Edison sighed at the man's words. Well, if this man could fund his return to a proper freelancer, then Edison saw no other choice but to do as he asked. It did seem like this man was concerned of a coming war - and rightly so - and his efforts could help stop whatever evil was brewing, but Edison was not so pure, and his heart sang for gold. Once he fulfilled his part of this deal, he would make his way west and get the hell out of this area before the war ever started.

Right, he had a plan. A proper one that didn't include death or selfless sacrifice. Today was a good day.

-

The sounds of the town was like music to his ears. Humans, alive and well, shuffling about and doing what they do best. Distant chatter, booted steps, he could hear chickens and goats, and little kids giggling. Somewhere a hammer thumped and someone slammed a door. Edison felt the tension melting from his shoulders. This felt better, normal. He was still blind as a bat but this felt a bit normal.

The golem slowed, and then stopped under him, and Edison almost laughed until he decided he might sound a little hysterical if he did. He settled on his two feet again, silver chains keeping his steps shallow, but he walked better on his own and he grinned at the sound of the bell. The moment the door open, a hot wave of air rushed out, followed by the smell of the forge and the electric charge of magic in the air.

Inside the front room was a scattering of equipment and basic weapons, things that the citizens were most likely going to purchase for the day to days, anything more than that was usually commissioned - or sent out for in bigger cities than this one. No one was attending the front room, but the door leading to the forge was wide open, and the sound of heavy hammering was drifting in. The owner of the shop was hard at work, his back to the door, on a particularly rough looking sword, currently getting flattened out on the anvil.
 
Samuel knew better than to interrupt a magesmith while he was working, so he busied himself with examining the equipment. There was a shortsword in particular that caught his eye. A little bit over a foot-and-a-half long, and etched with runes down the flat of the blade, he itched to take it in hand. The blade itself was of western make, reminiscent of a gladius, although the design had been altered from the original. He'd have to have one of his own commissioned when he had the time.

On swept his eyes, over display pieces, and functional works alike. This magesmith did good work, and Sam had picked up equipment from him before. He looked up from his perusal when the sound of hammering finally stopped, and a sweaty, bald man with a braided, strawberry blonde beard came out of the back. "Ulen," Said Sam, by way of greeting. "I've got some business for you."

He gestured to Edison. "I need his shackles stricken free, and any equipment he desires, as long as it can be ready to go by no later than noon tomorrow." Noon was a late start, but the horned fellow looked like he could use the extra rest.
 
Edison was left to float in the middle of the room as they waited for the magesmith. The sound of him in the back made Edison's skin tingle, his pulse jump with each ping of the hammer. His head tilted and he seemed to follow Sam through the room, distracting himself by identifying what he was doing, and what he might be looking at.

Of course, he lost interest the moment the hammer failed to fall, and his head jerked back to the door. He could hear the hiss of the blade being dunked in water, and heavy steps moving around the far room. It was only a few minutes before the man made an appearance, the great big muscled man the wiped his bald head with an old rag while his eyes turned over his two customers.

He passed a brief, familiar nod towards Sam, but the new one got a good once over, with Ulen's gaze focused on the chains around his feet. "Business?" He muttered skeptically, knowing a spellbound chain the moment he saw one, and the horns were a curious addition. "Where did you find this one?" He gruffed as he rounded on the man, circling him, while Edison turned in circles to follow him.

"'this one's name is Edison," He said, pointedly, "I'm just a poor blind man. Sam saved my life."

"Oh yea?" Ulen cast his hard eyes towards Samuel. "Is there something I should know about these shackles?"

"The-" Edison tried.

"I didn't ask you, stranger," Ulen said firmly, giving the blind man a futile pointed look.
 
Sam nodded towards his companion again. "Couple of demons planned on burying him alive in the graveyard half a day's ride from town. There's word of an army amassing, and he's been there." He finally looked back to the display for a moment, before regarding the two men evenly. "I don't know a whole lot about enchantment, but I'm not taking those off without taking his hands with 'em. So I brought him to you."

"Gently if you wouldn't mind, Ulen. He's injured." Added the hunter.

