"Mead," Dwargon said and slapped down some coppers. The barkeep already had the pint ready, and Dwargon wasted no time in pulling off the lower part of his faceplate and downed the lot.
"Mead," he said again, continuing the dance.
"What's wrong with him?" Arti whispered. Ellie shrugged.
"It's his favourite word after his entire party died in the Siege of Tariak. Now it's nothing but using those weights Master Kenji invented, risking his life in increasing stupid ways, then spending all his pay one copper at a time until he collapses."
Ellie had tried helping, the problem was she could understand. If she didn't need to earn coin to help the sick at the Headless Hunter Guild, or if these numbskulls weren't so dependant on what little direction she could give as a leader, then she too would be wallowing in the past.
"Dwargon needs time and support. He needs the chance to get out of this himself, we can't force change, only not get in the way of it."
Rams rumbled laughter, "we should buy him a barrel! Get the dwarf so sick of mead he'll never ask for it again!"
Ellie would have bet Dwargon would just go back to drinking the next day if that happened.
"Your accent is getting better Rams, you're really showing Fial how it's done," Ellie grinned as she slapped the brawny Satyr's furred shoulder.
"I speak. Just fine," Fial Said in the clipped way of the Goatfolk. "You all. Should speak. Like me."
Ellie laughed while Armen bristled, his butler's cloak swishing aside as he pointed a white-gloved finger.
"It is not the correct way to speak. If Mirs Rams can do it, then why not you?" he said with his floral way of speaking.
"I have. A spine," Fial said carefully and took a sip of his mead.
Flames erupted between Armen's gloved fingers, Ellie having to shove herself between the two.
"Come one now, fighting when we're about to go on this really cool adventure? What will our new healer think of that?" Ellie glowed when she used the word, her parties Healer...almost no other adventurer group had one. The priesthood had largely left Tariak after the inclusion of the Fourth god, the Truthblade. And while his priests were growing by the day, they specialised in martial prowess, judgment and truth-based blessings.
Without the Three, there would be no more healing, and the perfect adventurer structure Kenji spoke of was left unfulfilled.
"You have a strange look on your face, human," Tari said suspiciously, and peered around the tavern to spot another brown-furred Furbolg similarly being embraced by her adventurer group. "Do you humans really value us so much?
In another corner was a tall member of the Bearfolk, his aura of violence, lanky humanoid arms and eyes constantly on the verge of crimson frightening the people around him.
Ellie would never admit that a part of her love of the Furbolgs was because of how cute their druids are. Each one was fluffy, small and so serious she was threatened to die from cuteness overload. She wanted to put him in little costumes if Taki let him, it really would make her day to see Taki with a little suit or the like. Or perhaps dressed as a wizard. Or a teeny-tiny knight.
"We don't have many healers," Ellie said instead, biting down the deeply wishful desire to weave a bow in the Furbolg's fluffy fur. Then again, Ellie hadn't been a girl like that for years, gods what was happening to her? The girl who had terrified men thrice her size? Walking to the bar, Ellie slapped down three coppers and collected her tankards. "So your addition is really amazing actually, we'll do everything possible to keep you safe, even more than we normally would a party member. Because as long as we have you on our team we can heal up afterwards."
Ellie grinned, and the Furbolg shuffled his spotted feet.
"I can do more than heal you know. I can remove toxins, poisons, and control the nature around me. I can even turn into Bearfolk form if it's needed, although there's a possibility I'll never revert it I do, so it really is a last resort."
Thumping a tankard of mead in front of the Taki, with one for Armen and Fial too, Ellie sat down on her chair, "tell me all about it Taki. I'm all ears."
Sniffing embarrassedly, the little Furbolg sipped on the wretched brew and got into it.
It would be many hours before they would finally head to sleep, although they would awaken refreshed all the same. The coppers it had cost for the mead seemed well worth it to Ellie, who after getting ready found her companions chatting away like old friends. Well, Dwargon was silent as stone, Fial was making veiled threats and Armen was correcting everyone on how to walk... but it was as close to chatting as they had gotten thus far.
And it was good enough for Ellie because this was progress.
Then her stomach felt empty, and her knees weak. Collapsing into a chair, her breath came shallow and fast, as the image of a buck-toothed boy fluttered through her mind. The one that hadn't grown enough, no matter how much Ellie had tried, her brother that had been butchered by demons, along with all those other lost souls in the Siege of Tariak.
"Mum...Dad... I'm sorry," she whispered to the table, tears flooding her cheeks as the memories of her parents raised again in the days of the Plague King came to haunt her like spectres that refused to die. Why was Ellie so weak? Why couldn't she ever be enough?
"Hey there Ellie, what's going on?" Rams said, wrapping Ellie in those warm furred arms that always made the bad thoughts run away. Not trying to pull her away, Rams just let her be. Ellie heard her party's arguing fade away, and when she pulled herself together enough to peer up, found them helping each other with their straps.
Embarrassed, even Dwargon seemed to be helping as he fiddled with the overlarge pack the Furbolg had opted to bring. They gave her fleeting looks, cheeks turning a bashful red or horned heads turning away with a little too much speed to pretend they had not seen her cry.
Smiling, Ellie felt thankful for her friends. She might be terribly weak, but they were strong.
And they were good too.
"Let's get going Rams, places to be and all," Ellie laughed, grasping at the rat blade at her side, hand sliding across into the other dagger hilts arrayed upon her person. As long as she had a weapon she could fight, and as long as Ellie could fight, she could fight to improve.
She might be weak now, but not forever. Not always.