The following day dawns, unsurprisingly, though dark clouds have rolled in during the night, and its hard to tell exactly when the sun rises.  By the time breakfast is finished, the rain has started again - a slow, fine drizzle, more like a cold wet fog than an honest downpour.

The oxen take this with an air of stoicism and are soon trudging along the road, passing the mounds of wet ash and charred bone which used to be ogres and travellers alike.

The rain continues in the same chilling manner for the rest of the day, seeping in under clothing and seeming to even seep through to the very bones of the adventurers.

With no shelter save the forest canopy, and a fire that burns fitfully and with much eye-stinging smoke, their camp that night brings little relief from the weather.  Perhaps because of the weather, their rest is, at least, undisturbed - though some are less happy about that than about the weather.

The following day, Darkday, starts with more rain and cold, and Jack seems to have developed a chill - coughing, sniffing and sneezing all through breakfast.

Still irked by the men they have taken on, but unwilling to see anyone suffer if possible, Eilieen roots through her gear and finally comes out with a proper cloak for a priestess of Zadastha.  She swaps that for her travelling cloak - regrettably, it's less warm and somewhat thinner - and offers her travelling cloak to Jack.

"Best you take this and stay warm."  She frowns.  "I shall see what I can do about the issue during the day and tonight - perhaps there are some medicines I might prepare, or a prayer for you to better endure the cold."

Aarnr, at least, welcomes the miserable drizzle, the dampness reminding him very much of the swamps of his homeland, and a proper smokey fire is a joy. So too he greets Jack's sudden cold as a vindication of the ill-effects of contant washing.

"Excercise, that's what thou needs," he informs the sniffler, "sweat it out." That cloak Eilieen has wrapped him in will certainly help with that.

All in all, the priest has cheered up immensely.

"How far now to Fairhill, thou clack-dish ?" he asks Corian jovially.  "An' where and when should Fergus and I meet up with thee ?"  He looks to the young man for suggestions, since he seems most familiar with the area.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Miss, but that cloak's too light for this weather.  You'll catch a cold, same as him.  He can have my cloak if he needs one." Fergus offers. "'S long as I get it back."

"There's a hill, about two miles this side of Fairhill, where there's a ruined cottage.  I can show you how to reach it from the road.  Aarnr and I can stop there till you're finished in town."

"I was going to tell you why before, Aarnr, but I forgot.  Something else happened.  Um.  I forgot why I forgot." Fergus looks embarassed.

Corian takes a few moments to study the lay of the land, though much of it is obscured by forest.  A little mental calculation of distances travelled, and then, "If I remember correctly from the maps I perused before setting out, I should say we are not far from Fairhill now.  A little way ahead we will come into more open land, and there will be a road which branches off from the Tradeway to the left.  About three miles along that road we will find Fairhill."

Fergus immediately manages to dampen the priest's mood, where the weather could not. "A cottage." Aarnr growls. Hardly the 'two brave souls living off the land, avoiding detection and hunting down monsters' that he'd envisaged as an enjoyable use of the time until the others finished froggin' around in Fairhill and rejoined them.

Ruined, though ... that has possibilities.  "Don't suppose it be haunted ?" he inquires, though with neither too much optimism nor enthusiasm.  He doesn't want to get his hopes up only to be disappointed.

"How long will ye flap-dragons be in the town ?"  Aarnr looks to Corian for an answer, though the others might have ideas of their own.  "Buy more food," he reminds them.  That was the important thing, matter now what their guide otherwise intended in Fairhill.

Corian gives Aarnr a smile which he hopes will reassure the savage priest of Bowbe, "My own intent is to simply ascertain the exact location of Eralion's manse.  I hope that will be a relatively speedy procedure.  But, certainly, while we are in the village we can obtain provisions."

Colwyn continues eating his breakfast, but adds, "If they works it right, maybe Ozzy 'n' Aramil can get us a bit o' brass ter buy more grub with.  Sing some ballad that people likes enough ter chuck a few coins in a 'at."

Another mouthful of food, and then, "Yer know, Ragnar the Red or somethin'.  Always liked that un meself."

Ozzy grins at the suggestion of putting on a performance while in Fairhill. Of course, simply suggesting a tune is as good as requesting a song for the little bard and he bounces up, singing a tune rarely heard beyond the shores of Tamriel.

" There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!
And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!
But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who said...
Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead! Now I think it’s high time that you lie down and bleed!
And so then came the clashing and slashing of steel, as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal!
And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no moooooree… when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

He plays the bridge on his tiny lute and then sings it all through one more time for good measure.

Ozzy's song is just the sort that Aarnr likes - simple and bloody - and he bangs his fist on the side of the cart in approval of the halfling's rendition.

"Just be sure you don't 'forget' about Fergus and me," he warns Corian.  He's been caught like that before. You wait here and we'll be back soon ...  Gorbellied hedge-pigs !

"Goodness, Fergus."  Eilieen can't help but smile.  "Certainly a gallant and kind offer.  That would leave you without a cloak, and you'd have to wear my ceremonial one."  An amusing image to be sure.  She looks the young man up and down.  "It would, no doubt, make you very popular back in my temple, but out here would most certainly look a little odd."

She points at Corian.  "As Master Barade notes, we shall be in town soon.  There, I can find warmth and most certain a new cloak."  Leaning over, she whispers out of the corner of her mouth.  "The old one is quite...unseemly now, and I would rather purchase another one.  That man can keep it."

The priestess winces at the Ballad of Ragnar the Red, then laughs, shaking her own head (still thankfully attached to her shoulders).  "I shall ensure that Corian does not leave without the two of you!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:17, Mon 23 Jan 2012.

Erista taps her feet along to Ozzy's song, and gives Aarnr a mischievous grin.  "But if we remember you too well, we might not come back," she points out.  "Don't fret, though - wouldn't go off without our Fergus," she promises.

Fergus agrees with Corian's assessment.  "Yep, that'll be Millers Road.  It's about five miles from here.  So we're about, um, eight miles from Fairhill."  Fergus doesn't actually resort to counting on his fingers, but it's clear he has no aptitude for maths.

Fergus doesn't really see that there's anything wrong with the cloak Eilieen offered Jack.  The farming folk of Fairhill are a thrifty bunch and Fergus has seen many cloaks patched and re-patched until they more closely resemble a collage than a piece of clothing.  He's not sure what "unseemly" means, though, so he just nods his head sagely.  "Okay."

To Aarnr, Fergus replies, "I don't think so.  I heard tell it used to be Erstwick land.  But the land was always a rough patch, so after ol' man Erstwick died, no-one was keen to take it on.  There's better land hereabouts as long as you're happy to clear it."

"If we get bored, we could try hunting?" Fergus seems keen on the idea, if only because he's happy to have thought of a potential answer to Aarnr's dissatisfaction.  His smile falls quickly, though, "Except I don't have a bow."

Fergus' disappointment doesn't last.  He's not one to dwell on such matters and he is clearly delighted at Erista's "our Fergus" remark, giving her a warm smile of gratitude.

Aarnr returns Erista's grin with a glare.  But Fergus' clever suggestion might kill, skin and cook two birds with one stone.

"Who's got a bow ?" the big priest inquires, looking around and obviously on the scrounge. They might not return for him, and Fergus might be out clearing land, but they'll come back for the bow !

"What game do you get around here ?" Aarnr asks Fergus, trotting along beside the wagon.  "Cows ?"

Corian shakes his head slowly.  "You need have no fears concerning being left behind." he explains to Aarnr. "Fergus and yourself are the strongest fighters in this group.  I would need to be severely lacking in wits to go on to the keep, and its unknown dangers, without such mighty warriors."

"And hunting would be an excellent idea.  Fresh game, and likely more variety than would be available in the village.  A little venison would be most welcome, though I'd settle for rabbit in a pinch." he finishes with a smile.

Colwyn looks up from his now empty bowl, "Coney?  I knows a good way ter cook a coney." he says, "Not a lot ter be done with venison, mind, but I can make a coney inter a spot o' dinner fit fer a king."

Corian stands and stretches, "I suppose, if everybody has finished eating, we should start preparing to move on.  The sooner we set out, the sooner we shall arrive at our various destinations."

Ozzy gulps down the last of his breakfast and then pops up with his lute already shouldered and ready to play. He cant stop grinning as he walks, glad to be putting the cold dark nights in the countryside behind him as the group sets out for a more 'civilized' environment. The fact that most of the group had known - and shared this love - of his latest tune has him ready to skip all the way into Fairhill. He had begun to wonder if any in the group had had any real appreciation for his music up to that point.

Aramil, though still unusually quiet, mood is changing as they get closer to Fairhill. The joy of the wilds has not been to the half-elf's liking so far and a good meal and bed would be appreciated. Well any bed would do, and Aramil has eaten some truely terrible meals back home so...

He hums along to Ozzy's tune and finds his spirits lifting even further. And also being eager to return to civilisation he is quick to get ready to start the days traveling.

Nobody has a bow ?  A little disappointing - the big priest could possibly take down one beast with but his dagger, but if he is forced to resort to trapping, there is little likelihood of garnering enough meat to go around ...

Reaching into his pocket, Aarnr pulls out his money pouch, peering inside in some confusion before drawing the strings and throwing it to Erista.  "That enough for thee to buy me a froggin' bow ?" he inquires bluntly. "An' some fobbin' arrows !"

Corian's several compliments sit well with Aarnr and do much to improve his opinion of his employer.  The fop might still be a mammering clack-dish, but at least he seems to be a good judge of men.  The priest accepts the flattering remarks with a stern nod of his head, though he can't keep a smug smile off his lips.

Erista proves her worth yet again by keeping Fergus' spirits up.  Eilieen prepares herself for travel, dusting off her clothing (hopelessly) and belately checking the tip of her spear.  No, sharp as ever; she hasn't really used it yet.  "I'm certain that would be sufficient to purchase a bow," she assures Aarnr, who seems most pleased with Corian's explanation of his necessity.  A truthful explanation, to boot.

If the Priest's coin isn't enough, she decides, she'll quietly supplement it with her own coin.

Oswald's music seems infectuous this morning; Eilieen shoots an amused smile at Aramil and the bard, both humming along together.  "At least we will march to town to a beat," she muses.  But the smile fades, replaced by a concerned frown.  "Fergus?  Aarnr?  Do be careful."

Erista catches the pouch with a generally bemused look of someone being thrown free money, jingling it briefly and shrugging.  "Probably," she very nearly promises.

Aarnr looks a little puzzled at Eilieen's request.  Perhaps she wants him to promise not to break anything ?  "I'll try," he shrugs.

The frown only deepens however as the priest further mulls over the implication of those words.  Something the slave that taught him the common tongue used in civilised parts was always harping on about. Po ... po .. politeness !  That was it !

"An' thou froggin' watch out for ogres in Fairhill," Aarnr reciprocates, quite proud of himself for remembering the forms.

Between the priestess' 'certain' and Erista's 'probably', he is reasonably optimistic that he might get his bow, when next he sees them.

"Cows aren't game, Aarnr." Fergus pronounces, a little too seriously.  "There's rabbits and ducks.  Maybe deer or pheasants if we're lucky."

Fergus is pleased that the group is in good spirits.  Fairhill hardly seems to be a great step forward to Fergus, indeed, being this close to home makes Fergus feel like he's going backwards but there may be some good to come of their stop-over.

"I'll be careful, Miss.  And you too, if you please.  Don't tarry any outside the town walls.  That muddled-up beast may still be hunting us."

Moving out, the group makes good progress along the road, despite the weather which seems to be intent on turning the Tradeway into a quagmire.  The oxen seem indifferent to the conditions, trudging along at the usual steady pace.  Those who follow the cart, relieved of the necessity for carrying their own packs, keep pace easily.  And those who ride, of course, have no problems keeping up.

The failed highwaymen seem less and less cheerful, the closer they get to Fairhill.  Jack is definitely under the weather, and Decklan, when asked, confesses to a certain degree of nervousness about the impending arrival in the village, lest somebody discover his connection to the gang which has been robbing travellers on the road.

Finally they reach the spot described by Corian.  The countryside is more open, and a smaller road leads away to the north of the Tradeway.  Fergus confirms that this is the way to Fairhill, so the group heads towards the village...

Which is when they realise a slight flaw in their plan.  Fergus has no desire to visit Fairhill, and nobody else can handle the oxen.  Everybody except Fergus and Aarnr will, it seems, be walking the rest of the way...

And so the party split up.

Aarnr and Fergus soon turn aside, riding the cart along a narrow dirt track which seems to be nearly as much mud as earth, and mostly muddy water, heading west and a little north towards higher ground.  At last they arrive at the cottage, which is in worse condition than Fergus remembered.  There are three broken stone walls and a lot of loose stone laying where a fourth should be.  The turf roof has long since collapsed.  The only shelter the ruin provides lays in camping outside the structure, in the lee of one of the walls...

