The road rises gently, until it passes the base of the hill, which pushes up from the sloping terrain.  Closer now, tents can be seen around a fire, and between the tents are carts and draft animals.

At the edge of the firelight, armoured men can be seen standing watch, pennants fluttering from their spears.

Colwyn peers up at the camp,  "Them's smellin' like guards ter me." he says, indicating the armoured men.

As if in answer to Colwyn, one of the armoured men takes a few paces down the hill and calls out, "Ho travellers!  The Road Wardens of Derindin greet you!  If you come with peaceful intent, then you are welcome here!  But if thievery and brigandry are your trade, then you had best turn back now, and return whence you came!"

Erista sits quietly in the back of the cart, listening.  She supposes thievery and brigandry aren't actually our trade, except for maybe Colwyn, with a good argument for herself and Aarnr, but they most definitely do come with peaceful intent so she supposes it will probably be alright.

Colwyn groans.  "Road Wardens" sounds a lot like some kind of guards.  But the Warden said they were from Derindin, which is, as Colwyn recalls, the next major city on the road towards Rappan Athuk.

There's only one thing to do, under the circumstances...

"We's not lookin' fer no trouble.  We's just bein' on our way ter Derindin.  From Bard's Gate."

The Road Warden points along the flank of the hill, "If you follow around the hill, widdershins, you'll find a path where you can bring the carts up more easily!"

Like Colwyn, Aarnr also dislikes guards and moreover resents the accusation that he might be in any way peaceable ... but he's overly familiar with what his companions would say if he slew them, as is his inclination and so doesn't immediately draw his blade and start chopping away.

Hearing the rogue tell them 'we're not looking for trouble' with a straight face gives him an idea.  Lying to these bunch-backed, clay-brained, bum-baileys sounds a reasonable alternative that should afford him much sly pleasure.

"Thank ye !  Much appreciated !" the priest calls out mendaciously as he flicks the reins to urge the oxen on the path he sees leading up the side of the hill.

And if nothing else, he'll have to remember to use 'widdle-shins' himself in his next remonstration with Bowbe.

A track leads around the base of the hill and, eventually, turns to ascend the slope.  There are guards on duty at the turn, four of them, and one provides helpful directions.

"Just go right up until you come to the next guard post, then swing to the right.  Should be more space on that side for your carts, and somewhere to bed down."

The path itself is well tended, and clear of larger obstructions and obstacles.

The camp at the hilltop seems well organised, and equally well protected, while the Road Wardens are happy to provide advice and instructions on the best place to settle for the evening, where to find the nearest source of drinking water, and the like.

Unlike the others, Eilieen is more than happy to see the Road Wardens.  With only one bad experience behind her, they normally mean safety and comfort...and, as it turns out, this time she is correct.  "Fantastic," the priestess murmurs as they clop slowly toward the camp.

"Now we can actually sleep, tonight," she states, waxing enthusiastically.  "Not doze, waiting for our time at watch!"  Looking into the cart, Eilieen smiles at Erista.  "And tomorrow morning, I shall mend your garments...I have not forgotten!  And each day, I will do the same for another's, until the path wends its way back to you."

Oh, comfort, that she has time and a peaceful setting to even think about such things.  The priestess pitches with setting up the tents, well-pleased with their current circumstances.

These guards seem less surly and aggressive than others of their ilk.  Aarnr doesn't like that.  Nor does he share Eilieen's enthusiasm for a good night's sleep.

"It may be a froggin' trap," he cautions his companions under cover of setting up their camp, his voice conspiratorially low as he pursues his aim of subterfuge.  "Belike the sheep-bitin' lackwits intend to slay us in our gleepin' beds !"

Arkan laughs, "If that is their scheme, then it is well that they have not fooled you Aarnr.  And equally good that the rest of us can rely on you not to fall for such wiles."

He looks around the camp, with it's significant quota of defenders.  "I agree Eilieen, it will be exceedingly pleasant to get a restful night, without losing sleep worrying about whether or no it is almost time for you to stand watch.  Myself, I intend to spend some time studying the tomes that we discovered in Tursach's cart.  They might contain something useful."

It may come as no suprise that the word for 'book' in Aarnr's native tongue is the same as the word for 'kindling'.

