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.