The others, meanwhile, continue north and a little east and into a valley among some low hills.  The road curves slightly, around the flank of a rise, and ahead of them they see what can only be Fairhill.  Surrounded by well-kept fields is a cluster of fifty or sixty houses and a few larger structures.

The fields seem deserted today though.  Instead people seem to be gathering in front of a larger house.  As the adventurers approach, it becomes apparent that there are at least a couple of hundred people present, and their mood does not appear good...

Fergus looks a little dismayed at the state of the cottage.  "There's less here than I remembered.  I guess we can always roll the cart up to one of the walls and roll out the swags below.  It's about the only way we'll stay dry tonight."

It wouldn't be the first time Fergus had tried something similar.  When he'd stayed overnight in Fairhill with his dad, the cart was home.  Bed was on the cart or underneath it depending on the weather.

"I'll just get the oxen set."

Aarnr certainly enjoys the novelty of riding in the cart, even getting to sit up the front, and watches carefully how Fergus works the oxen, asking a question now and then of his friend as the intent of a flick of the reins or cluck of the tongue eludes his understanding.

Nor does the state of the cottage worry the priest o'ermuch, as he prefers to sleep outside, not hemmed in by the walls of civilisation, and it seems sensible to him to guard such valuables as the cart and oxen.

"Thou think the walls that remain are sturdy enough to survive the night ?" Aarnr eyes the structure with curiosity, as he assists Fergus to attend to the beasts - the sooner the chores are done, the sooner they can be hunting for game.

"I'm not sure." Fergus eyes the walls dubiously.  "Give it a shove.  If you can't push it over it's probably safe enough."

Fergus advice is sound enough, and Aarnr puts his back into it, doing his best to topple the wall.

As they walk along Aramil waves a cheerful goodbye as Fergus and Aarnr head off to the cottage. He is glad to be heading into civilisation, even if its just a local village rather than the bigger city he is used to. Looking around he seems to be almost back the half-elf that left Reme, rather than the quiet creature that had been travelling with the group lately.

Aramil didn't really understand the lack of people in the fields till they came into the area containing the large group of people. The spring in his step falters and only his natural grace prevents more that a slight slip of his foot. With a frown descending into his brow the half-elf looks over the crowd trying to read more than the obvious unhappiness of the group. Also he thinks to himself this crowd is larger than I'd expect.

Turning to the others he voices his concerns "Not being a country person I might be wrong, but this is not a happy picture of a calm village to me. Something is wrong, though exactly what remains to be seen. Care should be taken, and though he was determined to be away from Fairhill, it would have been helpful to have Fergus' take on this group of people."

Ozzy smiles and nudges Aramil in the kneecap. " It's okay, you don't have to really worry until you see them holding pitchforks and torches." he says, trying to ease the tension even he feels hanging in the air. Fearless as ever since witnessing the last few seconds of battle against the Ogres, Ozzy skips ahead to the edge of the gathered villagers, moving along the edge of the crowd as he catches snippets of conversation. He pauses near one man, tugs on his sleeve for attention and then asks plainly, " Whats happened? Why the gathering?"

Gather Information: 10

Feeling the pressure of the village's mood, Eilieen slows her pace, drawing up the hood of her cloak.  But it really makes little difference regarding her identity at the moment, given it's her 'official' one, and she lets it drop back with a sigh.  She offers a weak grin to Oswald's attempt at jollying the group up, but this kind of crowd never bodes well.

And strangers are often not welcome.

Recognizing that the little bard has the best odds of discerning the reason behind this gloomy gathering, she hangs back and waits for news, her ears perked.  "I hope this is not a discussion of some horrific creatures who plague the hamlet," she murmurs.  "Else we will find ourselves haring back out into the countryside on the hunt for Fergus and Aarnr."

Erista nods.  "Doesn't look good," she says, quietly, staying close to Eilieen and letting Ozzy go do what he does best.  Or, if not best, hopefully at least well.

A woman comes out of the house, tall and slim with black hair.  She is clad all in white, with a fur cape, and a longsword hangs at her hip.  Behind her walks an older man, whose dark hair and beard are marked by streaks of grey.  His clothes make him look like a wealthy merchant.  A third figure joins them, a red haired man wearing studded leather and a green cloak.  He has a large sword on his back, the hilt jutting out of the cloak above his left shoulder.

Even at this distance it is clear that he is missing his right arm below the elbow.

Ozzy tugs at a man's sleeve and asks him what's happening.  The only answer he receives is a glare, and a muttered, "Hush!  She's about to speak." 

The woman steps up onto the side of a horse trough, balancing easily, without assistance from her two companions.  The crowd falls silent immediately.

For a moment she says nothing, simply looking out over the assembled faces, and then she speaks, her voice sounding out, clear as a bell, "People of Fairhill, hear my words!  Yes, this is a grim day, but I'm sure I do not need to remind a village of farmers that the darkest night always gives way to bright dawn!  There will be a new day, and today's darkness will be but a memory."

"Arlen, Baran, and myself have been discussing this crisis.  We have reached no conclusion yet, other than a firm commitment to remedy the situation!  Baran has assured me that he will spare no effort discovering the whereabouts of the Crucible, and recovering it!"

Behind her, the red haired man raises his left hand, and draws his sword, holding it aloft.

"Arlen will make certain that the thieves pay for their crime!"  And the older, finely dressed man nods and cries out, "Aye, that I will!"

"For my part, I can promise you that Freya watches over all of us, and She will defend us, and nurture us, and She will not permit Fairhill to suffer!"

The crowd breaks into an excited murmur, which drops again as the woman's voice rings out once more, "She has told me this!"

And the crowd cheers...

Ozzy hears enough to form his own conclusions (whether accurate or not) and he does his best to keep a low profile as he cuts along the edge of the crowd back to Eileen. " Seems we have poorly timed our entrance into the drama. A few blokes in the mix are looking to hang anyone even remotely suspicious. Strangers in town would be suspicious. Mebbe' we should talk to the Freyan preistess and offer to help find it?" he says quickly in a soft voice, still trying his best to remain unnoticed as he speaks the words while strolling past her and then ducking behind the wagon.

"Oh dear."  Eilieen purses her lips, suddenly glad for her official vestments, travel-worn as they are.  The woman carefully affixes her holy symbol to dangle down at her collar, ensuring its visibility.  At times like this, it's best to be immediately recognized as what one is; Eilieen's all for religions fervor, but people in the grip of any kind of excitment can become quickly unreasonable.

...back in the temple, sometimes even buckets of water had not sufficed and it had taken a stout beating with a stick to get people (plural) out of her bed.

Zadastha knows I don't want to go through anything like that again, she considers, rolling her eyes.  "Everyone stay together, please.  Aarnr, try not to say anything."  Pausing, Eilieen actually giggles at her reflexive warning.  "Oh dear," she sighs again.  "Well, best we deal with this issue directly.  A find idea, Oswald; offering assistance seems far less guilty than sneaking away."

With that, the Priestess steps forward to the edge of the crowd.  "Zadastha's blessing upon you, pardon me.  Zadastha's blessing, pardon me," she murmurs, slowly working her way in toward the woman who claims to speak for Freya.  Certainly she looks the part of a god's servant, far more than pale, tiny Eilieen with her weathered clothing.

The sense of anger and confusion flows through the crowd and sets up Aramil to watch the group more closely, though glad that it seems not directed at anyone present. This doesn't however stop the half-elf from smiling at Ozzy's failed attempt at gathering some information about the situation. Intrigued, he watches the three exit the building and especially the woman who comes forward to speak to the crowd. Having heard the prepared speech, Aramil is slightly less worried, less so than the little bard who returns wary of the crowds potential reaction to strangers.

Waiting to see the others reaction, Aramil nods agreement with Eileen's comments and suggestion that the group should offer some assistance. Though this might slow the progress of their original plans, the half-elf is reluctant to just turn around and walk away. Curiosity piped, the half-elf moves forward to any man standing at the back of the group to see if he is any better at getting the villages knowledge on an obviously distressing situation.

"Excuse me." he starts "I cannot help but notice that your village seems to have a problem. Is there anything that a humble traveller might be able to help with in this situation?"

The man, a farmer by the look of his clothing, peers at Aramil.  The way he squints suggests that his eyesight might be failing.  "Eh?  A traveller, you say?  well, it's possible that you might be able to help, I suppose.  Some bugger's stole it, see?  Stole the village's luck from the temple.  Shandril says Freya will still watch over us, but I'm not so certain.  Not with the luck gone.  We need somebody to find the thief and bring our luck back."

"Probably wouldn't hurt none to slit the bugger's throat too, just to learn him that we don't tolerate thieves round here.  It's the way we would've dealt with him when I was a lad.  Make no mistake about that."

Eilieen meanwhile presses forward through the crowd, drawing odd looks from the locals.  As she draws closer to the trio at the front of the crowd, she comes to realise that the woman, still standing on the edge of the trough as easily as if she were standing on the ground, is, in point of fact, an elf.

Stepping out into the narrow space between the crowd and the trio, Eilieen finds her way blocked.  The one-handed man stands before her, scowling, his sword still bare in his left hand, "Can I 'elp yer, Miss?"

Colwyn has a deep-rooted aversion to angry mobs.  While this doesn't look quite like one of those yet, he takes note of Ozzy's warning and stays back on the fringes of it, just to be on the safe side.

"No sense takin' chances with a warm bed so close."

Corian, on the other hand, seems oblivious to the danger presented by the crowd.  He presses forward, directly behind Eilieen, filled with overwhelming confidence that these simple, rustic folk would never hurt a man of such obvious good breeding.  All thoughts of peasant revolts are driven from his mind by the sure and certain knowledge that the people who get injured in such uprisings, while they may come from good stock, are obvious bad sorts.

The armed man blocks their path, and Eilieen is apparently unsure how to answer his question, so Corian steps in.  He is, after all, the leader of this expedition.  "Good day to you, Sir.  We are travellers, lately come from Reme.  We could not help but notice that there seems to be a disturbance of sorts in your charming village, and wondered if we might offer assistance."

"In return, you may be in a position to aid us."

The elvish woman studies the strangers from her elevated perch, then issues a... not a command, exactly, more of a polite but forceful suggestion, "Let them pass, Baran."

She steps down then, and asks, "I am Shandril, priestess of Freya here in Fairhill.  To what do we owe the presence of an acolyte of Zadastha, among others?"

Eilieen smiles brilliantly and bows.  "Zadastha's blessing and love upon you, guardian."  Straightening, she meets his eyes.  "I would speak with the lady to offer our assistance."

He doesn't look the sort to be overly impresssed by her choice of deities, but Eilieen isn't going to hide away her symbol for anyone.

She waves a hand in the general direction of the crowd.  "Myself and my people are travellers, but any good man or woman should stop to help those in need.  Zadastha asks no less.  May I pass, that I might greet the lady and determine what aid we might offer?"

Erista stays lurking innocently hanging out on the fringes, staying in the shade by a wagon.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:15, Thu 23 Feb 2012.

Baran scowls, but steps aside.  His blade remains unsheathed as Eilieen and Corian explain their presence.

Shandril listens to the explanations, then says, "I see.  Will you come with me please.  We should discuss this somewhere quieter."  She seems to assume cooperation, and starts walking back into the house without looking back.  "Arlen, I need to borrow your home for a few moments.  It is closer than the temple, and more comfortable for visitors."

Arlen nods, even though she isn't looking at him, then adds, "Of course, Shandril.  Take as long as you need."

And still she does not turn, as she reaches out to push the door open...

And at the back of the crowd, Erista hears somebody clearing their throat quietly, and looks around to see another halfling grinning at her.  He's wearing simple clothes, mostly in darker colours, and a heavy cloak.  "Hello, Sweetheart, what brings you to Fairhill?  Need someone to show you round?"

Having gotten some information from the man as the back of the crowd, Aramil returns to the group and his halfling friend. Seeing that Eileen has moved forward to speak with the Elf, Aramil is happy to stay back and see the Priestess take a hand in the situation. Trusting her to get a more knowledgable description of the theft and man-hunt he smiles at Erista and her attempt at remaining unseen by the locals. The smile almost splits his face as she is approached by the halfing. Amused as he is, Aramil is not a simpleton, and he remains alert for trouble from the crowd in general and Erista's new friend specifically.

The interior of the house, for those who follow the priestess inside, shows clear signs of its owner's wealth and status.  The furnishings are of the highest quality and finest materials, and the floor in the entrance hall is of polished marble, inlaid with a large bronze design in the form of a stylised sword. 

