CHAPTER 06
Baldwin's Woodland Cabin, Astraena
Mid-October

Having conquered the Feyic Vault, defeated Veilspire, vanquished Shep, freed Giles, and made peace with Mi'driel, the P.A.R.T.Y carefully backtracks through all the clearings, ponds, and forest crossings, finally returning the the cabin where their adventure truly began.

The humble burial mounds that were assembled to house the remains of the Blackarms that assaulted the cabin weeks ago have been shifted a bit, revealing bones that have been picked clean by insects and other scavengers.  The scent, though not overpowering, is far from pleasant, and Wes whinnies in protest.

The sun has just finished setting as the P.A.R.T.Y. breaks through the treeline, dirty, sweaty, and generally ready to be free from the narrow trail.  The cabin and nearby stable/barn look much as you left it, offering welcome respite from your journey.

[Crossroads]

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

Whoa there, Maeve says, laying a reassuring hand on Wes' flank.  When the horse has calmed sufficiently, she stoops to form a cup with her hand to aid Keef in dismounting.

Before we get too cozy, let's check to be sure that nothing's taken up residence here in our absence.  Boreas, can you check the perimeter?  I'll take a look in the cabin.  Zuriel, you and Lyriel take the stables.  Keef, you're with me.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Zuriel nods at Maeve's assignments, and he and Lyriel begin making their way towards the stable. As soon as the others are out of earshot, he turns to Lyriel, speaking in an undertone.

"Yesterday, you said that you saw Eldric in your vision. When you were coming to from your trial in the vault, you were screaming his name. It didn't seem to be a happy reunion. The Eldric I knew...would never willingly cause his sister grief." The paladin pauses to swallow a lump in his throat.

"Whenever he spoke of you, his entire countenance changed. You were the most important thing in the world to him. What did you see in your vision? I don't mean to pry, if you'd rather not talk about it, but...if you do want to, talk I mean, I'm here," Zuriel finishes awkwardly.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:38, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Boreas nods.

You're right.  Best make sure nothing is waiting to surprise us.

He disappears into the foliage, making a quick but thorough search of the perimeter.

[Hide 12]
[Perception 30]

Lyriel nods, grateful for Zuriel's words, though they send a twinge through her as all mention of her brother does. Their walk has taken them almost to the doors of the stable. She looks up at him, and puts a hand on his arm to slow his stride. She takes a deep breath, wishing the air was more clear, before continuing.

My vision was set in the future. Sometime after we returned to Hae'driel. I had started investigating the circumstances surrounding my brother's death. Even at the time...they were suspicious, like the Church wasn't telling the whole story.

The last sentence tumbles out before Lyriel can stop herself, and she gasps, remembering to who she was speaking.

Goddess, that wasn't...please don't tell anybody.

Zuriel takes her hand in his, and smiles down at the cleric. "Lyriel, you know me better than that. I serve Tassada, through the church, but that doesn't mean I approve of everything the Church does. You can always speak freely with me."

My father though, is a different story...

Lyriel gives a faint smile back in acknowledgment, though it is short-lived. She shudders, trembling starting in her hands and radiating out to the rest of her body as she thinks on the rest of her vision.

But that's not the worst part. Earlier...when we were first in the Vault, after we defeated Cassie, I had a vision of Eldric's death. The official word is that he died in battle, ambushed by cultists at a temple his patrol was clearing behind Drynnian lines. But in the vision, he was shot...betrayed. He was shot full of crossbow bolts by somebody wearing a tabard of the Flame.

Her tremors worsen, threatening to overwhelm her with sobs.

In my second vision, Eldric was still alive. Or resurrected. He told me that he was the victim of a cover up, some foul play originate by the human noble house in Tris my father serves as adjutant to - House Mason. If this were true, it could start a civil war. But I buried him, Zuriel! He's...he's dead and gone. So the rest of the vision can't be true either, can it?

Tears begin to leak from the corners of her green eyes as she looks up at Zuriel, spilling down her cheek and into the forest green mantle that was her traveling glamor for the day.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Zuriel pulls Lyriel into an embrace as the sobs wrack her body. She buries her head in his shoulder, and he holds her tightly, but his eyes are haunted, looking over the top of her head out into the woods.

A betrayal? By House Mason no less?! This can't be true... The implications were too horrible to consider. Such a conspiracy could tear the Empire apart.

As her trembling subsides, he disengages from the embrace and looks into her eyes. With a finger he brushes a lingering tear from her cheek, astonishing himself with the bold familiarity of the gesture. "I know Eldric is dead...I was there too, when we buried him." He gaze becomes distant as he thinks of that bitterly cold March funeral, leaden-gray clouds spreading icy sleet over the city.

He takes a breath to steady himself before continuing. "My vision was a mixture of truth and fabrication. Or, fabrication based on truth. I don't think things really occurred the way you saw in those visions. That place...wanted to test you. Perhaps even to wound you. But still, in order for the vision to strike home, there had to have been an element of truth..."

Zuriel considers the situation grimly, disturbed by the possibilities. He looks back down into Lyriel's eyes. "If you want to...we can begin posing questions to the Book of Answers. In my experience, the answers are often vague and only lead to more questions, but it might help us put this matter to rest. And your mind at ease."

The rest he leaves unsaid.

Or it might reveal a conspiracy that sets this continent ablaze in the fires of civil war...

The cleric goes silent, considering the offer. When it's clear she isn't going to immediately respond, Zuriel turns back to the stable barn door and pushes it open, one hand on his longsword.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:54, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 8):

Keef stays close to Maeve as they search the perimeter.

With the Everstaff stashed against his back, Keef holds Flametongue out in front of himself with both hands, threatening each shadow with it's might.  If one were to listen closely enough, one would hear Keef humming a war march to himself.

In reply to Keef (msg # 9):

Boreas returns from his perimeter scan without having found any signs of danger in the wilderness around the cabin.  The stable, too, looks much as you left it -- no worse for the wear, save a spotty layer of dust from disuse.

Crickets at their chirping to the nocturnal symphony that accompanies the forest's awakening from its day-long slumber, and the calling of birds and other animals soon join the chorus.

The cabin's windows remain boarded up and secured from the last time you stayed there, and the door is locked.  Though you attempt to unlock it using Baldwin's key, the door does not budge -- as though it was barred, from the inside.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:15, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Zuriel and Lyriel walk back to the main cabin, subdued, only to find Maeve and Keef fidgeting uselessly with the barred door. Taking a moment to knock, the paladin calls out, "Is anybody inside?"

So it would seem, Maeve says, unsure if the paladin's query was directed at her and Keef or at anyone inside the cabin.  And whoever is in there, they have the place pretty well boarded up.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 12):

The door seems to flinch when rapped upon by the paladin's armored knuckles, the sound reverberating through the clearing.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The wood in the center warps slightly, creating the impression of a tiny mouth carved within the grain itself. [Private to Boreas Highwind: It carries the Illusion school's aura.]

"Answer this, or go away: Who owns this home, and where are they?"

I've seen more unusual face-doors... Zuriel thinks, thoroughly unimpressed. Just a month ago the sight would have at least taken him aback.

"Baldwin the Bard, who is presumably back in Hae'driel at the Hitchcock Inn," He replies aloud, answering the door's query.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 14):

A second mouth twists into existence a few inches north of the first, and begins to speak.

"Right you are, so question two.  Answer this: Who are you?"

Multiple mouths. That's new.

"We are the P.A.R.T.Y. engaged by Baldwin to recover the godstones." Zuriel responds. He then quickly rattles off the names of him and his companions.

Does everything magical in this world have to rhyme?

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 16):

"Yes!" both mouths snap at Boreas, before twisting back into the wood.  The door swings open shortly thereafter to reveal a familiar setting.



There are two things that set the cabin's appearance apart from last time. The first is the collection of boxes, bags, and barrels cluttering up most of the main room, their contents somewhat obscured by the inconsistent light provided by the fireplace's weakly flickering flames.  As for the second...

"Sirs! Madams! It's you!"

A slender man wearing an exceedingly tasteful pair of silken pajamas, slippers, and a foppish nightcap rushes to the door and engulfs Zuriel in a hearty embrace.  Seeming to remember himself, the man coughs self-consciously and takes a few steps back -- at which point you recognize him as Baldwin's trusty steward, Filbert.

"It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you all back to Baldwin's humble lodge," he says, regaining his painstakingly crafted air of regal dignity with every word and offering the perfect half-bow for the occasion. "Shall I assist you with your luggage?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:57, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

"Filbert!" the paladin exclaims, grinning broadly. "You are a sight for sore eyes!"

He walks the rest of the way into the cabin. "No need to help with the luggage, we've traveled light. If, however, you wouldn't mind getting some water on for tea, that would be splendid. Be sure to set a cup out for yourself as well, this is tea that needs sharing."

Zuriel looks around the cabin. "There wouldn't happen to be a bathtub anywhere here, would there?" he asks hopefully. "Or should we simply wait until we're back at the Hitchcock?"

A bath would be delightful if possible.  We've also acquired a steed during our travels, and we would be very much obliged if he could be set up in the stable.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 20):

Filbert nods agreeably, scurrying to put a pot of water above the fireplace before vanishing into one of the back rooms.  When he reappears moments later, he is dressed in his traditional hosiery, jacket, and shoes -- though these appear to be a bit more shabby than they should be.

By the time Filbert has finished installing Wes in the stable and ensuring everything has been brought into the cabin, the water is boiling readily.  Mugs are set upon the table, but no further action is taken regarding the tea.

Apparently satisfied that everyone is settled, Filbert closes and bars the door before placing an open palm against the back panel.  The door shimmers slightly, and the image of an iron lock seems to burn into the wood beneath his hand.  Withdrawing it and nodding with satisfaction, he turns to stand at attention beside the table.

"I apologize, sirs and madams, but your bathes will need to be delayed," he says, his tone dripping with sincerity and shared empathy for how appalled he is with having to relay that something so desired must be postponed.

The steward seems uncharacteristically fidgety, and pauses for an awkward length of time before continuing.

"Right.  So, er, what are we going to do about the arrests?"

Filbert, so good to see you again.  I think we could all use a few creature comforts after that ordeal.  Remind us to tell you all about it over tea.

Boreas lays a hand on Wes.

I think you'll like the stable here.  It should be a nice break for you.

Arrests?  What arrests are you referring to?

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 20):

Keef shieths Flametongue and does a thorough inspection of the lodgings.  'Thorough' for Keef being a quick once-over and a stern staredown of one of the window hinges before he loses focus and is distracted by other things.

A cold feeling seeps into Zuriel's bones. "The...what?"

Maeve waits patiently for Filbert's explanation, more put out over the rapidly declining possibility of a bath than anything.

As I live and breathe, this is something to do with Buzzkill.  I can't imagine what else it could be.

In reply to Keef (msg # 24):

Filbert adopts a pained expression.

"That's right, how could you know? Forgive me."

He reaches into his jacket and withdraws a scrap of paper.

"This is the most recent page from the appointment book I carry for Master Baldwin.  It uses cloud ink, much like your maps, and is very convenient."

Clearly written upon the paper in Baldwin's handwriting are the following words, each timestamped in Filbert's neat, careful script:


The final line ends with a long streak of ink, with the word unfinished.

Filbert waits while the P.A.R.T.Y. reads it, then speaks.

"That last line means he's been arrested or worse," he says, looking at the group pleadingly.  "Flee to the eastern... something. Harbor? Continent? City? Road? It's incomplete."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:36, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

The first thing to flash through Zuriel's mind was the horrifying realization that Baldwin was in possession of his pendant, and that could potentially be confiscated. Later, somewhat to his shame, he began process the trouble the Bard was in.

"If that's the case, we need to get back to the city as soon as possible. At least to figure out what's going on. Escape isn't an option for him at this point."

He looks to his companions. "We could try to push through the night, but I doubt it will help. The courts and jails aren't open to the public after sundown. I think we should rest now, and gather our strength. I have a feeling we will need it."

He pauses, exchanging looks with Lyriel. "We could ask the Book of Answers tonight what happened. Maybe we'll learn something useful."

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: Zuriel looks over with an apologetic expression as he says this. You can tell he wants to help you unravel the mystery of Eldric's death, but this is more pressing.]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:05, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Flee to the eastern. . . .what?

Maeves thinks it unlikely that Baldwin would have any dealings in Gaelia, but supposes that anything is possible.

Filbert, this line about fleeing east: are those instructions for you in the event of an emergency, are they an indication of Baldwin's intended path of travel, or is it something else altogether?  That could be important.

It's settled then.  We'll spend the night here and make for Hae'driel in the morning.  There, we can find more information on what happened to Baldwin and resupply for the treacherous journey we will no doubt need to make.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 30):

Filbert shuffles his feet nervously, then clears his throat.

"Ah, er, we could do that, sirs and madams, but I don't think that's what Master Baldwin meant with his message."

He clears his throat, gaining confidence as he does so.

"If he wanted a jailbreak or a lawyer, we have words for those things. You may return to Hae'driel in the morning, if you like, but... if they've arrested Carl and Baldwin, they're certainly looking for me, as well.  Maybe even you.  I have a bad feeling about this."

He twiddles his thumbs absently, unaccustomed to nervous energy and unsure what to do with it.

"If I may, there are other courses of action that I've been considering.  First, head to the Font of Knowledge -- Ignati's grand abbey. Surely the monks there would know something, even though it's to the west. Or second, head to Ikuabai, the easternmost city of any consequence on the continent."

He shrugs helplessly, still obviously a bit nervous.

"There are benefits to each.  Ignati's faithful could certainly help determine what the missing word of the code would or could have been, and would keep tight-lipped about the mission, for a little while, at least.  Ikuabai, in addition to being in the correct direction, also benefits from not being an Imperial city.  So none of us could be arrested for these supposed crimes once we got there."

