Bernice
Ostiary Vigi Bolstad, The Bulwark

Vigi watched as a hand emerged from the darkness, as Servius grasped the papers from Stern. They rest on his lap as another figure, dressed in the same robes as Vigi, stepped from around the throne to receive them. The man, just barely no longer a boy, took them from his lap without so much as a word, and hurried off. 

"You..." His fingers gripped at the edges of his throne. "It would have been foolish for this Ostiary to bring a demon to my throne room. It would have cost him his head. And yet..." A long silence hung in the air. For once, the ever talkative Vigi was silent. "Here you are. What are you, Stern Logarsh of the Boar Clan? You are not of my plane, of any realm this retched continent has to offer. You say you want to join the hunt?" A deep, wheezing laugh rose from the Grand Crusader's throat, harsh and long before cutting off abruptly. "You appear to be the hunted. Why have you decided to join us?"
Joyce
The orc folded his muscular arms on his chest. His eyes burning with determination. He could instinctively tell how wise the man in front of him was, yet he did not like the mocking tone of his last sentences. "I was found ashore by my people, they called me Dorahan, I do not know how to explain that word..." He sighed. "My Clan is dead, I'm the last hunter... And hunt I will." The orc took off the medallion he had found among the belongings of the cultists, his only true clue... His only way to avenge his people. "The men who killed them wore Marahodd like this..." The hunter was struggling to explain himself, his knowledge on the language of the Civilized People was way thinner that a common peasant's, a flaw that the greenskin hated... Foolish is the hunter who cannot understand his prey...
"I want to hunt them with you... I will prove my skills." He growled as the last words came out more similar to the snarl of a beat than to actual language.
Bernice
Ostiary Vigi Bolstad, The Bulwark

The Grand Crusader narrowed his eyes. "We will teach you words. This land was once filled with beastmen. Men killed them all. They rest now within the walls of the Great Bulwark. You lucky join them of your own volition. Not at the end of my axe." He took the medallion and held it in his palm, the size of the necklace diminutive within his grasp. Slowly, his fingers would curl around it, and he would move to speak. No works would escape his lips before his body stiffened. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, and pained groans echoed through the dimly lit sanctum. His head would fall back slowly, directing his gaze skywards.

The young boy carrying the scrolls had nearly left the room before spinning around and sprinting to Genn. Quickly, his hands were working to pry the amulet from the Grand Crusader's gauntlet. "W-what is this?" The squire spoke, looking to the two for help just before a large, armored hand swung to the side, knocking him to the floor. 

"S-s-silence..." The Grand Crusader was sitting up now, back straight at attention. His nostrils flared, teeth grit like a wild animal. "Y-you do not touch me, boy." Labored, coughing breaths came from the body on the ground. 

"The amulet is powerful. Forged by dragons, carried by cultists, kept by you, and if you still want to stay here, I will keep it. They are still alive. I saw them." His eyes, a pale, milky blue, searched wildly under his snow white eyebrows. "We will find them, Stern Logarsh. You will hunt again. Leave."
Joyce
As the paladin began spasming in trance, Stern stepped back, assuming a quick stance. His people spoke about magic with fear... There was no magic in nature, therefore magic was something no mortal should approach. The orc was about to grab his dagger when the Grand Crusader began speaking. He returned to a more relaxed pose, slightly surprised that the shiny yet simple object he had carried all that time was more ancient than the woods he grew up in. 

He nodded at the paladin before taking the pieces of his gear he took off when he entered and leaving the hall in silence. No words were needed, only actions.
He looked back at the man in the throne before growling. Yes that paladin was knowledgeable, but to his people the ones who build their home beneath the ground are the same people who are getting used to rest forever in the cold dirt... 

He needed to see the sky, that cold tomb of stone was making him nervous.