Shandril does not stop in the hall though.  Instead she leads the way through a door into a smaller sitting room.  On a side table stands a tray, with a bottle of wine and three fine crystal goblets, each of which still holds a few drops of the wine.

The elven priestess stands to one side of the door, and closes it when the last of the adventurers have entered.  "Seat yourselves, please."  She, however, does not sit.

"Before I talk further of the events which have ocurred here, I must have your names."

Outside, the strange halfling continues to grin at Erista, "Cat got your tongue, Darling?"  He takes a step closer, "There's no need to be shy of old Lannet.  I won't bite."

OOC: As far as I know, Eilieen and Corian are with the priestess, while Aramil, Colwyn, Erista are still outside.  Where are Ozzy and the Nameless Monk?

Thyr.  Somehow not surprising, given the priestess' stance outside.  Eilieen bows her way into the room, remaining respectfully quiet while the priestess speaks.  But introductions are requested, and she pauses before sitting.

"Eilieen, priestess of Zadastha," she intones with another small bow, and waves to her companion.  "This is Corian, with whom I travel."  Three glasses of wine.  All recent.  Interesting.

"I would be most interested in this story, Lady Shandril."

Ozzy peeked out from behind the cart that had carried them into this mess. He had considered joining Eileen and Corian, but didn't want to accidentally make a bad impression, so he stayed near the tailgate of the cart. Then he heard the timbre of a fellow halflings voice and he could not help but take another curious look. Ozzy immediately reddens with a rush of jealousy, suddenly overwhelmed with a need to intervene. He makes himself known as comes around from behind the cart, 'accidentally' kicking up a cloud of dust and flinging a few pebbles in Lannets direction as he approaches. " This mug botherin' you?" he asks Eileen as he approaches, puffing up his chest to try and stand slightly taller than the stranger trying to introduce himself. " I don't think it's your teeth she's worried about." he says to Lannet.

Staying silent, as she had for a long, long while, combined with moving silently, the monk spoke up behind Eilieen and Corian, having entered moments after them.

"I have no name, as a show of my dedication to my order.  You may call me Monk, or anything you wish, priestess."

She remains standing, watching the elf for a reaction.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:24, Wed 29 Feb 2012.

"Ah, you are a Seeker?" the elf nods her understanding to the monk, "It is long since I was in the north lands."

She waits for everybody to settle, then continues, "As I said outside, I am Shandril, priestess of Freya here in Fairhill.  The two men who stood with me outside are Arlen, the local Magistrate, whose house this is, and Baran, leader of the Watch."

"You have, I'm afraid, arrived here in the midst of a crisis.  An artefact has been removed from Freya's Hall, a holy gift from the Goddess Herself, which is responsible for the wealth of the village.  It was there when I led evening devotions yesterday, and was gone this morning."

"Arlen and Baran have offered help in recovering the Crucible, but if your group could see their way to offering assistance... well, extra hands make the task easier, as the saying goes.

Lannet glares at Ozzy, at least taking his eyes off Erista, "Steady now.  I'm just trying to be friendly to a stranger, aren't I?  You should know what these places can be like.  Big folk don't pay much heed to our sort, and it can be hard finding your way round when none of them ever look down to see that your lost."

Erista blinks, and then smiles.  "There, now," she says, putting a hand on Oswald's arm lightly.  "No need to fret - he's just offering help.  Poor thing," she looks back to Lannet sympathetically.  "Least we just have to travel with the stompers - you actually live with them?  We should be asking if there's anything we can do for you," she insists.  "Our Oz makes a lovely stew - it'll take you right back to your father's arms!" she offers.

Ozzy harumphs and folds his arms across his small chest. Still not impressed with his rationale, Ozzy sees him more as a snake-in-the-grass charmer, more than likely wanting to take more than he could offer. Still, Ozzy was sure that Erista had dealt with such kind before in her life, so he politely holds his tounge as she quietly calms his ruffled feathers.

He smiles proudly as she brags about his recipe for stew, although he cannot recall ever having shared it with her. It was actually something he had learned from an aging paladin, but a compliment from a pretty lady was not something ever dismissed, so he nods in complete agreement with her - while still keeping a watchful eye on Lannet.

Lannet turns back to Erista, and the grin is back, "Quite right.  Us halflings should stick together.  The big folk can't be trusted to help us, too busy walking about with their heads in the clouds, so we should help each other."

He takes another step closer, his hands held out to show that they are empty, "So how can Lannet help you?  Do you need to find a tavern?  The Drunken Cockatrice is supposed to be the best, but I like the Cask and Flagon better.  Or are you after something else?  Where are you from anyway?"

"A holy gift from the goddess herself?  Stolen?"  Eilieen blinks in horror.  "Who would dare?  Evidently someone has," she corrects herself, shaking her head in disbelief, and filing away the information regarding the Nameless Monk.  Interesting.

"Of course I would offer my assistance," she continues.  "We are on a journey, but I am certain we can spare a few days...and if not, I will catch up afterward."  The priestess bows her head.  "Are there any particulars we should know?  What is this artifact?"

This, she decides, is a job for Erista and Oswald.  Ferreting out this kind of thief seems right up their alley.

Now, where have those two gotten to?

There are those who say a halfling with empty hands is twice as dangerous as one whose hands are filled, since the one with empty hands is more likely to pick something up.  Of course, Erista doesn't subscribe to such prejudices.  As a halfling herself, she knows there's nothing prejudicial about it.

"I came all the way from Lokshyr, by Mayfurrow," she replies.  "But it's been a mostly nice walking, and the tall folk with us aren't too bad - nobody complains if we ride the wagon, you know?  'Course," she frowns a little, "Did just up and leave us outside a crowd what would've trampled us if we'd tried following, but, you know how it is."  She shrugs.  "Not s'much after anything, I don't think, so much as drawn by curiosity.  What's all the fuss about?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Tue 06 Mar 2012.

Ozzy interrupts before Lannet can answer, " I heard that something has been stolen - it's important to the whole village, and there seems to be a feeling that they are all doomed if it isn't found." he then turns and looks hard at the other halfling, the look of suspicion on his face undisguised as he awaits an answer to both Erista's question and his own inferral.

"I am certain that nobody from Fairhill would commit this crime.", Shandril states, her voice firm in her conviction.  She continues, addressing Corian and the Nameless Monk too, "The Crucible grants fertility to the fields, and to the people of the village too.  The thief clearly entered the temple under cover of the rain and darkness.  You, as strangers in the village, would almost certainly be under suspicion, if not for the presence of a priestess of Zadastha in your group."

"If you will assist in recovering the Crucible, you would earn the gratitude of everybody in Fairhill."

Corian speaks up then, "Of course we shall assist you.  In return we would ask only directions to a place which we believe to lay near here, and which is of importance to our own quest.  Can you tell us the location of the home of Eralion?  It would doubtless be a ruined structure, perhaps a mansion of some description, deserted for the past fifty years or more."

Shandril's face becomes stern, "Yes, I know of Eralion's keep.  I well remember the man himself.  He was a sorcerer who, though a good man in his younger days, became increasingly cruel and bitter as he grew older.  When he died, of age and ill health, few of the villagers mourned his passing.  Do you intend to disturb his grave, or continue his long forgotten work?"

"Aye, I heard that too.  The Crucible's been taken from the temple." Lannet replies to Ozzy, with not even the slightest hint of guilt on his face, "I reckon it was strangers that took it - nobody in the village would dare touch it.  We all know that it's important for the whole village, see?  Have you seen any strangers about?".

"It's a sort of silver pot, about so big... " he moves his hands in front of him, indicating something about eight inches across and six or so deep.  "Shandril says it makes the fields hereabouts grow, even in a bad year, and she uses it to bless the bride at a wedding too."

"What brings you to Fairhill anyway?"  He steps forward again, and lays a hand on Erista's arm, "Sorry Sweetheart, I never caught your name."

Aramil, meanwhile, keeps a close eye on the trio of halflings...

"I do not know this place as well as you, nor the people, and so I defer to you regarding the Crucible's disappearance," Eilieen returns with another small bow.  "I meant no disrespect to the citizens here.  If not them, though...where would we find this thief?"  Her brow wrinkles.  The world is a large place, and any thief would no doubt be heading off in one of eight points of the compass.

"How large is this Crucible?  How easily carried?" she carefully inquires, not wishing to give offense.  As for Shandril's question, she'll leave that to Corian.  Eilieen, herself, is only along to do whatever good she can along the way and keep the others alive.

" Oswald. Oswald Osbourne, but you can call me Ozzy." Ozzy answers Lannets question, knowing full well it wasn't for him but enjoying it anyway.

Watching the halflings has been very entertaining, the sort Aramil has missed since leaving Reme on this adventure that seems to have too much sadness attached. Suddenly the smile drains from his face as he realises that the two robbers have moved away out of sight of the party. Looking around he tries to spot the duo and get the attention of the other members of the party. Moving towards Ozzy he bends over and quietly says "Not sure about Erista's new friend. Got a funny feeling about him. But we have lost those two idiots that attempted to rob us and I think Colwyn and I better go hunting before they get into trouble."

Moving off leaving Erista in Ozzy's capable hands the Half-elf moves back toward the only other member around and gets his attention. "We seem to be missing the two robbers from the road. I'd suggest that we go looking for them, as they are likely to get into trouble. Also Jack still has Eileen's clock and though she might not mind loosing it, I do. Especially to one of those two."

"Oh, goodness, no." Corian exclaims, sounding quite shocked, "I have no idea where Eralion's grave is.  As for his work...  Also no, I'm afraid that has a bad reputation, even as far away as Reme.  I'm here purely in search of certain treasures he was rumoured to possess."

Shandril considers the sorcerer's words, then, "Very well.  There is, a short distance to the north of Fairhill, a stretch of forest now known to the locals as Grimwood.  That is where Eralion made his home, and it has been a place of ill omen since his death."

Eilieen's question is answered after only the briefest thought, "The Crucible is silver, some six inches deep, and eight in diameter, inscribed inside and out with prayers and blessings.  While it would not be too heavy to carry, I can only hope that the theft took place towards morning, meaning that the thief could not have travelled too far."

Nodding, Colwyn agrees with Aramil's assessment, murmuring, "Yer reckon we should stick tergether, or split up ter look fer the buggers quicker?"  We needs ter find 'em 'fore they gets theyselves in any bother, but stickin' tergether might keep us out o' bother as well."

Meanwhile, in the shelter of the battered farm cart, Lannet's grin gets, if anything, even broader.  "Osbourne is it?  Well now... you wouldn't be related to the Freegate Osbourne's would you?  My cousin, Deara, she lived in Derindin with her Mam and Dad, but she married one of the Freegate Osbournes last year.  It's a small world, and right enough."

Catching Colwyn's comment Aramil thinks a moment and then replies "Normally I'd suggest splitting up, but with the missing treasure from the temple the folk around here are edgy. Best we stick together and hope to find the pair of idiots before they get themselves into trouble. I've mentioned to Ozzy about the pair and I'm sure he'll be looking out for them while keeping the halfling invasion at bay." The half-elf smiles at the last part of the comment and gestures towards Lannet, who seems intent on keeping Erista busy.

Looking around he then continues "Lets concentrate on the edge of town first, not sure those boys will want to be to near the townsfolk at present."

"Tergether it is." Colwyn says, grimly, "Don't reckon it'll take us long ter sniff 'em out.  They's not 'xactly overloaded with brains."

He sets off, with Aramil, to search for Jack and Decklan.  They head back towards where they had entered the village, working on the assumption that the two would-be bandits would want to avoid going further into the village...

Lannet smiles at Ozzy and Erista, both of whom seem to have fallen silent.  "Well, now, isn't this all nice and friendly?"

The nearby crowd has already started to disperse, and not a few of them give the three halflings somewhat suspicious looks as they pass by.  Suddenly Lannet looks concerned, "Don't look now, but Baran's just spotted us.  He's coming this way."

With a clear view of the road which leads back to the Tradeway, Aramil and Colwyn can see no sign of the two fugitives.  The human looks about, "If'n we walk 'roun' the edge o' the village, we might catch sight of 'em.  Left or right?"

There isn't a lot to choose between the two possible directions...

Looking both directions Aramil shrugs at the choice between them. "With not much to go on, I'd suggest ... left maybe. It doesn't seem to be a great difference. Lets just hope its the right way." Aramil answers Colwyn's question. Then with the direction stated the half-elf moves off without waiting for his human companion, though he does turn slightly to check that he is following.

Erista laughs.  "Small, but cozy," she agrees.  "Oh!  Before I get all lost in happier talk, I suppose I'd best remember I am supposed to be looking for a bow for one of our friends.  Who in town has the best bows?" she asks.  "...And by `best', we're meaning `cheapest,'" she clarifies.

