A search of the goblins turns up the expected poor pickings - 25 copper pennies, some of them bent and at least one bearing tooth marks, and a few "treasures" which would be considered worthless rubbish among more civilised peoples, such as the coloured pebble, several shards of glass and a scrap of parchment that looks to have been torn from a larger document.

The creatures had, though, been wealthy in assorted ticks, lice and fleas.  Now even those loyal companions are deserting them in search of redder pastures as the bodies cool.

The earth is soft and wet, but filled with stones, and the thorn-covered brambles which provide much of the ground cover hereabouts would make digging difficult, and provide poor fuel for a funeral pyre.

There seems no option other than to leave the goblins where they lay, and rely on the services of the local carrion eaters, who are doubtless already aware of the presence of such a splendid feast.  If there is any consolation to be gained it lays in the fact that they would doubtless have done the same (or worse) to their victims, had they been victorious.  In any case, the unconscious ones should awaken soon, and will perhaps perform some sort of savage goblinish funeral rite...

Having done all that can be done, the party continue up the hill.

As they reach the crest, they find that the ruin they had seen earlier is part of a cottage, or rather part of one of the remaining walls.  The structure, to use the term loosely, has fallen into considerable disrepair, and has no roof.  It is, in fact, in such poor condition that Fergus and Aarnr have set up camp outside its broken walls.

And there they sit by the fire in the gathering dusk... along with a third, older man and a dog.  The four of them appear to be cooking a meal (though, to be honest, the dog isn't really pulling its weight, and seems more interested in growling at the newcomers).

The stranger looks to be in his late forties or fifties, and is clad all in browns and greens, with a heavy, hooded cloak.  A loaded crossbow is propped against a rock just to his right.  The dog, a reddish hound sits to his left.

However, while it might be interesting to discover the identity of this stranger, it would probably be much more interesting to discover how Aarnr and Fergus came to be covered in so much mostly-dried blood, and why their clothing is so torn...

As Aramil helps search the body, he is not surprised to find that there is nothing of interest. He does however try to get what sort of book/letter the parchment is from, but mainly just from curiosities sake. He is thus returned to his companions from his own thoughts when they discuss what to do with the bodies. Opening his mouth to mention the waste of time for such creatures, unlike the farmers and travellers they have already met, it stops in his mouth, as some of the members of the party seem more determined to give the goblins more respect than Aramil feels they deserve. He is just glad that the surroundings prevents the group from doing much with the bodies.

Trudging up the hill the half-elf is glad to reach the summit and their friends. Weary of the days events and still unhappy of the loss of accommodation at the village Aramil sees the fire and walks straight into its light. Too late he sees the stranger, though he should have been more careful since the dog had made its presence known long before the firelight made it visible. seeing Aarnr and Fergus happily sitting with the stranger gives Aramil a sense that the stranger is safe, for the moment. Though pussled about the blood, yet not surprised since Aarnr is involved, the half-elf smiles and calls out to his friends "Finally, we made it. What an adventure. You missed a few interesting events, yet from the look of you both you have had a few of your own." Turning to the stranger he continues "How do you do, I'm Aramil, a travelling companion of Fergus and Aarnr's.It is nice to meet a fellow traveller in the firelight of friendship." though the half-elf is wary of the dog. Back home dogs are really only good for guarding, and in his youth he had a few unintended adventures with them.

"I'm Martin, a hunter by trade." the stranger explains, then he pats the dog, "Hanne helps me with that.  She's got a good nose on her, and isn't too scared to get into a scrap if I need her to.  Clever too, aren't you girl?"  The hound wags its tail, glad to have been noticed.

"Normally we'd work over near Bard's Gate, but there was a rumour that the farmers hereabout have been having trouble with something attacking their stock, so we came over to take a look."

