Ducking under the Dwarf’s attempt to grapple him and freeing his paw from the vice-like grip, Skrakch let out an indignant hiss.

“Gods Below, why do you always butt in Spanner? I can handle a few of your lot easily enough!” He demanded, smoothing down his ruffled fur.

Letting out a deep rumbling laugh, Spanner let his arms drop.

“I’m well aware you can rumble away with the best of them, but Wujeeta said you’d be on your way and what sort of friend would I be if I let you claw out a few of the rookie's throats? No, it’s better for everyone if I escort you to the back, eh?”

Skrakch scowled but decided to acquiesce to Spanner’s idea. The sooner he did, the sooner he’d be able to leave. He ducked into the building, following his escort. As expected, very little had changed since his last visit.

The centrepiece of the main area was a massive bonfire that remained lit around the clock. The flames and smoke swirled and twirled in fascinating patterns. While the fire emanated the heat as one would expect, the heat didn’t affect the wooden walls or roof of the building.

Standing by this rather impressive fire, was a robed figure who seemed to be tracing patterns in the flames. Skrakch could make out the patterns as they re-arranged themselves from seemingly nothing to look like Goblins, Iskrin and Ghouls. As he traced the patterns, the older Mage was speaking to a nervous looking crowd in basic leather armor. Obviously rookies, the old man was no doubt trying to instill in them a sense of the dangers that lurked below the city.

Not that it was going to help them much. Skrakch snorted as he stalked past. Although he wasn’t sure of the exact ins and outs, most of those who started out in the Guild didn’t make it past the first rank. Spanner always seemed to have a new tale about some poor group of greenhorns who’d been eaten up and spat out by the Sewers.

Further past the roaring bonfire was the hub where the Guild members gathered. Just as Skrakch remembered, it was almost the same as the pub. There were rows of wooden tables and battered chairs, dented pewter jugs and tankards filled with cheap ale and every kind of adventurer you could imagine. Most of the Guild were Humans but some of the least common Dray’Mel races were also members, including a massive Minotaur in a chef’s jacket that was spattered with different coloured stains.

All in all, it was quite a well run Guild, despite the members propensity for chaos. When they weren’t on a job, the Guildhouse offered an assortment of entertainment and, as Kuosh had once told him, differing cuisines that would cater to almost any taste. It was all carefully designed to keep the members distracted. It wouldn’t do for the adrenaline junkies to get bored and start re-thinking their life choices after all.

Still, as Skrakch followed Spanner through the crowds, the Ratling grudgingly nodded towards a couple of members that recognized him. Spanner kept up a litany throughout, talking about the Guild’s latest and greatest jobs and, of course, the rewards that had come with them.

As it always did, Skrakch’s very small quota of patience ran out about halfway through this impromptu and unnecessary tour. He whirled in place and jabbed the Vice Guild Master in his broad chest with a point claw. The Ratling let out an impatient growl.

“For the last time Spanner, I don’t care about this lot. I’m not about to sign up to this place just because you keep spouting stories about your hey days!”

“Aye Lad, but you cannae blame an old Dwarf for trying. I’ve told ye before, ye’d be able to do some real good as part of the Guild and for way more coin than you get for working for that Halfling pal of yours.”

“For the last time,” Skrakch said, trying his best to keep his cool. “I don’t work for Zacharias. He’s a necessary evil. A very annoying means to a much more glorious end. You should know by now I don’t do what I do for the coin,”

Skrakch glared at a nearby Human who, upon hearing this, went round-eyed, his jaw slack and hanging open as if he couldn’t even begin to comprehend another reason for working other than payment. When he saw the Ratling’s furious expression, he swallowed nervously and turned back to the others at his table, withdrawing a deck of cards for him pocket as he did so.

“Yer still on that case are ye?” Spanner was shaking his head, a pitying look across his scarred and pitted face. “If I were you, I’d be thinkin’ about livin’ the rest of me life with riches not chasin’ some impossible dream,” He continued, nodding significantly at Skrakch’s wrist.