"Sleep on it, at least?  If you're hellbent on returning to Hae'driel, I won't stop you.  But I truly doubt I will accompany you, either," he smiles sadly.  "Those prison outfits are simply garish."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:49, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Zuriel exchanges looks with Boreas and Maeve. "I don't much like the idea of slinking around in the Empire I'm sworn to serve, but...I'll admit it would be wise to learn more before rushing in. Let's get some rest tonight, and try to learn more with the Book of Answers. We can make the decision tomorrow."

The paladin frowns, thinking. "I figure we could ask it one of two things. Either a general overview of Baldwin's situation, or clarification on that last word. What do you all think?"

Lyriel shifts her stance, exhausted and eager for a night's sleep in a proper bed. The evenings at the wild elves' Retreat seemed like an eternity ago. I think we need to know what's going on, but I think it's more important to move in the direction Baldwin intended. He might have a plan of his own. Let's ask about the missing word, and start heading wherever Baldwin indicated. On the way we can try to learn more.

She sighs to herself. Eldric will have to wait.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:24, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Boreas strokes his beard, contemplating.

I agree with Zuriel and Lyriel.  We need to move on this quickly.  We can ask the book along the way.

Zuriel bites his lip, clearly unhappy with turning away so close to home. Even worse, the matter of his pendant worried him intensely. Still, there were more important concerns, and setting aside his visions of a triumphant return to Hae'driel, his father, and Baldwin, he nods.

"Baldwin hasn't led us astray this far. Let's trust the old bard to have a few tricks up his sleeve."

If push comes to shove though, I'm charging back to the city, sword in one hand and quill in the other. Too much is riding on this to allow lawyers to get in the way. Let the lawyers learn that they aren't the only ones who know the law's loopholes. Zuriel had always paid fastidious attention to all the legal lectures at the Temple, and nearly knew enough of the law to be a lawyer himself, if he so chose.

Decision made, Zuriel returns to the other matters at hand. Grabbing a towel and a washcloth, he takes a pot of hot water and some soap, and retires to one of the adjacent rooms to clean off the grime and dust of the road as best he can. Next best thing to a bath, he thinks to himself, exceedingly grateful for the hot water.

When he emerges, he is dressed in a clean tunic, loose leggings, and smells vaguely of lilac. Boreas turns up an eyebrow at the scent, to which Zuriel responds "It's called soap, Boreas. Remarkable invention, you should try it sometime. Not my scent, but I'll take what I can get." The paladin smiles to take the sting out of the words, assuring the woodsman he was only jesting before he could take offense.

Ablutions complete, Zuriel collapses into one of the amazingly comfortable armchairs by the fire with a satisfied sigh. Stoking the fire to a cheery blaze, he puts on a fresh pot of tea for whomever cares to partake before leaning back and sipping his own steaming mug.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:11, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 35):

More upbeat with the promise of more information come morning, Filbert busies himself tending to the various tasks that need doing.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asks while arranging the firewood into a more ergonomically sound configuration.  "You've been gone longer than some expeditions, but not as long as others."

A good decision.  Just the word "east" isn't all that much to go on.

Following Zuriel's example, Maeve refills the pot with hot water and moves to the room next door to have a wash.  She returns looking much cleaner and more comfortable, her breastplate set aside in favor of just a tunic and leggings, and her hair wet from its cursory washing.  Sitting by the fire to allow it to dry out, Maeve unplaits her hair from its customary braid and begins to use her hands to comb out the coppery strands into some semblance of smooth.

Mind you, if we went to Ikuabai, Father would almost certainly be able to offer up some advice. Not much happens in the city that he is unaware of. Not to mention the fact that anyone who *did* try to apprehend or harm us while we were there would have a lot of explaining to do. . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 21:29, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Taking Zuriel's lead, Lyriel likewise gathers the requisite materials for a field bath, waiting outside the doors for either Zuriel or Maeve to finish. She smiles to herself as she hears one of the two whistling a curious tune. Zuriel finishes first, and Lyriel takes his place. The glamored shirt reverts to its armor form as she removes it, and she stretches before cleansing herself. Once she finishes, she puts the armor, which she has found to be extremely comfortable, back on. This time, it takes the form of a flowing silk sleeping gown, colored lilac and patterned with a twisting silver vine motif.

She emerges and takes a seat by the fire as Zuriel scribbles in the Book of Answers and Maeve idly brushes out her hair. Seeing the eastern warrior with her hair unbound lends a surprisingly feminine air to the usually hard-edged woman. Oh Maeve, your hair is absolutely gorgeous! she gushes. That color! Half the ladies in Hae'driel would kill for that hue! I don't know why you insist on keeping it hidden away in that braid, there are ever so many ways you could wear it! Here, let me show you.

Despite the warrior's protestations, Lyriel advances on her, armed with a brush and several hair clasps. Maeve puts up a brief, valiant struggle, but in the end resigns herself to her inevitable fate and allows the highborn woman to twist her copper hair into an elegant arrangement with a minimum of squirming.

Lyriel sits back and surveys her work. There. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself. That wasn't so bad now, was it?

Zuriel chuckles to himself as he watches Lyriel determinedly wrest Maeve's hair into a work of art. He smiles sympathetically at Maeve as she looks at him with desperate eyes. He pours her another cup of tea to help her cope. "Honestly Maeve, I'm surprised you lasted this long before a makeover happened."

Once Lyriel finished, he was impressed and somewhat taken aback by the transformation. For a woman who seems to entirely eschew the traditional role of the fairer sex, Maeve would look the part with the beauties of any court in the land...albeit perhaps not whilst armored.

He puts away the Book of Answers once the ink is dry, and takes out the history book written in common and elvish. He starts at the beginning, intending to give it a thorough perusal. He is soon interrupted by Filbert's query. He looks over at the servant and grins. "We did indeed, good Filbert. We did indeed. I'm sure Baldwin will be pleased, whenever we can reunite with him, that is."

He turns to Maeve, who now sported a haunted look, like a refugee of a terrible battle. "Oh? I hadn't realized your father was on this continent as well."

He says nothing further, giving Maeve the ability to reveal more of her parentage or not, as she deemed fit.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:16, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Boreas tries and fails to hide his notice of the two women.  Free of the grime that covered them on their journey, they caught his eye for longer than he had intended.  Briefly shaking his head, he smiles sharply at Zuriel's comment.

He follows the others' lead, trying not to tarry too long in the refreshing water.

When he emerges, he has re-applied his professional air.

Thank you, Filbert.  Your help is greatly appreciated.  I suggest we all get some rest before we travel east in the morning.  We're going to need it.

Well, you see Lyriel, Maeve says, deeply uncomfortable but trying to hide that to avoid hurting the highborn elf's feelings, typically, when you make your living messily eviscerating things, hair is not always the first thing on your mind.

With great trepidation, she looks in a mirror which happens to be hanging in the room.

Huh.  Well, what do you know?

She has a gift for fashion, I'll say that.

After (surreptitiously) admiring Lyriel's handiwork for a while, Maeve gives her head a brisk shake, allowing her hair to fall against her back in waves once again.

Your eye for fashion is truly something, Lyriel. The ladies at the Sultan's court would be clamoring for your assistance.  But it hardly seems appropriate for an impromptu council of war.

Maeve resumes her place on the rug in front of the fire.

As I was saying: there are advantages to Ikuabai.  I can guarantee our protection, that much I know for sure.  Even if the General isn't on the Continent, his influence will go a long way, which could be very useful for our purposes.

Though it could be that it's just as wise to go to our second option. Maeve looks at Zuriel and Lyriel.  Do either of you know anything about this Font of Knowledge?

"Yes, actually," Zuriel replies to Maeve's query."The Font of Knowledge is an abbey, the primary temple for Ignati. It's also the largest library on the continent, and possibly the world. They have been known to provide refuge and access to knowledge even to those the Empire disapproves of. We'd likely be safe enough there, though the monks are a bit...eccentric. The abbey is, however, very remote. It would probably take us several weeks to make the journey. I'd rather we were sure of our destination before heading so far from civilization. Let's see what answer the book gives us tomorrow."

Zuriel's eyelids grow heavy, and he stretches, ready for an early bedtime to prepare for the next day's travels.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 42):

Keef spends some time re-searching the cabin before finding a suitable spot to lay his pack and rest.  He then buries himself in his books while the others freshen up.

It takes several misunderstood 'hints' and finally a stern word from one of his companions for Keef to understand that he too should 'freshen up' lest he 'alert anyone downwind of our approach'.  He bathes hastily and with a lot of slipping, banging, and splashing before returning to the cabin.

Once there, he busies himself with his knife and some bits of cloth.  At first he seems to be making a small hat, but is unsatisfied with his efforts and settles on cutting a long thin swath of fabric which he ties around the Everstaff.

There!  Now Longshank has a scarf at least... not much but...

Keef looks up when the Font is mentioned.

Oh yes!  I've read all about it, and it sounds amazing!  You can trade... but not gold, only words... INFORMATION words!  Secrets, lies, spells, poems, prose, stories, tales, yarns, incantations...

Keef is so enthusiastic that he begins to physically vibrate with energy.

Maeve watches drowsily as Keef darts around manically chattering about this and that.  She wonders where the lad gets his boundless energy.

Well, if we're turning in, we ought to set a watch.  If Filbert's right--and I have no reason to doubt his judgement--we're all in danger, even in this cabin.

Maeve settles herself in front of the fire.

I'll take first watch. The rest of you can hash out where you're sleeping.

Boreas lays out his bedroll and generally readies his sleeping area.  He fishes in the pouch of holding and pulls out his trusty caltrops.

I'll join you for first watch.  Should give me the chance to set up some surprises for anyone who would intrude.

He starts placing caltrops at the doorway and along all of the windowsills.

If anyone needs to leave the house, be wary of the caltrops.  They can be pretty painful.

Zuriel raises his eyebrow at the change of watch order, but makes no comment. He gathers his books, makes one last mug of tea, and heads off to one of the bedchambers.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 46):

Per usual, Keef passes out face-down with gusto.

Chubbs follows Boreas, double-checking and disapproving of the placement of his caltrops.  He then finds a place in a dark corner and sits confident that he is better at sleeping than anyone else in the cabin.

Lyriel likewise follows Zuriel over to the bedrooms, claiming the adjacent chamber as the girl's quarters.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: Lyriel bids you a quiet goodnight in the dark of the hallway. You can't be sure, but for a moment as she stands opening the door to her room you'd swear that the hem of her lilac nightgown is a few inches higher, and the neckline just a tad lower than when she was just with you in the common room. You don't have time to contemplate the matter long, however, as she vanishes into her room with a faint smile, closing the door behind her with a click, and leaving you standing alone in the hallway.]

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 48):

The quiet evening fades into an unease dawn without further incident, much to our exhausted heroes' collective relief.

Filbert slept soundly, but awoke like clockwork at sunrise with little noise or fanfare.  Dressing himself, he swiftly stokes the fire and puts water on to boil along with a second cauldron filled with a cinnamon-scented mash of oats and meal.

In reply to DM (msg # 49):

That smells delightful, Filbert, Maeve says, the scent of breakfast having roused her from a deep sleep.  She makes her way into the main room, braiding her hair has she does (and noticing Lyriel watching her with an expression of resigned disapproval.)

Now then.  What does the book have to tell us?

In reply to DM (msg # 49):

With renewed vigor, Keef throws himself into his morning routine.  Today this entails reading from The Tales of Sir Greenheart, swinging Flametongue at trees, climbing on top of the small cabin to get a look around, drinking some water, watching Filbert, suggesting things Filbert could add to the mash, attempting to capture a squirrel (for Filbert), attempting to talk to said squirrel, doing push-ups in the grass, poking at the door of the cabin, and taking Chubbs and Longshank for a walk.

Zuriel walks into the dining area with the Book of Answers open, reading. He sets it down on a clear spot for everybody to see.




"Looks like we're headed to Ikuabai, Maeve."

The paladin digs into the oat mash with gusto, savoring the flavors. "This is delicious, Filbert. My compliments!" Despite, or perhaps because of the taste, Zuriel bolts down his bowl quickly, positively vibrating with excitement, to the point where it's as if there are two of Keef.

Standing up, the paladin clears his throat for attention. "Friends, we have a ways to travel, and we must make haste. But first, there is somebody who I'd like you all to meet." Gathering his bewildered friends, Zuriel opens the door of the cabin and leads the party outside into the morning sunshine. He walks a couple of paces, then turns around and faces the party. Extending both hands, he closes his eyes and begins chanting in some other language.

"!לזמן את חיל הפרשים"

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: You recognize the language as Celestial, which is used for many of Tassada's spells. You don't recognize this one, however, though Zuriel pronounces the complicated syllables flawlessly, albeit with some strange accent you are unaccustomed to.]

A circle of white light appears on the grass before the paladin. Lines and symbols begin to form, creating a summoning circle inscribing a motif looking vaguely like a tree of symbols. Once complete, the circle pulses with a blinding light. Once the light fades, standing in place of the circle is a magnificent midnight black mare. She tosses her glossy black mane, snorts, and looks at the party with warm eyes the color of molten gold. Her gaze is uncanny, with no discernible pupil, but nevertheless kind, and extremely intelligent.

"This," Zuriel says proudly, "is Shahara."

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: You recognize the word Shahara from several of the older liturgical prayers. It means 'Dawn,' in the feminine form.]
This message was last edited by the player at 15:24, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Zuriel, she's lovely, Maeve breathes quietly, approaching the mare slowly as instructed by her father, completely ignoring for the moment the fact that the horse materialized out of thin air. Hello, Shahara.  Hello.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 53):

Wow!  That's fantastic!  Can she fly?  If not that's ok, it's still amazing!

Keef looks to Chubbs and Longshank for confirmation that it is indeed amazing, but finds none.

