While it might be somewhat callous to discuss important matters with a mouth full of food, when time is of the essence each chew could be the difference between life and death. When crunch time calls make sure to chew swiftly, so that you’re not too late with your revenant ritual, your magic matrix, or even your dastardly escape from the holy fools who fiddle with your plans.

Listening to Grog the Janitor speak was hard when I was focusing on eating. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was, until the succulent smell of slightly spicy handmade sausages and fresh greens greeted my nose. Still, it was harder to respond with a mouthful of sausage as Grog asked me what skills I had under my belt.

“Well, er, I excel at seeing things that other people don’t.” I tactfully played off my mana sight. “Trust me, I can provide much foresight to any sort of operation.”

“That sounds awfully generic. Care to elaborate?” Grog the Janitor responded. He held a clipboard as if this was a job interview. There was no one else but my friends to save, so I wondered why he was so uptight about my qualifications.

“No. I’d rather not. Ah, I’m a decent stabber and I make use of things that other people leave behind. I’m, erm, resourceful.”

“Like trash? What exactly do you mean by resourceful?” Grog had a blank look on his face, I couldn’t discern his mood.

I was too busy chewing to respond, so I shrugged. There were things I just couldn’t tell Grog the Janitor. I knew that leaving out important details could mean the difference between possibly saving my friend and his tour guide, although I wasn’t convinced that Esmeralda’s was, as Grog the Janitor put it, a place so vile and inhospitable the dark god Forlar wouldn’t stay for five minutes. To be frank, I just wanted to be reunited with Azog. Rose could eat dirt.

“”You’re not very forthcoming with your skills, even if your friends' lives are on the line. I hope you’re taking this as seriously as you should. This is not some petty feud you’ve found yourself in. This is an all out war on righteousness.”

“Look, there are things I can’t tell you. When push comes to shove, I’ll help you. Don’t doubt that I take this seriously. I do.”

“Well, it’s hard to leave this conversation at that, but if you say you can’t tell me then we’ll leave it at that. We all have our secrets. I just hope that you’re qualified for such an arduous expedition.”

I nodded sagely as I inhaled another chunk of sausage.

The plan Grog devised was simple. Grog would lead me to the outskirts of the Esmeralda’s Inn territory, before giving me the directions to find my way to the Inn. I would leverage my position as a paying customer to get inside the building where I would convince Azog to leave the Inn. It was a simple plan and I was sure nothing would go wrong. I couldn’t fathom why Esmeralda’s Inn would care any little bit why two paying customers left their Inn. Frankly, I found it a bit weird how persistent Grog was that I don’t drink the alcohol and avoid the massages.

The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could sleep soundly. The sooner I slept soundly, the sooner I could wrap my head around finding what I actually came here for. I hadn’t slept in what felt like an eternity, so it would be good to hunker down once this was over. I stifled a yawn, as Grog continued talking about the intricacies of the plan that I wasn’t listening to. Soon he finished speaking.

“That's that. Everything you need to know about surviving in one of the most inhospitable places in the world. I hope you’ve listened closely. One wrong move on your part and you’ll be as good as gone.”

“No. No. I am listening.” I lied. I had been paying attention for the first thirty minutes of nonsense, and concluded that I was too tired to continue listening. It didn’t help that I now had a full belly.

“Very well. I have taught you all that I know about that decrepit place. I hope I’ll be able to hear the tales of your success.”

The plan started without a hitch. Grog bid his farewell as he watched me walk down the street he didn’t dare walk past. To my eyes, it was an ordinary street without any sign of danger. Even a coward would feel safe surrounded by the somewhat well maintained buildings, the relaxed city folk, and the general sense of contentedness that exuded from the air. That was until I noticed something peculiar.

A very ordinary looking man (probably just by chance) took the very same route I took. It must’ve been a coincidence, I figured. Although, if it was a coincidence it was an awfully unlikely one to occur. The city streets intertwined, creating many convoluted routes that led to the same place. And it wasn’t like I was taking the main road. The road less traveled typically was the most rewarding, well, rewarding for bandits who stalked unknowing prey.

I tried to recall if Grog the Janitor had said something like this would happen. But I couldn’t recall if there was any mention of stalkers, or just really coincidental but perfectly normal people taking the same path as me. The latter was definitely more appealing to me. Either way the person shuffling behind me was unnerving. I turned to face my pursuant.

“Hey! Stop following me, you creep!” I yelled.

The pursuant looked stunned, as he was caught out in the open. His hands went up defensively; he held a silver coin in one of his palms.

“You dropped this, sir. I was trying to get your attention, but you were too quick for my small feeble legs to catch you. You must have the calves of a true warrior.”

“Your legs are hardly feeble.” I countered. I was flattered frankly. Rarely, did anyone ever compliment my mighty physique. Sure, Azog’s was mightier, but even my smaller muscles deserved some praise.

“Compared to your specimens, I am but a twig.” The ordinary man countered my counter.

In every sense of the word, I was wrong. Standing before me was a righteous man. A man built unlike the weasley crooks that are all too common working as a criminal. Like the uncomfortable feeling that comes from a sucker punch to the gut, I felt ill at what I had become. Where was my trust in others? Where was my faith in the good people of Nosturdam? I realized that my path to become a necromancer had corrupted my morals, and left me a distrusting and, quite frankly, a despicable individual. My lost faith in others left me a hollow shell of what I once was, a cancerous plague that eats away at the very fabric of society.

“You zoned out there? Are you sure you’re alright, mister,” said the unnervingly average man. He smiled.

He smiled. He smiled with teeth whiter than what was natural. So white, in fact, that not even the ichor from a witches brew could have devised and methodically constructed such whiteness, let alone straighten his teeth to perfection. There was only one person who I’d seen with such a smile and they worked for Esmeralda.

I frowned. Righteousness was utter horse shit.