"A place of Ill Omen," Eilieen muses.  "Would it not be a fine direction for a thief to escape?  The last place those of the village would search?"

She ponders the situation, pacing back and forth.  "I knew nothing of this crucible before coming here.  Perhaps it is not well-known?  If not, then the thief must at least be from nearby, Shandril.  Or a traveller who simply happened to espy it and decided to steal it...but I suspect you would have gone after any recent travellers immediately, yes?"

That would be the logical thing to do.

"Whomever stole the crucible might know of this Grimwood, and that people avoid it.  Might it be possible the crucible and thief could be found within it?"

It seems...logical to her, but Eilieen would be the first to admit she's not the best investigator.

Before Lannet can answer, he's interrupted.  Baran, apparently, has taken an interest in their discussion.  Big, even for a human, with red hair and moustache, Baran's most noticeable feature, apart from his unsmiling face, is the fact that his right hand is missing.  He towers over the three halflings, clad in studded leather and a green cloak, with the hilt of a large sword projecting above his left shoulder.

He glowers down at the trio, "What's goin' on 'ere then?  I 'ope you an' yer friends aren't up ter somethin', Lannet."  He looks at Ozzy and Erista, "Come ter think on it, I don't think I've see the two of yer round 'ere afore... "

Shandril ponders Eilieen's suggestion, then replies, "We are located close to the Tradeway, as you are doubtless aware, but we have had very few travellers visit the village recently.  It is possible, I suppose, that somebody who was aware of the Crucible came here secretly with the sole intention of stealing it."

"There was a small caravan which left for Bard's Gate, but that was yesterday, before the Crucible was stolen.  I believe Baran plans to send the Watch out, cross country, to intercept them."

The possibility that somebody might be hiding in Grimwood does seem to get her attention though, "Eralion's home still stands in ruins in Grimwood, as far as I know, it might make a suitable hiding place for a thief."

Colwyn and Aramil start circling the village.  Within a few yards, Colwyn is cursing as he steps in a pot-hole filled with water and hidden beneath a layer of moss, and suddenly finds his left leg is soaked, almost to the knee.

"Oh... Tykee's sweet smile!" he says, with considerable sarcasm, "Tha's jus' bloody great!  When we's findin' them two damned fool lollygaggers, they's goin' ter wish we'd jus' killed 'em, there, on the road."

"Do me a favour.  Nex' time we runs inter some bugger on this journey, make sure as I puts some arrows in 'em, jus' ter be sure."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:12, Fri 16 Mar 2012.

Erista looks up.  And up.  And up a little more.  Once she's finally looking Baran square in the chest, she decides that's going to have to do.  "Ooh," is all that comes out at first.

Then she holds her hand up, and offers, "And it's a pleasure to meet you, sir.  I'd be Erista, come all the way from Lokshyr, which you've like never heard of, but if you ever find yourself there, you tell them I said hello.  There's like to be a pie in it for you," she notes, "And my mum makes the very best pies, if I may say.  Brambleberry, with criss-cross top," she clarifies, with an overtone of genuine pride

Baran looks back down at Erista, but doesn't take the offered hand.  "Travellers is it?"  His frown deepens as he considers the two new halflings in town, then he nods, "Well, if yer just bear in mind that I'm Baran, an' I've got a name in Fairhill fer bein' a miserable bugger, an' I'm also in charge of the Watch, then I'm sure we'll be the best of friends.  Or at least not enemies."

"In the mean time, watch out fer Lannet.  'e's got a name in Fairhill fer bein' in trouble."

Lannet yells out an objection, "Hey!  That's not right.  I was just trying to help them find their way round.  Nothing else.  Ask them... " he points at Erista and Ozzy, "I told them I could give them directions to places."

Ozzy looks at Lannet with a smug smile of 'I knew it all along' taking a precautionary step back from the little man with the bad reputation. He didn't want to be guilty by association after all. Hearing Colwyn cursing up a storm, he does the simple math, tugging on Eristas sleeve for a quick whisper, " Decklan and Jack are M.I.A., if we find them we might find the crucible." he suggests. " Lets go help Colwyn and Aramil find them."

"That is what he said," Erista confirms, although, admittedly, with an audible tinge of doubt as to just how this proves his innocence.  "Thank you, Baran, the Miserable Bugger In Charge of The Watch," she replies, the tone of it surprisingly respectful.

Oswald's whisper gets a quick wave of her arm.  "I know," she says back, in a less-quiet whisper that respects the fact that people are whispering, but doesn't really appear to share their concerns about other people overhearing.  "They waited about five seconds since they thought nobody was looking and then went scarce, but I say let 'em be.  They learned their lesson.  Maybe not quite the one Eilieen was trying to teach, but the one they were going to learn, and may it do them good."  She pauses a moment, frowning.  "They were from around here, weren't they?  Lannet, do you know that Decklan fellow, or his friend Jack?"

Lannet waits for Baran to move away before speaking, "That one doesn't like me.  He doesn't trust our sort at all.  He thinks we're all no-good bleeding scoundrels."

He favours Baran's retreating back with an obscene gesture before returning his attention back to Erista and Ozzy.  "I don't think I... well... there's two or three Jacks in Fairhill.  But I don't think I know a Decklan."  He scratches at his cheek, "No, wait... there was a Decklan who lived here for a couple of months last year.  Some sort of tinker or something.  Or was that Duncan?"

Outside the village, Aramil and a thoroughly miserable Colwyn continue their search for Decklan and Jack.  They make their way along the perimeter, peering between buildings and around clumps of bushes.

And it seems that their search pays off.  There is a flash of white on a fence post, which turns out to be a scrap of fabric caught on a projecting nail.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:08, Mon 19 Mar 2012.

Walking around, Aramil is glad not to have followed Colwyn and stepped into a pothole. Though amused the half-elf manages to prevent anything more than a slight smile to cross his face when the man gets more than he wished on this search. As they keep looking, something catches his eye and he moves over towards a fence post. Checking it out, he realises it has a scrap of cloth that belonged to a clock like Eileen's. Pointing this out to Colwyn, the half-elf looks about trying to notice anything which might point them in the right direction.

More interesting information surface, and Eilieen slowly nods along with Shandril, struggling to absorb everything. "It sounds to me," she notes, "that you have the situation with travellers well in-hand.  But Grimwood?" The priestess offers a pained smile.  "You might have some difficulty in persuading local people to search it.  On the other hand, myself and my companions would no-doubt be pleased to do so."

Or so she hopes.

"That might be a more appropriate place for us to begin."

Thunder growls in the distance as Aramil and Colwyn continue their search.  Colwyn looks up at the sky, "More bloody rain comin'" he grumbles.  And then a grin appears on his face, "If'n I was the sort ter run away, I would'n' want ter go far in weather like this.  I'd likely be findin' meself a nice roof over me 'ead.  Like a barn or somethin'.  Like that one there."

He points out the structure to Aramil, and starts towards it. 

Lannet turns his eyes upward as the thunder rolls over the village.  "Listen to that.  Look, here's an idea.  Why don't we go and fetch this bow for your friend, then get ourselves nice and cozy in a warm tavern?  A drop of ale would do wonders for us.  Maybe a bit of chicken and mushroom pie as well."

Shandril nods her agreement, glancing at the window as thunder grumbles faintly outside.  "I believe you are right.  The villagers would be reluctant to search Grimwood.  That name has served to frighten children here since before most of these people were born."

"Very well, I accept your offer to search Grimwood for the thieves.  I expect baran will be grateful for the chance to use the Watch elsewhere."

Erista looks to her side.  "Ozzy?" she asks.  "Unless you think our friend somehow arranged a storm to force us to go with him, I say it sounds delicious."

But while her vote is cast, the fact that she's asking suggests that, should Oswald prefer to trust the likes of the city watch over a good, not-too-far-upstanding citizen like Lannet, she'll probably go along.

While still not fully trusting of the little stranger, the promise of a warm pie and a frothy ale sounded better than tromping through the cold and wet afternoon. They had been asked to pick up a bow as well, so it wasn't an entire waste of time. " Yeah okay. Lets go shopping and get some brunch." he says with a grin, trusting in her 'feminine instinct' that they wouldn't be mugged in the process.

Noting the change on weather, the half-elf is not too pleased either. All he wanted was s good feed and a warm bed, though now both looked to out of the question. Hearing Colwyn's comments he would have naturally believed him, had he not spotted something different. Pointing out the tracks he had seen Aramil says to Colwyn "I'd agree with you, but these tracks seems to indicate otherwise. I'd like to follow them fot a bit, towards that clump of trees further off. If we are unlucky then we can always head baxk to the bard to keep dry if the rain starts."

Colwyn turns around and studies the tracks.  To his eyes they are almost invisible, little more than faint marks at the edge of the field.  Squatting, he looks at them from a slightly different angle.  Then, almost grudgingly, "Yer's got bloody good eyes, ain't yer?"  He straightens up and looks towards the small copse, "Aye, well, let's give it a look."

The two of them set off towards the trees...

Ozzy and Erista follow Lannet the short distance to the marketplace.  The market is not particularly impressive: a half dozen stalls, mostly devoted to assorted farm produce, and not many customers wandering about.

"There's usually more people than this." Lannet explains, "I blame the weather and the robbery.  Ah... here we are... "

The one stall in the market that isn't stocked with produce stands before them, laden with assorted farm implements, tools, barrels and boxes.  To one side there are several knives, a couple of short bows and two quivers of arrows...

Corian smiles at Shandril and bows to the elf, "Then we shall gather our companions and travel, forthwith, to Grimwood."

Aramil and Colwyn arrive at the edge of the copse and step in among the trees.  At first it seems there is nothing to be found there.  And then they find the cave.  Little more than a fissure in the ground beneath the roots of a large oak.  A fissure that seems to slope down for quite some distance...

Looking into the copse it seems to take a moment to notice the cave entrance. The sloping fissure seems to indicate that it might go some distance downward and the half-elf hesitates for the first time since chasing the two bandits. Checking the ground for track Aramil turns to Colwyn and very quietly says "I'm not really comfortable out in the open and in nature. I'm not sure we should go down into this cave, at least without letting the others know where we are and what we are doing. I'd suggest checking to see if those idiots have headed into the cave and then let the others know what has happened, probably trying to see if the halflings would join us before going into the darkness."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:59, Sun 25 Mar 2012.

Colwyn nods in agreement, "Yer right.  We'd 'ave ter be stupid.  Might be a bear or anythin' livin' in there.  Fer all we know, them two silly buggers's already got ate, an' what's left of Eilieen's cloak is part of somethin's nest."

He keeps a close watch as Aramil searches around the entrance...

"Very well, Shandril.  As Corian says, with some directions, we will be on our way."

The priestess pauses as she comes to realize their group is mightily diminished in volume.  Pursing her lips, she surveys Corian and the Nameless Monk, then turns a jaundiced eye on the door.  "Apparently after we discern the location of our friends.  We seem to have become separated..."

"Thank you!" Erista says to Lannet, although her smile to him is brief, quickly replaced with something more like a smug look at Ozzy.

"Excuse me, good sir," she says, approaching the stall's apparent owner.  "Can I ask how much it is for one of those hunting bows?"

Ozzy is quick to cheapen the request, adding, " Nothing fancy. We're just plinkin' squirrels, no need for the composites." He points toward the bottom shelf, where the lesser quality weapons are ususally kept, well out of reach of smaller hands. He looks to Erista and shrugs.

" What? He wasn't that specific on the make and model was he?"

"S'trrrruuue," Erista acknowledges, thoughtfully.  "But it is food for us he'll be hunting," she points out.

" I do prefer venison over squirrel..." Ozzy says thoughtfully, cupping his small chin in one tiny palm. His eyes look back to the top shelf, asking, " ...are the composites locally made? Are they militia grade?" he asks the vendor.

The stall owner looks down at the three halflings and smiles cheerfully.  He bustles around to the front of the stall and hands one of the bows to Erista.  The craftsmanship seems good, to her untrained eye, and the vendor is happy to extol the weapon's virtues, "It's a nice bow, made by my own son.  See how polished the staff is, and the string is best flax.  A good match for your hair."

"How's the weight?  Try drawing it, it might be a little heavy for somebody of your size.  The other one might be easier for you."  He picks up the remaining bow, and holds it ready to pass to Erista, if she wants to examine it.

"As you can see, they're fine weapons.  They cost forty gold each, and I can sell you arrows, and a quiver too."

Shandril bows her head to Corian, Eilieen, and the Nameless Monk.  "If you go to the northern end of the village, close to the shrines and the Temple of Freya, you will find the remains of an old road which leads directly to Eralion's old home in Grimwood.  I would caution you though... fell beasts sometimes hunt near the wood, things that come down from the Stoneheart Mountains.  In your position, I would be sure to gather all of my companions before venturing along that road."