"I'll tell you the rest of the story while you work, if you've got the time. Speaking of time," Samuel could go on for days, hopping from subject to subject. He was a remarkably able hunter, but all that time alone made him a little strange.

"Do you know if the Turley boys are back from the hunt yet? I could use extra hands on this one."
 
Ulen's expression turned more surprised than wary at Sam's words, his focus returned to Sam now, "An army?" He spat out, disgusted with the idea. Those vile creatures were bad enough on their own, what were they doing forming an army? He turned his focus back to Edison, who was looking in his general direction with a wide eyed pleading look. He did look a bit pathetic.

"Come to the back, then, I got the tools for the job, but I expect the full story from both of you." He gave a sharp look to Sam, and Edison nodded quickly - he was apparently playing story teller that day.

Together they made their way to the back, and Ulen had Edison sit on one of the wooden stools while he went to gather the right tools - he only sensed a suppressing spell but it was better to er on the side of caution, he'd once seen a poor man explode when he attempted to remove a spellbound rope. Messy business.

Once he had his tools settled around Edison he pulled up a stool and got a good look at those chains, "The Turley boys came back early this morning. Their hunt was an apparent success so you'll catch them in a good mood." He clicked his tongue at the chains, "This will take a good hour to finish. Plenty of time for you to go chase them down," He glanced at Sam, "And you to fill me in on this 'army' nonsense." he said pointedly to Edison, who looked dismayed at the time this was going to take.
 
"Thank you, Ulen." Sam said, settling a hand on Edison's shoulder to guide him to the back. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm afraid I won't be enough to handle this one on my own. I'm sure they'll perk up again when they figure on the amount of commission they'll get if we manage to stop the demon invasion though." He let out a sigh, selecting a stool in the corner of the back room, well clear of the forge. He assumed Ulen would put the bound Edison where he was needed.

"I'll start things off with my stretch of the yarn, as it's the least interesting, and least relevant. You know that grouper contract I took on just the other day? Well, as it turned out, the horde of undead was a pair of badly decomposed zombies, and a pair of witless low-level demons."
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It took Samuel all of five minutes or so to explain the search, and execution of the demons. He glossed over a large majority of the sneaking, and the crumbling of tombstones, -his stone-golem was still a puddle of rubble just inside the magesmith's door- but he lead right up to the part where he discovered Edison.

"At first, I thought him to be a demon that the other two had turned on, but apart from the horns, he didn't look like any demon I'd ever seen. So I took him with me, and got him to tell me his half on the way back. He can take the tale from here."
 
As Sam spoke of his mission outside the walls and how he had come upon the strange horned man, Ulen worked quietly on the chains, first working to attune his equipment to the right counter spell before he tried hacking the silver off of him. This would be a much easier process if they had the right key, but he doubted any demon would be willing to surrender one.

Edison, for his part, remained still and did as he was asked. He listened to the story and smiled at the comment about the low-level demons.

"You thought I was a demon?" He asked, feeling a bit insulted, as he turned his head towards Sam, "I certainly am not. Granted, the horns are new, but I thought they were quite 'dashing'." He grinned, and Ulen passed him a raised eyebrow he didn't notice. "In any case, they seemed to be my only souvenir, and for that I am more than happy to have them."

He slouched a bit, when his foot was taken up and propped on a stand while Ulen took what sounded like a saw to the cuff around his right ankle. Edison moved then to the beginning, just as he had with Sam, explaining about his contract and of Vash, about the dark magic and the fortress of stone. Corrupting humans seemed like just one piece of the army. They kept the zombies caged up in hordes, and demons worked together - almost unwillingly sometimes but they did, as if afraid of something bigger.

Throughout the story, Ulen listened as he worked. Each cuff took time, but he was efficient and knew what exactly he was doing. Each cuff came off with a huge relief to Edison, and he even sounded better by the time the chains came away from his legs.

The arms were a bit more difficult, and Ulen decided to cut the chain first before tackling the cuffs. When he did cut through, Edison's arms came apart from behind his back and he immediately stretched them forward, over his head, "God, I've had a cramp in my shoulder for ages," He whined, and Ulen growled at him to sit still. They worked on his right hand first, leaving the sprain for last so Ulden could take better caution.