Can you do that anytime?  Does she talk?  Do you joust?

Boreas takes a quick step backward as the horse appears but quickly regains his composure.

Shahara, it's a pleasure to meet you.  I am honored to welcome you to the P.A.R.T.Y.

Zuriel takes a brief step back as Shahara materializes. All of the sudden, foreign thoughts, sensations, and emotions flood his mind as he becomes connected to what his companion experiences.

Shahara whinnies and takes a couple steps back behind the paladin, clearly not expecting such a welcoming party. She regards the others hesitantly, peeking around Zuriel and providing a rather comic scene as a massive warhorse attempts to take cover behind her paladin. He senses her uncertainty emanating from her in waves.

Oh, sir, I wasn't expecting...more of your kind. Her voice, speaking Celestial in Zuriel's mind, is high-pitched and full of trepidation, but also a curiosity.

"Shhh shhh," Zuriel responds, stroking her mane. "It's okay, these are my friends."

And please Shahara, call me Zuriel, he adds silently.

Oh okay, si...Zuriel. Um...tell them I said...hello."

Zuriel smiles at her, and informs the party. "Shahara says hello." Zuriel can feel the mare's shyness lessen somewhat, and she takes a few tentative steps out from behind the paladin, bobbing her head politely at each of the party members in turn in an approximation of a bow.

"And no Keef, I don't think she can fly. But I do joust," Zuriel adds with a smile.

With Zuriel close at hand, Shahara allows Maeve, Boreas, and Keef closer. Maeve extends her hand, palm up, and Shahara sniffs it before nuzzling it curiously.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:45, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

I wish we had more time for introductions, but I'm sure we'll get to know each other very well on the trail.  Filbert, thank you again for your help.

I believe it's time we set off.

Boreas finishes tightening the straps on his pack and collecting the caltrops he scattered at night.  He approaches the door, looking back to Filbert to dispel the illusion.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 56):

"A second horse? Marvelous!  We could get a carriage," Filbert says, perking up at the prospect.  "One of Master Baldwin's acquaintances is a rather distinguished horse breeder who lives about a day's journey north.  Technically on the way.  He'd lend us a cart, no questions asked -- maybe horses, as well."

When Shahara stays blankly at him, he shrinks back a bit.

"Ikuabai isn't exactly nearby," Filbert sniffs defensively.  "And we're in a bit of a hurry."

The steward dispels the various illusions as the P.A.R.T.Y. gathers itself for the coming journey, then secures the lodge behind them.  A final nod indicates that he ready whenever they are.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:51, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

It might be wise to find horses for the rest of us.  The journey is long and they would be a great help.  I say we take Filbert's advice.

Boreas steps out the door and onto the trail.

Lyriel gasps in delight as Shahara materializes. Oh, she's magnificent!

Seeing the mare's trepidation gives her an idea. She searches her pockets for something sweet. Today she wears the glamor as a light, airy, forest-green traveling tunic belted at the hips, and brown pants probably a bit more close-fitting than they technically needed to be. A thorough search of her pockets turn out nothing, however, and she dashes back inside the cabin for leftover oat mash for breakfast.

She returns to the clearing with the oatmeal in a wide bowl, and advances hopefully towards the warhorse, waiting for Shahara to allow her closer.

Shahara's head pivots towards Lyriel as the scent of the cinnamon oatmeal fills her nostrils, spilling over intensely into Zuriel's mind. The mare nickers and sniffs, taking a step forward.

Zuriel, for his part, had his eyes drawn more towards Lyriel's attire. He had a distinctly hard time not noticing how the belt of the cleric's tunic accentuated the curve of her figure, or how her leggings displayed her athletic tone to full effect. The feelings associated seemed to cascade over the telepathic link to Shahara and in response the paladin was struck with an extremely sharp wave of...fear? Jealousy?

Shahara rears and backs up, whinnying, fleeing Lyriel's touch and proffered sweets, leaving the cleric thoroughly bewildered.

Whoa, whoa! What was that about? Lyriel is a friend too!

I have seen how such 'friendships' end, sir. Sir Zuriel...Zuriel. Mares like her prancing about, trying to catch the eye of any willing stallion...you can do better.

"She's just trying to be nice, Shahara..." he says aloud.

The mare shakes her head, blowing air through her mouth. Indeed.

He takes the bowl from Lyriel and carries it over to the agitated mare, throwing the cleric an apologetic expression. Zuriel can feel Shahara attempting to resist, but the scent of the cinnamon oats is coming through the mental bond so strongly it makes Zuriel's own mouth water, and eventually she gives in, attacking the oats with relish.

This is...delicious, she says begrudgingly.

"Lyriel, Shahara says thank you," Zuriel says in a conciliatory tone.

Shahara snorts. I did not.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Excellent.  Horses it is, then on to Ikuabai, Maeve says, having sufficiently admired Zuriel's spectral mare. It's a shame we've no time to replenish supplies before leaving, but we can do that when we arrive.  The Grand Bazaar is arguably the finest market on this continent.

If only I knew if Father was stationed there now.  . . he moves around entirely too much.

Lyriel looks on, her surprised expression registering hurt as Shahara spurns her gift, only accepting it from Zuriel. As she eats, the horse gazes at Lyriel with obvious disapproval. The cleric didn't know why exactly, but she felt the hurt of Shahara's rejection deeply. Oh this is silly, getting all bent out of shape over a horse not liking you...

She shuffles her feet, thinking to herself.

Maybe it's my perfume?

We'd best get a move on.  We're burning daylight, and I for one am not entirely convinced that we won't be followed.

Maeve leaves the cabin, excited to be heading in the general direction of home.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 62):

Though the enchanted belt pouches come in handy, there is entirely too much assorted gear to carry without employing Wes and Shahara's ample saddlebags to ease the burden.  This wasn't a problem in the woods, when goods and gear could be carried more openly, but on the open road even Keef would know better than to freely show such treasures.

Weapons, an enchanted bookshelf, piles of gold and coins, captured equipment, and a variety of other items that cannot be easily carried by the P.A.R.T.Y. make their way back into the two golden chests, which are then strapped to Wes's powerful frame.  The mighty steed sags slightly, and you realize that he will not be able to carry more than a child's added weight for any length of time.

The P.A.R.T.Y. makes the best possible use of dawn's early light, striking out down the trail toward the Western Road.  All roads go two ways, however, and the P.A.R.T.Y. spends several hours traveling eastward before turning to the north.  This second road is less well-traveled than the first, weaving haphazardly through the rolling, forested plains.

Shahara takes her leave of the P.A.R.T.Y. in the early evening, roughly 12 hours into the journey.  Zuriel is quick to explain that both the horse and the gear she carried will return in the morning, but even still, it slows things down enough that Filbert pulls out a map to clarify their course.

"This will eventually connect with the Merchant's Route," he explains, pointing at his map.  "We'll probably hit it around midday tomorrow, and from there it will be a week of hard riding to Ikuabai.  Provided we can borrow the horses, of course."

Along the way, the P.A.R.T.Y.'s idle chatter is supplemented by a variety of fanciful stories, told by Filbert in stiff, matter-of-fact way that makes it clear that the steward memorized all of the tales' words, but none of their theatrics.

He has just finished explaining to Keef, at length, why rescuing a damsel in distress would be less heroic than toppling an iron-fisted despot when the P.A.R.T.Y. breaks free of the treeline to reveal an area of gently rolling pastures off to the west.

Wooden fence-posts have been hammered into the ground, with coils of barbed wire stretched between them, and the air is ripe with the scent of animals, feed, and manure.  A pathway of sorts connects to the road a few meters later.  An iron signpost has been attached to the two sections of fencing that flank this pathway, upon which have been engraved the words: D's Dude Ranch.

The path stretches past the fences and toward a distant farmhouse.  An enormous stable has been constructed nearby, dwarfing the actual dwelling by a fair margin.

The sun has begun its descent beneath the horizon, and no sign of horse or man can be seen from your position on the road.

"Finally," Filbert smiles, looking unusually bedraggled from the day's journey.  "Sirs and madams, we have arrived."

"Filbert!" a deep voice booms from the treeline to the east.  A faint rustling can be heard, and a strapping, shirtless man dressed in hardened leather, boots, and a strangely curved hat steps onto the road.  "Blazes, but it's good to see you.  I mean, we saw ya a mile away, but didn't know it was YOU.  Scared us half t'death, with what's happened."

The man glances at the P.A.R.T.Y. for a moment, then peers at the setting sun.

"Ya'll look road-weary, an' that's a fact.  Let's get inside before we attract any more attention. We got some spare beds, and plenty of space in the stable for your horse," he says, eyes lingering over the golden chests for a moment before snapping back to Filbert.  "How's that sound?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:58, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

"That sounds heavenly," Zuriel responds. He introduces himself as the group continues to make their way towards the homestead. "You must be of Baldwin's friends. It's a pleasure to meet you...?" The paladin's voice lifts at the end oft he sentence as he waits for the man to supply a name.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:17, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Remember: Don't trust him, even though he seems friendly enough.  He could just as easily decide to slit our throats while we sleep and rob us.  Those who have apprehended Baldwin could have reached this fellow first and paid him off to capture us as well, Maeve says.

Or would have said, if she could.  As it is, she tries her best to convey this message with a meaningful glance at the P.A.R.T.Y., but doubts that any of them get the gist of it.  Except for maybe Chubbs; she swears that she sees the toad wink at her.  Maeve quickly dismisses this as fancy.

Zuriel exchanges a quick look with Maeve, getting the gist of her concerns. He nods subtly, eyes alert, assuring her he hasn't dropped his guard despite his demeanor.

[Sense Motive: 19]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 66):

"Charles," the man replies. "But you can call me Chuck."

He appears sincere enough to the P.A.R.T.Y., and he beckons for them to follow him up to path toward the house.

As the group approaches the farmhouse, a wide variety of equestrian-related equipment can be seen scattered about.  The stables are packed with at least a dozen horses of various ages, breeds, sizes, and temperaments, with a dozen empty stalls available as well.

Two hound dogs perk up at Chuck's approach, rushing up to the group and winding their way through everyone's legs with reckless abandon.

"Dixie! Trixie! Down, girls," Chuck reprimands them, albeit halfheartedly.  "They don't mean no harm; just excited to have guests after business hours, I guess."

He helps set Wes up in an empty stall, though he doesn't touch any of the gear he carries.

"We don't really have room for the luggage," he says apologetically.  "But your traveling things should be safe enough here. We lock the stables well; it's our livelihood in here.  Still, if you're anything like Baldwin's other friends, you're a paranoid lot.  Any or all of you are welcome to sleep here, if you'd prefer -- though I think you'd be more comfortable in a bed."

Before long, the P.A.R.T.Y. finds itself seated at a large, family-style table with Chuck and his family -- a wife, three teenage sons, and a younger daughter.  The latter is about the same age as Keef, at whom she does not appear to be able to look without blushing.

Chuck's lovely wife, Rosemary, handles the extra mouths to feed with poise and grace, and soon everyone is enjoying a slightly thin stew of meats, potatoes, and veggies.

Over dinner, you learn that the farmhouse was built by Chuck's father, who only recently passed due to old age.

"Yeah, Dad an' Baldwin go way back," Chuck says, speaking around a mouthful of food.  Though Filbert looks profoundly uncomfortable by this lack of protocol, the steward remains dutifully silent.  "Think they used to travel together," Chuck continues.  "Man, if only half of the stories he told were true..."

Your host gets a faraway look in his eyes, then shakes his head slightly.

"Anyway, like I said, friends of Baldwin are friends of mine, and it's a little late for a simple house call. What brings you out this way?"

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:52, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Boreas tries to pace himself as he devours the home-cooked meal, grateful for such rich, fulfilling fare after weeks on the trail.

Between bites, he manages an answer.

Rosemary, this is delicious.  Thank you all.  But to cut right to it, Baldwin seems to be in trouble.  We're looking to find out what's happened.  Have you heard anything?

Maeve relaxes substantially (though not entirely) upon seeing that their host for the night has a wife and children.  A touch of wariness remains. Nevertheless, she relaxes her guard enough to shed the iron breastplate and to unbind her hair for the night.  Though a warrior by training, Maeve is not devoid of a feminine side and she does agree that it looks better this way.

To elaborate a bit, we're en route to Ikuabai.  Baldwin's last correspondence with Filbert seemed to indicate that we would find answers there.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:46, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Zuriel sits back in his chair, enjoying the glow of food, fire, and conversation. He watched the family interact, rowdy and unpolished but friendly and warm. So unlike the rare family meals he'd shared with his father and aunt, where the interactions were at best coldly formal, and more often than not outright arguments barely held within the boundaries of civility. He was distantly envious of this unknown family, and their open affection for each other. In witnessing it, he felt like an intruder; an outsider.

Lost in his thoughts, he spoke uncharacteristically little during the dinner, beyond offering compliments to their hostess. Seated across from Lyriel and in between one of the sons and the daughter, he was in the thick of a constant passing of various dishes, drinks, and well-intentioned name calling. The two dogs wound through everybody's legs under the table, snapping up scraps and licking unattended hands at every opportunity. At one point one of the two - whether Dixie or Trixie he wasn't sure - nearly hopped into his lap despite being a good 80 pounds.

From his position Zuriel was able to observe everybody's interactions fairly well. He bemusedly watched the young daughter attempting to catch Keef's eye. It was with somewhat less amusement that he noticed the eldest son cast several long looks at Lyriel. He shook himself of the resulting faint pang of male possessiveness, smiling inwardly. Ah hells, I can hardly blame him. I was about his age, or at least relative age, at that dance...Goddess, her dress was amazing. I wonder if she could replicate it with her glamor...

His reveries were disrupted by something Chuck was saying, and he forced himself back to reality, listening more closely to the conversation rather than just letting it wash over him.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 71):

We might get to go see the Font... and break into a prison too!  We've had LOTS of adventures so far, but I'm still excited about this one!

