Aarnr snorts at Erista's fascination with the trinkets, though he is pleased that the farmer had a warrior's weapon, though having not fought the man himself, he's not interested in it as a spoil of battle.

And while he might sniff at Corian's fussiness with herbs and spices, he'd agree that the taste of food is one good thing about civilisation - indeed some of the hotter of the condiments are a challenge in themself !

"I'm sure the mumble-news will thank us for doin' the task for him," the priest suggests to Corian, "if he can froggin' remember his own name, let alone that of his toad-spotted lackey !"

Corian, distracted from his examination of the herbs by Erista's announcement, crosses to the items which she has pronounced magical.  He picks up the tube and shakes it to drop the contents into his hand... a scroll of some kind, which he pointedly does not unroll.

Moving his other hand above it, while making arcane gestures with his fingers, he speaks in that strange tongue again, "Beth yw'r peth hyn."  After a moment he slides the scroll back into the tube.

"It is, as Erista surmised, a spell to animate the dead, in a fashion similar to those accursed skeletons."

Erista is quietly counting out coins, and trying not to lose count, even as Corian mentions her name... 

Outside, Fergus manages to get all of the larger livestock into the barn, with an ease which speaks of years of practice and a certain degree of familiarity in with the procedure on the part of the beasts.  He closes the door behind them, and turns his attention to the few chickens which still remain outside, confused by the firelight into thinking that it's still daytime.

Even among poultry, it seems, there are some which are less perceptive than others...

Appearing outside the monk moves to assist Fergus in his valiant struggle that would lend itself to any ballad of heroic deeds.  But the monk remains silent in her pursuit of those fowl that follow a stray path, leaving any poetry to those more so inclined.

She stays there until at least most of the animals are where they should be, sans any runaways that might be hiding in the forest, planning a new life on a new shore, or at least behind the next tree.

Corian, having used a spell to identify the nature of the scroll, seems to take no further interest in any of the apparently magical items, but starts poking around the house, investigating its contents.

He is, however, careful to replace items exactly where he found then.

Colwyn starts serving tea to those who want it, and Erista starts counting the coins, for the third time.  Next to her, set aside as she discovered them among the coins, sit three gems, two of them dark green and flecked with red, the third a yellowish brown.  When Colwyn reaches her, he looks at the stones with some interest, "Them's a couple of bloodstones an' a citrin." he opines as he hands Erista her tea, "Worth roun' twenty gold apiece, I'd reckon.  Maybe a bit more fer the citrin, but not much."

In the yard it turns out that chickens are (marginally) easier to herd than cats, especially when two people are working at it.  Fergus and the monk are making good progress.  Then, from somewhere up on the barn roof, concealed in the darkness, comes the cawing of a raven, sounding eerily like laughter...

Noticing the loot gathered from the spellcaster, Aramil turns away not really interested in it all. The comment about a song also seems to fall on deaf ears, but the comment about dinner doesn't. Coming for a life in a tavern, Aramil knows something about preparing food. Not flash, but a warm meal might help people deal with the thoughts and feelings they have stored in their heads.

As he using the raw ingredients around them, Aramil sings a song he learnt a long time ago. So long that he doesn't even remember the person that taught it to him. The flow of the words are strange, the song is in elven, yet the tune is not quite right, like a mistranslation, and the effect of an ordinary voice singing something designed for a better one..

Aarnr listens critically to Aramil's song, swiftly condemning it to the same dank hell as herbal teas and vegetable soup.  Apart from the fight, it has not been a good day !  He's tempted to join Fergus and the monk outside, but his leg hurts and he doesn't feel like running around on it any more than he has to.

Coming from a long line of sea-raiders, he is uncomfortably aware that taking possession of the house that was the home of slaughtered villagers might not look good, but is prepared for the nonce to allow that those folk more familiar with the ways of civilisation may know more of such matters than he.

Though he despises the brew, the priest nevertheless takes a cup of it when offered by Colwyn.  In his tribe you eat or drink anything you can keep down best out of three ...

"Just tell me how many goats those froggin' coin will get us ?" he encourages Erista, the constant chinking starting to play on his nerves.

For her third time counting, Erista isn't so much counting as just separating it into piles.  "About twenty?  Hm...thanks."  She accepts the cup, takes a sip, and sets it carefully behind herself by the wall.  Then shee looks over her piles for a moment, spends another moment counting on her fingers, and finally sets the three gems in three separate spots, pushes a couple of coins over to each, pulls the rest into a big pile again, and starts over, this time splitting it out into just five groups.

