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A scroll is tacked on a post right outside of Galmair, at about waist height for humans. The writings seems painted on by some inky paste that smells vaguely of berries.

As Malchus passes by he notices the crudely written message. "A contract's a contract," he sighs and adds a line at the bottom of the parchment:

"The mercenary Malchus offers to put his mace into your service for a quarter of the treasure's value."

The young halfling, spotting the scribble at the bottom of his parchment rushes at full speed to the post, screeching to a stop. He reads the Malchus' note and spends an inordinate amount of time counting something on his fingers. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, pulls another piece of paper from his bag and a small vial containing the thick fruit-pulp. He dips a stick into the vial and scratches his response under it.

MALCHUS CAN YOU FITe MONSTeRS ALONe OR DO We NeeD TO FINe 2 MORe PeePLe?

PIM PeRNeLL

The one-eyed man nails a small note to the post, using his mace as a hammer.

"I'll take care of that. Meet me at the Hemp Necktie Inn at your convenience.

M."