Ozzy finally peeks out from behind the bush he has been hiding behind once the hunter reassures them that his dog won't attack. With a nervous glance to the hound, Ozzy steps up on the far side of Aramil, his little eyes darting around the campsite before peering off into the darkness beyond. He tugs on Aramils pants leg and says, " Ask 'im if'n he's seen a foul little dwarf travelling with a big lumbering farmer... or if'n he found body parts that match that description."

Erista steps up and holds out a hand for the dog to smell.  "It's nice to meet you, Hanne," she says, and then looks up at the hunter.  "And you, too.  Oh, Aarnr, that reminds me!"  She takes the new bow off of her back, and holds it out to him.  "Maybe Martin can show you how to use it," she suggests.  "We got arrows, too.  Ozzy helped," she adds, sharing due credit.

"Fergus!  Aarnr!"  The Priestess hurries up and gives each man a quick touch on the arm; it's her way, rather than an attempt to verify their presence.  But better that than the usual 'greeting' given at her Temple.  The other priests and priestesses had, of course, eventually learned to go with something a trifle more subdued - a peck on the cheek, for example - with regards to Eilieen.

After copius contusions in the shape of her palm.

About to apologize for the condition of her clothing, Eilieen takes a step back to survey the two men.  "Goodness!  What have you gotten yourselves into!"  It's not a question.  "Indeed, Aramil, they seem to have found trouble..."  Her tone indicates that trouble might be now, rather than before.  "Both of you just sit still while I have a look."  Muttering to herself, she begins going over their injuries - whether they like it or not - and demonstrating a certain amount of skill in the doing.

Glancing up from her work, Eilieen nods politely to the stranger and his doggy.  "Good evening to you, Martin, and noble Hanne as well.  A pleasure, to be sure.  Your pardon, but I have a pair of injured scallywags here in dire need of succor."

Out comes the small kit of unguents and bandages.

OOC - Do either of the boys need healing, skill or spell?  I'll just take 10 on the healing roll, which gives me a 20.

...erm, assuming 3.0 uses the 'take 10' rule, I'm not sure if it does.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:51, Tue 26 June 2012.

Indeed Aarnr does seem a bit quiet when his friends arrive and fails to greet them with his usual vim and vigorous turn of phrase.

Erista's proffering of the promised bows and arrows does cause the priest to stir, though, revealing a blood-soaked bandage plastered on the side of his neck, and some deep and equally bloody gashes in his chest.

"We've been huntin' rabbits !" Aarnr announces, not even protesting Eilieen's ministrations. "And a froggin' pheas ..." he looks towards Fergus and Martin in turn as if still not absolutely convinced but then continues with a sigh, "... a froggin' flap-mouthed owlbear !"

"Spleeny beast nearly froggin' killed the pair of us !"

"Hi Aramil, Ozzy." Fergus greets the new arrivals, but looks puzzled "Do you mean me, Ozzy?  Does he mean me, Miss?  And what dwarf, please?"

Fergus seems a little nervous at Eilieen's attention.  He does his best "schoolboy on best behaviour" impersonation, complete with squirming.  "I'm alright, Miss, really.  Aarnr and Bowbe already helped me some.  But you should take a look at him.  Martin gave us a salve, which was really nice.  And it didn't smell too bad at all. But he's pretty cut up."

"We got the critter, though.  Meanest pheasant you ever saw." Fergus' grin (at Aarnr) is not at all reassuring.

"What are you all doing out here anyway?  I thought you were staying in town?  We got four rabbits, which ain't bad with only the one bow between us, but you could'a done better at the inn."

"An owlbear!?!  By the Gods!" Corian gives vent to an altogether uncharacteristic exclamation of shock.  "I've read of them.  Foul abominations, the result of ancient magical experiments by some unscrupulous mage.  Or a foolish one.  Most savage.  Is it still in the vicinity, or did you somehow manage to see it off?"

