Crear sat slumped over the table, trying to read a book in the protective shadows of his arms. The other adventurers in the cozy underground tavern of the guildhall stared daggers at him whenever their conversations took a lull.

He didn't care for their anger. He knew all of them. Idiots and bootlickers the whole lot of them. Their opinion mattered to him about as much as the opinion of horse shit.

His hand grabbed the mug standing right in front of his head and he took a gulp, his eyes roving over the room. A thin stripe of cloth was wrapped over his eyes like a blindfold, protecting his sensitive eyes from the bright light of the candles and the fire dancing in the hearth. Most patrons were similarly slumped over their tables, nursing mugs of alcohol, or in hushed conversation with their party members, discussing their next mission.

A woman who hadn't been there before leaned at the counter and spoke with the barkeep. The pudgy man with a beard so long it reached his belt looked over the room once, before his eyes settled on Crear. He scowled at the vicious grin of the barkeep and slammed his mug onto the table with more force than necessary, slumping over his book once more. The woman hadn't seen him yet.

Stealthily, he closed the book and slipped it into the backpack on his left side.

Purposeful steps echoed through the suddenly silent tavern and stopped right in front of his table.

"Hello," started the woman.

Crear barely lifted his head, grabbed for his mug, tilted it to look into it, then feebly pushed it towards the woman. " 'nother drink, pleash." Before his head audibly slumped back onto the table. Looking for all the world like he was drunk.

The silence deepened, but Crear didn't move. It had worked with the last three parties asking him to join. They had been so angry at being treated like common tavern wenches, they had hit him. But a little beating was worth it to keep his peace and not be thrown out of another party.

Steps walked away from his table. A smirk spread on his face. And vanished just as quickly, as the steps returned. Whispers ran through the crowd as two mugs were placed on the table. A chair scratched over the floor and creaked slightly as the woman took a seat.

"Sorry to bother you, but my party and I are searching for a ranger to raid the Silkhook Dungeon."

He knew about the Silkhook Dungeon. Had been in many different parties who had barely managed to fight through the first two floors and then declared that it was his fault. That he had thrown of the well established party dynamics. Thing is, the Silkhook Dungeon was off-limits for parties that didn't have a ranger because of the few big halls with flying monsters. And as one of five rangers in town and the only one without a fixed party...

He raised his head and grabbed the mug, staring at the woman through his blindfold. That he was a ranger wasn't hard to guess. A bow and quiver hung over the back of his chair and he was registered as a ranger with the Adventurers Guild.

"Are you blind?" asked the woman straight away.

Interesting, mused Crear. Everyone tries to ignore this little fact.

"Naah," he slurred, raising his mug to take a drink.

"Well, we're looking to beat the first 10 floors. If we find gold, it will be divided equally. Equipment and materials will also be divided equally, but with an eye on who can use it or need it. You can also call first dibs on something that interests you."

Yeah, most parties do it like that. The standard distribution.

"It's only a temporary party for this dungeon. The party will be disbanded after we return to the Guild and everything has been distributed."

That is new, thought Crear, tilting his head and nearly falling off of his chair. The woman was halfway out of her chair to catch him, but Crear diverted his carefully planned fall forwards and landed on the table with half of his upper body.

"Sorry 'bout that..." mumbled Crear as the woman sat back down. And still she hadn't stormed off. Was her party so bad that they couldn't get one of the other rangers to join temporarily? Or where they so strong that they only needed someone to make up the numbers?

One of the receptionist ladies came down the stairs, scanned the room and walked straight towards him.

"Miss Lydia, please excuse my interruption," she briefly bowed to the woman sitting in front of him. "Crear, the Guild Master would like to speak with you."

"Huuh?" he managed to keep his drunken image, even as he tried to figure out what the Guild Master wanted from him this time.

"What?! But you can't! He still hasn't said if he accepts or not! You can't take him to the Guild Master now!" the woman, Lydia, sounded clearly frightened.

"I assure you, Miss Lydia, that the Guild Master will not talk about your party with him. He has something else to discuss with this miscreant. But maybe you want to wait in the lobby? I'm very sure that he will accept to join your party." The receptionist had a sweet smile on her face as she turned back to Crear. "Would you like to move on your own or do I have to call for Thomas?"

A shiver ran down his spine. Not Thomas.

Feebly, he put his hands on the table and pushed himself into a standing position. His chair scratched over the floor. His bow and quiver were slung over his right shoulder just as his left hand grabbed for his backpack. Swaying, he stood in front of the receptionist lady. "Ah think ah can walk on me oown..." he slurred and followed her out of the room and up the stairs.

A fresh round of whispers ran amok behind him. New food for the rumors.

"Wanting to scare off another poor group of adventurers?" asked the Guild Master as Crear swayed into the room on the upper floor. The receptionist lady closed the door and returned to her place on the ground floor.

"Wha' do ya mean?" mumbled Crear, slumped forward.

"For one thing, I know you're not drunk. I've seen you down 10 mugs of Alek's finest mead and shot your bow afterwards. Every arrow hit the center. Not a single one gone astray. Second, Alek has told me that you scared away three groups of adventurers already by playing the drunkard. When you had only drunk two beer at the time."

Crear slumped a little more, head drooping, shoulders hunched.

The Guild Master sighed audibly.