It took more than the predicted hour, but at last he was sawing through the last cuff. He took a wedge and hammer and pried the silver open and finally off and, immediately, Edison's magic flooded the room.

Flooded, perhaps, was too much of a word, but it was clear the magic touched everything, and then again, a second later. It was a subtle wave of magic that stretched out from Edison to slide over the world, pinging his immediate vicinity every second, like a bat's echolocation. Edison could see again. His grin was bright with relief and his eyes turned to Samuel, now far more focused and attentive to where Samuel was in the room, "This is fantastic," He turned to Ulen, who was still looking a bit wary at the wash of magic, "Thank you," He got himself to his feet, and stretched out again just because he could, "Right, I've told you everything, again," He looked at Sam, "Where is this promised inn? Oh, no, clothes first, I think, and weapons," He looked at Ulen, "Where are the weapons?"

Ulen grunted again, glancing towards Samuel before bringing the man to the front, and the blind man had absolutely no problem making his way in the world.
 
"I told you as much," Samuel reminded the blind fellow. "And that I'd put you in the ground with extra holes if you didn't convince me otherwise. Several times, in fact. It shouldn't come as a surprise." Said the straightfaced hunter, though his wry tone suggested that he found the whole scenario rather amusing.

"Ulen here is the best magesmith in a hundred miles. Take whatever he's willing to part with before noon tomorrow. Feel free to put it on my tab, Ulen. I'll leave a note with my banker for you to withdraw what you're owed, in case I don't make it back. Don't gouge my pockets though. I plan on eating and sleeping well once this is all done."

"While you're getting your gear sorted out, I'm going to send a runner to fetch the Turley gang to meet us at the in. When you've selected the weaponry you need, I'll take you to my tailor, and we'll see if we can't figure out something for you."

"I doubt we'll be able to find you any spellworked leathers before we leave, but I might be able to scrounge up some more basic armor before we go. D'you prefer to fight in armor, Edison?"
 
Edison grinned as Samuel affirmed his promise to arm Edison, and almost did consider what might happen if he chose the most expensive items, required or not. He knew better than to overstretch a promised agreement, and while the weapons he could sense were of good quality, they were a bit on the generic side - he suspected anything special made would cost as much as the time it would take to make.

"I can do without the spellworked for now, but I've no interest in armor beyond the leathers. They're too heavy for any proper speed." He wrinkled his nose as his right hand took a dagger from its display. His words made Ulen snort, and Edison grinned at that, "And they're all shit unless you're willing to pay for the fitting. So no, leathers will be fine, please and thank you."

He ignored the bows and long swords, as well as the staffs. After some debating he took a pair of short swords and the sheaths for them, as well as a bolas that had caught his interest. "These," He nodded to Ulen as he dropped them on the desk in front of him, "That is rather brilliant work on the bolas. A seekers spell? Even the most basic user could throw that thing and it would find its mark."

That complement seemed to brighten Ulen's opinion of Edison, and while they waited for Sam to return from sending his runner out for the Turley boys Ulen seemed more than happy to point out the different spells that he had found useful for the townsfolk.
 
It wasn't horribly difficult for Samuel to find himself a runner. There was always a child willing to do the task for a coin or two. When he'd written out the message he wanted sent, he returned to Ulen's smithy to find the magesmith and Edison chatting amicably over weapon enchantments.

"The message is on it's way. I'm ready to take you to the tailor if you're of a mind, Mr. Edison. Ulen, I know how you like to chat, but I also know how you get behind if one of your customers gets you talking. If you've got the energy to spare when you close up shop, swing by the Hallowed Ground. I'll keep a seat for you, and we can all catch up before we head out."

Back to Edison went the dark-haired man's attention. A hand swept up to tuck an errant wisp of hair that had escaped his braid back behind an ear. "Of course, you're welcome to chat a while, but food's on the other end of the tailor's still."

______________________________________________________

Whenever Edison decided to leave the magesmith, Samuel would lead him several blocks down the street to the tailor he used. He doubted she'd have time to stitch him something custom, but she should have something decently close to his size.

As he entered, a portly woman with her hair done up in a severe, iron-grey bun rounded on him.

