Date: Sixteenth of May, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

Job ground his teeth together to avoid spitting in pure frustration.

“Again I do not seek initiation. Nor do I seek to observer your rituals as an outsider. I seek The Valley as the first stop on a journey that will heal an old wound.”

The Orc Druid stared back levelly. His brow was furrowed over two shale green eyes, his leather robes were tattered about the edges, and his oak staff was twisted round with ivy. He had not moved since meeting Job, as immobile as the stone upon which he stood.

“I understand your plight and candor, but I am oath-bound to not reveal its location, as all Druids of the Glacierheart Mountains are. On that point, I cannot move.”

Job frowned, considering his options.

“Say I were to learn of the location of The Valley by other means. I would not wish to intrude upon your ceremonies, so are there any days or times that I should avoid it?”

The Orc nodded slowly, “If you could find The Valley with no help from we Druids, then I would tell you to avoid it on the date of the full moon, two days from now, and for three days thereafter. Best to let the old magics settle again before bringing such potent blood into their presence.”

Job bowed deeply, “then I yield to your wisdom in this matter good Druid. Should I find The Valley, I will avoid it on both New and Full moons, and for three days after each. It is far better to be safe then to be sorry.”

The Druid blinked, then shook his head, “if you seek The Valley for the reason I think you seek it, to meet with The Silent, then you best bet would be on the date of the new moon, bettered only by the date of a total eclipse. Walk in peace, dragon-blood.”

“Onto you as well Druid.”

The orc shook the stones from his sandals, lifted his feet, and walked away. Job shrugged off his frustration and walked off in search of a shaman. There had to be several here in the Glacierheart Clanhold but the trick was picking them out of the crowd. Druids were easy, rare as they were: they still wore furs and leathers long after everyone else wore wool or woven cloth. Modern Glacierheart shamans blended in, almost going out of their way to not stand out form the common folk around them. Job didn't blame them for not seeking attention, he just wished that they were slightly more obvious. He knew that they all had a rune-pouch, and always carried it with them, but that was just one more pouch on a belt of them. They always carried both weapons and healing herbs, but so did many others.

Job caught a glimpse of a battleaxe out of the corner of his eye. It was far from the only example of such a weapon that he had seen, but this one was unique. Shafted in bone, a blade of blackened steel, a smile of pale moonlight... Job blinked and turned to stare at it. He found it vanished without a trace. Instead, he found himself stumbling backwards after an orc youth had crashed into him. Job grabbed four the youth, and for the stolen pouch in his hand, but missed. He felt a tug at the back of his mind and knew which ouch the youth had taken.

“”

More then a orcs flinched away from Jobs mighty shout. More then a few grew pale as they registered the tone of voice even if they didn't understand the meaning of the words. The thief just ran harder in a desperate bid to escape. A stabbing finger and a spell-word spit with fury caused a gust of wind to trip the thief up, leaving him to fall over an outstretched boot. Said boot pinned the thief to the ground and Job stomped over, rolling up his sleeves to display his metal arm and dragon scales right alongside the fury writ on his face.

“”

“I cannot understand what you are saying sir Sorcerer, but this trouble-maker won't be bothering you any more on my oath as a shaman of Glacierheart.”

Job knelt down, pried his Hoard-pouch from the youth's trembling fingers, and stood back up again.

“Perhaps not, but attempting to pilfer from a dragon's hoard is a foolish move indeed.”

The youth whimpered and tried to bury his face in the dirt. Job pried it back up and locked eyes with the youth.

“Look kid, I grew up in the gutters too. You're fucked if you stay here you know. Shamans know you for a would-be thief, gangs know you as too incompetent to recruit for anything but a fall guy, local citizens know you for the shit on their boots. Your technique is so shit that I know somebody put you up to this else you'd have been caught long ago. Better to fess up, point the local law enforcement in their direction, then get out of town by joining up with someone else. Guild, army, doesn't really matter.”

The shaman shifted uneasily where he stood. Job dropped the youth's head back in the dirt and stared at the shaman.

“Can't say I'm too familiar with the exact laws around here. Just how close to carrion is this idiot?”

“About the three steps.”

“The difference between attempted theft and theft then?”

“Missing a hand will do that to an orc.”

“Harsh.”

“Got no room up here for thieves, especially ones that'll steal food in the winter.”

“Gonna mark him anyway, or...?”

“Nah, no point. Figure you put the fear of the Ancestors into him.”

“Right, let him up then.”

The shaman removed his boot from the youth's back. Job gave the unfortunate soul a kick with his metal foot to send him on his way.

“Looking for The Valley, on account of I'm trying to find The Silent. Need her help healing an old injury.”

“She can't regrow limbs you know.”

“Not that sort of hurt.”

“Ah, mind not body. Clerics couldn't fix it wherever you cane from?”

“They might be able to, but they recommended that I find The Silent on account of the complexity of the matter: memories, suppressed or stolen.”

The shaman's eyes grew wide with understanding and pity, “they sent you to find The Valley then?”

“Nobody else seems to know where The Silent is, just that Glacierheart is the place to start looking. I was lucky to narrow it down to The Valley on my way up here from Westmarch.”

“I can take you to her cairn tonight, but it might be better to wait on the moon.”

“That's what, the first of June?”

“Indeed.”