“Syril and I were adventurers in Rockport before we came to Westhome,” Grom explained, going over the part Ellen already knew. “We were part of an adventuring group there and to make a long overly dramatic story short, we investigated a crime ring that was run by some powerful figures. We didn’t have the clout to take them down, so we started recruiting allies, but the human members of our party started dying or disappearing in mysterious means. I don’t know why they left us for last, but we didn’t stick around to ask. We changed our names and left town before they had a chance to finish the job.”

  “So, what are your real names?” Ellen asked.

  Syril looked over his should conspiratorially, then hunched down low and whispered, “A secret.”

  “A dwarf and a half-elf travelling together is rare enough that it would stand out,” Grom continued before Ellen could protest. “If anyone was chasing us it wouldn’t be too hard to track us down. A dwarven cleric and a half-elf would stand out even more, but it was well known I wasn’t a cleric. And few dwarves would dare blaspheme against Dokin.”

  “Few, but not all?” Ellen asked.

  “Aye, there’s at least one.”

  “What about Cland then?”

  “Oh, well, we ended up running into some Dokin clerics when we arrived here, and I thought it best not to draw their attention. The only people who worship Cland are adventurers.”

  “And the divine powers?”

  “That… I’m not sure about,” Grom answered honestly, and as he did felt a large weight lift from him. “I don’t know where they come from. At first, it started with small things. I healed some wounds, purified some foul water, things like that. But that funeral…”

  Grom trailed off, looking into the middle stance, thinking about the day.

  “So…” Syril said, drawings the attention away from his friend. “Next rounds on me?”

  The next round, as it was, ended up being on Sal, the owner of the inn, in gratitude of their aid in fighting back the imps and their destruction.

  The barmaid, who’d Grom had trying to distance himself from—unsuccessfully—delivered each round with a wink, as soon as the empty cups hit the table.

  “I say we get to the Temple of Cland and recruit a paladin,” Ellen said, bringing the topic back to the warrior. “They work for flat rates, are reliable, and… I won’t be tempted to sleep with them.”

  “No!” a voice at the end of the table demanded.

  The three turned to see Linar had joined them.

  “I will not go into so much as an alley with one of those sanctimonious, intolerant, hypocritical, iron clad buffoons!”

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  “I see you escaped the cuckolded husband,” Syril said, moving over to give him a place to sit.

  “It doesn’t count if he was dead at the time,” Linar said, voice cooling at the change of topic. “But we worked it out. It turns out he was a real reasonable.”

  “Wait, I thought you killed him,” Ellen asked.

  “I don’t think I said that,” Linar said, not explicitly denying it. “And like I said, he was a real reasonable guy.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Ellen said, changing the topic. “I vote paladin.”

  “I vote no,” Linar said.

  The two looked from Grom to Syril expectantly.

  “I… vote no,” Grom said. “I don’t think I can change my god publicly now without raising eyebrows. No one noticed before, but now…”

  “I see you point,” Syril said. “But we need a front liner, and they are the best. Besides, you don’t need to hide it, you have to know the tenets well enough to fake it and you certainly have the power.”

  “You’d think that…” Grom bega.

  “Fake it?” Linar asked, cutting into the silence of Grom’s unfinished statement. “Fake what?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” the other three said in unison.

  “I don’t see why we need a paladin,” Linar continued. “We already have a cleric—and that’s bad enough—though I’ll admit you are very tolerant as far as clerics go.”

  “I know we’ve discussed this before,” Syril said, “But are you sure you’re not evil?”

  “What? Just because I have a different sense of right and wrong I’m evil?” Linar asked. “Is the mouse evil for stealing food from a cupboard? Is the lion evil for killing a deer?”

  “Didn’t you kill a guy to sleep with his wife?” Grom asked. “That’s pretty different.”

  “I didn’t know he had a wife at the time,” Linar said, as if that made it better.

  “So you admit you killed him?” Syril asked.

  “I still never said that.”

  “You kind of did,” Grom said.

  “Try taking that to a magistrate,” Linar said. “And besides, he’s not dead now . And he isn’t pressing charges… because there wasn’t a murder.”

  “So, it’s a tie. What do we do?” Ellen asked, bring them back on topic.

  Syril looked amongst the group, let out a long sigh, and said, “Let’s put a notice on the board for open interviews—not excluding paladins as an option—and see what comes of it. If a paladin of Cland ends up being the best choice, we do that.”

  “Fine,” Linar said, waiving down the barmaid. “I’ll have one of those on the house drinks.”

  “Those are only for the people who helped fend off the imps,” she said, giving a disapproving look.

  “And how do you know I didn’t?” Linar ask, affront in his voice.

  The barmaid only held her look until Linar eventually relented and placed an order and paid upfront. He was no longer able to run a tab at this particular establishment after “forgetting” to close it out more than a time or two.

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