<strong>Emrick Stone: Procrastinator extraordinaire</strong><br/><br/>The young man was freshly returned from a week long stint in the wilderness, his packs drained of food and supplies, but filled with fresh samples and hastily scrawled notes.  His mare was stabled, his thirst quenched and stomach filled.  He had taken care of his minor injuries.  Now...<br/><br/>He looked down at the small satchel sitting on the rough hewn tabletop.  It was filled with folded, crumpled paper, small sacks of dirt, and a couple of bone like stones he had found underneath a tilted slab of rock.  It was the prelude to the part of his contracts he hated most: paperwork.<br/><br/>But first, something to drink.  Emrick stood and stretched, tenderly feeling the bruise on his left shoulder.  Some unknown creature had chased him and his mare off the path, and he had knicked himself on a low hanging bough.  At least it wasn't broken.<br/><br/>His table was nestled in the tavern's southeast corner, below the staircase and next to a small, fogged window that offered a dismal view of the misty outdoors.  Carefully, the mage weaved himself around the clustered tables and pushed out chairs to the bar.  It was wooden too, but much smoother than his table, thanks to the thousands of calloused hands and heavy mugs that had passed over it.  There was very little room on the way there, though, and he eventually stumbled as he hurried to get out of the way of a stiffly armored knight.  If there was one thing he had learned in the back country, it was that you don't hinder an armored person.<br/><br/>Emrick eyed the orc by the booth as he approached - the elf was hidden by its bulk.  He didn't feel compelled to hate it, but that didn't mean he wanted to befriend the beast.  They were both invaders in this land, however.<em>Kind of poetic</em>, he mused to himself, walking past the orc.  He leaned against the counter about a pace from the elf, and waited for the barmaid to finish serving her.  In the meantime, he watched the orc handling a<em>small barrel</em>of liquid, as if it were a mug.  In its massive hand, it may as well have been.