The priest grins at the young man as he suggests wasting his time in contemplation of the scratches upon those highly-inflamable pages, knowing full well that Arkan has picked up on the need for artifice and is thus cunningly concealing his intent to join Aarnr in his vigil, looking to his other companions with a raised brow that suggests they should make equally duplicitous claims as to how they intend to spend their night.

"Aye," he encourages them, " I shall sleep froggin' soundly !"

"Me too." proclaims Colwyn, yawning and scratching his head.  "I's wagerin' as 'ow there's not bein' much as'll dare ter raid this 'ere camp.  There's bein' too many swords round.  An' too many pryin' eyes jus' lookin' fer somethin' ter stick."

He looks towards a nearby group, prosperous merchants and their guards by the looks of them, who are clustered next to three wagons, with horses tethered close by.  The men are eating.

Colwyn groans.

"Is we 'avin' any scram?  I's bleedin' starvin'."

Eilieen whispers out a mildly amused sigh at the endless misunderstandings.  It's amazing that this little group has managed to travel together for so long...but then, some of them haven't.  Managed, that is; a moment's reflection on those lost along the trail puts her into a bleak mood, and she silently divests herself of her pack.

"Not to worry, Colwyn," she breaks in.  "As...well, nearly always, I shall cook.  Perhaps someone might inquire around, ask if anyone has heard aught of the trail ahead of us?  And maybe we might purchase supplies, if there are travelling merchants."

One thin, pale eyebrow rises.  "But no fighting.  Or thievery.  Or...I could go on, but I suspect most people here know all of the 'or' I might add.  Please allow me to enjoy this comfort, this once?"

"A cove'd 'ave ter be bein' bleedin' puddled ter be startin' a fight, or liftin' somethin' 'ere.  Too many bleedin' guards, an' too wide awake.  They'd be on yer afore yer knew it, an'... "  Colwyn trails to a halt realising, perhaps a little too late, what Eilieen's opinion of the amount of thought he'd put into the topic might be.

"I can be lookin' fer supplies." he asserts, changing the subject.

Erista chuckles.  "I'll stick with Arkan, if I wouldn't be a bother?" she looks up at him.  "I was looking at that wand Colwyn found on the way here," she notes.  "It's pretty powerful, for protecting a place, but I don't think a place like this," she looks around.  "It felt like... I heard this wizard talking once about a spell to protect a whole castle?  I think it does that.  Probably not much use to us, really, unless anybody has a castle they haven't mentioned, but I guess you never know when something might come up, right?"

Arkan gives Erista a shallow bow.  "You would not be a bother, my friend.  A fresh perspective can offer valuable insight in the study of arcane tomes."

Erista's description of the wand brings a puzzled look.  "Curious.  Such a wand would be unknown in my homeland.  We have castles, a few at least, but a spell of that nature would be unusual.  A wizard would be more likely to summon some powerful creature to protect his fortress, rather than researching magic to do the job for him.

"Though this wand would make it easier to work the spell, and might encourage magicians to conjure up the protective magic himself."

Yes, everyone seems to be stabbing the same snake, as his tribe might say.  The priest grins as he continues in the duplicitousness, nodding his agreement with Eilieen's list of things-not-to-do, and noting her cunning mention of swords.  When these huggermuggers attack in the night, the battle will be glorious !

"Aye," he nods to Colwyn, relishing his words, "too many guards.  I'll ... help ... ye look for the fobbin' supplies !"

Aarnr pointedly does not answer Erista.  While he might well have a castle - he sees no reason to suppose that the kingdom he is yet to regain would not have at least one - the subterfuge that himself and his companions are now embarked upon precludes him inciting an attack from their unsuspecting hosts, should they learn of such.

Eilieen's eyebrow slowly ratchets its way down as Colwyn trails off; perhaps there's hope?  Rather, perhaps there's hope of some civilization, for she doubts he would ever change how he thinks.  But then, that is Colwyn; better he stays true to who he is.  "Supplies are a fine thing," she agrees, "and perhaps some new spices for the meals?  Ours have become thin."

"Splendid idea for a wand," she muses, regarding Erista's explanation.  "It would be a fine thing to discover a wizard who wishes to defend a castle, rather than the custom of Arkan's people."  A slight bow toward the mage with that.  "Not to criticize; it is merely the way of my own culture --" Zadasthan… "-- to defend, rather than attack."  Well, there's the un-dead, but Eilieen views that as an aggressive defense on the part of the living.

