Aarnr has to think a bit, but is pretty sure they've never heard of either him or his tribe in Fairhill.  From all accounts the place isn't so big that a raiding party would be put off, but if his reckoning is right, it's much too far from the coast for his kinsmen to have paid a daring night-time visit.

Doesn't surprise him that any free spirit would fall foul of the laws these froggin' foot-lickers come up with.  Though he never ceases to be amazed at how long they can hold a grudge.

"The man's troubles in Fairhill are his froggin' own business," the priest rumbles.  "Thee and me can skirt around the place, lad, and meet the rest of our warband on the road."

And he'll be froggin' fried in filth before he spends a watch listening to the Nameless Monk blathering on in his ear.  "Fergus an' me will take the last watch," he suggests.  That's when it's the most dangerous ...

Aramil nodded at Corian when he noted nothing else to add to his story. Sitting, eating and listening seems to be all Aramil wishes to do, but a smart man listen more than he talks, even one who is gifted with the use of his tongue. Intrigued by everyone's comments Aramil wants to know about Fergus just as much as the others, but no point hassling the boy, he will tell his story when he is ready.

Aramil doesn't care about which watch, but he does want to spend some more time with Oswald. Speaking quietly yet with a firmness which is easy to hear around the camp "I don't care which watch I take, but I would prefer 1st watch if possible."

Fergus stares glumly at his boots.  For a moment it seems that he will not reply, but he reacts with sullen anger to Oswald's teasing (though he makes a note to ask what "gigolo" means when he gets the chance to ask someone in private).  "It ain't anything like that!  There's too many folks as know me in Fairhill an'd try to send me home.  I can't go home, my pa would kill me."

"I'll watch with Aarnr." Fergus doesn't understand how any god could approve of the kind of language that Aarnr uses and he has a growing suspicion that the priest has an inflated opinion of Fergus' abilities as a warrior, but he appreciates Aarnr's support.  Also, years of farm labour have made Fergus an early riser so the morning watch suits him best anyway.

The monk smiles briefly at Fergus. "Thank you for sharing with us, Fergus."  She is not completely convinced his father indeed would slay him, but leaves it at that since she do not know anything more beyond what Fergus has said.

She then falls silent, watching the others to see who wish to take what watch with whom.  Watching and waiting.

Corian considers Fergus' dilemma briefly, then agrees with Aarnr's assessment of the situation, "Indeed, as far as I can see there is no need for us all to stroll into the marketplace in Fairhill and announce our presence.  While it may be necessary for at least some of us to converse with the locals to obtain detailed directions to Eralion's keep, there is no reason I can think of that others could not await us beyond the outskirts."

Forestalling Aarnr's expected response, Colwyn adds, "'e means the lad don't need ter go inter the village."

"Precisely so."

Corian stands and stretches, before stifling a yawn, "Well, my bold companions, it has been a long day, made longer still by the inclement weather.  I believe I shall retire for the evening."  He crosses to where his bedroll lays on the ground and starts to prepare for sleep.

Beyond the circle of light, the darkness has closed in around the camp, and the loudest sounds are the rustling of leaves overhead as the wind shakes the trees, and the dripping of water from the dense green canopy...
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Sun 31 July 2011.

Ozzy settles back into his nook in the tree roots close to the fire. He once again picks up his lute, taking a moment to tune it once more as the others prepare their beds for the night. Once everyone is tucked in, he begins to play softly, singing the lyrics from an old McCartney ballad...

Once there was a way, to get back homeward,
Once there was a way, to get back home.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby...

Golden slumbers fill your eyes, smiles awake you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby...

Once there was a way, to get back homeward,
Once there was a way, to get back home,
Sleep pretty darling do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby...

He plays the louder parts softly as well, not wishing to wake the others before their turn in the watch rotation. As he plays, he takes mental note of his surroundings and carefully marks any subtle changes to the shadows projected from the evening fire.

Eilieen has been daydreaming - well, dusk-dreaming, dusk-and-rain-dreaming if one is to be particular - about the good parts of the Temple.  That is to say, the food, the beds, the services.  It does occur to her that each and every one of these things had a lamentable habit of turning out to be disgusting and purile in some form or another, but she sets that aside for the moment.  It's a wonderful dream, warm and cozy, and unfortunately it distracts her enough that she ends up stuck on the second watch.

With Colwyn, though that's not a problem.

"Ugh and drat," the priestess mutters, fuming - angry with herself, not the others.  Witless fool.  Now you won't get your eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.  "Second watch it is," she chimes in, striving for good cheer, not wanting her foul mood to infect her companions.  "Best I sleep, myself..."