Keef regards all of Chuck's children with an equal mix of interest and unease.  Clearly he isn't used to such a... calm and pleasant family gathering.

He isn't ignorant of the daughter's gaze but can't seem to calm down enough to put much thought to it.

Chubbs, for once, does not merely sit idle.  Instead, he spends the meal circling the perimeter.  At first you think perhaps that some of Keef's youthful energy has leaked into the toad, but as Chubbs reviews the exits, windows, chairs, and rooms it becomes clear that he has a certain paranoid purpose to his travel.

Longshank is left standing against a wall behind where Keef sits, still in its new scarf, so that it can watch the proceedings.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:40, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Lyriel eats her bowl of stew with her usual dainty poise, taking deliberate spoonfuls rather than slurping, and delicately tearing the rich brown bread into bite-sized morsels as opposed to dipping large hunks into her stew. She too watches the farmers daughter with amusement, but doubts Keef could sit still or look at one thing long enough to hold her gaze.

At one point she catches the eldest son looking at her intently, but when he realizes his observations are noted he flushes brilliantly and looks down into his stew. Lyriel suppresses the urge to both smile and roll her eyes. Boys...

Turning to Rosemary, she asks, It looks like you all run a pretty big business here. How many horses do you have on the ranch?

Lyriel wonders idly if the one she'd be riding would like her.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 74):

"Ikuabai, eh? Busy place, this time of the year," Chuck replies.  "Been out that way a few times with the show horses.  Everyone's scrambling to unload what's left of their wares before the snow settles in for the winter. Port's busy, too; the passenger liners don't like how choppy the waters get in the next few months, so anyone trying to cross before Solstice is keen to do it sooner rather than later."

His wife nods, blushing at the praise heaped upon her.

"Thank you for the kind words," she says quietly.  "It's just stew, but I'm glad you like it.  As for the horses... we have at least a dozen at any given time.  Sometimes a score or more, especially during the foaling season."

Filbert clears his throat gently.

"We actually have some business to discuss with you," he says to Chuck, failing spectacularly at acting casual.  "After dinner, of course."

"Sure, sure," Chuck nods.  "Anything for a fr..."

He pauses, perplexed, and turns to Keef.

"Is that staff wearing a cloak?"

"Daddy!" the girl protests, rolling her eyes and stating the obvious before the boy can answer.  "It's a wizard's staff, and wizards always wear cloaks."

Her brothers laugh at this, rapidly diffusing any tension.  The eldest, carefully avoiding making eye contact with Lyriel, musters the courage to speak.

"What, um, what adventures have you guys been on?" he asks, his eager tone belying his outward show of indifference.  "Seen any dragons?"

"Yeah!" the second-eldest brother chimes in.  "Grandad used to say dragons were like large, grumpy kittens.  Did you meet one?"

The youngest brother just nods silently, obviously excited about this delightful turn in conversation.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:16, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 75):

Keef thinks hard.  I've met a kitten before, but WE didn't... not on this adventure anyway.... dragons neither, but we DID see some trees, and a winged pigmonster, and some bandits, and ghosts, and a floating scientist, he wasn't very nice to Maeve, and ants, and some more bandits, and werewolves, and some exterminators... but we didn't see them long... and a vine monster, and a vine wall, and some of us did some mushrooms.... and lots of writing in books and lots, LOTS of walking, and a gnome, then a lawn gnome, and a lady, and some walking through trees, and a toad, but that was Chubbs, and.... bad visions, even worse than the mushrooms I bet, and more visions, and a thousand-year old knight, then more brigands, then some horses...

Keef nearly passes out.  His list completed, he finally breathes in.

The staff  ::gasp:: is Longshanks... and that's a scarf... well, that's the best scarf I could make anyhow...

Boreas leans in to the table, adopting a conspiratorial demeanor.

Dragons?  No, lads.  Least not yet.  But tombs and traps and spirits and werewolves!

His voice gets a little louder with each word.  The children jump a little in their seats on 'werewolves.'  They are not startled by his eye, at least, since he had created a makeshift eyepatch out of a spare length of cloth before coming in to dinner.

A brief wave of laughter circles the table.

But our quest is a serious one, and though we've put many miles behind us, we have far more ahead.

After a moment in this company, he can no longer hold his stern expression.  A smile breaks over his face and he takes another swig of his drink, brushing his beard with his other hand.

Which is why we're so grateful for your hospitality.

Zuriel raises his eyebrows at the children's inquiries. I wonder who their grandfather was...

Responding first to the daughter, he says, "Well actually, Keef here is a wizard *and* a warrior. Sometimes he wears a cloak, sometimes he wears armor. But he always has both a sword and a staff." He smiles as the daughter's eyes go wide in amazement. Ah, if Keef were a bit older he'd be thanking me for that profusely.

Turning to the teenagers, he says, "No dragons, but we did fight bandits and werewolves," corroborating Boreas' and Keef's accounts. The children's expressions of impressed wonder were matched only by their parents looks of alarm. "Not to fear," he adds quickly. "The werewolves have been...dealt with."

Returning to the topic at hand, he picks up were Filbert left off. "Truth is, Chuck, we need to get to Ikuabai with all haste, discreetly. We'll need mounts, and possibly a wagon or cart. I don't know what arrangements you have with Baldwin, but I assure you it is of the utmost importance."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

The werewolves were no match for us.  Pending your parents' permission, we'll tell you more about that after supper,Maeve says with a smile.

She nods in agreement at Zuriel's words and adds, almost casually:

You're clearly more informed about Ikuabai than I am these days.  I don't suppose you'd know if the General happens to be on the Continent now, or if he's stationed elsewhere?  The capital "G" is heavily implied.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 79):

Chuck and Rosemary look at each other for a moment, and your host wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"Horses, we got.  Carts are harder to come by, as they get damaged throughout the year.  I normally repair them during the colder months, but I suppose if you'd be willing to help me fix one tonight, I could lend it to you tomorrow."

Turning to Maeve, he shrugs apologetically.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the General.  Mostly follow mercantile movements, miss."

The boys have dissolved into chattered with each other about dragons, werewolves, and magics, pelting Keef with question after question without pause.  Chuck's daughter, however, remains generally silent -- though she laughs whenever Keef does.

"Can we be excused, Pa?" the eldest asks.  "We wanna show Keef around the farm."

Chuck glances at Rosemary, waiting for her to nod before doing so himself.

"A'right, but don't be gone too long.  It's getting dark, and our guests, I'm sure, hope to sleep at some point tonight."

"Of course," the son replies, leaping out of his chair in tandem with his brothers.  "C'mon, Keef! Let's go!"

After the boys depart, Rosemary smiles at her daughter, who sits picking absently at her mostly uneaten stew.

"Charlotte, why don't you go see how your brothers are doing?"

The girl grins excitedly and hurries off to join the other children, both dogs following in her wake.

***

Once Chuck's family (and possibly Keef) have left, your host's face turns more serious.

"You can have your cart and your horses, but there's a condition."

He pauses to dump Charlotte's uneaten stew into his bowl, digging into it with relish before continuing.

"Tell me what Baldwin's gotten himself into this time."

Boreas keeps one eye on Keef until he leaves.  If Keef makes for the staff, Boreas will heavily discourage him.

Assuming no incident:

I don't know much about cart repair, personally.  The horses will suffice if no one else can help you.  We appreciate your generosity.

As for the bard, we aren't... entirely sure what's happened to him.  We think he's been arrested or kidnapped, but the last message we got from him strongly implied that he doesn't want us rushing out to rescue him.

So we're heeding his wishes and continuing on our quest.

Zuriel exchanges looks with Filbert. "Again, I don't know the details of your relationship with Baldwin, but...to be perfectly honest with you, he's in some form of legal trouble. I don't know the details yet. I don't know if he's been charged with anything, or just being held for questioning. If you want to know the full story, or as much as Filbert knows, I'm sure he'd tell you, but...that might expose you to some legal liabilities. That is entirely your choice. Either way, I will protect you with my name as much as I am able. Even in a worst case scenario, a magistrate could hardly fault a simple, honest rancher for complying with a Knight of the Flame's request to borrow horses."

The stress Zuriel puts on the word 'simple' makes it obvious that he considers Chuck anything but. He sits back, awaiting Chuck's decision.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:12, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 82):

"The wardens don't bother me much," Chuck replies.  "Just concerned about a friend, is all."

Filbert nods sympathetically.

"We all are, sir," he begins, "But it's more prudent to leave the details for Master Baldwin to regale you with when next he visits."

Chuck seems to accept this answer, and the conversation turns to other matters.

OOC: If you want to do anything else before turning in for the night, now's your chance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:00, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Most of our possessions are stored in the barn.  It would be wise to have someone guarding them.  I can stay out there; it will give me a chance to get to know the horses.  Zuriel, would you keep watch there as well?

Boreas strokes his beard in thought for a moment, leaning in to speak secretively with his companions.

It would also be wise to put either Keef, the staff, or both in the stable tonight.  He's used a lot of its power, and it's likely hungry.  I would hate to think what might happen if its influence on him wins out in here...

Zuriel nods in agreement, if not enthusiasm at the prospect of missing out on a bed.

That's a good idea.  Boreas will be able to tell if anything amiss right away, but if it comes to blows, he'll need help.

Maeves wishes that she could let her guard down entirely, but despite the idyllic farm setting she's not completely at ease.  Whether it's the threat of arrest, Chubbs' strange behavior or her own suspicious nature she's not sure.  The Everstaff requiring sustenance doesn't sit easy with her either.

Rosemary, you must let us help you wash the dishes.  You and your family have been so kind to assist and feed us; it's the very least we can do.

Without waiting for a protest from the lady of the house, Maeve collects her dinner dishes and brings them over to the wash basin.  The gesture is partially out of politeness, partially as an opportunity to privately speak with whomever gets up to help her.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 86):

Keef happily runs around the farm exploring and talking with the other children.  In their company, apart from their father, he somehow seems more at ease with them.

The lone sister, though showing as much enthusiasm for the ins and outs of the farm as her brothers, finds every chance she can to sit beside, or lean in to talk to Keef and seems to make proximity her job.  Keef, though outwardly showing little interest, does nothing to resist.

At first, Longshanks the staff and Chubbs the toad are forgotten.  However, the boys' questions inevitably turn to these, at which point Keef returns to collect the toad and the staff to show off.

Zuriel steps over to the sink to aid Maeve with the dishes. It's a strange sight, with the Eastern warrior doing the washing and the paladin in full chainmail and the livery of the Emerald Flame carefully drying and stacking.

"Doing dishes is infinitely preferable to laundry..."

Much obliged, Maeve says, handing Zuriel a drying rag as he gamely steps forward to join her at the wash basin.

Sorry about that, she says in a softer voice, their conversation masked by the splashing and clinking of the plates.  Boreas insists on guarding the gold--probably right to do so--and I imagine he wants to speak with the horses as well.  But if there's trouble, he's not worth a damn fighting at close quarters, which is where you come in.  She gives the paladin an apologetic smile, flicking some rogue hair from her face.  It's less scandalous at any rate than either me or Lyriel sharing watch in the stables while you share a guest room with one of us girls.

The pair wash and dry in silence for a while.

It's nice for Keef to have a chance to interact with some youngsters his own age.  I  think--

But whatever Maeve thinks is cut off as the very child in question runs back into the house and grabs the Everstaff.

Well, fuck.

Zuriel conceals his alarm and continues to dry dishes calmly. "Boreas, when you get a chance, could you go check on the horse?" he says, looking at the door through which Keef departed meaningfully.

Boreas follows Keef, at a distance, and watches as he shows off Chubbs and the Everstaff.  He slinks in the shadows, not wanting to interrupt the children's fun, but ready to intervene if an incident should arise.

[Hide 21]

Lyriel helps Rosemary stack away the dishes and cutlery, marveling at the kitchen, which was remarkably well-appointed for a farmhouse. Seeing the assortment of baking sheets and the gnomish fire-fed oven gave her an idea.

Say Rosemary, we came into possession of some delightful pumpkin spices on our travels. If you had the makings for some extra dough, I'd love to bake a little something for the children.

Rosemary, for her part, seems thoroughly overwhelmed by a party of armed and armored adventurers casually taking over her usual evening chores. "Yes, of course," she replies. "The pantry is right over here." The farmer's wife points, indicating a bountifully stocked cupboard.

Splendid! Lyriel rubs her hands together in gleeful anticipation. Now, where to begin? First things first... The cleric concentrates briefly, and her traveling attire becomes augmented with a yellow cotton apron with a floral pattern, and lace ruffles. She then sets about gathering the requisite flour, sugar, eggs, and butter humming to herself. She takes a measure of the pumpkin spice from her pouch. At several points she has to assure Rosemary that it's no bother, and to relax. Seeing Zuriel sitting idly by Filbert and Chuck while the rancher fills his pipe, she calls over to him. Zuriel, be a dear and put a kettle on. Lyriel smiles to herself as the paladin jumps to comply, clinking and clanking in his armor as he bustles about the kitchen. Rosemary, are you familiar with the beverage 'tea?' I was just recently introduced, and I'm sure you'll find it quite lovely as well.

By the time the kettle is singing, the cookie dough is ready, and Lyriel deftly uses a spoon to dole out the dough onto the baking pans before popping them into the oven. Before long, the kitchen is filled with the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pumpkin spice sugar cookies. Satisfied that the baked goods have reached the ideal golden-brown color, Lyriel brings the baking sheet over to the table.

Cookies are ready! she trills happily. Zuriel seizes upon the pan with sheer lust in his eyes, reaching for a cookie. She smacks away his hand with the wooden mixing spoon. Zuriel! Mind your manners! These are for the children, she exclaims in mock severity.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:08, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

"Ow!" Zuriel yelps, nursing his rapped knuckle. "Oh come on Lyriel, they're best while they're hot. I haven't had a proper cookie in years, and the kids are still playing..." he trails off plaintively, looking out the window.