Colwyn meanwhile sits down close to the fire with the box resting in his lap and both hands resting on top of that, "We run inter some gobbos down the 'ill a bit.  We was on our way up ter see yers an' the buggers tries ter jump us.  Best part of 'em won't be tryin' that again."  His face cracks into a broad grin, "'Ere, yer know what's the best part of a goblin?"  He looks from face to face, waiting for somebody to answer him.

Martin chuckles, "That's an old one, that is.  It's his shadow - it's the only bit that doesn't stink."  Beside him Hanne watches the new arrivals for a while, as they move into the camp and find places to settle, before turning her attention back to observing the four rabbits cooking over the campfire.

Meanwhile Eilieen examines Fergus' and Aarnr's wounds.

OOC: Yes, you can take 10 in 3.0.

Bow delivered, and with a chuckle at Colwyn's joke, Erista makes her way to her usual spot by Fergus, and pats his hand reassuringly.  "Not sure who he means," she admits, "But you don't lumber."

The news of the owlbear widens her eyes.  "Really?  What crazed wizard thought that was a good crossing?  Was it more like the size of an owl?" she hazards.  "Still be pretty scary, I'm sure.  Our goblins weren't much of a hazard, really, but Ozzy was very brave.  We were going to stay in town - even had a good line on a nice inn, from a reputable guildsman," she explains.

Because he had been almost certainly a guildsman, and there's no denying he had a reputation.

"But we missed you.  Oh, and Colwyn's got a box stuck and can't open it, we thought you might be able to help.  And there's big news in your village we thought you'd want to hear right away - somebody's made off with their Crucible, and we've offered to help find it!"

"Yes indeed, the owlbear was a terrible idea, made worse by the fact that they are known to be rather... er... fertile.  And they're famed for always being in an extremely bad mood." Colwyn shakes his head sadly, "Wizards who perform such obviously insane experiments earn the rest a poor reputation."

He gazes glumly at the fire for a moment, then snaps out of his reverie, "Yes, indeed, we have agreed to assist the villagers.  The priestess of Freya, a charming lady named Shandril, has told us the location of... " a quick glance at Martin, "... a place where a thief who has stolen a sacred relic may be hiding.  By great good fortune, our own goal lays in the same general vicinity."

Martin looks up sharply.  "You're going to Eralion's tower to search for a thief?" he asks, "That would certainly be a fine place for a man to hide, if he had more guts than brains.  The Grimwood's reputation is not just the result of fearbabe talk.  A fair bit of truth lays behind it.  As I told your friends earlier, things come down from the Stoneheart Mountains and make homes for themselves in the wood."
This message was last updated by the player at 11:01, Sun 01 July 2012.

Eilieen's mild (and loud) concern flips to appalled silence as she examines the injured men.  Her face even paler than its wont, she immediately lays hands on Aarnr (both sides of his face) and focuses her strength.  "Breathe easily within the love of Zadastha," she urgently whispers, and the healing power flows from her to surround the other priest.  A vaguely pinkish wave of power, it flows down her arms to seep into his injuries, wiping away the pain and sealing away the damage.

"Rabbits," she hisses in his face, clearly put out, "do not have claws this large."  Then the priestess moves with undignified haste to tend to Fergus.  "All right?  Somewhat of an exaggeration!"  Her aggrieved tone softens.  "I regret, Fergus, that I have so little to offer."  Her hands rest upon his shoulders.  "We had troubles of our own.  Zadastha, grant relief from suffering to this noble soul."

The pinkish flare of power is distinctly weaker than that of before, and Eilieen makes a final attempt.  "Zadastha, a boon of peace for this kind heart."  Another, and between the two they certainly manage to provide a day or so worth of rest.

Somewhat exhausted herself, Eilieen flops down on the ground and buries her face in her knees.  "More tomorrow," she murmurs.

OOC - 6 hit points back to Aarnr (always heal the priest first, if he's alive he can heal other people), and 2 points to poor Fergus for two CMW - all Eilieen has left.