Better that than passivity.

"Good luck!" she calls to the two groups, and settles in to do the cooking.

Colwyn and Aarnr go in search of supplies, while Erista and Arkan go to the cart to see if they can work out what is in all of the books.  Eilieen, meanwhile, begins preparing the evening meal.

On the hunt for supplies ...

The cloth merchant shakes his head.  "Out here on the plains, there aren't many bandits.  Even in the more remote areas.  There are patrols on the road making life difficult for criminals, and away from the road... well... I've heard tell that there are ghouls living in warrens across the land, brought here by the battle that took place here."

"Tomorrow, though, I enter the forest, and then I fully expect to encounter bandits."

Colewyn, busy going through the merchant's supplies, and helping himself to more than his fair share of onions, says, "Battle?  What battle were that then?"

"Ah... some two hundred years since some of the Forest Kingdoms banded together and thought to expand onto the plains.  Derindin objected to this, and sent an army to stop their expansion.  There was a great battle a few miles north and east of here that lasted or three days.  Hundreds died, men from both sides.  And when it was finally over, ghouls appeared to feast on the dead and torment the wounded until they too died."  The merchant shakes his head ruefully.  "The Carrion War they call it in Derindin, on account of the ghouls that came to feed on the bodies."

The hedgepig is obviously in league with the bandits on the plains, but Aarnr continues to smile as if in on the joke.

"Aye the puttocks lurk on the forest paths, lying in wait for the unwary," he agrees, "but we were lucky."  Lucky indeed to be afforded the opportunity to rid the land of those froggin' tax-collectors !

The ghouls, those filthy, festerin' corpse-feasters ... the priest would eagerly rid the plains of such creatures, if Eilieen did not turn each and everyone one into a pyre first !

He listens intently to the tale, spices forgotten.  Perhaps if they had a moulderin' body with which to draw the creatures out ...

Colwyn starts stacking his selection in front of the merchant.  Mostly onions an a few turnips, plus black bread.  The merchant is a cloth vendor, and the supplies that he has to offer are from his own food stores.  With Aarnr smiling at him so cheerfully, the merchant seems disinclined to haggle too enthusiastically.

Even when Colwyn drags over a thirty pound sack of pepper.

All in all, between the two of them, the rogue and the priest get a pretty good price.

Meanwhile, back at the carts, Erista and Arkan continue to sort through the books, attempting to classify them by subject matter and danger presented...

Eilieen is cooking, but finds her task interrupted by two men clad in the robes of wandering monks who approach her and greet her in a friendly tone.

"Good evening Mistress.  Have you heard the word of Oghma?"

By now, Aarnr is getting the hang of paying for food, though he leaves it to Colwyn to hand over the coins as they all look much the same to him.

The ... bread is probably the most palatable of what they have managed to buy, though the priest is intrigued by the large sack that the rogue adds to the pile ... if Colwyn is that fond of this 'pepper' then he'll give it a try.

"A few miles north and east, ye say ?" Aarnr asks, hoping the merchant will point or at least glance in the right direction, as he can't just stab him until he does so, not without revealing the subterfuge, but certainly doesn't want to miss his chance to find these ghouls - even if he doesn't get to kill them himself, he'll be happy to bask in the warm fires as Eilieen lights 'em up.

The merchant smiles, "Yes, but it was far enough away that this camp is safe."  He points, even though it has become too dark to see much of anything, "If you want to avoid the place, it's easy to spot in the daylight, even from here.  There are three mountain peaks clustered together, the highest points for miles around.  The battle took place at their feet.  The land there is said to be strewn with armour, weapons and bones that the ghouls discarded.  I've never been there myself, and none of the people who told me about the place ever claimed to have visited it."

"And nobody goes near it after dark."

With a smile, Eilieen greets both men, offering a small bow.  "Indeed, I have heard His word, and his notes are bright, clean, and filled with love.  Ever has Oghma wandered the world, bringing his song to the people, much like yourselves.  Zadastha and Oghma have long been allies."  She sketches a sign in the air -- the holy symbol of her goddess -- but then her eyebrows rise.  "Ooops.  Dinner, pardon me."

Stir, stir, stir.

Back to the men.  "Have you travelled long, good sirs?  Know you aught of the road ahead?"  She waves in the direction her group happens to be travelling.