Suddenly he bolts upright, pointing out the window, one hand on his sword, eyes wide with horror. "Th..there aren't supposed to be any dragons around here for hundreds of leagues!!!" he exclaims.

[Bluff for Cookies: 23 (Nat 20) vs. Sense Motive: Cookie Treachery: 15 - Success!]

Lyriel rushes to the window, alarmed, but sees nothing. When she turns back around, Zuriel is grinning like the cat who ate the canary. Or perhaps more accurately, like the cat who ate a canary which was actively scalding the inside of its mouth. Tears stand out in his eyes.

"Thethe are abtholutely delithouth!" he interjects through the pain as Lyriel glowers down at him, preparing to strike again with the wooden spoon. "Complethely worht ith, I regreth nothing!"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:56, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Foul Knave! she yells in dramatic outrage. She swings at him with the spoon.

[Attack Zuriel: 21, hit]

The spoon clocks the paladin solidly on the side of the head, raising a respectable welt and eliciting another yelp. He holds his hands up in surrender. Let that be a lesson to you!

Victory won, she turns to the rest of the crowd present with a smile. Would anybody like a cookie? she asks sweetly.

Though the children were still outside playing, Lyriel didn't expect it would take long for the aroma of freshly-baked sweets to summon them.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:06, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Maeve watches as the chainmail-clad paladin and the serene cleric (now wearing a frilly apron) bicker over cookies and realizes that yes, this is in fact her life right now.

I think I'll go see what's keeping those kids, she says, excusing herself from the kitchen and palming a cookie on her way out the door.

It doesn't take long for Maeve to spot Keef and the other children. She doesn't see any sign of Boreas as she approaches them, but figures that the woodsman has concealed himself in the foliage somewhere.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:51, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 95):

Keef was just in the middle of showing the other children how to play "limbo" using Longshanks as the limbo staff when Maeve comes charging out, some sort of intent clearly in mind.

Oh.... did you want to play too?  I tried to get Chubbs to hold Longshank so we could all walk under but, well he thinks it's a stupid game.

Maeve (who was walking at a very sedate pace)shakes her head.

No, just wanted to let you kids know that Lyriel has made cookies.  Come and get them while they're hot!
This message was last edited by the player at 13:47, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 97):

The boys -- Oliver, Paul, and Willard -- scramble toward the farmhouse in excitement, games forgotten with the promise of hot, sugary goodness.

Charlotte pauses, clearly torn between a rare chance at dessert and spending time with Keef.  After a moment, she flashes a grin, grabs his arm, and pulls the boy with her toward the kitchen.

Anyone who's paying attention to the Everstaff might notice it flicker with a faint red light, but only for the barest moment.
[Private to Keef:
"I hate to be a bother, Mas... Keef, but I hunger once more."]

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 97):

Keef follows the other children gladly, but once inside the house with their parents, becomes quieter again.

Whatever feeling nags at him, however, it does not in any way impede his ability to consume freshly baked cookies.

He makes a noise of gratitude toward Lyriel around several crammed into his mouth.

Even Chubbs consents to taste a cookie, though from his expression, it's clear he's had better.

Only Maeve's impressive agility saves her from being bowled over by the children as they stampede toward the farmhouse.  Once they are gone, she breathes a sigh of relief, glad to have prevented what could have easily turned into the world's most horrific game of limbo.

The flicker of red light does not go unnoticed though, and she shudders briefly at what that could ported.

She looks around the treeline, still not seeing Boreas.  Maeve shrugs and turns back to the farmhouse, figuring that he'll join them in good time.

Lyriel nibbles on a cookie daintily, sipping her tea as the children enter the kitchen. She smiles broadly in delight as it becomes clear that her baking is very well received. Indeed, the cookies vanish within mere moments of the children's return, though not before she manages to secure one last cookie. This she passes over to Zuriel with a conspiratorial wink.

He pauses from healing his burnt tongue with magic to accept the extra cookie gratefully.

A flash of inspiration hits, and she tucks another one into her pouch to give to Shahara in the morning.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Zuriel savors this second cookie more slowly, enjoying the redolent spices and not-scalding temperature. He closes his eyes in bliss.

Goddess, this is amazing! Where did she learn how to do this? I would have thought girl from a family like hers wouldn't be caught dead in a kitchen, unless it were to give orders to the servants...

In reply to Keef (msg # 99):

"All right," Chuck says, once ample time has been allotted for cookie consumption.  "It's been an exciting night, but we have a full day of chores tomorrow.  Time to turn in."

He gives a meaningful look to his children, all of whom sag except for Oliver, the eldest.  Sulky but obedient, Paul and Willard head up the stairs and out of sight.  Charlotte lingers a little longer, until Chuck clears his throat rather loudly for no particular reason.  Blushing, the girl favors Keef with a final smile, and slinks up the stairs after her brothers.

"What?" Chuck says in response to his wife's reproachful look.  "She'll be fine."

He turns to Keef.

"I wanted to think you for spending so much time with the kids.  I know you had more important things to be doing, but they really appreciated it."

Oliver nods his agreement.

"We did!  Keef's the best hero ever."

Chuck smiles,then turns to his wife.

"Rose, can you check on the kids and make sure they're getting ready for bed? I wasn't kidding about tomorrow being a big day."

She frowns slightly, but heads upstairs shortly thereafter.

"Now then," Chuck continues, addressing the P.A.R.T.Y. in general.  "Mind accompanying me and Oliver to the stables?  We'll need some help if we want that cart ready by morning."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:57, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Boreas slips in during the cookie break, drawn by the scent of pumpmition spice.

Wherever Keef takes the Everstaff, if someone else from the PARTY isn't there, Boreas follows.

Zuriel gets up, dusting a fine layer of pumpmition spice from his tabard as he follows chuck out the door with the others.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 105):

Keef grabs up his gear and follows, marching proudly with Longshanks in one hand and Flametongue in the other.

As the group approaches the barn, Maeve mentally studies its structure and exits to see how easy it would be to defend, in a pinch.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 107):

The stable is enormous, and looks like nothing so much as a barracks mixed with a barn.

(Image of the structure itself for a better idea: http://www.thestablecompany.co...udies/8/the-quad.jpg)

The horses are housed in roofed pens that travel along the perimeter of its rectangular shape, opening inward into a courtyard-like center that sits exposed to the cool evening air.  The single gate-like entrance is protected by a thick, double-door common to most barns, and the entire structure stands about 50 yards from the farmhouse.

The path that serves as the driveway leading from the main road to the house creates a T-junction about 25 yards from either structure, and another path connects the stable, the farmhouse, and the driveway by forming the top of the T.

Both the farmhouse, the path, and the stable are outfitted with hooked posts meant to carry oil lanterns, but Chuck has only bothered to bring one along with him to hang in the stable itself.

Wes has been stabled in the pen located directly opposite of the stable's gate, across the courtyard.  In addition to being a tactically sound position for charging out in a hurry, it was also one of the only pens that was both clean and unoccupied when you arrived.  The pens on either side of Wes's are likewise empty, and have been claimed as "closet space" for your various treasures (and sentries, if any are posted).

Several wagons, carts, axles, and assorted tools lay scattered around the courtyard, and soon Chuck and Oliver have the P.A.R.T.Y. at work repairing one of the least-damaged vehicles.

Regardless, restoring the structural integrity is no mean feat, and it is well past midnight before the ramshackle cart looks sturdy enough to hold up to the rigors of constant travel.

Three wooden wheels are then installed, and Oliver has just begun repairing the first of several snapped spokes in the fourth wheel when the unmistakeable sound of iron hooves pounding across packed dirt weaves its way through the air.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:01, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 108):

Maeve, who carried the guisarme and breastplate out to the stables in a fit of paranoia, quickly dons it in preparation for a skirmish.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 109):

Assuming no skill in repair, Keef instead marches back and forth across the opening to the courtyard.

Chubbs squats on top of the cart you are working on to demonstrate that:
A) He is above helping you on such a menial task and,
B) He disapproves of the way your are fixing said cart.

Zuriel snaps into action, gathering up his sword and shield and making for the gate. "Get to the house, quickly," he says to the rancher and his son. "Take the others, and get them into the stables. If our company proves hostile, they'll be safer there than in the house."

The paladin strides outside, sword and shield drawn. His tabard snaps in the wind. Even in the dark, there is no mistaking him for anything other than a Paladin of the Emerald Flame.

I hope to to the gods these are only travelers. His optimismistic thoughts are unconvincing even in the confines of his own mind. It was past midnight. Honest folk rarely had cause to travel so late.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Boreas follows Zuriel to the gate, hanging back slightly.  He pulls back the patch from his eye, which glows in the darkness.

[Detect Magic when the rider comes close enough]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:23, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Maeve moves to stand next to Zuriel and Boreas, the three of them making an intimidating front to any unfriendly sorts who might pass their way.  She considers sending Keef inside with Chuck's family, but figures that the lad won't listen to her anyway.

Um, Lyriel, Maeve says to the cleric, who is still wearing the frilly apron from earlier.  You might want to change that to something a bit more. . . intimidating.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:23, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

The children! Lyriel thinks with a sick shock. Following Zuriel's lead, she rushes out to the junction, ready to rush into the house to help Chuck and Oliver if necessary. Her traveling garb converts to the emerald battle robes worn by clerics of Tassada on the rare instances where they are engaged in warfare. She draws her own shield, and extends her palm, over which of jet of flame flickers into existence, casting light on the junction.

[Casting Produce Flame]

She takes up a position behind and slightly to the side of Zuriel.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 115):

Seeing the rest of P.A.R.T.Y. preparing but completely obvlivious to why, Keef draws his sword and rushes after them.  When they stop he stands to one side being as menacing as he can with his sword and staff.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 115):

"The Nine Hells I will," Chuck grumbles, shoving the oil lantern into Oliver's hands and disappearing into one of the side stalls.

He returns carrying a bow, a quiver of arrows, and quaint-looking wooden whistle, then stomps out of the stable toward the junction.



The P.A.R.T.Y. needn't wait long, for the source of the sound becomes readily apparent moments later when a trio of Imperial Wardens ride up the path.

[Private to Boreas Highwind: Most of their gear does not appear magical, but all of the items Chuck retrieved seem to be.]

"Woah, there!" the leader commands, halting his rearing steed a good 10 paces from the T-junction.  He glances at the spectacle before him, which is clearly not what he was expecting.

"Blazes, Chuck! This again?!"

When your host fails to respond, the Warden removes his helmet for a moment and runs his fingers through his sweat-slicked brown hair.

"I told you associating with that lunatic would get you into trouble. I told you!  We've had this conversation a dozen times, but you never listen.  And now the old coot's finally shown his true colors, and I ride out here to warn you only to find... what?  That you've been in on it this whole time?!"

One of the other riders whispers something, and the speaker's eyes widen as he recognizes the presence of Lyriel and Zuriel more fully.

"Oh no you don't, Flamebringers.  Not this time.  Stand aside -- this is an Imperial matter."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:42, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

"So as fellow citizens of the Empire, I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this reasonably. We -" here the paladin gestures to his comrades, "have been in the wilderness for the past month, and are rather behind on the latest news. If you would be so kind as enlighten us, you would have my thanks. I can assure you, however, that neither Chuck nor any member of his family has committed any crime. Which does beg the question of why you're out here in the dead of night..."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 118):

The speaker peers at Zuriel, eyes devouring the details of his tabbard quickly.

"Imperial Wardens do not answer to the Flame, and they certainly do not answer to Knights Errant."

The men at his side snicker softly, but swiftly regain their poise.

"Are these people bothering you, Chuck?"

Your host shakes his head.

"You got it all wrong, Kev. This is business, plain and simple."

The Warden looks unconvinced, but shifts in his saddle as Chuck continues.

"These travelers just happened upon my ranch while passing by, and stopped to inquire about renting some horses. It was late, so they offered to pay for lodging as well. Is that a crime now, Kev, or can't I do business in my own home without you charging up here to check on things?"

"Depends on the customers," Kev mutters, raising his voice to address the P.A.R.T.Y. "Ho, there!  Identify yourselves, in the name of the Empire."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:57, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 119):

Keef! Keef calls out from the darkness.

And there's maidens in that farmhouse, if you're fixing to harm or kidnap them... well... don't!

Zuriel narrows his eyes. "I am Knight-Errant Zuriel Siléndril, and these are my companions in my endeavors. We stopped here to engage horses for our travels. It was late when we arrived, so we are spending the night. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 18:10, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Boreas surreptitiously slips his makeshift patch down over his eye and steps out from the darkness.

I am Phineas Standish, hunter and adventurer.  The Flamesman and the warrior here are in my employ.  We are hunting the mighty Powhaxias, a deadly and Intelligent Dragon, or dragonlike creature.  We were waylaid three days ago in one of his ambushes.  I told you he was intelligent, after all.  I suffered a wound to eye and two of our horses were slaughtered.

The cleric and the boy are travelers we met some weeks ago.  We decided to group up, as it's dangerous to travel alone.  Brave wardens like yourselves can't patrol everywhere, after all.  I am only grateful that they survived the attack unharmed.

We are meeting with Chuck here to purchase new mounts and continue our pursuit of the foul beast.  I assure you, nothing is amiss.

[Bluff 26]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 122):

Kev blinks, then looks at his companions, who shrug.

"You... hired a paladin?" he says at last.  "You can do that?"

Well, so to speak.  Knights errant work a little differently, as I'm sure you're aware.  He's going to receive a cut of the spoils after the foul beast is slain.  Standard adventurer terms.  Since he's not really being paid, it doesn't cause a conflict of interest.  Convenient loophole.