Aarnr feebly tries to wave Eilieen off, but truth be told is too weak to do more than raise but a murmur of protest ... and as Zadastha's healing power flows into him, is much relieved that he could not, for though his wounds do not close completely, the priest is much restored by the effort.

"Thou has my thanks," he tells the priestess, perhaps only now reaslising just how close to the netherworlds he had ventured. "And Zadastha too."

He grins in commiseration at her sudden fatigue, nodding complicitly. "Me too."

Much healed and much cheerier, Aarnr is finally able to properly thank Erista and Oswald too for their mercantile efforts on his behalf, pulling back the string to test the shortbow (though of course, now having seen Martin in action, he's already jealous of the hunter's larger bow and covets one for himself).

"We killed our froggin' owlbear," he assures Corian, holding up his prized feather for inspection, though he is loathe to let it out of his grasp.

But the priest has two important questions on his mind that cannot wait.

"Thou have been fightin' goblins without me ?" he inquires.  "And what in the fobbin' name of Bm’fob is a 'crucible' ?!!"

The half-elf smiles a warm return as Martin introduces himself, yet the smile fades slightly as the man refers to Hanne. To many misadventures with dogs still makes the half-elf nervous, yet he trusts the man enough that the dog will not attack him outright.

Amusement brightens his smile both by Ozzy's comments about the dwarf and lumbering farmer and Eileen's obvious mothering of the said pair. Truly the Temple is the worst off losing such a priestess. Then as if on cue Aarnr expands on the nature of  his/their battle and Fergus misunderstands the little man's comments. The big man must surely be hurting as he misses his chance to growl and swear at the halfling's jib comparing him to a dwarf.

Any lack of knowledge by the bard is filled in by the comments of the others. Glad he was not required to fight this abomination, the half-elf moves closer towards the fire and sits down, his mood buoyed between enjoyment of the others comments and Fergus' reminder of the better accommodation he was expecting for the night. Four rabbits won't go far with the group, yet maybe there is something he can do to help spread the meal around. Looking into his pack Aramil tried to extend the rabbits with the cooking knowledge his mother taught him back home.

Fergus turns a bright smile to Erista.  "Thanks 'Ris.  I knew I didn't lumber."  As Erista continues, Fergus' face darkens noticeably at the mention of the Crucible.  He is polite to Eilieen, though "Thank you, Miss, and Zadastha, too.  I feel a good bit better."

Fergus sits in silence for a long moment.  In contrast to his earlier fidgeting he keeps very still, apparently deep in thought.

"That's bad.  Very bad.  The Crucible is a kind of cup thing that's holy to Freya.  I've seen it at holy days in Fairhill.  If it's been stolen Freya might not bless the crops this year.  The whole town must be up."

Fergus stands and stalks over to his kit, taking up his scythe and whetstone again.  From the way the scythe's blade catches the light it has already received some recent attention.

"How do we know the thief's headed for the Grimwood?"

Corian considers for a moment, then nods to Martin, "Aye, Eralion's former home is our destination.  In addition to having our own reasons for going there, Shandril believes that it is a likely hiding place for whoever stole the Crucible."

"Just be careful in Grimwood.  It's a bad place.  Worse things than owlbears have showed up there." the hunter replies.

Zadastha's blessings, channelled through the hands of the priestess Eilieen leave Fergus and Aarnr looking better.  They are still covered with blood, but at least most of it is dried now, they have no open wounds, and there is no fresh blood being added to that which is already in evidence. 

Martin smiles, "Always good to have a healer with you.  Even if you don't need them today, there'll come a day when you will."  He glances at the fire where the rabbits are still cooking, "Do you want me to see if I can find some more conies?  I'm not sure there's enough there to go round."

Eilieen's eyebrows shoot up as Aarnr deigns to thank a god.  Well, goddess, in this case.  "It was my honor, Aarnr.  In truth."  She can't begin to speak for the goddess, but inside Eilieen feels that even a coarse man like Aarnr would have her approval, for his steadfast character and noble core.  For Fergus?  There is no doubt.

