Aarnr makes his way across to the cart, where Bilfro is nerving himself to turn back a corner of the blanket and check if Ozzy is still bundled inside it.  Though, if the truth be told, the bulk of his indecision appears to derive from the difficulty of selecting which end of the wrapped corpse he should check to determine its absence or presence.

The whole business reminds Bilfro of that unpleasant story about the wizard, Ponthias, who locked a cat in a box, and declared that it was then impossible to determine if it was alive or dead.  This statement made, of course, after he had plugged his ears with wax to block out the irate yowling and hissing from inside the container.  The feline had settled the uncertainty as soon as the lid was opened, by the simple expedient of filleting Ponthias' nose with a single lightning quick swipe of its claws, before urinating in the man's lap, and bolting out of the open window.

Anja draws herself up to her full height, and declares, "If you are able to assist with the trial, in the determination of truth and lies, for example, you would all be most welcome to stay the night in the city.  I can speak to some of our citizens, and arrange accommodation for you.  The best the city of Crossroad has to offer."

"Well," Eilieen ponders.  "I would be interested in staying, to see if any more information were to be forthcoming from the villains.  They might speak up with the hope of making a deal for freedom, or the like."

Turning to the others of the group - those still there, in any case, with Giant-Aarnr having wandered off - she inquires "What say you all?"

Though he is uncomfortable at the idea of spending a night here in a place where the residents were ready to turn on them just a short while ago, Arkan decides it could be worth it to hear what the cultists might have to say (or blurt out in a desperate attempt to live)

"I concur Eileen, that is exactly what I am thinking. If not their own freedom, they may decide to tell us about their plans and their masters as revenge for their own fate," Arkan replies to the priestess.

Erista draws herself up to her full height, and smiles at Anja.  "We would be honored to accept your hospitality," she says.

"Fear not, thou doughty flummox," Aarnr spots Bilfo's difficulty. "Our friend will not bite thee."

"Thou and I shall guard my blood-brother from harm this night," the priest declares, eyeing the treeline speculatively, wishing he had thought to bring the giant's head with him on this journey.

"Not for us the sweets and savouries of those wimpled, common-kissing joltheads !" he assures the wizard, keenly. "This night we dine on proper, simple fare !"  Whatever joys that trail rations may provide.

"Now Ozzie has gone, slain by those vain, ill-breeding codpieces," Aarnr looks back to the city of Crossroads behind him, considering if the Halfling's spirit will be satisfied with the vengeance taken against the white-coats, "an' it falls to thee, thou calumnious, full-gorged popinjay, to sing his praises !"

Anja speaks, at length, to a few of the villagers, and they speak to a few more, and before long there are a number of volunteers to house the guests until morning.  The idea of having a bona fide hero sleeping under their roof is, unsurprisingly, an enticing proposition for the inhabitants of a small village, out in the middle of nowhere.  The stories these heroes could tell offer a boundless expanse of entertainment...

Sadly, after a brief discussion, it seems that none of the hovels houses has sufficient room for more than one guest.  On the plus side, though, none of the volunteers appear to bear obvious signs of leprosy, plague, (excessive) vermin infestation, or madness.

Anja regards the volunteers briefly, and dismisses a handful, leaving eight worthy citizens who are prepared to have hovel house guests for the night.

"These citizens will be your hosts for this evening.  They will provide cots, an breakfast, and will bring you to the trial in the morning, so that you can assist in the workings of justice." the city's current de facto leader explains to the bold adventurers.

Behind her, the final remains of the palace crash down, driving a cloud of sparks and embers into the smoke-filled morning sky, like incandescent butterflies...

Bilfro looks under the blanket and heaves a mournful sigh.  Ozzy is still there, and still dead.  It isn't all a terrible dream.  There is no miracle to draw him from the cold embrace of death and set him back on the road to future glory.

Another sigh, and the blanket is tucked gently back into place.

The mage opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it again with an almost audible *snap* as a cloud of flame and sparks billow up into the sky above Crossroad.  Bilfro's eyes seem to emit angry flames of their own, as he glares at Aarnr, and extends one bony digit, attached to an equally bony hand and, indeed, a similarly bony arm, in the direction of the pyrotechnic display.

And then, finally, he speaks, and his voice is tinged with rage and bitterness...

"Why?"

Aarnr looks over his shoulder at the gush of flame and sparkling embers that mark the final destruction of the grand palace.

"It is not fair, " the priest agrees with the mad old wizard.  "Sometimes the gods can be froggin' cruel indeed."

Why should those tardy-gaited, sheep-biting wastrels enjoy a nice warm fire while he and Bilfro shiver out here in the cold and dark !
This message was last edited by the player at 13:10, Sun 20 Aug 2017.

Eilieen, exhausted by the day's events, gladly accepts the hospitality.  There are some reservations - she's a little concerned by how quickly the town went from 'evil invaders' to 'heroes', especially given the damage they have done - but the priestess lets that go.

'What could possibly go wrong now?' isn't what goes through her mind; rather, it's more 'what could possibly proceed worse?'.

Naught to be done for the moment, though; she could, she supposes, find shelter at camp.  But why?  It's something of a surprise that Aarnr and Bilfro haven't chosen to join them, bringing poor Oswald's body.  They'll need to send their fallen friend on tomorrow, Eilieen muses, regardless of this 'trial'.

"Erista, should you wish to share a room, I would be more than pleased," she quietly informs the mage.  Perhaps Colwyn and Arkan can do the same.

Arrangements are made, and guests are assigned to various houses.

In every case, the house is but a single room, and rather crowded.  As a result, no household is able to take more than a single guest.  For most, at least, the house owner is prepared to give up his or her bed for the night.

