Frederick nods in the affirmative.

It will take more than fleeting visions, a headache and an ominous voice to shake one such as myself sir. Especially when surrounding by friends such as this company.

In reply to Sharps (msg # 172):

Boris waited his turn with the wineskin. "I need to steady my nerves, as well!"

Knowing that Stoney doesn't freely offer drinks Frederick takes the wineskin and has a pull from it.  then he passes it on to Boris.

Thank you Stoney.

Once the party leaves the company of the undertaker, Sharps reveals his proposal to the group.

"Let's get to the bottoms of it all: there's a bunch'a flyers and something bigger that needs dealing with. If we're gonna kill 'em, we have ta draw 'em out.

"Fortunately, we knows how this is done. Be in the forest at the right time an' they'll chase ya. So that's what we'll do. Send one into the woods to scare up some bad guys and let them chase ya right to where we're at- the middle of the road, all bunched up."

Sharps pulls out his wine skin. "Drink it empty, we'll refill at th' Inn." The warrior takes a long pull then hands it to Stoney.

"Have yous ever been fowling? Catchin' birds ta eat or sell? I was stuck on a tropical island fer two months waiting on a ship an' I saw plenty of fowling trips made by the natives. Smart folk. If you wanna catch somethin' flying, use a net.

"Here's the quick of it. We'll go to the docks, get two ten foot poles, have a net strung between those two poles. When fight time comes, me and Hawkmoon are standin' together in the middle of th' road an' each holdin' a pole. Th' rest'a yous are behind us.  When our man gets them flyers ta chase 'im to us, he runs past us. We each run to a side of the road and stretch th' net; them flyers get caught in the net. We drop th' poles, trapping them flyers under th' net, then we stomp hell outta 'em.

"Here's the tricky part," he cautions, rubbing his hands together. "There's that other thing we've been talkin' 'bout. The creature what cuts throats. E'eryone not holdin' a net or runnin' their ass off has ta be on th' lookout fer this toughie. Swat th' fyers not caught in th' net an' keep 'em off me and Hawkmoon, first an' foremost, but that sum-bitch is what we're after.

"Well, that's me plan," he sums, looking around for the wine skin and seeing it already emptied. He just shrugs and laughs. "Tell me ta go an' get stuffed, or tell me how we can make this plan better," Sharps asks the group.

In reply to Sharps (msg # 176):

"I ran from the Saracens before, I can do it again if needs must," Boris offered.

Frederick like the gruff of the small human.  That race always amazed him.

I too can run. I can also assist either myself or the runner in advanced escape methods.  Such as flying.

Impressed, Sharps nods to Frederick. "A man with many talents, I see. Look, we needs these flyers ta stay close to th' ground, so no flyin' until we drop th' net."

He pauses his musing while continuing to walk. "You bein' experienced and all, you gotta know this already. If you take ta th' air while the big bad guy is around, you're a natural draw fer his whole attention. Until we knows what it is an' how it can be hurt, I don't think none of us should try that."

In reply to Sharps (msg # 179):

"Good plan."
Stoney says as he grabs for the empty wineskin, and holds it up getting the last drops in his mouth.
"I worry they will cut through the net.  I am not familiar with nets, but can they be metal wire?" 

"I never seen one," Sharps shrugs. "But that claw we saw was a poker, not
a cutter. I feel pretty good about the net holdin' 'em until they can be stomped or whatever." He chuckled. "If they starts ta wiggle out, I got somethin' for 'em."

In reply to Sharps (msg # 181):

"Right.  I didn't think of that.  You are right, the claws are more a poke type than a cutting type.  The net just might work.  I guess the next thing is, where to set the trap and who is the bait."
Looking at Boris and Frederick.
"Are you certain you can be quick on your feet?"

In reply to Stoney Applesmith (msg # 182):

Boris nodded. "I am fleet of foot. At least for small folk."

Making your way through the town, you arrive at the main gate around high noon.  The guards seem to be going through the usual motions with no additional anxiety showing.  A quick briefing of any passing soldier indicates the captain to be in the 'main office', the small area you previously had met him.