"My companion here mis-spoke. One does not hire Flame. His goals are in alignment with mine, is all." Zuriel rolls his eyes at Boreas.

"Which, incidentally, is our own business. We aren't breaking the law, and we aren't bothering these ranchers. I'm sure they appreciate your concern, and your quick response is a tribute to your area of jurisdiction. If there is suspicious activity in the area that leads you to your concern, please let us know and we will keep an eye out for it. Now if there are no further questions?"

[Diplomacy 21]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 125):

Despite your best intentions, the Warden does not appear to be in the mood to be civil.

"You're dismissed when I say you are, paladin, not the other way around," Kev snaps, irked by Zuriel's tone.  "You think your time's more important than mine because you wear a tabbard? We gotta ride all the way back to town when we're through here, you know."

One of the riders attempts to placate the speaker, but Kev roughly brushes them off.

"No, I'm done with this.  Shut up unless you're spoken to, Knight Errant, and keep your responses concise, or I swear to the gods that I'll haul your shiny, armored ass before a magistrate just for the fuck of it.  Beats patrol duty any day to see the expression on whatever sorry sap has to ride out from Hae'driel to extradite you to your internal courts."

His diatribe complete, the Warden seems to calm down slightly.

"I haven't heard about any dragons in this area," he says to Boreas.  "Where did you say it was last sighted?  The Wardens there should be alerted, as should the bloody Reclaimers, I suppose."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:44, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Zuriel shoots Boreas a look, imploring him to shut up.

He turns back to Kev, adopting a relaxed stance. "I have to apologize on behalf of my companion, and myself if I have given the wrong impression. He is mistrustful of those he doesn't know, and we have all been paranoid in the past few weeks, even of authority that appears legitimate. You though appear to have the best interest of your constituents in mind, especially if you rode all the way here at this hour in the cold."

He intentionally makes a show of sheathing his blade and relaxing. "The truth is, we are not hunting a dragon. I apologize for the ruse. My companion felt it was necessary under the circumstances to protect the secrecy of our mission, though I disagree. I would share the details with you if you should wish it. I will caution you, though, that it might expose you to scrutiny later. I shouldn't wish to burden you with that liability if you do not care to take it. I'm sure you have enough on your plate as it is."

Zuriel makes a deep, respectful bow to Kev, swallowing his pride, hoping his contrition shows.

These people mean well, but could make our lives miserable if they choose to.

[Diplomacy: 25]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:59, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Maeve, having opted to play the part of a simple hired mercenary of subpar intelligence, leans against her polearm feigning boredom and resolves to not speak unless explicitly addressed.

Boreas, sensing the warden's obvious disdain for the paladin, replies before the enmity can get worse.

It was a few days' ride northwest.  Like I say, I am not entirely sure it was a true dragon.  But it was definitely intelligent.  Seems to like staying unseen, and it has the magic to do it.  The trick to hunting these kinds of creatures is getting them to hunt you.  We were just a bit too good at it, I suppose.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 129):

"You're not hunting a dragon," Kev repeats, furrowing his brow. "But it's a few days northwest? I... what?"

He glares at Zuriel.

"Ok, paladin.  What's your true purpose here?"

Maeve decides that, in the future, they are going to get their cover stories in order BEFORE the bad guys show up.

Lyriel's eyes flash in the dark at the Warden's treatment of Zuriel, but she conceals her feelings.

The nerve of that ruffian, to speak to a paladin so impolitely!

Still, Lyriel recognizes the seriousness of the situation, and resolves to play along with Zuriel's contrition.

Adopting her an air of exasperated courtly nobility, she chides her companions. Honestly, you lot, where are your manners? These are clearly upstanding Wardens, unlike the others we've dealt with.

She strides over to Kev, face radiant, smiling dazzlingly. You poor Wardens, traveling all this way out of neighborly concern. You deserve a better reception than this. Here, the best thing on a cold night area freshly baked cookies. She reaches into her cloak, parting the fabric as she reaches into her pouch, revealing a tunic with a neckline much lower than it was just a few moments ago in the stables.

She takes a bite of one, and offers the rest to Kev. Pumpmition spice! I made them myself.. She smiles again winningly, and laughs delicately.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Maeve rolls her golden eyes heavenward and wonders if it's too late to pretend that she's the caretaker of a number of tragically insane wards of the state, out for a midnight stroll.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 132):

"Did you now?" the Warden says, accepting the cookie and taking a bite.  "These are quite good.  Markus, Tybal, have a bite..."

He passes the cookie to his men, smiling slightly before turning his full attention toward Lyriel.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I don't believe I caught your name."

His tone may be more casual, but his steely gaze has only softened by a fraction.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:16, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Lyriel laughs again, the sound tinkling like a bell. Oh, I'm so glad you like them! They're my own recipe.

I am Mistress Lyriel Vesper, of House Vesper, but please, just call me Lyriel. Titles are for the insufferably boring and long-winded. She rolls her eyes meaningfully at Zuriel.

She smiles shyly again, and in the space of time when Kev looks back to his men, lowers the neckline of her tunic just a tad more.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:25, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 135):

"Well met, Lady Vesper," the Warden says, inclining his head slightly.  "And I'm to understand that you and the child encountered the huntsman, the mercenary, and the paladin on the road by happenstance, and now seek only mutual accommodations for lodging and transit?"

He glances at Chuck, as well.

"Is that consistent with what they told you?"

The rancher pauses for a moment, then nods slowly.

"Yeah. Like I said, Kev... business."

The Warden sighs, then dismounts and ties his steed to the nearest fencepost.  His men follow suit.

"I've got news, Chuck, so your business will have to wait.  Won't you invite me inside?"

His tone implies that this is not really a request, and Chuck swallows audibly before stammering.

"Sh...sure, Kev.  Come on in. My clients here were just browsing the stables for the horses they wanted anyway..."

With that, Chuck and the Wardens vanish into the farmhouse, leaving the P.A.R.T.Y. and Oliver quite alone.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:34, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Zuriel covers his face with his palm, letting out an mighty breath of air. "You see this, Boreas? This is why we don't lie to wardens. I wish you'd have trusted us to handle it. Intelligent Dragon? Really?! And now both our names are attached to this farce. The point is, they either had a warrant to arrest us or not. Likely not. But now, you've muddied the waters with this ridiculous cock and bull story about a gods-damned dragon. And to what end? It was entirely unnecessary."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:39, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Once the Wardens are out of earshot, Boreas turns to the others, speaking  slightly above a whisper.

We have got to be consistent here.  If Baldwin is in trouble, I doubt it is coincidence.  Someone doesn't want him, and by extension us, doing what we're doing.  Even if these guys are honest, if we tell them our mission, it will get back to whoever is interfering.

I'm going to go keep an ear on what is being said, so we don't conflict.  Zuriel, please do not tell them our real purpose if you can help it.

Boreas hustles to catch up to the group walking to the house.

Maeve can't stop staring in disbelief (and possibly admiration) at Lyriel.

You.. . . . .you distracted them. You talked them down.  With your breasts.  You just did that.

Maeve realizes that this is a battle tactic that she--and certainly none of her fellow soldiers, the vast majority of whom are men--had ever considered.  Given the size of her assets in comparison to Lyriel's though, she quickly gives it up as a lost cause.

This just goes to show that next time, we get our story straight BEFORE trouble arrives.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:47, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Lyriel, for her part, is much too angry to be pleased with herself. Did you hear how those boorish louts spoke to you?! she hisses to Zuriel. Absolutely disgraceful! If we were in Hae'driel I'd have them stationed to the filthiest swamp on the border of Loe'driel there ever was for the next decade. The nerve!
This message was last edited by the player at 20:51, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

"We could have told them the truth without revealing any relevant details, Boreas. I'm not going to lie to them. There are better ways to deal with the law when it gets in the way of doing what's right than breaking it outright." He stalks up to the house before pausing.

"Oh, and Keef? This might be a situation where we don't want to say anything. At all."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:55, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 141):

Keef lowers his sword, then slowly shieths it.

Not... say.... but he asked... and... dragon...

The wheels are spinning, but none of the gears seem to catch the 'don't talk' belt for traction.

Understand it or not, however, Keef consents to follow the guidance for now.

In reply to Keef (msg # 142):

Boreas enters the house only moments after the door closes behind Chuck and the Wardens.

Outside
All is quiet until Boreas enters the door, and shortly thereafter indiscernible shouts explode from the farmhouse.

Inside
Chuck leads his guests to the kitchen and motions for them to sit down, but Kev shakes his head.

"No, look, this won't take but a min..."

That's as far as he gets before Filbert rushes worriedly down the staircase, his feet touching the final landing at about the same moment that Boreas enters the front door.

"Sirs, madams!  We heard shouting outside," the steward exclaims, eyes sweeping over the Wardens to fixate upon Boreas. "Oh, it's good to see you hale and whole, master Highwind.  What was all the commotion about?"

In the incredibly awkward moment that follows, those gathered within the house can almost SEE the wheels turning in Kev's head.  He mouths something wordlessly for a moment, glances at Chuck, then at Boreas, then stares at Filbert.

The steward seems to realize, all too late, that he has somehow erred, and takes an involuntary step backwards.

"Hen's teeth," Kev says at least, fumbling with his belt pouch and withdrawing a scrap of paper.  Unfurling it for all to see, it becomes clear that this is a warrant -- and Filbert's image is sketched clearly in the center.

"Filbert Sherman Helmsworth, you are hereby under arrest in the name of the Empire for aiding and abetting the traitor, terrorist, and Drynnian sympathizer known as Baldwin Hemmingshire."

As he speaks, his men advance toward the cowering steward.  Just before they reach him, however, some spark of resolution flares up in Filbert's eyes, and he turns to flee up the staircase.

"Now hang on a second," Chuck interjects, but Kev grabs the rancher's arms and pins them behind his back in one smooth motion.

"Don't make me arrest you, too.  Baldwin's allies are dangerous, Chuck.  Let's just say that this one broke in and threatened you.  You had no choice.  Got it?"

He releases his grip on your host, brushes himself off, and follows his men up the stairs.

"Pity you lot got caught up in this," Kev says to Boreas in passing as he heads toward the staircase.  "Wrong place, wrong time.  Stay out of my way, and this'll go a whole lot easier for everyone."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:32, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

"May I see that warrant please, Warden?" Zuriel asks calmly as he steps into the building, not making eye contact with Filbert.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 144):

Kev is halfway up the staircase -- and Filbert and his men out of sight upstairs -- by the time Zuriel barrels in.

"I left it on the table, paladin," he says without stopping.  "And don't worry; I have another copy if something happens to that one."

Hearing the sounds of some sort of tussle from the farmhouse, Maeve wastes no time in sprinting over to it, appearing in the door just as Zuriel picks up the warrant.

What's going on here?  We heard shouting.

Zuriel nods. "Of course, of course," he says absently. He checks the warrant for authenticity, trying to ascertain the magistrate and/or court issuing the edict, as well as any additional details.

Boreas turns to Maeve as the Wardens head upstairs.

They're arresting Filbert, he replies in a whisper, Go outside and watch for anything thrown out the window.  Send Lyriel around the other side.  If he's running, it's likely so he can hide anything important first.

Boreas approaches the staircase but waits.  He will not interfere.

[OOC: Readied action to cast if the guards show any kind of brutality or give Boreas some other reason to intervene.]

Maeve nods and, almost as quickly as she entered the house, disappears out the door and around the side of the house.  Spotting Lyriel approaching at a run, she hastily explains the situation to the cleric and sends her around to keep watch under the opposite window.  When Keef tries to barge into the house, she nimbly snags him and steers him along with her.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:57, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Zuriel reads the warrant grimly, heart sinking. Shitfire!

"This warrant is entirely in order," he says to Chuck and Boreas in an undertone. "The issuing magistrate is stern but fair in application of the law. If he's seen fit to issue this warrant, then there will have been sufficient evidence found. Albeit most likely planted by somebody else. I can't fight this here. We need to rendezvous with Baldwin as soon as we can and get this straightened out legally. Otherwise we'll be branded criminals ourselves, and no use to anybody."

Replacing the warrant on the table, he heads outside briefly, catching Keef by the arm and squatting down next to him.

"Listen Keef. This is very important. The wardens here have a warrant to arrest Filbert. It's all legal, and there's nothing we can do for now. We have to find Baldwin so we can work on clearing their names. You must not act like you know Filbert. Don't try to stop the wardens."

Having said his piece, he stands up and slams his gauntleted fist into his leg with a clank, uttering a foul oath under his breath. Never before had he felt so helpless.

He heads back into the kitchen, hoping that Filbert has the good sense to go along quietly.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 150):

Keef stops dead in his tracks, slowly taking in the paladin's words.

A plan forms in his mind.

Soundlessly, he slinks over to the dinner table and draws back a chair.  Here he perches, back rigid as if he were in prep school.  He opens one of his books and makes an effort to pretend to be reading, totally oblivious to everyone and anything around him.

In reply to Keef (msg # 151):

Outside the House
Though you keep a careful vigil over the windows and such, nothing of notice happens.

Inside the House
Rapid footsteps upstairs are quickly followed by shouting, a yelp, and a loud crash.  In moments, it is over: Markus and Tybal appear at the top of the stairs, flanking a manacled Filbert and helping him down the stairs.

The steward's leggings are torn in places, but he appears no worse for the wear physically.  Mentally is another story, and he sobs the entire way down.

"Everything I've done is in the service of the gods," he keeps repeating, half to himself and half aloud.  "Everything.  D'rekh. D'rekh.  You're making a terrible mistake!"

Kev follows his men down the stairs, entering the kitchen to collect the warrant while his men and the prisoner wait in the foyer, by the door.

Rosemary and the rest of the family (minus Oliver and Charles) stand huddled in confusion at the top of the staircase.