"Samuel Brandt, if you've bloodied another one of my shirts, I'm going to paddle your bottom so you don't sit for a week!" The hunter's face slid into a rare smile as he approached the woman.

"Wrennen, you know how difficult a hunter's life can be on clothes. And I pay you well."

"For all the good it does!" She snapped at the hunter, "You're barely out of my door with one of my fitted suits, and you come back an hour later asking about stitching up bulletholes, and washing out brain-matter. Why don't you just-" She cut off abruptly, when she noticed Edison.

"I'm sorry dear, I didn't see you there. What can I do for you?" Her tone changed instantly from the abrasive nag, to a much more pleasant pitch.
 
Edison turned back towards the door when Sam returned - Ulen in the middle of disputing the different catalysts he used to bind sharpness enchantments to his blades and how he has a theory to preference between binding materials and individuals. Edison hadn't known what he was getting into when he started Ulen down this path, but he looked very much relieved when Sam saw no problem interrupting the winded man and invite Edison to the tailors.

He grabbed his things and tucked them under his left arm, passing Ulen a quick grin and goodbye before leaving the smith's store behind Sam. They passed the pile of stone on their way out, and Edison gave it a long study before he straightened and set in beside Sam, "You surprise me, you know. You're equipped as a warrior but you had excellent control of the golem. Not many people could claim duel titles."

He followed Sam through the town and into the new building, this one made out of wood instead of brick. He stepped inside and immediately paused at the sound of the apparent tailor's furious words shared with Sam. Edison blinked, then grinned at the sudden back and forth Sam was sharing with the portly woman. He followed him into the room and settled at his side, finally noticed by the woman he couldn't help but give her sudden polite words a knowing smile, "Looking for new clothes, actually. These are a bit.. well. At least I don't have brain-matter splashed across them.." He paused, "Well.. 90% sure. Also, might you have any spare wrappings I could use to tend to my injuries," He managed to put on a rather pathetic, needing expression across his bruised face as he gestured towards his swollen wrist.
 
"On my account," Was all Sam had to add after Edison made his request.

"But of course." She assured the horned newcomer. "I'll get you something that will do nicely. Do you have time to take measurements?" Samuel gave a slight shake of his head, which drew a sigh from the woman. "Of course you don't. Let me see what I have."

The woman turned to her storefront. There were old-world mannequins that must have been pilfered from one of the fallen cities for displaying clothing of fine make. There was a counter midway through the store, barring the casual goer from entering the back rooms, presumably where all the work happened. She disappeared through the curtained door to the back, though she kept talking all the while.

"I do hope you'll forgive my gruffness. Samuel's not a bad lad, but he comes in every week or two with new stains, holes, and tears in my hard work. Granted, he does pay well, but it does a heart poorly to see it's finest work so thoroughly destroyed."

When the woman came back, it was with an armful of shirts, pants, and underclothes. "You can change there." She nodded toward a stretch of storefront wall that had a draw-curtain attached to the ceiling in a fairly sized circle. "Pick out what you'd like, and what fits best. I've included a few belts, and a pair of suspenders. You're welcome to all of it."
 
"On his account," Edison parroted with a grin. He turned his head around the front of the shop then as she went hunting for the clothes that would have to make due. He was never much for a stickler on the clothes, at the very lease. Hard to be particular about looks without proper sight. He laid down the belt of weapons and went to poke at one of the mannequins with what was maybe the latest dress fashion.

His head tilted back towards Samuel when the woman called from the back room. Edison could imagine the man not giving two shits about his clothes, like a proper warrior. "Oh, I'm sure it gives you plenty of chances to create new things." He turned back to her when she came back with.. a lot of choices.

"Oh, right, alright.." he said, taking part of the armfuls and let her lead him to the fitting rooms. He dumped everything on the ground once the curtains were drawn and stripped out of his muddy, bloody, and torn clothes. He scrubbed a bit at his skin, casting off some of the dried flecks of debris before he tossed the clothes in the corner and started with the underclothes.

He tried on several things before he found something he liked - though he had to get the tailor to help him match the colors of the dyes. He wore cotton underclothes and leather pants and vest, with a heavier jacket that brushed his thighs. She helped him into a pair of boots as well before he was happy with his new clothes, though he was sad to see that his new horns made it impossible to wear a decent hat.