"I dunno about goats," she says to Aarnr, not looking up, flicking the next coin into the pile.  "But I'd reckon," clink, "If it's what we wanted," clink, "We could get a fair flock of sheep." clink
This message was last edited by the player at 01:40, Mon 03 Oct 2011.

Fergus is reasonably satisfied with his work rounding up the animals.  It's not easy, or as fast as he would like, but then it's dark, the animals are unfamiliar and many of them have already been spooked.

He's almost done when he hears the sound of cawing from the barn roof.  Fergus had been preoccupied with Vortigern so he was unaware of the "raven's" deception, but the noise still made him uncomfortable.

"That's wrong." Fergus says, looking puzzled, "Raven's are day birds, shouldn't be making noise after dark.  Maybe we should go in?"

"Nothing right about what has and is happening here, so yes, let us join the others."

With the task finally done the monk smiles briefly at Fergus, and wait until he either follows or leads the way, ignoring the bird completely.  It was the least she could do - both of those things.

Having headed back out to assist Fergus and the Nameless One with the livestock (OOC - something Eilieen planned to do a while back), Eilieen cocks her head in curiousity and studies the raven.  "I shall take your word for it, Fergus.  The diurnal or nocturnal activities of animals have been a touch outside my training."

Diurnal and nocturnal activties of humans have been, sadly, far too much a part of her training.

Fergus is a good fellow; she had absently noted his averted gaze when she washed up at the pump.  Kind of him, though unnecessary; Eilieen gave up any sort of modesty a long time ago.  Necessity, in the temple.  In return, she made certain to keep from studying him during his own cleansing.

It seems polite, and the goddess knew she would be cursed before painted with the same brush as her fellow priests.

The priestess nods at the Nameless One's suggestion.  "Returning within seems a prudent decision," she agrees, with a worried look around.

Aarnr looks confused by Erista's response. "What do we want froggin' sheep for ?" he demands.

Colwyn steps over to the loot and takes a good look at it.  Finally he reaches a decision, "If'n nobody else wants 'em, I'll take the pig stickers.  Don't matter ter me if'n they's 'chanted or aught, but whoever made 'em did a nice job."

He unsheaths one of the knives and balances it across a fingetip.  "Bloody nice job."

"Anyhows... I got some veg'table soup on the go, which'd go just nice with bread fer dinner, or there's some bacon what I found, fer them what wants meat in their soup."

Feeling a little better at having something to do that he knows Aramil ignore the comments about the soup and his singing. But when Colwyn points out the bacon he turns to the man and says "Bacon would add to this well. Can I have it and then I'll fry the meat to add some flavour, if no-one objects to meat in their soup?"

Soon the half-elf is busy again cooking something that might make them all feel better, this time composing a sonnet based on the things he had seen in Reme.

Aarnr's glare around the room at any who who naysay the addition of fried morsels of meat speaks volumes.  The priest is prepared to forgive Aramil both soup and song for the suggestion alone, and would suffer any number of renditions to have a bowl before him !

The loot obtained from Vortigern as divided as fairly as Erista can manage, and everybody gets their share in coin or gems.  Colwyn takes the two daggers, which leaves a couple of items still sitting in the centre of the table as dinner is served.

A scroll (declared by Corian to contain magic able to raise more undead horrors), and a stoppered crystal flask containing a clear light blue liquid which smells like freshly cut grass.  Erista thinks it might be a healing potion.

And there is, of course, the apparently magical shortsword hanging near the fire...

Dinner - vegetable soup, bacon and bread, washed down with water or tea - is soon eaten.  The party sit where they can to eat in the light of the fire and the tallow candles...

After dinner Aramil seems more relaxed than he has since leaving Reme. Glad for the roof over their heads and something good in his stomach he takes stock of the farmhouse with small amount of interest. As his eyes pass the sword above the fire, Aramil gets out his sword and has another look at it. Turning to the others he says "Would anyone mind if I took the sword above the fireplace? Mine got damaged during the fight and I'd rather use something that is less chipped and dented."

Erista clears the table when the food is ready - if anybody else wants to carry the scroll or potion, she'll pass them over, but she's unwilling to just leave them behind when nobody else is taking them just to not look greedy.

She also accepts a second bowl of soup, because not looking greedy is also not a reason to go to bed hungry.

