When Skel left home his stomach was full and the weather was good. He had a travel pack with spare clothes, a good jacket, a few days' rations, and all the coins he’d managed to save (three gold, six silver, eight copper.) He’d been well prepared and he didn’t have far to go. Point was, he didn’t go into it lightly, or unprepared, in a rush or run out of town (technically speaking). He was set up for success in the city on the road; Bestat where the world met.

  Fun fact about Bestat, a loaf of bread was 5 copper. A room at the cheapest inn was 3 silver a night. If you wanted a house, you needed a fortune, or you needed to build one yourself. Which, course, the Crag wouldn’t issue permits for without a hefty bribe up front.

  It was a tougher start than he’d hoped for. A lot of long cold nights, and a hunger that seemed to get worse every day.

  Now, Skel sat across from the graverobbers, grinning, while their holy woman tried to keep a scowl off her face. He was relaxed, casual, wing draped over his arm with a devil-may-care grin. He had 4 copper left in his pocket, and he supposed that if the graverobbers didn’t hire him, he’d have to try mugging them in the alley after they were done drinking.

  “It aint a matter of power, cloth-shit,” the priest grunted, “It’s a matter of skill. An’ I don’t care how trumped up your Stoph blood casting is, this is a job for a top notch weaver. Which,” She rolled her eyes, “seeing as I ain’t never heard of you, y’aint.” The cleric gave a dismissive wave, “Start smaller.”

  Skel smiled, and had a passing thought about how ridiculous it was to wear full plate in a crowded bar.

  “I’m half Stoph actually,” obviously, like this asshole didn’t know that, “Stopheri magic is enhanced only in the full blooded.” Which this woman was no doubt aware of, otherwise she’d be jumping at the chance to have a cloth-wizard accompanying her team, no matter what bullshit she was saying now.

  The cleric rolled her eyes, “Ah good, so y’aint even a powerful idiot. “

  “I’m no weaver either, skilled or otherwise.” Skel grinned, tilting his head a little further than a human could, knowing it was an unsettling look.

  “Great so you’re completely useless,” she flagged down a mug of ale (6 copper), “get lost.”

  “I meant what I said though, I can dispel that door that’s troubling you.”

  “Y’havent got an artifact, I already checked. Stop trying to scam me shithead.”

  “Oh by the-” Skel lost his cool for a second, felt his wing flare up across his chest, “How do you get anything done?” He tried to keep his cloth from flaring out entirely. “It’s gotta be tough trying to eat when you spend the first ten minutes of the meal asking the chef if there’s worms in the food.”

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  The cleric curled her lip, “Well as long as the one serving the food ain’t some obvious scam artist whoreso-”

  “Alright Ci,” a patterened hand landed on the cleric's shoulder, “Maybe take a breath.”

  Oh, yeah, there were other people around. There the three grave robbers seated across from Skel with the priest for this informal interview. But there were also other people in the bar, mostly Crag since the Tilted Ivory kept a local crowd, but some Humans and a few Orc as well. All good though, Skel could handle a priest publicly calling him a whore. He doubted there was even color in his cheeks.

  The priest’s companion, who’d stepped in to calm her down, gave Skel a gentle grin from where he sat next to the wretched woman. A Terrapan and, asides from Skel, the only other fringe species present in the bar.

  Terrapan were weird, their bodies were covered in carapace, which might make one think of bugs, but it was more akin to turtle shells in actuality. Hexagonal rings of color that spread across their entire bodies, with a slight ridge extending from the top of the head all the way down their back. They had short tails, large pupil-less eyes, flat teeth, and short claws. This one had a purple cast to his shell, was wearing draped silks, and strange multi-lensed spectacles with a variety of colors. His eyes were entirely gold.

  He’d be the most interesting thing in the bar by far, if he weren’t sitting next to an idiot in glowing blue plate armor, and across from Skel.

  The other grave robbers weren’t nearly so spectacular, milquetoast humans in standard leathers. One had ginger hair and a sword, the other dark brown and a bow. Classic and boring.

  The Terrapan smiled at Skel, holding out a hand, “Adridam, he who has read the stars and seen truth.”

  Skel took the hand, trying to keep his lips turned up in a smile, not curled in distaste, “Madcap Skel, he who is sitting across from you.”

  Adridam arched a brow ridge at Skel’s twisting of the formal greeting, “You must be popular amongst the Crag.”

  I save my manners for people who haven’t already called me several slurs.

  Skel slipped a little fang in his grin and winked, “I do alright.”

  The Terrapan grinned, giving him an unsubtle once over “Oh I’m sure. How about this Madcap-”

  “Just Skel’s all right, Macap’s my father’s name.”

  “Is it?”

  “No.”

  “Allright, Skel,” Adridam grinned and flagged down a server, “how about I get you a tankard and some stew to make up for our initial unpleasantness. On me.”

  Skel, who was drinking water, and eating somebody’s leftovers that he’d stolen off another table, gave an easy smile, “I imagine that’d help smooth things over.”

  The Cleric grimaced, “Adridam you were the one who-”

  The Terrapan cut her off with a look, before turning to Skel, “And I apologize for my friend Cieadel here, but I hope you don’t hold it too heavily against her or us.”

  If I end up mugging you lot I’m stabbing her first.

  “I’m happy to make amends for the right business partners.” Skel drawled. The soup and ale arrived, and he tried his best to keep a calm composure while immediately shovelling food into his mouth.

  It was so good. (15 whole copper)

  “You see, I’m afraid it's my fault she’s started off so surly,” Turtle man gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.

  “That so?”Skel took a swig of his ale, “ You piss her off so much she decided to take it out on all the Fringes?”

  The Terrapan shrugged, “No, nothing so complex,” Adridam looked across the table with golden eyes through blue lensed spectacles, and Skel had the unpleasant sensation someone running their hands across his soul, “I told her that if we didn’t make a deal to hire you tonight, that you'd seem nonchalant about it all. You’d smile, say no hard feelings, snag a little food and walk off. Then, you’d hang out at the bar, waiting till Ciedel and Regan decided to walk home piss drunk. Then, you’d jump them, disable their magical protections, and steal the funds I’ve paid them off their unconscious bodies.”

  The Terrapan shrugged, with a small flat toothed smile, “Hard to prove divination in court, But I’m afraid your plans to mug us have put the group off working with you.”

  By the Hells.

  Skel kept his composure, but it was a near thing.