As Jax sat beside Durg the Gong looked at his new master assessing. The behemoth had a new outfit on, it was a breastplate that he had acquired from a large man the night before, and a set of deep purple robes. The look was strange to Jax who had never worn robes, or been near someone who did, yet the distinct look wasn't unpleasant on the giant.

Jax could still see the ring of the slaves collar around the Gong. the previous day he had tried to remove it but had been unable to, as it appeared that Gelkrins magic sustained itself even through his passing. Nia had theorized that it survived off of the Gongs life energies. If so it would take a master magician to circumvent any safeguards lest the necklace kill them.

"What is the tally" asked the Large gong.

"Well you lucked out with one of your kills" responded Jax with a smile. "The blood hunter had quite the blade. Besides that there was nothing special. Nia guesses that Jerg can sell the goods for around 3,000 experience."

That was a quirk of this world that had surprised Jax. There was some bartering, but mostly all currency took the form of Experience and experience coins. With a concerted effort and a ritual anyone could condense their experience into a coin and give it to someone else. The entire world literally ran on experience. That was why adventurers and raids like the one they were on was so important. They were protecting the mines yes, but they were also generating wealth in other ways, namely through gathering large amounts of experience. They would undoubtedly come across many foes in the under dark on their travels, which would lead them to vast increases in power and wealth. That is if they survived.

he also learned another thing. The ambushers had not had any leftover experience when the attacked them. Not a single one of them held a reserve. You see when you killed a foe, if that foe had any leftover experience like Jax himself possessed then that experience transferred to the killer. That was an oddity. Not a single one of them held any experience. Who had they given it to?

But that was a question for later. For now Jax had to Focus on the looming town in the distance. "Its back there for you, Nia says itll sell for a pretty penny" he told the Gong offhandedly. The man nodded his head in thanks to Jax.

The town, more a village really was named the pit. It sat alongside a gargantuan chasm that delved deeply into the earth. Nia told Jax that none had ever managed to reach the bottom of the pit, though many had tried. They pit was their eventual destination. It would allow them access to the mines below the city. So they slowly rode on, the great Eathen walls slowly crawling nearer.

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As the town grew closer, its ragged walls loomed over Jax and his companions, giving it a rugged, almost forbidding look. Sparse buildings clung to the edg of the wall, many made from heavy, iron-reinforced wood that looked ready to withstand anything thrown its way.

"Welcome to the Pit," Nia who had flown to the fore muttered as they approached a low, heavy gate. Guards eyed them with practiced suspicion, their armor well-worn, but their weapons sharp and ready. One guard, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running from his eyebrow to his cheek, halted them briefly.

“What brings you to the pit friend?” he asked, eyes flicking between Jax and the towering Gong beside him.

“We’re expected by Terissa of Marsh,” Jax replied, trying to sound at ease. “Meeting her party here in town. Do you perhaps know where we may find her?”

The guard raised a brow but nodded down a narrow street lined with squat, grimy buildings. “Follow the road to the edge of the square. Can’t miss it—place called The Broken Helm. Watch yourselves in there. Folk don’t take kindly to strangers who make trouble.”

Jax dipped his head in acknowledgment, and their two wagons moved on. Jax noticed the way passersby shifted aside, casting uneasy glances at the enormous man with the gleaming collar marking his neck who sat afront their wagon. They found a stableyard, and then proceeded to the tavern.

They entered The Broken Helm, where the dark, smoke-filled room was alive with quiet conversations and the occasional roar of laughter. The tavern’s dim lanterns cast an orange glow, highlighting the many scars gouged into the tables, and the low-hanging beams seemed to sag under years of accumulated dust.

At a corner table, Jax spotted a group waiting—five individuals who immediately assessed them with practiced intensity. Each wore mismatched armor pieces, indicating both experience and lack of care for the usual uniformed look of established warriors. These were mercenaries, and they looked every bit the part.

One of them, a tall woman with silver hair pulled into a tight braid, beckoned them over. She wore an eye patch, and a pair of viciously sharp knives rested in sheaths on either hip. The others shifted as Jax and the Gong approached. Each had a worn, hardened look that only came from years in the field.

The woman raised her mug. “You arnt Gelkrin,” she said, her voice a low rasp. She looked up at the towering Gong beside him, her single eye narrowing as she took in the robes, the breastplate, and the collar that gleamed in the flickering light. “Interesting choice in armor.”

The Gong simply nodded, his dark eyes meeting hers without a hint of discomfort. “I am ready,” he said, his voice deep and calm.

“Well,” she said with a small, assessing smile, “you’ll fit right in, then.” She took a long pull from her mug and set it down with a clink. “I’m Calis, what happened to the dwarf?"

Jax eyes however hadn't shifted from her tag, floating slowly above her head. it read [Level 20 Assasin]