Out comes the bedroll.  Making a little tent over her head with her cloak and some handy twigs thrust into the ground, Eilieen crawls in.  No silk sleeping clothing.  No silk sheets.  No silk mask for her eyes.  The perils of travel and adventuring...well, at least there's no one crawling in with her, then giving a surprised, offended look when shooed away.

At least twice a night that used to happen.

Erista pats Fergus on the hand.  "Nothing to be worried about," she promises.

She does some quick math in her head, and then offers cheerfully, "I'd be happy to get up with Monk later.  I've gotten a bit more nocturnal since I bonded with Astral."  The tiny little owl that accompanies her makes a sudden little peeu chirp, turning her head to blink at Erista, and then snapping something even tinier out of the air.

Erista smiles at her, finishing up her rabbit.  She looks at Eilieen thoughtfully for a moment, and then shakes her head, taking out her bedroll, laying it relatively near the fire, and snuggling in.  She falls asleep quickly.  The owl flits over to land near the opening, and, for a while, stands its own quiet vigil against mosquitoes, before burrowing in next to her a little later in the evening.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:56, Mon 01 Aug 2011.

"Thou'll be right with me, lad," Aarnr slaps Fergus on his shoulder, truly appreciating the urge to be absent from one's extended family.  Having craftily gained the pair the best watch of the night, the priest is in rare good humour, and forebears from any comment at all as he watches Eileen's night time ritual, waiting until the priestess is nice and comfortable before he unstraps his own roll from his pack, shaking it out with no little vigor before tossing it down to the ground.

"Jus' checkin' for spiders ..."

The monk, having watched the others as they got ready for the night in one way or another, remains seated where she is, eyes closed and once more seemingly oblivious to the world.  The only sign of life is a slow, relaxed breathing, in and out, until it is very hard to tell she is indeed still breathing, for now.  But she is, possibly to some people's annoyance.

One by one, people get themselves settled for the night, save only Oswald and Aramil, who have the first watch and so must remain alert for any sign of danger.  Their vigilance is, perhaps, heightened by Corian's tale and his mention of rivals whom he seeks to avoid on the road to Fairhill.

The two of them quietly patrol the perimeter of the camp while their companions drift into sleep, some to dream (peaceful or otherwise) and some not.  And the first watch passes slowly...

Aramil watches as the others get ready for their sleep, wishing he could join them, mainly just to get him out of the weather to some degree. Walking around slowly Aramil is happily thinking about the uninterrupted sleep that will happen later when he notices something. Stopping to listen to the noise over the wind, rain and other campers Aramil stands still for longer than he should. Turning to see if Oswald has noticed anything, Aramil seems unsure of what to do.

Ozzy, who has been walking the opposite direction of Aramil stops when their paths cross. "What is it? You hear something? he asks in a hushed whisper, knowing elves had far better hearing than most. He then falls quiet, looking and listening in the direction Aramil faces, but catching little more than the sound of raindrops and the sight of flickering shadows in the trees. "It's too dark, I can't see anything." he grumbles.

Listen: 9, Spot: 6

As Aramil and Oswald change their patrol pattern, stopping to peer through the surrounding trees on the uphill side of the camp, it becomes clear that some of their companions are lighter sleepers than others.

While Colwyn, Corian, Eilieen and Erista continue to slumber, Aarnr, Fergus and the monk begin to stir.

"There it is again! Did you hear that?" the halfling says excitedly, a look of anxiety forming on his features. If it was what he thought it was, it was definitely more horrifying than anything he was ready to deal with tonight, "Sounds like a kid crying. Do you hear it Aramil?" he whispers and then quickly falls silent, looking back at the campsite as a few turn restlessly in their sleep. Good thing his watch was almost over, he did not want to babysit.

A slow exhales escapes the monk as both eyes open.  Still seated in a lotus position she looks around, moving only her head, and neck, not saying anything.  Her eyes sweep over Oswald and Aramil but does not linger, neither do they linger of any of her other companions, sleeping or not.

Still uncertain what to do Aramil is not really reassured by Oswald's comment about babysitting. Not about actually babysitting, but finding a child out here by itself. With others in the camp starting to stir Aramil decides its time to do something. Quietly whispering to Oswald "I cannot leave this be, I'll go and have a closer look." Aramil then moves off slowly in the direction of the calling out. Cautious of trouble Aramil doesn't call out, but waits for the reason that a child is out be itself.

OOC:08:46, Today: Aramil rolled 7 using 1d20+2. Spot  check.
08:45, Today: Aramil rolled 7 using 1d20+2. Move silently check.
08:45, Today: Aramil rolled 9 using 1d20+2. Listen check.

Froggin' bat-fowling canker-blossoms !  The racket spouting from the tongues of Aramil and Oswald disturbs Aarnr, at least enough to have him roll over, pulling the thin blanket up over his head to try to block their babble out.