"It has been many years since any from the village entered Grimwood, but as I recall, Eralion's home is  some four hours' travel from here."

"Shall we investigate the area around the temple, and perhaps the temple itself, as we pass by?" the monk suggests, "It is possible that we might notice some clue that others have missed."

She bows her head to Shandril, "With your permission, of course."

"Excellent!  We shall be off, forthwith," Eilieen enthuses, glancing at her two comrades.  They'll have to fill out the band, but the gods only know where the rest of the group have gotten to...

The Nameless Monk has a fabulous suggestion - not that Eilieen herself is likely to spot anything near the temple, but Corian and the Monk might have some experience with ferretting out clues - and after waiting for a response from Shandril, yea or nay, off the intrepid group sets.

The objective, of course, being finding their lost lambs before they get into trouble.

"That would certainly be acceptable." Shandril replies, "Fresh eyes oft discover missed signs.  I intend to make my way directly to the temple, after we are finished here.  I shall await your arrival, when you have found your lost friends, of course."

The elf leads them to the door, and out into the open area in front of the house, "I shall see you in a little while."

"Thank you, Priestess."  Eilieen bows, waiting for the woman to return to her house.  Once she has, Zadastha's priestess brushes back her hair, then blows a lock out of her eyes with a vexed sigh.  Slowly turning in a circle, she surveys the village with a jaundiced eye.

"I fear we have our work cut out for us," she murmurs.  "Not only find this relic, but discern the location of Erista, Oswald, and Aramil."  Her face screws up in a moue of concentration for a long moment, then relaxes again.  "Were I those three, where would I be?"

She shoots a glance at the Nameless Monk and Corian, cocking an eyebrow.  "If anyone has an idea, sing out."  She smiles helplessly.  "Else we should probably begin with our Monk's idea, and seek out the temple."

"Only forty gold?" Erista asks, delighted.  "For such fine workmanship as your son's?  I should love to, and I would take ever such good care of it and treasure it always," she promises, and then stops, lowering her eyes, "If I only had forty gold to spend."  She sighs.  "But I only have twenty five."

Ozzy frowns at the price, but the lady seems impressed by the craftsmanship. Not sure if she is trying haggle, he stands a long moment, gauging the vendors reaction. It didn't look as if he wanted to budge on the price so Ozzy tugs on Erista's sleeve and pulls her in closer so he can say it quiet enough to keep the seller from overhearing,

_{" I can split the cost with you if thats the problem."} he whispers.

"Not only those three, but Colwyn is also missing.  And if this Grimwood is so dangerous, perhaps we will need assistance from Fergus and Aarnr too."  Corian looks around, dismayed, "I suppose we should ask for assistance."

He accosts a passing villager and asks, "Excuse me, sir.  Have you seen our comrades?  They would be strangers in the village - two halflings, a thin man with different coloured eyes, and another with an elvish look about him.  They were here just a few minutes ago."

The man thinks for a moment, then shakes his head slowly, "I don't remember the men, but I reckon I saw your halflings.  Last I saw, they were heading up towards the market, or maybe a tavern, since there's a couple of them over that way.  If you're quick, you might find them before that Lannet gets them into mischief."  He points up the street, where a few market stalls can be seen in the distance.

The halflings aren't in any sort of mischief yet, though they are with Lannet, so there is still time...  The stall holder looks down at the trio of halflings, rubbing at his chin, "Twenty five you say?  Well, now, I could come down to thirty five, I suppose... "

Colwyn and Aramil, meanwhile, decide that there is nothing further to be discovered in the vicinity of the burrow.  There are boot prints near the entrance, but neither of them feels inclined to crawl into a hole in the ground without a little more company.  After all, just because Jack and Decklan might be down there, it doesn't necessarily mean that they're alone down there.

The pair head back towards the village...

Growing bored of 'shopping' - as males of any race are prone to do - Ozzy harumphs and begins producing coins from his pockets, a handful of gold from the left front pants pocket, followed by another fistful from the right. He pulls a few more from his shirt pocket, a couple more from each vest pocket, and finally three more from this right sock. Setting the gold in small stacks of ten, he creates three stacks with two more left over. Knowing that a show of coin usually closed the deal, he says simply,

" Thirty two gold. Cash on the barrelhead. ...deal?"

With more than a little relief, Aramil is glad to heading back to Fairhill, and to the others in the group. Not one for large groups of friends, the half-elf is still unsure if himself in the current situation/surrounding, ie outside a city and after that terrible attack with the creature still hunting the adventurers. As they reach the outskirts of the village he lets out an audible sigh and starts looking around for the others. Hopefully there is someone who he can ask about the halflings.

OOC: If there is no obvious signs of our lot, Aramil will approach any person around that he can see.

The merchant looks at the coins and almost licks his lips.  "I believe we have a deal, yes."  He scoops up the money with a speed quite at odds with his size, and hands Erista a bow, and then says, "I can let you have a quiver and arrows, twenty of them, for another gold piece."

Corian, Eilieen, and the Nameless Monk follow the directions they've been given, and make their way to the marketplace.  It doesn't take long to find their quarry, given that there market seems to be fairly quiet.  Not far away, they see Erista holding a shortbow, while Ozzy stands talking to a human merchant.  A third halfling, a stranger to the three human adventurers, is with the pair.

Aramil and Colwyn can't see their friends, so the half-elf accosts a nearby villager and describes the people they're seeking.  The man looks at him incredulously, "Bloody Hells!  Is everybody looking for halflings today?  I'll tell you the same as I told the last lot - last I saw, they were heading up towards the market, or maybe a tavern, since there's a couple of them over that way."  He points up the street towards the centre of the village, where some market stalls can be seen, then he peers at Aramil, "Now I think of it, the last lot were looking for an elfish looking cove too." 

Ozzy sighs. He had thought it all a done deal, but his small mind had neglected to consider arrows and the quiver. He smiles at Erista, pulling one more gold coin from behind his ear and setting it down on the barrel. " Sounds like a good deal, we'll take them." he says, trying to sound happy despite the feeling he had been bested at his own game. As Erista collects the quiver and arrows, he takes a moment to scan the crowd for any sign of their travelling companions...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:47, Sun 08 Apr 2012.

"My thanks, Corian."  Eilieen beams at the helpful villager as he offers directions, then sets out to follow them.  Soon, thanks to the grace of Zadastha (and Corian, of course, and the villager...well, the list gets long quickly), they spot the pair of their shorter companions.  The priestess gleefully waves.

"Erista!  Oswald!"  She hurries up, pausing for a moment to glance at nearby fabric.  Ooo, that would...never mind, she remonstrates herself.  Later.  "I see you have fared well in your search for equipment."  The priestess bows to both.  "We have news," she notes, waving back at her other two companions, then glancing around uncertainly.

"But...I do not see Aramil and Colwyn."

"Aw, thank you!" Erista beams, and leans close to Ozzy.  "I'll settle up the halfsies later," she promises in a whisper.

She waves to Eilieen, and holds up the bow proudly.  "It's a good one, too.  Made by his very own son, and a fair deal he gave us, I'd say," she says, confidently, and clearly enough that the merchant can hear.  She looks a bit non-plussed at the mention of Aramil and Colwyn, trying to remember if she and Ozzy had been supposed to keep track of the pair.  "Er...no," she agrees.  "Maybe went looking for your cloak?"

And at that precise moment, Aramil and Colwyn enter the market square.  It doesn't take them long to spot their friends and make their way across.  Colwyn hands a small scrap of cloth to Eilieen.  "Them two shiftless buggers, Jack an' Declan, 'as gone an' run off with yer cloak.  We foun' that snagged on a post over that way" he waves a hand in a vaguely westerly direction, "an' we reckon 'as 'ow they might be 'idin' in an 'ole in the groun' we 'it on near there."

He studies Lannet for a moment, rubbing at his cheek, "Who's we got 'ere then?"

"This," Erista offers, "Is Lannet; by all accounts, an upstanding citizen of Fairhill.  Thanks to his help, we already have our bow," she holds it up in proof, "And he's offered to take us to an excellent tavern on top of it.  Which might be a good place to hear Eilieen's news," she proposes.

"Lannet, yer says?" Colwyn eyes the halfing suspiciously, but before he can say anything further, the target of his scrutiny interrupts...

"Yes that's my name.  Don't wear it out."  Smiling cheerfully, he continues, "So, you lost some of your friends then?  Is this the same Jack and Decklan you were looking for before, only I heard them mentioned when I was talking to these two."

Colwyn doesn't answer, at least not directly, "Tha's right.  Yer was 'angin' roun' then, wasn't yer?  Got nowt better ter be doin'?"  The rogue seems fairly aggressive in his tone.

"Why doesn't yer tell us where the tavern is, an' jus' point us the right way?  Then yer can go an' do what yer should be doin', an' we can be gettin' on with our business."

"Perhaps I can help you?" Lannet says, smiling, "What is your business in Fairhill?"

"Jus' that.  Our business."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:04, Sun 15 Apr 2012.

Ozzy smirks as Colwyn does what he could not, shutting down Lannets exuberant helpfulness with every answer. The local had been kind enough to offer direction, but having him hold the spotlight was wearing thin. Ozzy pulls on Colwyn's sleeve and says, " C'mon, we can find the tavern easy enough. Just follow the smell of stale beer and smoke." He pulls a little harder on the sleeve in an attempt to literally drag the big man away from further conversation with Lannet, eager to press on with the daily itinerary.

"Hmm."  Eilieen checks out the scrap of cloak.  "Indeed.  I'm no tracker, Colwyn, but I'd recognize that weave anywhere.  Look at the quality!  I purchased this from an old woman in..."  She rambles on for a bit about the place, the gold she paid, and other inconsequential details before realizing nobody is listening.

With good reason.  A mental smack follows.

"In any case, yes, this is mine."

She eyes Erista's bow, and slowly nods.  "I shall take your word for it, Erista.  Such things are not my strength, but glad I will be to have you protecting us with your arrows."  She never says shafts, a habit from her time in the temple.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lannet," she intones, bowing.  It seems the others don't have quite the same exuberance toward his presence as Erista, though, and Eilieen frowns as a bewildering array of comments about the tavern erupt.  "Wait, wait.  Shouldn't we be going to this hole in the ground Colwyn found, to catch Declan and Jack?"  Then the Chalice...this is becoming quite complicated, the Priestess decides.

Standing quietly beside Colwyn, the half-elf notes the introduction and waits to see just what sort of upstanding citizen this halfling actually is. Watching the exchange between Lannet and Colwyn it seems that the rogue is also suspicious of the local man. The talk of a tavern though soothes the half-elf and he wishes nothing more than to be enjoying a good meal and something decent to drink. Though by his standards a good meal and drink is not too upperclass, just good fair like at home in the inns where he grew up.

Answering Eileen's question Aramil says "Well we could follow those two, but maybe it would be a good idea to sit for a little while and plan what we are going to do. I'm curious to find out what you know from speaking to the elf about the robbery from the temple. So I's suggest heading to this tavern to talk things through first.. Then adding to his speech Oh and I found the hole, Colwyn just reported back to you first.".

Stepping beside Eileen, Ozzy whispers from the side of his mouth, _{" Ixnay on the avecay."} not entirely sure she knows the dialect, he shifts his attention instead to Aramil, " Thats JUST what I was saying! Me and Colwyn were just about to go get a pint right after we say our goodbyes to Lannet." he beams happily, nodding with emphasis as he glances once more to Eileen, hoping she gets the now obvious hint.

Corian looks about, a little bemused, "Ah... a spot of lunch is it?  That would seem to be a splendid idea, on the face of it.  But I'm afraid that we three," and here he gestures to himself, Eilieen and the Nameless Monk, "may have discovered  something which trumps lunch insofar as being a priority is concerned."

"I also rather suspect we may need to fetch Aarnr and Fergus."

"Oh?  There's more of you then?" an inquisitive halfling voice asks, and is promptly met by a surly, "Never bloody mind if'n there be more of us.  If'n yer doesn't bugger off, there's goin' ter be a sight less Lannet's in this 'ere village." from Colwyn.

Erista sighs, and gives Lannet a long-suffering smile.  "What we mean to say is, thank you very much for your help and we do hope to see you again before we leave, and perhaps we can work on our manners in the meantime, but we wouldn't want to keep you from your lunch just because we're apparently going to be too busy for it ourselves."

"Even," she adds, a little more firmly, "If you don't mind."

Understanding belatedly dawns.  Eilieen knows she isn't the quickest on the uptake when it comes to certain things; it has caused problems in the past, in the temple.  Of course, most of those problems could be resolved with a quick (often panicked) explanation and a laugh.  Some required a bucket of water.