"So how was your evening?  You seem rested."

Sharps hasn't had the relationship with the captain enjoyed by the others, so he stands silent in deference to the others.

In reply to Sharps (msg # 185):

"Thank you for noticing." Stoney says half joking, and a slight blush.

Before speaking Stoney looks around to see who is near that could hear.  Then quietly talks to the captain.
"Well we have a plan, that should work. We might need a few supplies, if you can help us out.  Sharps, please let the kind Captain know what we would need, and a suggestion where to set the trap."

"Oh, ya this is Sharps, he is the brains behind this trap!

Sharps nods comfortably with the Captain. "We met," Sharps acknowledges. "A right solid leader, no doubt. We really don't needs nothin' from ya, in actuality. What I needs can be had in the city for less than a gold piece. 'Cept information." He looks around the room. "We're goin' out ta take care'o yer nighttime problem, capt'n, an' it'd be made easier if ya just told us e'erything ya knows. There's a big bad guy an' a bunch'a little 'uns. What can ya tell us 'bout 'em?"

"Going to solve the problem are you?"

He belts out a huge laugh, half sinister in its tone.

"Well you're going to have to be a bit more precise on what you're asking about.  Big ones, little ones...you sound like the rest of the town folk now.  Information is precisely what I need and if you know something, a name, a face...something...than I need to know."

Frustration rises in his voice as he slowly stands while speaking.

"What is it you think you've found?"

"We know what you prob'ly know," Sharps says, his demeanor not roused by the captain. "Yer dead people got lots'a small wounds an' then one big wound. Small wounds made by small creatures. Big wound made by a big creature. Our friend here was chased by small flyin' creatures. We figger, let's attract the small ones an' we'll get the biggie, too. That's what we're settin' out ta accomplish." He shrugs. "You can be right helpful an' tell us about th' attacks. Or not."

"You have seen these creatures?  Cast your eyes upon them?  Then you must tell me what they are!  As for the attacks...which ones?  What is it you are seeking from me?"

In reply to The Powers That Be (msg # 190):

Boris waited, knowing if he mentioned at this juncture the Saracens they were sent to hunt down it would just confuse the situation further.

With a look of confusion cast at Boris, Sharps offers a question to the captain. "We needs nothin'. Not a thing. But, if you knew whereabouts there might have been any attacks outside the walls, that'd be a helpful thing ta know." He looks to his partners for any other input.

In reply to Sharps (msg # 192):

After returning Sharp's apparently random confused look a him, Boris clarifed, "Captain, when I arrived at the gates several days ago I was pursued by some creatures. "Saracens" as they are called where I came from. Some of them escaped back into the forest. My companions and I were sent in pursuit. We tracked them down through the swamp and another forest to the north, then slew them all. Along the way we found a mysterious village and a sinister temple, which was empty. We guessed the Saracens may have come from the temple, but cannot be sure."

"Ahhh yes, you mean our mean, yellow friends, yes?  Attacks from them are random except for caravans of course.  What magic the few traders that still wander here have to protect themselves is a mystery to me.  As some of you have witnessed, they are fast, strong and seem to know when it's time to run.  All I know is they flee into the woods just beyond the walls but I can tell you, there's something not right about them.  Not only do they fight with no fear of pain, death, mutilation but when they leave, it's as if they all respond as one.  It's not that they follow the example of one, I mean they all turn their heads at the same time and sprint off in the same exact direction.  No calls, no horns, nothing to indicate anyone commanding them.  Mighty strange if I do say."

In reply to The Powers That Be (msg # 194):

"We noted this strange behavior. There did seem to be some calls from afar before they attacked, but I could be mistaken.

"The band that attacked Port Strangefellow is no more, praise God!"

"That was but a single band my friend.  They have been spotted on the edges up and down the road.  Just waiting."

Boris seemed genuinely surprised.

"As God is my witness we did what we were asked to do. If there are more, and it sounds like there are, perhaps the local lord or knight should sally forth to clear them?"