"At ease, citizen," Kev says to Chuck, who is seething silently at him in the kitchen as the Warden rolls up the warrant and replaces it in his belt pouch.  "The Empire appreciates your cooperation."

OOC: Allowing Keef's held action, if any, to go off before they depart.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:12, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 152):

Keef does not look up from his book, remaining totally rigid.

His voice is a stilted monotone.

I do not know that man, the one you are escorting legally of whom I have no knowledge and do not know.  Please have a nice evening Sirs.

In reply to Keef (msg # 153):

Maeve wonders how difficult it would be to murder Keef and dispose of the body somewhere on Chuck's farm.

Zuriel stifles a wince. Who is this master of deception, and what has he done with Keef?

Idly he wonders if the Church's stance against speaking falsehoods stems from any real moral grounds, or a simple sense of propriety because most people are so horrendously bad at it.

After the men have escorted Filbert out, Boreas heads upstairs to see if Baldwin's trusty steward managed to hide anything away before he was apprehended.

[Perception 19]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 156):

Much to your relief, the Wardens utterly ignore the child as they prepare to depart.  Chuck follows them out to the doorstep, waiting there while they secure Filbert to Tybal's steed and mount up.

"To happier times, Chuck," Kev calls from the saddle.  "I'll make sure this all blows over. Just keep your nose clean."

The Wardens turn and begin to head down the path toward the road, at which point Chuck brings the quaint wooden whistle he retrieved earlier to his lips and blows into it for all he's worth.  Immediately afterward, he pockets the whistle.

The lack of sound is perplexing at first, but understanding swiftly dawns as the Wardens' trio of horses suddenly rear up and begin bucking like untamed broncos. Even the most experienced rider would be unable to stay mounted for long under such conditions, and all three Wardens soon tumble gracelessly to the ground.

The horses, free of their riders, continue to run, buck, and snort haphazardly, oblivious to anything else, and eventually gallop into the darkness with reckless abandon.

Filbert, being secured to Tybal's horse with chains, does not fall, and is instead carried away with the horse as it tears down the path, onto the road, and out of sight.

Miraculously unharmed, Kev scrambles to his feet and, after turning an accusing eye toward the farmhouse, sprints after the horses -- with Markus and Tybal close behind.

***

After rummaging through Filbert's room, Boreas identifies a small book tucked beneath the mattress -- the notebook that serves as Baldwin's master schedule and primary means of communicating with his steward.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:28, Fri 10 Jan 2014.

Watching from the window, Boreas heads back downstairs after finding the notebook.

What happened there?  Looks like Filbert escaped... to an extent.  In other news, he managed to stash this before they got him.

Boreas produces the notebook for the PARTY to see.

Zuriel watches the distraught wardens run into the darkness after their mounts with a smug smile, noting Chuck pocketing the whistle. I'm going to pretend I didn't see that.

Once the wardens are gone, he steps back into the night air, nodding at Chuck. "Hopefully he'll have the sense to make for Ikuabai as quickly as he possibly can. In the meantime, I think the sooner we are gone, the better. Less trouble for you and yours. Thank you, Chuck, for everything you've done. Truly. I don't know who your father was but I'm sure you've made him proud."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 159):

"Strange the way horses behave sometimes," Chuck says softly.  "But that could have gone a lot worse."

He takes a deep breath of the chilly air, pondering one thing or another, then calls back inside.

"Back to bed, kids.  They're gone."

Once Rosemary has ushered the children back to their rooms, he motions toward the stable and begins walking toward it.

"We've got a cart to finish."

Maeve removes the breastplate for the time being, but carries it and her weapon back to the barn with her to complete the cart.

The sooner we're out of Imperial jurisdiction, the better.

Zuriel follows behind, eager to get on the road.

Boreas waits for Keef to head to the barn, the follows after him.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 163):

The cart is finished without further incident, after which Chuck sends Oliver to bed.

"Whoever wants to sleep in the house should come with me," he says, stifling a yawn.  "I'm gonna lock up behind myself."

Maeve rises, brushing her hair from her eyes and giving a great jaw-cracking yawn.

Lyriel and I will sleep in the house. Boreas, Zuriel, are you still planning to bunk out here?

"Yeah, I think so," he says glumly, thinking wistfully of proper mattresses.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 166):

I can keep watch! Keef, deception complete and once again armed, is jittery with energy.

I'm not tired, and they might come back!

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 166):

The evening passes uneventfully, though it seems longer to those in the barn than it does to those in the house.

The morning dawns cold and wet with drizzle, and gray clouds create a muted ambiance that matches the mood perfectly.

Breakfast of hotcakes and fried potato fritters is served alongside fresh milk, though the family does not sit down to a proper meal as a group.

"Chores," Chuck says, when asked why people are coming and going haphazardly.  "We gather for the evening meal, but there's too much to do during the day to spare a formal breakfast or lunchtime."

Wes is soon secured to the repaired cart, and five other horses are provided by your host to assist with the journey.  They appear strong and physically fit, ready for the road ahead.

"Meet Droopy," your host says, shrugging apologetically.  "Yes, all of them.  One of my father's oddities, so don't blame me."

He clears his throat and continues.

"I've included saddles, reins, and bridals, but the food is up to you," Chuck explains, standing outside as the P.A.R.T.Y. prepares to depart.  "Leave 'em with a friend of mine once you get to Ikuabai.  His name's Vernon, works for the Toddelsworth Trading Company.  Shouldn't be too hard to find."

During this conversation, Charlotte somehow finds the time to break away from her chores, walking over to Keef and slipping a piece of parchment into his hands.

"Good luck," she says, braving a quick peck on the cheek and turning bright red in the process.  "Get the bad guys, then come back to tell us all about it!"

She retreats to the front porch, where the rest of the family has gathered to see you off.

"You've got your transportation and your destination," Chuck says with a smile.  "Anything else you need?"

Zuriel closes his eyes and focuses, summoning Shahara in a flash of white light. This time, she seems calmer upon her arrival, though still uncertain of the new faces.

Oh...hello again, si...Zuriel.

Zuriel smiles at her, stroking her mane and giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder before deftly hopping into the saddle.

Hey Shahara. I'm glad you're back. He senses happiness in Shahara at his words, overpowering the nervousness.

She looks at the new faces curiously, particularly interested in the Droopies.

Your herd has grown, she notes approvingly.

Well. . .it's not as though Chuck will have any trouble remembering their names, Maeve thinks, amused.  She surveys the herd of Droopies and selects one of the more placid-looking mounts for Keef before easily swinging onto Wes's back.  On their travels, she has spent time with the lad showing him the basics of horsemanship and is by now reasonably confident that he won't be thrown off or cause his animal to panic.

I don't think so, Chuck.  You and your family have done more than enough for us. You have my thanks.

Boreas deftly mounts whichever Droopy #4, the one he got along with best.

Thank you again, Chuck.  We appreciate all you've done, especially under such... stressful circumstances.

Leaning down, he addresses his mount, Well Four, we have a long journey ahead of us.  I have every bit of confidence in you.

Lyriel surveys the horses excitedly. Her spirits were high, despite the weather, which was at any rate being held at bay by a voluminous tan riding cloak that very nearly covered her entire body. One of the horses, a dappled mare Droopy Droopette? Droopina?, trots over to her, snuffling happily. Lyriel extends a hand, which the horse nuzzles, before gleefully hopping into the saddle sporting a grin very nearly wider than her face. She gives a hearty wave and thank-you to Rosemary.

Her grin falters somewhat though, as Zuriel summons Shahara, who gives her an icy look as she surveys the assembled crowd. How is it that a horse can manage to look so disapproving?

Her heart sinks as she realizes that she gave the cookie she had saved for Shahara to the wardens the night before. Ungrateful boors! she sniffs.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:14, Fri 10 Jan 2014.

Maeve jogs Wes over to where Boreas is leaning over conversing with his mount.

Boreas, could you please tell Droopy. . . .Three, I think, to go at an easy pace?  I think Keef has things under control, but. . . she trails off, looking in quiet dismay as Keef alternately swings around Flametongue and the Everstaff, nearly throwing himself out of the saddle in his enthusiasm.

You see what I mean.

Boreas relays Maeve's message to Three.

Zuriel circulates a piece of parchment to whomever is interested in the party. His face is anxious, an emotion mirrored by Shahara, who seems antsy to get underway. "I asked the book who was responsible for Baldwin's legal troubles," he says quietly.


This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Fri 10 Jan 2014.

Maeve gravely reads the reply to Zuriel's query.

For an item that's been annoyingly cryptic, this is a pretty straightforward answer.  Not necessarily the one we wanted though.

Her expression lightens a bit as she checks once more on Keef.  He has gotten himself somewhat under control by this point, and Maeve can see the bit of parchment from Charlotte sticking out of his pocket.

That little minx!  I wonder what she wrote to him.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 176):

Keef holds the letter in a tightly-clenched fist.

Thank you Chuck for... just thank you.

He mounts the 'easiest' of the droopies and turns his back to the rest of the party, eager to read his letter.

Yes, thank you Chuck, Maeve leans over and says in an undertone. I get the impression that Keef has not received a lot of affection in his home life.  You and your family helped more than I can say.

She straightens up, eager to get the journey underway.

Let's go, everyone.  We've got several days' worth of riding ahead of us before we reach Ikuabai.

Maeve raises a hand to Chuck and his family, turns Wes' head, and sets off down the road at a brisk trot, fully confident that the others will be following right behind.  And fully intending to grill Keef as to the contents of his love letter once they're away from the farm.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:06, Fri 10 Jan 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 178):

Keef reads the letter several times.  Then he reads it to Chubbs (who shows less than no interest) and then he reads it to Longshank.

Once they are away from the ranch, anyone who comes near as they ride will receive a full recitation of the notes contents:

"A token of favor for my champion.  Remember me when you're done slaying dragons, saving kingdoms, and rescuing damsels (if you have to)

<3
Charlotte"

... as well as Keef's commentary:

Did you hear that?  CHAMPION she said... I don't know about that, but it was awfully nice wasn't it?  She was... I mean... but.... CUTE right?  And she was VERY nice.... I'm not sure about her father, I mean Chuck, I mean MR. CHUCK... but he was NICE I'm sure just... well maybe we WILL find a dragon right?  Do you think she'd... I mean do you think she WANTS us to find a dragon?  But that would be fun!  I mean... for a CHAMPION and all, but I'm just Keef and...

Zuriel smiles at Keef, enduring his ceaseless chattering with good-natured amusement. Shahara twitches an ear.

Is the colt always so noisy? she asks.

Always. You kind of get used to it. He grows on you.

Shahara trots forward a few paces, leaning her head over to sniff Keef. He is...enthusiastic.

"You're well on your way to becoming a champion though, Keef. It would seem you've already got a lass waiting for your safe return. That's good. A hero should have something to come back to, once the adventuring is done."

Zuriel and Shahara drop back to the rear of the pack. The celestial warhorse trots happily, enjoying the ride. A few times, Zuriel catches Lyriel looking back wistfully.

You kind of hurt her feelings yesterday, Shahara. Lyriel was excited to meet you.

Shahara nickers, and Zuriel feels a slight aura of guilt. You chose me as your companion, Zuriel, despite knowing my history. My failure.

She goes silent for a moment. The paladin senses a mix of emotions roiling in his steed. Shame, gratitude, joy, and a deep set fear. I will *not* allow harm to come to you, Zuriel, she says with steel in her voice.

Zuriel swallows, touched by her sentiment. I know you won't. The fates of your previous riders are hardly your fault, but what does this have to do with Lyriel?

Shahara goes silent again. You know what end befell my first rider, she says finally. He did not perish in battle. I would protect you from such a fate. The mare whom I suspect brought about his end was much like this one here. She tosses her main and jerks her head towards Lyriel. On the surface all charm and smiles. Concealing a cold heart underneath. She will hurt you.

Zuriel sits back in the saddle, disturbed by the sentiment. So that's what this is about... he thinks to himself, in a quiet place of his mind where he could not feel the touch of Shahara's presence. To her, he responds, Lyriel isn't like that at all. Give her a chance, please Shahara. You will come to see her as I do; if her charm and poise cover anything, it is only a truly kind soul underneath.

The horse lets out a muted whinny. Perhaps.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:08, Fri 10 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 181):

In reply to Keef (msg # 179):

The day's travels are rather uneventful (though thoroughly soggy) until about midday, when Keef recites his letter for perhaps the ten thousandth time -- this time, to an elderly man in a straw hat slogging along the road in the opposite direction, holding the reins of a heavily laden donkey.

The man looks up at the boy for a moment, then at the P.A.R.T.Y., and breaks into a smile that reveals most of his teeth.

"Adventurers, sonny?" he exclaims.  "Surely you have a need for my services!"

The whirlwind of activity that follows soon transforms the donkey into a mobile shop, with baskets and bags piled high with a variety of foods, drinks, trinkets, and other offerings.  The donkey's expression is one of resignation to his lot in life, and he remains perfectly still throughout the process.

"See anything you like? I have tonics and bracelets of protection and all manner of adventuresome gear, going cheap!  Everything you didn't know you needed, that's Honest Bob's motto!"

[Private to Boreas Highwind: Very little is magical, though much of it is indeed useful.  Tacks, waxes, oils, pigments, simple tools, soaps, etc.  Some of the liquids have a magical aura.]

Well, I'm glad we can tell you're honest.  It's right in your name!  Can you show us your wares, my friend?

Boreas lifts his eyepatch and scans each item as Bob presents it.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 183):

The baskets and bags are piled high with a variety of foods, drinks, trinkets, and other offerings.  Rabbit feet, holy symbols, books, maps, costume jewelry, paintings, instruments, and more.

The only magical items, however, are two shabby bottles of greenish liquid and a tiny black pearl -- none of which Honest Bob actually attempts to sell you.