One or two necessitated a sound thrashing with a candlestick.

But in this case, it seems the others don't particularly want to discuss their matters in front of Erista's new friend.

"Well done, Aramil," she notes to the half-elf.  "And yes, we should plan."  The pale priestess shoots an apologetic look at Oswald, following with a remonstrative glare at Colwyn.  "My apologies, Lannet.  It seems our business is private," she states with a small bow for the gentleman.  "You have my sincere thanks for the assistance you have provided Erista."

Lannet gives an ittitated "Hmph!", accompanied by an equally annoyed glare at Colwyn, "I'll be going then.  In the meantime, most of you seem nice enough, so I'll give you one piece of advice.  You should be careful of the company you keep."

He turns and moves away, and is soon lost from sight.

"Talk 'bout yer pots an' kettles." Colwyn growls, as soon as he judges the halfling is out of earshot, "That one's a tea leaf.  Like me.  But yer can trust me... yer's my mates, an' I doesn't rob from mates.  'e even give a Guild sign - sorta says, ter they as knows, ''ello, I's a thief.'  Like as not 'e were plannin' ter get them two" he points to Ozzy and Erista, "some place quiet, like, an' rob 'em blind."

"Anyhow... what's this yer's found as means more 'an a bit of grub?"

Ozzy breathes a sigh of relief as Lannet departs, then smiles. He always trusted gut instinct, and once again it had proven him right. He does his best not to say 'I told you so' to Erista, recalling his own flagrant flashing of coin while purchasing the bow. Instead, he focuses on the matter at hand - the noticable abscence of Decklan and Jack and mention of a possible hide-out for the two. " So do we got get Aarnr and Fergus first and then go have a look at this hole in the ground?" he asks, wanting everyone on the same page in the same book.

"Actually it would appear that we have something other than two missing bandits  to be concerned about." Corian explains.  "The priestess, Shandril, has provided us with some information regarding the location of Eralion's manse.  Additionally, she suspects that the thief who has taken a holy relic belonging to the village may have made off in that direction with the item."

"Eilieen has offered our services in searching the house for the stolen relic."  The sorcerer smiles, "And since we were planning to go there anyhow, it seems like the ideal opportunity to kill two goblins with one arrow, so to speak."

Erista shrugs at Colwyn's assessment of Lannet.  "Of course he was," she acknowledges.  "But in the meantime, he was very nice.  So, if we're looking for, ah, tea leaves, why did we just run off someone who knows the local herbs?  Especially if they have a Guild, they can't have approved something like that, could they?"  She looks at Colwyn critically.  "We probably could have talked them into rewarding us, too," she points out.

"A tea...oh, a thief!" Eilieen exclaims before turning bright red and lowering her voice.  "A thief.  I see."  She shakes her head, baffled as she often is by the vicissitudes of the world outside her temple.  It isn't exactly an ivory tower (though many puns are made of such a phrase within it), but its 'society' is very removed from the norm.  "I would never think you would rob me, Colwyn," she reaaures the man.

He might damage her ears with her language, perhaps, but take her purse?  Never.

"Corian has the right of it," she continues.  "And I believe Ozzy is correct - we shall require Fergus and Aarnr.  Certainly we can check whatever places we all have discovered, for both the relic AND our vanished miscreants."

Her pleased expression sours for a moment.  "The cloak isn't dear to me, but I detest the thought of those pathetic ruffians thinking they have gotten away with their misdeeds, scott free."

She should have allowed Aarnr to...well, probably not.  But it's a comforting thought.

"A thief, that's right." confirms Colwyn.

"Are you sure?" Corian asks, seeming a little surprised, "He seemed friendly enough."

"What?  Yer was expectin' 'im ter pull out a pig sticker an rob yer 'ere, in front of all these folks?  Yeah, I's sure.  Guilds 'as signs... ways ter tell other thieves that yer's a thief, an' e' give a sign."

"Yer knows, if'n we 'as ter fetch Aarnr an' Fergus," Colwyn opines, "it'd only be a bit out of our way ter look at this 'ere 'ole what me an' Aramil found.  Just that instead of goin' back through the village, we goes out that way ter the 'ole, an' then round the edge 'til we gets ter the road."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:18, Wed 09 May 2012.

A brief discussion follows, with the final result being that the group finds itself, a short while later, standing in a small copse and studying a cave or, more accurately, a fissure in the earth below the roots of a tree.

The opening is, just barely, large enough for a man to squeeze into, and seems to have a fairly steep slope.  It leads downwards into the ground for quite some distance.  The far end is lost in darkness.

There are bootprints in the wet dirt around the entrance...

"Well," Eilieen begins somewhat doubtfully.  "This holds promise."  Her lips twist in a moue of disgust at the idea of forcing herself into the narrow apeture.

It's...grimy.

Bending down she looks at the bootprints, studying their size, their placement, any possible differences between the tracks.  "Interesting..."  After a moment, the priestess straightens.  "Definitely boots," she decides.  "Does anyone have a lantern?  I fear I have nothing that will suffice for a trek beneath the earth."

"Promise?" Erista asks, doubtfully, and then shrugs.  "I've got one," she offers, swinging her pack around long enough to pull out a somewhat battered hooded lantern.

"So...who wants to go in first?"

After making his thought know, Aramil is strangely quiet about the group heading away from the local inn/tavern life and back into the countryside. A sigh escapes his lips as they return to the cave entrance, really not wanting to go down into the dark after two idiots who are better left alone. But since Aarnr is not with them someone else will need to be the lead in this situation.

Feeling better as Erista brings out a lantern, the half-elf shrugs and then says "Well lets get this over with. I'll go first, though I don't think these two are worth the trouble. I'd rather be back in Fairhill getting a drink, some food and preparing for the trek after the missing good luck charm."

"More'n likely 'olds more spiders, worms an' snakes than promise." Colwyn mutters to Ozzy, before announcing in a louder voice, "I's got some torches, so twixt them an' the lantern, we's all right fer light."

He unslings his pack and pulls a roughly cylindrical bundle of canvas off the top.  Unrolling it reveals the torches.  He selects one, then rewraps the rest before returning them to the pack.  He gestures for Aramil to take the lead, and the group enter the tunnel, their way lit by Erista and Colwyn.

The way is narrow in places, and everybody except Erista and Ozzy find it a tight fit on occasion.  The passage is some twenty feet long, sloping down quite steeply the whole way, until it opens out into a roughly circular chamber, about fifteen feet in diameter.  The walls are of dirt, supported by the roots of trees, and show signs of having been excavated at some point to make the low-roofed chamber larger.  The floor, too, is dirt.

There are signs of possibly recent occupation - four straw-filled mattresses and an equal number of worn blankets.  Some wooden bowls, two of which contain a little cold gruel, a few pots and pans...

"Ugh."  Eilieen brushes futilely at her (already stained) dress and cloak, then gives up with a sigh of disgust, the puff of hair bouncing her bangs up.  "Dirt, dirt, and more dirt.  Someday I shall hear of vast halls of marble, and will most certainly choose to explore them."

Until that point, it seems she'll just have to put up with this.

And mouldy straw, and old gruel, and...

The Priestess stamps her feet on the dirt once or twice just to get it out of her system, then shakes out her arms.  "Right," she begins, with forced cheer.  "It would seem we've found a lair.  Of men."  Women couldn't possibly be so dirty.  Her eyes search the gloom, looking for an exit.  It's unlikely, but one never knows.  An escape tunnel, perhaps?

"Heard of some up north," Erista offers.  "Although I think they've got a King or something in them.  This is cozy, though.  Could do with a woman's touch, though," she agrees with Eileen..

Perhaps it's with that in mind that she starts checking around the mattresses.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:17, Wed 27 Mar 2019.

Once down the rabbit hole, Ozzy takes a moment to let his eyes adjust as he scans the little hide-out under the roots. It reminded him of a play fort he and his friends had made as children. " Well, they certainly aren't living the good life down here now, are they?" he comments. Seeing Erista move toward the mattresses, he warns, " Careful you don't touch anything sticky." while scanning the underground chamber with interest...

Spot check: 19

"Mos' like a place ter lay low when they's close ter the village." Colwyn opines, "If'n they needs ter keep their 'eads down, jus' fer a bit.  Not their normal camp."

In the dim, flickering light, Eilieen  inspects the walls of the chamber and finds only roots, dirt, and the myriad small crawling things which live in such places. 

Erista, meanwhile, searches around the makeshift beds.  Carefully lifting one of the mattresses she finds what appears to be Eilieen's cloak folded, somewhat carelessly, underneath it.

Ozzy catches sight of something that interests him amidst the tangle of roots and beetles in the dark. Moving to one side of the chamber, he looks down at the floor, prodding it with his toe. " Anyone have a shovel?" he asks, outlining a small patch of dirt with the same toe, making a small circle on the floor. " Dirt isn't packed down like the rest of it, somebody was digging here." he adds, kneeling down and pawing into the dirt like a puppy.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh."  Unable to restrain herself any longer, Eilieen frantically shakes her hands, dislodging dirt and, unfortunately, a small silverfish that hits the floor on its back, legs waving feebly.  "Oh dear."  Reaching down, the priestess gently flips the creature over with her fingertip.  "Apologies," she whispers.  "It was the dirt, not you."

The silverfish, uncaring, squirms into a crack in the wall.

"Blast and bother," she grouses, straightening and stretching, then yanking her fingers back from the protruding, dirty roots in the 'ceiling'.  "I'm utterly useless here...a shovel?"  Hurrying over, she bends down and examines Oswald's find.  "Loose?  Amazing that you can see that, Oswald.  Sadly, I lack digging tools -"

What.  A.  Surprise.

"- but in a pinch, and for an important reason..."  Crouching down, the priestess sticks her hands in the dirt with a sad sigh, and begins scooping it out of the way.  "Goodness!  It is a touch looser."

A couple of inches below the surface, Ozzy and Eilieen strike paydirt (as opposed to the sort of dirt they've been digging through).  There is something hard buried here.  Quickly they sweep away some of the dirt to reveal the gleam of steel.  Ozzy's fingers probe at the earth, scraping a groove which outlines a rectangular object, some nine inches by six.

Colwyn joins them, holding the torch so that it gives them a little more light as they work.  Within moments the bard and the priestess are lifting a dirty steel box out of the hole.  The box is only a couple of inches deep, but there is definitely something inside it.

It has a hinged lid, which is locked...

Ozzy pulls the box free of its grave, frowning as he sees the lock. " Looks like we should have hired Lannet I guess." he says resignedly,
" Anyone here know how to bypass a lock?" he sets the box in the middle of the chamber, looking up to his friends for help.

"For all we know, Lannet has the key," Erista points out.  "I don't know how to pick a lock, but just to open one...hammers work, don't they?  Or kind of big rocks?  Fergus could have that thing right off, I bet."

She pauses a moment, considering.  "Well, unless he thinks it's wrong to break open someone else's box, which he might," she allows.  "Aarnr, then.  We can tell him the last one to open their box gets a bath."

"Sadly, I skipped the lecture on 'Defeating the Chastity Belt'," Eilieen admits, "so this is quite beyond me."  She prodes the box with the tip of her spear.  "Poor Aarnr.  Always getting the short end of the stick with the compliments.  He's a good man, you know, beneath all that bombast."

She ponders the problem of the lock.  "I suppose we could try levering it open, but if the contents are fragile..."  Brightening, Eilieen turns a speculative eye on Colwyn.  "Fortunately, we happen to have the most wanted man in Tsar with us!"  Reaching out, she lays her hand on his forearm.  "Colwyn, be a dear and open that lock.  Please?"

Still holding the torch, Colwyn holds out his free hand to accept the box.  He peers at the lock, muttering to himself as he does so.  "No problems." he finally announces.

Then he kneels, jamming the end of the torch into the disturbed earth where the box had lain.  He places the box itself on the floor in front of him before opening a leather pouch at his belt and pulling out a roll of cloth considerably shorter than the canvas one which had contained the torches.  He spreads the cloth out to one side of him, close to the torch, revealing that it contains a series of small pockets, each of which has one or more gleaming metal instruments jutting out of it.

Colwyn takes a moment to crack his knuckles, then selects two of the tools.

A few minutes (and five changes of tools) later he leans back on his heels and looks up at the ceiling, "Nadgers!  I needs more light.  Can't do nuthin' workin' like this.  On me knees an' bent over in the dark like some sort of... "  He glances at Eilieen and bites off the rest of the sentence.

"Bat," Erista offers.  "Their knees bend backwards, did you know?  Of course, then you'd also be upside-down."  She looks thoughtfully up at the ceiling.  "Do you suppose that would help?  I had an uncle who swore by it - said he thought better standing on his hands.  If there was a hard choice to make, he'd flip right over 'til his face turned red, and then sure enough, he'd have his answer!"  She pauses a moment, and then acknowledges, "He wasn't always right, but he always had an answer."