Oswald nods and then turns back to those still feigning sleep by the fire. He pulls the blanket from Aarnr's head and whispers loud enough to wake the others, "Getup!Getup!Getup! Aramil's going into the woods to find the lost kid. There's a little kid crying in the dark, maybe he's lost. Getup. Getup."

"Maybe he's just froggin' stupid !" Aarnr comes close to throttling Oswald, as he is rudely roused from his beauty sleep, but reluctantly extricates himself from his blankets, picking up the great big sword of his that is ever close to hand.

Gaining his feet, the priest peers out into the darkness. "ARAMAIL !  GET THY SKINNY BEHIND BACK HERE THOU RANK SHEEP-BITING RATS-BANE !" he yells out into the night after the bard, hopefully in the direction of the wailing, but with enough volume that it shouldn't really matter.  "Lucky we brought a spare minstrel," he mumbles, looking towards Oswald. "Thou stay put !"

Colwyn crosses the roof of the temple with consummate ease, moving over the sloping tiles quickly, and with a light step, producing no noise to alert the guards in the courtyard below.  He reaches his goal, the skylight he had seen when he first came to the city.  Subsequent studies of the temple interior, in the guise of a worshipper, had revealed that the skylight did not lead into any of the temple's public areas.

Further enquiries among some of the cities... less lawful denizens had turned up tales of a chamber where the temple's great treasures were stored, only brought out on holy days.

This had not struck Colwyn as fair, he was determined to liberate the gems and jewels which he felt certain must lay within the chamber.  Such fine, bright stones and precious metals should be outside, sparkling in the sunlight, not locked in some dusty vault.

He draws his knife, and with a cunning flick of the wrist, pops the skylight open.  It's a moonless night, and peering down through the opening reveals only darkness.  Colwyn secures his rope to a gargoyle which bears a startling resemblance to his Uncle Merthyr.

Then he climbs through the opening and slides down the rope.  He lands on something, but instead of the expected *clink* of coins or rattling of spilled gems, there is a quiet "Oh!" and a giggle.  Somebody brings a candle, and Colwyn finds that he is in a room filled with about a hundred naked temple maidens, all stirring into wakefulness.  And every one of them is smiling and beckoning seductively.

He also seems to have lost his pants at some point in his slide down the rope.

He turns around, taking in the wondrous sight, and comes face to face with a bear.  An angry bear which, unaccountably, is wearing a colourful vest and a small red hat.

The creature snarls, leans forward, wraps its paws around him, and bellows... "ARAMAIL !  GET THY SKINNY BEHIND BACK HERE THOU RANK SHEEP-BITING RATS-BANE !"

Sitting up, tightly bound in his bedroll, Colwyn looks around the camp with sleep-bleared eyes.  "Mirkeer's shadow!  Wha's goin' on?"

Alerted by Oswald's waking of Aarnr, the bold adventurers start to awaken.  It doesn't take long before all are in various states of wakefulness.

From the woods comes a sudden sound, like a combination of a yowl and a roar!
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:57, Sun 07 Aug 2011.

Corian is dragged from sleep by Aarnr's yell, and sits blinking owlishly for a few heartbeats.  Then he starts to get to his feet, and at that moment a strange, feral cry sounds amid the trees.  His head snaps around in that direction, but beyond the firelight he can see nothing.

He stands up straight, raises one before his face, where it starts to perform a series of odd gestures, and strange words flow from his lips, "Bydded goleuni.  Gadewch i'r tywyllwch cael eu halltudio."

Fergus had quickly fallen asleep after dinner.  He still wasn't quite used to sleeping rough but Fergus had grown up on dirt floors and straw pallets and was, by necessity, a versatile sleeper.

Unfortunately, Fergus lacked the wit to plan ahead and had laid out his bedroll in a slight depression that was slowly filling with water as the persistent rain continued.  The rising damp had almost roused Fergus when the quiet conversation between Aramil and Oswald woke him.

As Oswald's half-whispers become more urgent, Fergus stirs.  He rises quickly, if a little clumsily and snatches up his axe.  He looks around in confusion, waiting for someone to tell him what to do, or at least what's going on.

Walking through the trees towards the child crying Aramil almost cringes at the noise he is making.He wishes he could see and hear better as this situation is making him nervous. His suspicions about the cry is re-enforced when he hears Aarnr's yell though the air.

Suddenly Aramil sees something out of the corner of his eye. There stands a hideous creature, a mixture of natural creatures that to Aramil remembers out of stories and songs rather than real life. Turning to it as the creature roars Aramil brings up his shortsword up and slashes at the creature as it reaches him.