Anja, having taken her part in the arrangements, ads as a final few words, "You are free to explore the city, but you must come back here, to the palace... " and here she casts a rueful glance at the burning wreckage, "... at sunset, when your hosts will lead you to your lodgings."

At the cart, Bilfro opens and closes his mouth a number of times, looking not unlike a fish, before finally managing to formulate a response.

"The gods?  The GODS?  Are you saying, then, that we are not responsible for all that happened.  Did the gods decide to descend upon that village from the sky, murder all of those people, and then start a blazing inferno for their own deific amusement?"

Not at all a fan of the fact that each house can accept at most a single guest, Arkan ponders what to do. It would be after all, but a simple thing to go to sleep and not awaken, without trusty companions to keep watch in case of a dagger in the night.

Still, their options appear limited. As houses are being assigned Arkan spots Eileen conferring with Erista and walks over to them.

"Perhaps we should make our own camp with Aarnr and Bilfro by the wagon and return here by the morn?" he asks them in a low voice. "I doubt we have anything to fear but I feel uncomfortable going to sleep surrounded by strangers, even if they do appear to think us heroes."

---

ooc: Arkan is being a bit paranoid, but he cannot help it. Such is the adventurers lot in life. But if the rest are fine with sleeping as guests in the village houses Arkan will sleep in the house assigned to him

Erista frowns a little.  "I think we've been rude enough without turning down their hospitality," she points out.  "When people don't have a lot to offer, it means a lot when they offer it.  But you guys do what you think best.  I'll be OK."

She smiles and waves over to the gathered volunteers, and then walks over towards them, picking one out on her way and angling towards them.    "Hi!" she says, cheerfully, when she reaches them.  "I'm Erista, from Lokshyr.  Thank you."

The conversation seems to be jumping around all over the place, but Aarnr is always happy to discuss matters of theology, and it seems the wizard is in need of some comforting advice regarding the article of faith that the gods are out to get their mortal servants.

"Yes," the priest agrees, pleased that Bilfro seems to be getting the gist of it.

Certainly the fire was a complete surprise, though it proved that his own instincts in that regard were correct, or at least in accord with those who dwell above ... and obviously a lot of people died, mostly at his own hand, though there again, the god was riding him at the time.

"Ye have to be froggin' stern with the gods if ye wish to avoid such tragedies."

To think he'd missed out on all the arson and most of the slaughtering.  Even the death of the old man he did remember killing, apart from the beslubberin' masons of course, but they didn't count, was not only almost accidental, but turned out to be more than the venomed, pigeon-livered greybeard deserved !  Aarnr was definitely going to be exceptionally rude to Bowbe on the morrow for that oversight !
This message was last edited by the player at 05:56, Sat 26 Aug 2017.

Colwyn nods his head, and mutters to Arkan. "Well I, fer one, is plannin' ter be sleepin' with one eye open, an' my 'and. on a blade.  I's not trustin' these buggers as far as I could be throwin' one of the oxes."

It's easy enough for Erista to find a family with children.  In fact she's spoiled for choice.  Eventually she finds a worn-looking middle-aged couple who appear to have custody over a sizeable tribe.  Her introduction brings nervous glances at first, and then the woman speaks, "I'm Junna, and this is my man, Ferdun."

Emboldened by his wife's words, Ferdun clears his throat, "Hello Miss.  Begging your pardon, where's Lokshyr?"

"Ferdun!  Don't ask so many questions!  Please forgive him, Miss.  He always wanted to travel, and he has a map at home that shows all the lands of the world."

Bilfro shakes his head, and favours Aarnr with a scornful look.  Then, without saying anything further, he marches around to the far side of the cart, where he sits on the ground with his back against the wheel...

Happy to have answered all Bilfro's questions, Aarnr leans back against the wheel on his side of the cart, sword across his lap, and dozes off.

There isn't really a lot to see in Crossroad.  The major attraction seems to be the burning palace, which the locals now seem content to allow to be razed to the ground, while they concentrate on saving the tavern from a similar fate.

The adventurers wander about, observing the everyday tedium of life in Crossroad.  Most of the villagers seem friendly enough - the death of Currinder and his allies, and the subsequent rise to power of Anja, provide the main topic of conversation among the locals.  There is an aura of hope - Currinder's evil influence on the young king has been ended, and Anja is considered a much better teacher and guide for a growing monarch.

At mid-afternoon a handful of guards are stripped of their uniforms and driven out of the village by a larger number of their former comrades - the few who had been most loyal to Currinder, and refuse to declare for Anja, are clearly no longer welcome in Crossroad.  Sadly, between the fighting in the morning and the subsequent expulsions, Crossroad's standing army is reduced to about two-thirds of its original strength...

Evening sees the adventurers escorted to their lodgings, where they are, universally, treated as honoured guests.  They dine well, on the beat fare their hosts can obtain.  Then tales are told, until it is time to retire for the night.

And during all of this Aarnr an Bilfro sit beyond the city, holding a vigil over Ozzy's body.  Aarnr sits quietly, except for the occasional thunderous snore, while Bilfro whispers constantly to the large, fierce looking owl which perches above his head on the rim of the cart wheel.  Whenever he hears Aarnr stirring, the mage shushes somebody (possibly the owl) into silence, and says nothing himself until he is certain that Aarnr will not come around the cart to interrupt him.

As night falls, even Bilfro slides down into a well of silence...

And at dawn, a horn sounds in Crossroad, summoning all to the trial of the remaining  two masons...

Given too much struggle with her conscience and memories, Eilieen sleeps poorly.  Dawn finds her less-than-well, though she is gracious and pleasant as she can be with her hosts.  Offering them thanks, and surreptitiously leaving fifteen silver pieces for the night, she heads out with all of her gear, prepared to face the day, the trial, and Oswald's funeral that night.

As such, she arrives early at the trial, and awaits the others in weary silence.