"My honor and pleasure to assist you as well, Fergus," she notes with a small bow.  "Apologies again that more cannot be done...we shall have to see, tomorrow."  What she has done will suffice for the night, no doubt.  Pursing her lips, she eyes Aarnr's feather-trophy with some wonder, but makes no move to take it.  Likely diseased, certainly filthy.  And yet, most impressive what the twain have accomplished.

Eyeing Fergus' scythe askance, the priestess answers the hunter in an absent tone.  "No, no poor rabbits for me, thank you.  I will do well enough with my own food, though the thought is appreciated."  She resolutely doesn't look at where Aramil is working on the rabbits, not wishing to give offense with her revulsion.

While Aramil works with the food, Colwyn takes the time to work on the locked box.  Eventually, after considerable muttered cursing, he is rewarded by a quiet click.  "Now we sees what the buggers's been robbin'" he announces, as he opens the lid.

Inside is a bundle of rags which prove to wrapped around a plain dagger.   Colwyn examines it, briefly, in the firelight.  "Silver." he declares, setting it aside.  The next item out of the box is a stoppered metal tube which is found to contain a vellum scroll.  The rogue doesn't even unroll that before setting it aside to retrieve the third object - a coin purse, which he weighs thoughtfully in his hand.

Martin watches all of this with a quizzical expression, until Corian explains, "We captured a pair of bandits, who escaped from us.  We did, however, track them and located a sort of hideout.  The box was within."

Aarnr grins at the priestesses surprise.  "I understand the other gods prefer flattery and gratitude for their favours," the big man says, sitting up now and taking more notice.  "Bowbe's only going to get froggin' jealous if I start cursin' 'em !"  His own god neither needs nor want the thanks of mortals, and looks unkindly indeed at such.

He quickly pockets his owlbear feather lest Eilieen thinks he's giving it to her and tries to steal it from his clutches.

The priest knows that Fergus has an abiding faith in Freya, but nevertheless he is astonished that the goddess would withold her favours because some gleepin' sheeps-bladder had made off with her favourite cup.  Though in that regard Bowbe would be no less irascible and vindictive ...

"Don't suppose the clackin' crucible is in there ?" he asks Colwyn as the thief finally pries open the box he's been labouring over.  The trip to the Grimwood has become exceedingly complicated for a simple priest, between the lich-wizard's tower, the promise of monsters and now the goddess's cup.

Ozzy has been looking over Colwyns shoulder like an anxious child watching his mother sorting through his toy collection. " No crucible." he answers Aarnr, then points to the scroll tube. " Whats in there?" he asks curiously, doubting it was the crucible, but intrigued enough to want to know more.

"Flattery?"  Eilieen sniffs.  "Our thanks for divine favour and healing, certainly."  But there's a hint of a smile on her thin lips.  Aarnr is Aarnr, and Bowbe is Bowbe, and...and...that's an awfully large feather with which he plays.  Her fingers start to itch, but just as she decides to have a look at it, he slips it away.

The priestess sighs, blowing a lock of sadly limp hair from her eyes.  It returns all-too-quickly.

"Ah, Colwyn, well-done!"  Eilieen beams as the lock gives up the battle.  "You salvage your reputation!"  The smile fades.  "Well, no crucible.  I suppose we'll have to risk these 'haunted woods'.  Or somesuch similar."  She waves off any mistake with the name, more curious about what Colwyn has unearthed, so to speak.

"Interesting," the Priestess mutters.  "A silvered dagger.  Who would carry such a thing?  No normal peasant or even merchant - why waste good coin on a dagger necessary only for battling evil?  And the case..."  Leaning over, she reaches for it before recalling her manners.  "Why not open the scroll, Colwyn?"

"Good job!" Erista agrees.  "And the lock's saved!  Let's have a look, then...  偵查 魔法," she mutters.