"If it wasn't for my friend telling me to take good care of you, I would've kicked you out of the Guild a long time ago."

Crear winced. "You always say that. Why don't you just do it and-"

"I will. You will join this group that has asked you today, or I'll kick you out." When Crear didn't say anything, he continued: "And you will be on your best behavior. If I hear that you actively sabotaged them, I will also kick you out. Then you can say goodbye to easy money."

He worked his mouth for several long minutes, staring at the Guild Master with shocked eyes, before he finally managed to croak: "Why?"

"Why? Do you know how many parties you have joined? And all of them have kicked you out again, saying it's your fault."

Crear clenched his fists.

"I know that you're a good boy. You have some anger issues, you don't like working with others and you have a strange hobby of dissecting dead animals and monsters. But your skills are the real deal. You're great with a bow, you can track, make maps and find and disable traps. All valuable skills in the wilderness and a dungeon. But this is the Adventurers Guild. We work in groups to survive. People who can't work together with others have no place here."

The Guild Master watched the young man in front of him.

Roughly 1.7 meters in height, with slightly muscled arms from drawing the bow. If not for the white hair, tied in a tight braid, the thin blindfold over his eyes and the burn scar running from his forehead onto his left cheek, he would look like any other young man. An angry young man, going by the clenched fists and the faint sound of grinding teeth.

"So... what will it be? Join that group? Or leave the Guild for good?"

Crear growled at the Guild Master, before stalking out of the room, slamming the door shut.

The Guild Master smiled.

What, leave the Guild? And how am I supposed to make money, you old shit? You know freaking well that selling animals doesn't pay shit. And no one buys monsters if you're not registered as an adventurer. And if I sell on the Black Market, I'm as good as dead. Dungeons will be off-limits for non-members and then how will I - rargh!

Stalking down the stairs, anger etched onto his face, he saw the woman from before standing in the lobby. On a nearby bench sat a bulky man that dwarfed the petite girl sitting next to him.

"Ah, uhm." The woman stepped into his way as soon as she saw him, her smile shaking. "We'll be meeting outside of the northern gate tomorrow, one bell after sunrise, if you want to join us."

Crear silently glared at her, trying to scare her away without success, before stalking out into the cold afternoon.

"He looked kinda angry?" asked a female voice before the door shut the conversation off.

He took a deep breath, settled his backpack into a more comfortable position, clipped the quiver to his belt and left the city.

"Are you sure he will come?" asked Thira nervously, as she watched the town slowly wake up. "He seemed very angry yesterday."

"Don't worry. The receptionist said that he would join us. I'm sure he will be there," answered Roric with utter conviction.

"We talked about this yesterday, Thira," said Lydia. "It doesn't matter if he is angry or not. If he's a necromancer or even a curse mage, as the rumors say. It's just for the duration of this dungeon raid. Afterwards, we will part ways and never see each other again. We can keep our mouths shut and accept him for that short time."

"Alright," whispered Thira, grabbing her staff a little tighter. She wasn't sure how to react.

They stepped out of the northern gate just as the second bell of the day clanged from the center of the town. They walked into the open field outside the gate, looking around but not seeing anyone that looked like a ranger.

"Guess he didn't come after all..." mumbled Thira.

"You're late," growled a voice from right next to them. Roric and Lydia whirled around, their weapons drawn and pointed towards the blindfolded man.

"Huh..." Thira blinked and took a good look at the man. Average height, average body frame. White hair in a tight braid. A blindfold. He wore an undyed shirt under a green tunic, a dark colored shawl, leather bracers, brown pants and soft looking boots. His belt held onto a quiver, two daggers, a water flask and several pouches. His backpack was just large enough to fit the basic necessities for a week-long camping trip and had another two quivers clipped to its sides. An unstrung bow was in his hands.

He didn't look like the drunkard she had first seen coming up the stairs, nor like the overly dangerous person that had come down from the Guild Masters office and had growled at Lydia.

"What?" he hissed at her.

"You look like a grumpy guy. Not like the dangerous man who growled at Lydia yesterday." A little smile lit up her face. "I like you! I'm Thira. The big guy carrying me is Roric and the other woman is Lydia. She's the one who spoke to you yesterday. In the tavern," she added, as if it was important.

"Well, I don't like you, so keep away from me," snapped the man back.

Lydia covered her face with a hand.

"Your name is Crear?" asked Roric and held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Crear growled something inaudibly and ignored the proffered handshake.

"Roric is responsible for the front lines. He uses a shield and a one handed sword. I'm a spear user and deal damage from a slight distance. Thira can do a little water magic. Nothing fancy, just attacking with a water arrow, so don't get your hopes up." Crear's scowl deepened at the introduction from Lydia. "Now, according to the Guild, you are a ranger, which means you're in the back, shooting at monsters with your bow. But you also have some skill with finding and disabling traps? We would be happy if you could take care of any traps in the dungeon."

Lydia clapped her hands with a forced smile. "With the introductions out of the way, we should head over to the dungeon. It's a two day walk there. Today, we'll make camp on the halfway point, then tomorrow evening, we'll make camp in front of the dungeon and enter it on the morning of the third day."

With that, Lydia lead them down the northern road. Roric fell in place behind her and Thira used the wooden contraption she was placed in to turn around, smiling at Crear trudging after them.