"Mmm.  S'lovely.  Colwyn, Aramil, thanks to you both.  I'd say the only one who might've minded will be glad enough to see it used, although we'll hope his vengeance is already done."  She fixes Corian with one of her charming smiles.  "You 'ave any reason to worry about how that Vorti fellow found out where you were going to be?"

"What shall we do with the animals in the barn?"

The monk asks no one and everyone as she finishes the last of her meal, having taken no more than she needed and eaten slowly and carefully.

"They will not survive alone."

Aarnr very much enjoys the bacon-butties with side order of soup, raising his cup (albeit of tea) to Aramil in tribute.

"Take it," he tells the Bard as he sees him eyeing the farmer's blade.  "Long as you wield it bravely, you'll do its previous owner honour," he echoes Erista's sentiment.

"Free 'em," he suggests to the Nameless Monk.  "Can't eat 'em all an' now their owner is dead we can't even steal 'em.  Like as not they'll be torn apart by wild animals, but at least they'll have their chance."

When the last of the food is gone, Aarnr will find a quiet corner to unfurl his bedroll, muttering his prayers before settling down for a good night's sleep - he's still in a fair bit of pain from his wounds, not that he'd let on, but you can be assured that come morning he'll be remonstrating with Bowbe to grant him the wherewithal to take care of that !

Corian sets his bread down and regards Erista for a long moment, "Well, now... I expect that foul creature of his had been spying on us.  It could, after all, disguise itself to resemble a common bird, and I know that I, for one, have not been paying much attention to the common animals of the fields and woodland as we have travelled."

Picking up the bread again, he makes to dip it in the soup, then pauses, "Or are you suggesting that there may be some other explanation?"

Taking everyones lack of response to his question and then Aarnr's comment Aramil goes up to the sword and takes it down. Turning to the group he says "I will wield this as best I can. That is all I can promise at this stage. Maybe later I will have to skill to truely warrant it."

Fergus enters with Nameless Monk and Eilieen.  He accepts a bowl of soup and devours it with great gusto - and quite a lot of slurping.  He's back for seconds in an improbably short time.

He accepts his share of the loot with rather less enthusiasm and a worried question, "This all came from the nek, um, necro... the bad man, right?"

It seems Fergus is unhappy about the idea of taking the farmer's belongings.  He casts a dark look at Aramil when he takes the shortsword from above the fireplace but he doesn't say anything to contradict Aarnr or do anything to make Aramil put it back.

"I've got most of the livestock in the barn now with some extra feed, they should be okay for a bit as long as those archers don't come back.  We could tell the people at the next farm and they'd help.  We could just tell them we found strays on the road if you didn't want to tell them what happened." It's clear from Fergus' expression* that he'd rather tell the truth.

*Most of Fergus' thoughts show clearly on his face.  If there was a competition for world's worst poker player, Fergus would be in the running.

Erista shrugs.  "Wasn't so much suggesting as asking," she replies to Corian.  "You were so careful not to talk about your plans back at Reme, it's a bit worrisome to me your rival not only found you, but figured where you were headed clear enough to set up an ambush.  Just something to think about, seems to me."

She pats Fergus on the hand, and nods.  "All from the bad one," she promises.  She follows his darker look, and her hand stops patting and rests on his a moment, squeezing slightly.  "'Tisn't comfortable for any of us," she says, "But it's just a thing.  We'd all rather have the family still here never needing it, but as they're gone... it's just a thing."

The monk listens to the suggestions regarding the animals and nods to Fergus' suggestion.  "That is a good idea, Fergus.  I have had no hand in animal handling, but that sounds good to me."

She takes her share of the bad man's belonging, a dark green gem with red splotches, and a few silver.  Somehow she manages to hide it somewhere in her outfit, despite never having had much of it.

"As for the ambush, it was no secret that he was heading this way, only his destination was not quite the one he claimed, remember?"  A smile that sits lopsided is aimed at Corian.

"The path of the migrating bird is easily seen if you lift your eyes to the sky."

"Froggin' bird probably told the fool-born hedge-pig," Aarnr says with some certainty.  The priest is not at all comfortable with the idea of a talking raven and is keen to put his mind to rest on that score if the bird ever comes within reach of his sword arm.

He doubts any good will come of either giving things away or telling the truth,  but is happy enough to let Fergus do what he must.  Happy enough too to pocket his share of the mold-warp's coin.

"Perhaps we'll have a quieter time of it now," he remarks with some disappointment.  "Unless thou hast any more old enemies that might try it on ?" he asks Corian brightly.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:13, Fri 14 Oct 2011.