“Well it’s a good job I didn’t ask you then isn’t it?” Skrakch shot back. “Besides, there’s better ways to make coin in this City than the Guild,” He added, as if that settled the argument.

It was easy enough to rag on the place. Treat them as though they were beneath his contempt. But, in reality, it was the darker elements of their work that made Skrakch immovable on joining. His first encounter with them had been in the Sewers. A group of would-be Feral Iskrin exterminators had stumbled across him when he was much younger, fresh from escaping Master Jace's burning mansion wreckage.

He could still remember frantically running through the complicated network of Sewer tunnels, dodging the arrows and bolts of sparks that were sent his way, desperately fleeing towards the Goblin village. If someone like Zacharias or Winifred had asked him, he’d had described it as an easy escape from a bunch of idiots. But in truth... he’d nearly died that day and the memory still sometimes haunted him in his sleep.

Shaking off these unpleasant memories, Skrackh concentrated on making his way towards the Alchemy lab. He was just about to enter the area when a metal gauntlet grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around.

“Look Lad, I’ll say it to ye plainly,” Sapnner said, gripping onto Skrakch’s shoulder. “The Guild did ye wrong. I know that. But we can fix that up. No problem. Just let me know what it’ll take. Time’s running out for ye and I dinnae want to see ye dyin’ in some gutter somewhere thanks to those halfwits ye run around with.”

Skrakch stared at the infuriating Dwarf for a moment. He’d lost count of the amount of times they’d had this very same conversation. No matter what Skrakch told him, Spanner was convinced that he was at death’s door and about to meet his maker destitute.

Still…he supposed he could leverage the Dwarf’s insistence into something that could work for him…as he stared at Spanner’s concerned face, he suddenly came up with a perfect idea…

“Y’know what Spanner? I reckon you’re right,” Skrakch sighed in a way he hoped would be interpreted as realization. “I suppose it’s hard to give up on something that you really want and I admire you for not giving up on this recruitment campaign of yours. Perhaps it’s time for me to bury the hatchet with this place. As you pointed out, time isn’t on my side. How about if you help me with my current project, I’ll join the Guild. Sound fair?”

Spanner grinned widely, his beard partially bristling with excitement.

“Of course Skrakch! Just tell me what ye need doing and ye can consider it done!” He let go of the Ratling’s shoulder and clapped him on the back. “I knew ye’d see sense eventually!”

“Well, I’m about to get a few bottles of Placating Brew so I can risk my hide throwing them at a bloody Chosen Shade,” Skrakch replied, enjoying the look of shock on his friend’s face. “And it’s all so that the Denmother will get off my bloody back so…how about it? Fancy going into battle with a Chosen, all to recruit me?”

“Aye…well…” Spanner opened his mouth and closed it a few times, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ye didnae say anything about Chosen…that’s uh, that’s a whole different kettle of fish ye see…” He continued as the colour drained from his face. “Maybe…maybe I’d best be leaving ye here…I’ve got this meeting ye see…” He finished awkwardly.

Skrakch couldn’t help but grin. He hadn’t really expected Spanner to agree to what was essentially a suicide mission for him although had he done so, it would’ve made the whole thing a Hell of a lot easier. He watched as the Dwarf nodded at him and shuffled off, pretending he had better things to do. At least he’d gotten him off his back for now.

Skrakch turned back to the wooden door that led to the Alchemy labs. It was carved with potion bottles in a very rough hand. He put his paw on the knob and pulled it open, feeling a wave of hot air blast him in the face and stand his fur on end. Despite the sudden heat, a cold chill settled itself into his bones.

He poked his head through the gap to ensure the coast was clear before entering the room, trying his best to ignore the shifting sensation of the heat running through his fur. As soon as the door closed behind him, a plume of flame suddenly erupted from the other end of the room, followed by a litany of curses.

Crouching with much practised grace, Skrakch watched in awe as the flames were corralled above him before being ejected from the room by a Mana-intensive network of runes and shunted into the brick fireplace to his left.

“Well, looks like Wujeeta is in an experimental mood,” He muttered glibly to himself.