Ozzy watches Colwyn with interest, stepping back when his frustration rears up. Doubting very much that standing on his head will make it any better, Ozzy turns to his own small pack and pulls out a bullseye lantern and flint. Two sparks later and the lantern is beaming nice 60' cone of light. He turns it to focus on the small box and says, " There ya go. I used ta hold the light for my da when I was a boy!" he adds proudly.

"Bent over in the dark?"  Then she sighs.  The dry humor leaves Eilieen's voice and she pats Colwyn on the shoulder.  "It's a bit too shadowy in here for such delicate work, Colwyn."  About to suggest they could take the box outside, she is pre-empted by Oswald and the brilliance of his bullseye lantern.  "Well!  There we go!"  Another shoulder-pat follows, this one more enthusiastic.

"You could always try Erista's upside-down idea," she says, a doubtful tone creeping in her voice, "but I suspect it could be a touch counter-productive."

Turning away to give him some space, she surveys the rest of the room to make sure that nobody is creeping up on them through some undiscovered concealed spider-hole.  Or the entrance, of course.

With a quiet, "Thanks." to Ozzy, Colwyn shifts position, so that he is sitting upright with his legs folded before him.  He returns the tools to their correct pockets in the cloth roll, then lifts the box so that it's cradled in his lap with the lock pointing upwards.

"'angin' up by me feet, like a flitmouse might is a fine plan," he explains as he pulls his dagger from its sheath, "but, I reckons I's goin' ter save that one, in case this'un doesn't work."

Placing the tip of the blade in the keyhole he waits a few heartbeats, then brings the palm of his other hand down, hard, on the pommel.

"Bugger!" he snaps, as the lock doesn't.

Eilieen blinks as the brute-force application fails in the face of the lock's sturdy construction.  "Well," she begins uncertainly, "I suppose we could go with the flitmouse."

A shrug follows.  "Hold onto the box, we shall examine it at our leisure.  Is there aught else here that might give us a hint to our missing indentured servants?"  Another quick look around the chamber follows, but no new exits have materialized since...and frankly, she's not expecting such.  This looks like a bolt-hole, not a warren.

Backpost:

After Ozzy's call about the loose dirt, Aramil stands and watches as the others remove the box from its hiding place. Too many cooks spoils the broth, as his mother says. Not really in the mood for this dirty work, the half-elf wishes for nothing more than a good feed, a fair drink and somewhere warm to sleep. But since that seems not to be the case, he scowls as the box as the others investigate the lock. Shrugging at the question of who can open it, Aramil leaves the job to another better suited to the task.

New post:

The scowl gets darker as Colwyn's attempts fail and it seems curiosity is left unsatisfied. "Since there seems to be little here of any importance, I'd suggest moving on away from this hole and towards somewhere better." he comments. The thought of staying here to long is starting to grate on the half-elf's nerves. The lack of a second entrance/exit is causing Aramil some issues, whether its in town or out in the wilderness, the half-elf always prefers a second escape route.

"Agreed.  It seems there is little, if anything, more of interest here." Corian says, and the look he gives the only exit is filled with obvious longing.  He notices a large beetle on his sleeve, and brushes it off with a scowl of disgust.

"We should find Aarnr and Fergus before it becomes too dark to locate them, and we have no firm idea of their location, or of the time it will take us to walk there."

Colwyn stands, still clutching the box under one arm.  He shakes his head angrily, retrieves his belongings, and makes his way to the tunnel.  "Sounds like a bloody good plan ter me." he grumbles as he passes Corian.  "Might be as Aarnr can open this, with that two-'anded lockpick of 'is."

A quick look around soon determines the direction to the road that leads back to the Tradeway, so the group set off towards it.  Colwyn carries the box, grumbling about the need to do so from time to time - not so much about the weight, but the fact that had he been able to open the thing, that weight, slight though it is, might have been more evenly distributed among the party.

They reach the road after a reasonably short time, trudging along the rutted muddy surface.  The rain, at least, seems to have eased off for a while.

After some time they reach a track which branches off from the dirt road, heading off towards the west.  It looks like the one Fergus and Aarnr had taken, and nobody remembers passing another one on their way in to the village (although, frankly, without Fergus to guide them, the track the two men had taken with the ox cart would have been easy to miss).  The track is similar to the road - consisting mostly of mud and ruts, with the occasional puddle thrown in for variety.

At one point, though, Colwyn looks back and stops, "We're climbing." he points out.  The road lays about two miles behind them, and perhaps a hundred feet below.

And still they move on, through a landscape which is mostly composed of low ridges covered with gorse and heather, save for scattered scrubby bushes, some of which bear blackberries, though only a few of the fruit are ripe as yet.  Overhead the sky is darkening, partly because of the weather, and partly because the sun stands but an hour from setting.  Still some way ahead of them a cluster of ruins can be seen on a hilltop, and there is the orange flickering of firelight shining  on one of the walls, though the fire itself is concealed below the brow of the hill.

Eilieen bugs Colwyn at least once to allow her to carry the box, but quickly realizes that his pride is hurting more than his back.  She leaves him to his albatross, then, offering bright smiles and cheerful converse in reply to his grumblings.  Privately, she feels very badly for him.  It's a terrible thing to carry, failure, especially when one has a group of friends depending on oneself.

Finally, the road.  And there, ahead, the flickering of a fire.  "One might hope that would be Fergus and Aarnr," Eilieen grouses, glaring balefully at the clouds as she puts up her hood.  Her good, traveller's cloak's hood, though it needs a fumigation (hopefully not a bath to rid itself of pests, mind).

A flicker of movement, and the Priestess raises both eyebrows.  Well.  That's a first.  She actually -

"- saw something."  It's a quiet murmur for the group rather than the jubilant cry for the world she almost let out.  How exciting to actually be of use this way!  "Ahead, on the left.  Someone...or something...stuck its head out of those bushes next to the briars."

Ozzy is quick to duck to the left, off the trail and into the nearest patch of shadow.
He moves quietly ahead, slower than the rest of the group, but hopefully quiet enough to get behind anything waiting in ambush...

Hide: 26 / Move Silent: 18

While other members of the group warily try to act as if nothing has happened, Ozzy throws himself into the shade of a boulder.  From there he crosses to a patch of bushes, then into a shallow gully where he moves bent almost double, and finally creeps into position behind a pile of broken rocks. 

The rest of the party slow their walk along the track, as Corian points to the nearby hilltop with its signs of fire, and says in a loud voice, "I suspect that all of our allies are camped up there, though it is hard to see how so many men could be so well concealed!"

Even to his ears, it sounds a little hollow...

"Yep," Erista agrees, brightly.  "It's good to know they're up there, though, and that we're already in good view of their sentries!"  She gives Corian a big wink, and, thus bolstered, picks up her pace a bit, moving to the front, giving, oddly enough, what appears to be a gesture suggesting the others stay back a bit.

As the group move to follow the path that Fergus and Aarnr took, the half-elf looks longingly in the direction of Fairhill, or the direction he thinks its in. Sighing again with the loss of some recognisable food, something to drink and a better bed than the dirt they have been sleeping on, Aramil heads along with the others. Strangely though, as his feet takes him away from the comfort of the town, Aramil's mood lightens. It seems to improve with the light shining ahead, only faltering slightly when Eileen hints that the light might not be their companions. Maybe the half-elf is starting to get a heart of an adventurer after all.

Looking around the half-elf notices that Ozzy is missing, but assumes the little man knows what he is doing. Walking with the rest he listens to their comments and then goes to form some words of his own. "Well if its not Fergus and Aarnr, then it hopefully will be someone who knows where they are. I can't imagine the great bear of a man like Aarnr would hide out hoping to hide from danger. In fact I'd say he lit the fire to attract the attention of any foes in the area." he says with a smile on his lips imagining what the big man would be doing about now. The smile falters slightly watching the little halfling move ahead without the others to keep her safe.

As the group draws closer from down the road, Ozzy realizes he needs to act fast. He hastily grabs a javelin from his pack, flinging the slender pointed rod at the closest of the creatures just as he shouts out, " Five! Five goblins!!" and his excitement launches the javelin out into the road.

INIT: 15, ATTK: 8

Ozzy's voice comes somewhere behind the bushes, yelling about goblins and, as if to confirm his words, a javelin arcs out into the track, narrowly missing Colwyn, who quickly puts down the box and reaches for his bow.

Already preparing, Erista reaches out and projects a swirling blast of coloured light at the undergrowth.  There are several groans and the sounds of several creatures, likely goblins, collapsing.

One, though, does not fall.

A large goblin, almost as tall as a dwarf, stands up among the bushes only twenty feet from the track, and screams out words in its own tongue, "Tjak kodzhok!"  Two more promptly show themselves nearby.

Further off, perhaps 25 yards from the trail several more rise from their places of hiding, and start to hurry forward, though two of them seem distracted and set off in the wrong direction...


OOC: Initiative and stuff everybody...

Expecting something to happen doesn't stop Aramil from jumping when Ozzy calls out about the goblins. Unready for the attack, the half-elf is left pulling out his sword, rather than firing with the shortbow he is better at using. Shame is was not strung as they walked along the path.

Aramil moves towards the nearest goblin with his drawn sword. Even though he wished for his bow, the half-elf swings the blade and feels the joy of it connecting with the goblin's flesh.

OOC: Init: 15 Attack: 15

(NPCd)

Alerted by Eilieen's warning, the Nameless Monk is ready when Ozzy's shout identifies the watchers.  While not as quick to react as some, she still manages to use her sling to send a stone whistling through the air.  Unfortunately it doesn't even come close enough to make her target duck...

Ozzy cringes as two of the five turn to confront him personally. His small hand grabs for the dagger at his belt, holding it up defensively as the two goblins come within reach. Then he lashes out like an angry cat, spitting and slashing in an attempt to look bigger than he actually was.

INIT: 15 / ATTK: 15 / DAMG: 3

Colwyn snatches an arrow from his quiver and nocks it hastily...  Too hastily!  He ends up fumbling with both bow and arrow, and drops them on the ground at his feet.  Cursing loudly, he stoops to pick them up.

"Ye gods and blue arsed monkeys!"

At the same time he promises himself that he'll remember to go to a real temple, as soon as they get to a proper city again, and ensure that he is on the good side of Tykee, or Zors, or both...

Corian throws out a hand in the direction of the goblin leader, and the tongue-twisting words of magic spring to his lips, "Taflegryn yn y tywyllwch!"  A pulsating orb of sizzling energy darts away from him, zig-zagging through the air, before looping around to strike the foul creature in the chest with a flash of golden light.

The goblin bellows in anger, but does not fall...

Erista finds herself reconsidering her decision to be in front as the large goblin bears down.  "暈眩!" she declares, thrusting a hand out towards him, as she reverses direction and tries to put some hardier folk between her and the ambush.

"Oh dear," Eilieen whispers.  The huge goblin bearing down on them seems quite...well, huge.  She quickly runs through her options, wincing as Corian unleashes a brilliant blizzard of magery and Erista prepares to do the same.

And the group without its front-line warriors, save for the Nameless Monk!

The Priestess steps foward, spear in hand, and grips her holy symbol tightly.  "Zadastha," she whispers, "show your care for those who fight for the love of all good things."

...possibly a touch exaggerated given the motivations of part of the group, but it's the thought that counts.

Power flares about her as the minor miracle manifests.

With commendable swiftness, Colwyn reacts to the ambush.  Unfortunately his fingers are less nimble than his mind, and he drops the bow and arrow in the mud at his feet, cursing as he stoops to retrieve them.

Eilieen is only marginally slower.  She calls upon Zadastha, and a shaft of sunlight breaks through the overcast, illuminating an area of ground, where mist promptly rises and starts to shift and swirl into a shape... the shape of an animal!

Meanwhile the goblin's leader starts to advance, its face twisting into a leering grin as it spots Erista and calls out more orders, "Tjak dar huruzd!".  It pauses in its advance just long enough to hurl his javelin.  Luckily its aim is off, and the weapon sails a good two feet above the halfling's head and disappears into the undergrowth on the opposite side of the track.  The Nameless Monk steps aside at the last moment and a javelin from a second goblin narrowly misses her.

Too late that second goblin realises its mistake.  Aramil hurries forward and his sword flashes in a horizontal arc which ends just above the creature's ear.  It falls backwards in a welter of blood, a cry of pain frozen on its lips.

The last goblin that remains close to the track veers in its course, heading now towards Erista...