"I can survive, I suppose," He said, dejectedly, "But I suspect you'll want to burn my old clothes. They're quite useless now. I think I'm edging that way without a proper meal and a bath, so thank you, but Samuel is now going to treat me to a fantastic night at the inn." He grinned as he took the shorter man by the shoulders and shooed him out the door.

He came back a few seconds after to fetch his weapons before running out again.
 
For his part, Samuel simply eyed Wrennen's rack of hats. He pulled on a long-brimmed leather one experimentally, and found that he liked it. He waggled it at the proprietor idly, before replacing it atop his head. The woman made good clothes.

When Edison came out from the changing area, Sam nodded his thanks to the woman, before being ushered out. "I surprise many people," He said, when they were clear of the doors, picking up the conversation they'd been having on the way from the Magesmith's. "It's one of the best ways of staying alive, it seems. I have a talent for golemancy. It comes naturally. I have to work at being a hunter, though. I've got enough working against me to make it a challenge."

He turned eastward, away from the market district near the south gate, and towards the residential areas. "You'll like Hallowed Ground, I think. The food's good, and the water still runs hot. You'll have an in-house thermomancer to thank for that."

The building itself was a simple, two-story thing. There was a scrawny fellow leaning just outside the door. Sam tipped his new hat to him. The fellow didn't look it, but he was one of the establishment's capable bouncers, to keep control of rowdy drunks. There was another fellow just inside the door who looked more suited tho the part, with heavy, sunken knuckles, and a neck that wouldn't look out of place on a bull. He got a nod as well.

The establishment itself was fairly bustling, and there was a stage that was set at one end of the common room where a fellow was juggling admirably to the cheers of one particularly inebriated table.

The inkeep -who was wiping down a freshly emptied table nearby- straightened to greet them.

"Jamus," Sam said by way of greeting. "Room for two. Separate beds, and a bath if you've got it. Dinner as well." He glanced to Edison. "I'll stick to the Commons for now to wait for the Turleys. You're welcome to wait with me, or to grab a bath and a meal in the room as you prefer."

"Fourteen," Said the inkeep, shuffling off to retrieve a key from the kitchens. He offered it to Edison, though his horns got him a quizzical glance.
 
"Mmh?" Edison looked a bit perplexed when Sam started talking outside the tailors. It took a moment to catch up on the conversation and he would blame it on the head injury. His head tilted towards the man while he explained. Golemancy, the clever magic of mindless dolls. Better than zombie slaves any day, "On the contrary, I believe you played an excellent hunter today, I certainly owe my life to that fact." Edison nodded, "I, on the other hand, have had an excellent record of freelancing. However, I may need to amend that in the future, due to recent.. events." He sighed out. Perhaps he could just scratch this from the record. He certainly wasn't scared off from adventure, in fact he thought he came out of this quite well. His six companions weren't so lucky, so best to count one's blessings. Like a hot bath, a warm meal, a cold drink.

His stomach rumbled loudly in agreement, though he couldn't blame it. It had done well to keep quiet on its own. Sam spoke then of this heaven called 'Hallowed Ground' and he could have moaned at the prospect, "God yes," He sighed out instead. Only a little while longer now, he reminded his aching, tired body.

The inn was much like most inns he had been to. Bustling with what must have been the usual crowd. Edison saw it all in quick repetitive snapshots of the world, it sounded like things were on good terms with laughter, and chatter. Someone somewhere was playing what sounded like the violin and the man on stage was doing a fine job of juggling three balls and four rings at the same time.

It smelled like stale beer, unwashed men, and a glorious roast pig that made his stomach cramp with the promise of a taste. "Down boy," He murmured to himself as the innkeeper came to greet them. Edison played nice and let Sam, who was apparently well liked here, do all the talking.

When he turned and asked Edison if he wanted to go ahead and bath, the answer tumbled out almost instantly, "You have no idea how badly I want exactly that," He groaned, "I'll meet you in the room later, after you have our little party of do-gooders all set." He took the key from the keeper, got directions to the baths, and bid Sam a quick fairwell before he disappeared into the crowd, towards his holy grail.
 
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