Menecrow woke from his deep slumber several hours after dawn. Crawling out of bed he belted on his twin axes and made his way downstairs. Preparation was a quick thing for Menecrow since he often slept fully clothed. Once in the common room the inn keeper approached him with a note from Darion. "They've gone then?" He asked in his harsh dialect. "Yes sir." Samal answered. "Not more than an hour ago." Menecrow quickly read the brief note Darion had scribbled on a piece of parchment. It simply stated that they had found the location of the elf and his army in the south, and they were headed there now with a small force. To Menecrow's dismay there was nothing mentioned of a profit should he decide to join. He wondered if his employment with Cymri was at an end as well, she had mentioned nothing of it the night before. "Pack me some food and a few skins of wine!" He growled at the inn keeper as he slapped a coin down on the bar. Since Fallorian was travelling with the group headed south, Menecrow suddenly found this tiny village to be very boring.