Further away, Ozzy finds himself hard pressed by two of the ugly creatures.  One over-extends as it attacks, and the halfling uses the opportunity to slit its gullet.  The hideous thing falls, a death scream gurgling in its ruined throat.  The other aims a powerful swing at the halfling's skull with its club, but something warns Ozzy, and he dodges, receiving only a glancing blow to his shoulder. 

Erista notes the goblin which is heading towards her.  She starts to retreat, trying to put bodies between herself and the creature.  Just for good measure she hurls a spell at it,   The goblin stops in its tracks, blinking stupidly, then topples over.

On the trail, Corian speaks the words of a spell, and a scintillating bolt of energy streaks from his hand to strike the largest goblin in the middle of its chest.  It cries out, in pain and anger, but remains standing.  A sling stone from the Nameless Monk does nothing to change that.

The goblins who are part way between Ozzy and the rest of the party continue to hurry forward towards the trail.

Eilieen's shaft of sunlight fades away and the patch of mist clears to reveal a dog with golden fur, which barks once at the priestess, and then sprints towards the goblins...

OOC: Well... this is all going... er... swimmingly.  I said to get 'em!

Combatant         Init
Colwyn Akbar       23
Eilieen            19
Goblins            18  AC=15
Aramil             15
Oswald Osbourne    15
Erista             15
Corian             14
Nameless Monk       9

Characters' Apparent Health
Aramil:           Good
Corian Barade:    Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Nameless Monk:    Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Hurt

Ozzy recoils from the goblins nasty scratch, growling at his own sluggish feet. He barks, " Fingernails?! You fight like a girl!" stabbing at the air between them. He had always been better at throwing the knife than cutting with it, and now regrets not bringing the whole cutlery set.

ATTK: 9 ..miss.

Feeling rather more comfortable now that she's not at the forefront, Erista pulls out her slingshot and settles a stone into it.  Moments later, she sends it whistling towards the closest goblin's head.

Retrieving his weapon, Colwyn looks about for a target.

People, he notes, seem to be concentrating on the nearer goblins, which makes sense.  But there are others that are hurrying closer.  The rogue reasons that sticking an arrow in one of them might encourage them to keep their distance.

He raises his bow and sends a shaft in their direction...

The goblin is still standing.  Corian frowns, this one is obviously stronger than others of its ilk.  Again he raises his hand and chants the incantation, "Taflegryn yn y tywyllwch!" and sends another bolt of energy at the disgusting creature.

If it's still standing after that, it might be time to let others handle it.

Watching the face of the goblin in front of him as it realises his mistake was enjoyable. Feeling the sword so through the goblin and the drop dead also made the half-elf pleased. With his buoyed self confidence he moves up to the nearest goblin. Swinging again, Aramil hits with a satisfied grunt, but is unable to make the clean kill of last time.

(NPCd)

The Nameless Monk calmy drops another stone into her sling, whirls it about, and unleashes it in the general direction of where Ozzy is fighting his lone battle.  There is a certain amount of satisfaction on her face as the stone strikes its target, although it is but a glancing blow.

The dog dashes across the field of battle, its four legs carrying it far faster than any mere biped could hope hope to manage, and with far greater certitude of footing among the ferns, bracken and brambles.  It leaps, jaws agape, and its teeth fasten onto the goblin's arm.

The foul creature gives a scream of pain as it is knocked sideways into a briar patch.

"Go, doggie!" Eileen cries as the hound leaps to the defense of the beleaguered Oswald, attacking his opponent and driving it into a briar patch.  "Oh, well done, brave doggie!"  Then her eyes fall upon the advancing goblins.  Oh, dear.  They could very well be rather beleaguered themselves in a moment, especially when lacking their heavy fighters.

Best to try to break their morale, she figures.  And what better way to make a mob run than to make one of their people do the same?

"You dare?" she cries, turning to face the advancing (and small) mob.  "Those without love in their hearts earn Zadastha's wrath!  Beware, else you suffer that end!"  With that prayer (or curse...), her gaze falls upon the lead goblin, and before its eyes Eilieen seems to grow into a towering shadow, blotting out the sun and glaring down at it with fiercely burning fuscia eyes.

The battle continues...

Being more careful this time, Colwyn launches an arrow which takes one of the goblins square in the chest.  It looks at the shaft stupidly for a couple of heartbeats before toppling over backwards.  Colwyn chuckles as he reaches for another arrow.

Eilieen takes a moment to cheer on the summoned hound as it races towards Ozzy, then calls out for more aid from Zadastha.  Her intended victom falters, then shakes its head and continues forward, brandishing its club as it does so.  It then gets knocked right off its feet as a stone from Erista's sling smashes straight into its face, hurled with all the force that the halfling can muster...

Some distance away, Ozzy and the goblin circle each other, both of them searching for an opening, but neither able to find one in their deadly dance of thrust and parry, feint and counter-feint.  From the corner of his eye the bard sees something large and golden rushing towards them...

Aramil moves among the goblins, his gleaming sword seeking a new target.  A goblin leaps at him, slashing with a curved knife which opens up a deep cut in the half-elf's thigh.  His own blade flicks out in response, leaving a smaller wound in the goblin's chest.  The horrible creature snarls in pain, but doesn't fall. 

A second goblin closes on Aramil, swinging a cudgel at him, but the half-elven bard sees it coming and manages to avoid the blow, stepping aside at the last instant.

The leader of the goblins looks about, assessing the situation.  At least half of the attackers are down.  The ambush may, it realises, have gone horribly wrong.  With a final order to its followers, it starts to turn away.  And at that precise moment it is struck by another searing bolt of energy from Corian.  Its eyes roll up in its head, and it falls, dead before it hits the ground.

A slingstone from the Nameless Monk whistles past above Ozzy's head, also missing its intended target.  Which doesn't matter, because the dog arrives a moment later, and doesn't miss.  The goblin screeches, briefly, and the sound is cut off sharply as it crashes in among the brambles...

The only two goblins left standing are facing Aramil.  Until they suddenly notice that they are the only two left standing.  Wailing in terror, they turn to flee.  Aramil, now bleeding profusely from his injured thigh, slashes at them, but misses...

OOC: Only two goblins left standing, and they look to be trying to escape.  Really, a GM just can't get decent staff these days.  Time was when minions would have fought to the death.  To the death, I tell you!  On an empty stomach.  And they would have loved every minute of it.  These days they all expect three meals each day, and decent wages, and a "statutory right to flee" clause in their contracts... mutter mutter bloody monster bloody union mutter...

Combatant         Init
Colwyn Akbar       23
Eilieen            19
Goblins            18  AC=15
Aramil             15
Oswald Osbourne    15
Erista             15
Corian             14
Nameless Monk       9

Characters' Apparent Health
Aramil:           Critical
Corian Barade:    Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Nameless Monk:    Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Hurt

"Bother," Eilieen mutters, readying her spear as her curse leaves the goblin shaken, but not stirred.  Then, "Yes!" an instant later, and she snaps her fingers as the goblin falls to Erista's slingstone.  "Aramil!  Accursed goblin!" follows as she spots the beleaguered half-elf's plight, and begins a sprint in his direction.  "Go doggy!" she cries, halfway through her second step as the golden hound piles into the goblin battling Oswald.

Emotional ups and downs being par for the course when it comes to this particular priestess of Zadastha.

"Run," she cries, literally sliding up to Aramil on her knees in the muck, "you loathesome...oh, Aramil, plese do not move!"  Her hands clutch his thigh above and below the wound - considerably above and below, to avoid pain, and hopefully not giving the wrong idea despite her affiliation.  "Zadastha, grant your blessing upon those loved by your own!" she cries, summoning the power of the goddess to her palms.  Power pours down her arms in a silvery stream, sinking into Aramil at two points (behind his knee and, well, just behind) to join at the wound.

"Apologies for the imposition," she mutters.  "Or intrusion.  Whatever."

OOC - Cure light wounds, 6 + 2 = 8 healed!

Erista trots after the two fleeing Goblins, sending a final rock hurtling after them.  "Yeah!" she calls out.  "Run! We fight for love!"

Colwyn aims his bow at the goblins, as they run off, "They's goin' ter fetch some mates!", he yells, releasing the arrow.  The goblin replies with a scream as the arrow strikes it between the shoulder blades, and it falls, face-down, on the ground.

Eilieen ignores the erstwhile attackers, and runs to assist Aramil, summoning more aid from Zadastha as she concentrates on healing the bard's injury.  Through the gaping hole in his slashed trousers, the flesh can be seen knitting together, closing the wound completely.

The other goblin continues to flee, pursued by Erista, who soon puts an end to any idea it may have had about fetching allies (and, incidentally, any more ideas that it may have come up with in future).

In the stillness which follows, a sound comes from somewhere nearby, like the snarl of some vicious animal.  One of the unconscious goblins clearly has a severe snoring problem...

OOC: Just the five snoozing goblins left.

Characters' Apparent Health
Aramil:           Good
Corian Barade:    Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Nameless Monk:    Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Hurt

This message was last edited by the player at 20:16, Fri 15 June 2012.

Ozzy stands a moment, rubbing his shoulder and scowling into the brush where the dog had torn it's throat out. Thankful to still be alive, the little bard looks up the sky overhead and breathes a heavy sigh of relief. Then the snoring reaches his little ears. He scowls another moment, looking around for the sound of the repeating noise. Focusing in on the sound, the little bard trudges over with blade in hand and does his best to cut the sound off, " Ye Gods that was an awful tone." he says as he stands squidging one little finger in his ear. The pain in his shoulder hits him again and he winces, lowering his arm slowly to his side.

Coup De Grace on snoring goblin: 8 damage

"Indeed we do!"  Eilieen gives a gratified thumbs up to Erista, then hurries for Oswald.  Poor, beleaguered Oswald.  "So sorry, Oswald, that my doggie didn't arrive in time to prevent a savage wound!"

Moving up, she crouches to place a hand on his arm.  "Zadastha bless those who battle for her favour," she murmurs, enacting an orison to stop the bleeding.  It might be a good idea to maintain her more potent spells for later.  "Zadastha's hand fall...goodness, was that absolutely necessary?"  She blinks down at the injured goblin for a moment, then shrugs.  No sense arguing about it NOW.  "Zadastha's hand...bother, where was I?  Ah!  Zadastha's hand fall upon you with the warmth of her care."  Another orison follows.

OOC - Cure Minor Wounds, Cure Minor Wounds, 2 HP cured.  We'll keep going if necessary, but I'd like to save the big stuff for when I don't have time to cast up to four minor cures.

With only four unconscious goblins still alive now, and those apparently having learned their lesson about snoring, Colwyn retrieves the troublesome box and moves over to investigate the bodies.  They're wretched creatures, and unlikely to have possessed great wealth, but one never knows.

Soon his efforts are rewarded...

"This'un 'ad a nice coloured rock." he declares, holding up a reddish brown pebble for all to see.  "It're worth bugger all, mind.  Less 'an the three pennies an a bit o' broke glass what 'e 'ad as well."  The rogue scratches at the back of his hand, "Prob'ly worth less 'an 'is lice."

OOC: Anybody feel like searching the bodies for valuables (and vermin)?

<Backpost>
Feeling the sting of the blade as it slices the half-elf's thigh, Aramil is contented to see and feel his blade slice the goblin in return. Soon enough though the stinging becomes a full on burning pain which Aramil is unprepared for. This sort of pain is not what the half-elf is used to. He drops to the ground on his knees, feeling the wound pull open slightly and the blood flowing freely.

As the shape of another person moves up to Aramil he lifts his sword, only barely realising that its a friend not foe. Eileen rests her hands on his leg, though the half-elf doesn't notice it at first. Quickly the burning subsides to an itch and as both look at the wound healing through the breaches, the half-elf notices just where the healers hands are placed. Not moving at all he first looks a little shocked, and then amused. Looking into Eileen's face shows her fully concentrating on the task at head, literally, rather than any other activity that this situation could lead. A witty remark quickly enters the half-elf's head, along the lines of "what exactly do they teach in temples these days?"* but he dismisses it, as it would seem disrespectful to the priestess, who is more of a lady than most of the women the half-elf has meet.
<Backpost>

Only when Eileen moves away to help Ozzy does Aramil see the situation around him. There are several bodies of the goblins around and everyone is still standing. He watches with interest as the little man heads over to the snoring goblin and slits its throat. He almost snorts in amusement as Eileen comments about Ozzy's latest attack.

Hearing Colwyn the half-elf rises from the ground and walks over to the bodies. "I agree that there is likely to be nothing on them of value, but nothing ventured nothing gained, as the saying goes." With that comment the half-elf walks over to another body and checks it for valuables.

OOC:* No witty comment I'm afraid. The old brain is just not firing on all cylinders at the moment.

"Well, if any of them had anything, the big one probably took it," Erista notes.

Taking her own advice, she moves to the biggest goblin to check for valuables.