Lyriel looks down at Honest Bob's wares curiously. She checks her pouches. We seem to be running low on some basics. Do you have any sugar? Cubed, preferably?

The cleric pointedly avoids looking towards Shahara. SHE WILL LOVE ME LIKE A SISTER!!!

Boreas peruses the wares briefly with little interest.

Maeve looks briefly over Bob's wares but doesn't see much to interest her, especially given that they are but a few days out from the exponentially more substantial Great Bazaar of Ikuabai.  What she is hungry for is news of home.

Well met, Bob. As you have correctly surmised, we are adventurers found for Ikuabai.  Tell me, have you any news of the doings in the city these days?

After a moment, Boreas adds, And what is that green stuff, and the little pearl there?  I don't think you mentioned it.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 188):

"Sugar! Yes, your ladyship!"

Honest Bob produces a healthy sack from the pile.

"Just 2 gold pieces -- a steal! For 998 gold pieces extra, I'll throw in this cuber attachment, a handsome tool that can turn most anything granular into a solid, cube-like shape."

He turns to Boreas and smiles.

"You have good eyes! Eye.  A good eye," he exclaims, raising the green bottles to the light.  "This is liquified gorgon oil!  One dose can petrify almost anything on contact, and a second can restore 'em to normal."

He looks pained.

"They aren't cheap, though."

Smiling again, he moves on to the black pearl.

"Now this one is a beauty.  Admire its luster!  Throw it on something and, presto!  Instant hole."

He demonstrates by tossing the pearl onto the side of his donkey, then reaching through it to the other side.  The animal appears unharmed in the process, clearly used to such displays.  After a moment, he peels the hole from the animal, and it reverts to a tiny black pearl.

"But, like the oil, it cost me a pretty penny to acquire.  I couldn't let it go without recouping the costs."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:19, Fri 10 Jan 2014.

Lyriel calmly counts out two gold pieces, handing them to Honest Bob in exchange for the sugar, which she stows in her pack, careful to keep it dry.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 190):

Keef looks at everything, even the mundane, with great interest, enthusiasm and the most wandering of fingers.

The 'portable hole' in particular interests him once it's demonstrated.

How much?

In reply to Keef (msg # 191):

Honest Bob's plastic smile wavers ever so slightly at Keef's question.

"Er, wouldn't you prefer delicious spiced nuts, or a trinket for that special someone? I fear this is a bit out of your price range, lad; I couldn't let it go for less than 40,000 gold pieces."

In reply to DM (msg # 192):

Maeve looks over the magical items with polite interest but nothing more.  She repeats her initial request for any news out of Ikuabai.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 193):

"Ikuabai, missy?  Afraid not -- too loud, too noisy, too many thieves and bandits.  The merchants, I mean! The way they price things there is outrageous," he mutters this last part quietly.  "If that's where you're bound, you'll want to bulk up on all the necessities here, while you can do it for cheap.  Honest Bob is at your service!"

Maeve tilts her head in acknowledgement and looks over Keef's shoulder as he admires the pearl and Bob's various other items for sale.

It certainly is a useful trinket, that.  Unfortunately, it's more than a little out of our price range, as you've rather guessed.

[OOC: Maeve will wait for the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y to make any purchases they might wish to--or to ask Bob any additional questions--before leading the group off down the road again.]

Well, good luck to you, Bob, but I don't believe you have anything I need at the moment.  Take care.

Boreas joins Maeve in waiting for the others.

I'm starting to think Ikuabai is some kind of fairy tale, considering no one seems to know anything about it.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 196):

Keef is crestfallen, but returns to his mount.

Hm... now that I think about it, we should probably pack some way to deal with petrifaction.  Hate to see one of us fall victim to Binkles' fate.

He turns back to the merchant.

For argument's sake, I suppose I should find out what you charge for the gorgon oil there.

Bob's face brightens, and he responds excitedly, but not too excitedly, Why this rare elixir can be yours for only $1,000 gold pieces.  I know, too good to be true.  But Bob knows you will use it for a noble purpose... or not.  Whatever you want really.

Ah, but Bob, the last peddler had almost the same oil for only 500 gold pieces.  Surely you are able to offer a better bargain.

[Bluff 11]

It must be a cheap substitute, but I'll tell you what.  900 gold.

Now Bob, we would be doing you a service as well.  It's dangerous to carry something around that could turn you to stone if you happened to trip and fall.  We could give you 900 for both.

[Diplomacy 17]

Bob is insulted!  You would take the food from my children's mouths?  You would break into my home and rip the morsels from between their theeth?  But they're little brats anyway, so I will offer this: 750 gold apiece.

Boreas thinks for a moment, then a moment longer.

1250 for the pair.

1300, but little Jazanthepus will starve.  But he can starve.  It will stop his whining.

It's a deal.

Boreas exchanges the money for the bottles, dropping them into his pouch and sending them to that tiny interplanar space where they will be safe from breakage.

We can figure out how to divvy up the cost later.  I'd rather not keep both of these on my person.

Good luck to you, Bob!

Zuriel watches the exchange with a mixture of fascination and disgust. He refrains from correcting Boreas' lie only because of his certainty that Honest Bob was lying even more shamelessly. In the end, the paladin settled on regarding the interactions with amused bewilderment.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:24, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Jazanthepus?

Suddenly, Maev'Rah seemed just about the most elegant name ever.

Boreas hands one of the flasks to Zuriel.

Best not keep these on the same person.  Could be trouble if something happens to me.  We'll work out the money later.  These are for the PARTY, after all.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 201):

After a brief interlude, Honest Bob packs up his donkey and saunters away, leaving the P.A.R.T.Y. to attack the road with renewed vigor.

There are 8 days left between you and your destination, barring any unforeseen difficulties, but even the most emboldened bandit would think twice before attacking such a well-armed convoy.

The P.A.R.T.Y. camps off the road as evening falls at the end of the first day, posting the usual watch and taking careful precautions.

Day Two
The misty dampness continues unabated this second day, leaving you feeling sore, stiff, and more than a little uncomfortable.  On this day, the northern road you've been following junctions into the Merchant's Path, an important east-west road that connects Ikuabai to the Imperial capital of Tris.

Though normally busy, the weather has kept all but the most ardent adventurers at bay, leaving you mostly alone for the rest of the day.  The horses weather the storm admirably, and you are able to make normal progress before camping once more off the side of the road.

If the signs are to be believed, you will not be forced to make camp tomorrow, for the Merchant's Path is dotted with villages and minor townships.

Day Three
Though the October sky remains cloudy and gray, the rain mercifully abates just after twilight, promising a more pleasant experience than before.  The day's travels are light and easy until 4 p.m., when you come across a signpost that catches your eye.



OOC: Being relatively insignificant villages, you'll have to roll a knowledge check to see if you know anything about the former two areas -- the reason it catches your attention at all is that you now have a choice to make: push the horses to reach Vendrinor by early evening, plan to camp prior to Vendrinor, or plan to ride through.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:44, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 202):

Never heard of Vendrinor, but Medenbury gets a good bit of merchant traffic from traders going to and from the larger cities.  We're likely to run into more company on the road the closer we get.

Maeve chews her lip thoughtfully.  The thought of overnighting in a town is appealing, but she would rather not kill Chuck's horses by pressing them too hard to get there.  They've been doing admirably thus far, but can't keep up their quick pace for much longer.

I say that we should camp and give the Droopies time to rest.  We can get lunch tomorrow in town before we go on our way--or just have a slow day and stay there tomorrow night.

Zuriel considers the sign before them. "Medenbury is also the location of the closest Imperial prison to Ikuabai. If our involvement has attracted attention, we might want to give it a wide berth. We can check with the Book of Answers when we get closer. I for one, would hate to have to explain to law enforcement why we are so far east when everybody knows that 'Intelligent Dragons' live much farther north." At this the paladin shoots a dirty look at Boreas.

Isn't this a sorry tale; a Knight of the Flame, quasi-fugitive of the law...

"I agree with Maeve, however. As much as I think it wise to be out of Imperial lands until we can get this mess sorted out, I don't want to push these horses too hard."

Shahara snorts indignantly. "Yes, I know you can keep going, but few horses can match your pace for long," Zuriel says to his warhorse placatingly. "Besides, you have the benefit of being able to rest in comfort on the celestial plane," he adds somewhat enviously, "while the rest of us are stuck in this awful weather."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 204):

I agree with Zuriel, Keef says in his most sage voice... the same one he'd been using for the previous few hours to wonder out loud about the local Dragon-to-maiden ratio.

Lyriel shivers from within the depths of her gray traveling cloak. She thinks longingly of a soft bed and warm blankets, and a nice hot meal eaten out of the rain.

Droopina whinnies and looks up at her with the adoring eyes of a particularly simple puppy. She sighs, unable to ignore her mare's panting or the flecks of foam at the corner of her bridle.

Let's make camp tonight...
This message was last edited by the player at 16:17, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Sleeping outside has never been a problem for me.  Camp it is.

[OOC: Boreas speaks with the horses each night to gauge their general condition and determine if we've been riding them too hard.]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 207):

Once they've moved on far enough for Boreas to select a decent campsite, Maeve sets to the task of helping to settle in all the horses for the night and to make sure that they won't catch a chill from the weather.

Rest well, Wes.  You've earned it.  And you as well, Shahara.

Out of a morbid sense of curiosity, she runs a hand over Shahara's glossy mane before the mare retires to the spectral plane for the night--just to see if it's Lyriel or if the mare simply won't tolerate anyone who isn't Zuriel.

Tea is swiftly prepared while Maeve keeps up a running commentary about the dragons and manticores that are said to dwell in the deep deserts of Gaelia.  It's hard to tell whether she is spinning a yarn for Keef's benefit or if there actually are unknown creatures inhabiting the sand dunes.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:43, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Shahara seems at first startled by Maeve's familiarity, but allows the eastern woman to run her hands through her mane, working out some of the snarls and tangles from the foul weather. Her golden eyes close in obvious enjoyment, and before she vanishes Shahara nuzzles Maeve's hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:46, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Lyriel's jaw drops in shock as she witnesses Shahara return Maeve's affections. Her mouth opens and closes indignantly, though the only sounds that come out are splutters almost too high-pitched to hear. She turns angrily in her heels and stalks into the woods, oblivious to Zuriel's apologetic mumblings.

This...isn't...fair!!!
This message was last edited by the player at 16:50, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 209):

The horses seem healthy enough for now, thanks to the P.A.R.T.Y.'s excellent care and the lack of any real problems on the road, but they aren't excited about the prospect of keeping the current pace up for more than a few more days.

The night passes uneventfully, and the morning of the fourth day on the road dawns brighter than before.  Though it remains cold, it is no longer wet, and the the sun's gently rays greet you from across a clear blue sky.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 209):

Keef sits by focused intensely on every word Maeve says.  The warrior has some trouble in her tales only because Keef interrupts frequently to ask question after question.

Chubbs appears to be sublimely happy in the damp and the wet.  He consents to sit not far from the P.A.R.T.Y. and even graces you with a look that is not quite as full of indifference and boredom as usual.

As to Shahara, Chubbs rolls his little eyes to note, for the record that he COULD vanish to other planes... he just doesn't deem it worth his time as all planes are as dull and unimpressive as this one to him.

When Lyrial vanishes into the woods, Chubbs hops after her.  When he finally catches up to the long-legged one, he croaks something that's possibly words of sympathy, but more likely just a casual note that no horse or human is worth caring about anyhow, so why get worked up.

As the PARTY sets off again, Boreas addresses Maeve:

I've been wondering... you keep talking about this General you know who might be in Ikuabai.  Who is he, and how could we find him if he can help us?

Maeve notes worriedly that Lyriel, who did not speak one word to her last night, appears to be content to keep up the silent treatment this morning.  She decides to keep her distance, having decided that any attempt at an apology of "I'm sorry that Zuriel's horse likes me better than you" probably won't go over well.

Maeve has been trying in vain to keep up with Keef's rapid-fire questions when Boreas pipes up with his question.

The "General" in question is General Arnaud Hassan, formerly of the Fifth Royal Cavalry and now high commander of the Royal Military. Also known as the Lion of Gaelia, and current wielder of the Spear of the Sands.

She pauses thoughtfully before continuing and looks over at Zuriel, who shrugs.


  Your call


He also happens to be my father.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:49, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Boreas looks less surprised than one might expect.

General Arnaud Hassan... the name does sound familiar.  I can't blame you for concealing your identity a bit.  We all have our reasons...

He trails off for a moment, thinking.

I'm not surprised, though.  You're a very skilled warrior.  I see where you get it from.

I'm actually glad I met you as Maeve and not "The General's Daughter."  You earned my respect in your own right.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 215):

Which is more or less exactly why I chose to keep that bit of information private, Maeve says, approving of Boreas' insight.

As for whether he could help us concerning Baldwin. . . Maeve shrugs.  That would depend on us being able to find him.  I'm afraid that I don't actually know where he's based right now.  We traveled constantly while I was growing up; Father still does.

Still, he is one of the most influential men in Gaelia. The General has powerful allies. A name dropped in the right ear can go a long way.

Or could potentially be disastrous if mentioned to the wrong people, Maeve adds.  Powerful enemies go hand in hand with powerful friends.  And Father has managed over the years to displease a considerable number of houses, especially the human families.  Not necessarily in Gaelia, but elsewhere for certain.  She laughs humorlessly.  You ought to have seen some of the letters we received.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:50, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Lyriel clears her throat, somewhat embarrassedly, deciding to end her brief, and if she was perfectly honest with herself - unfair - silent treatment of Maeve. It's not *entirely* her fault, after all...

I am not familiar with any such General, or his daughter. I only know Maeve, the warrior. She pauses, hoping to make amends for her behavior earlier. But I should think that any father, regardless of his own accomplishments, would be proud to call you daughter.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 216):

The road winds its way toward its appointed route, and the P.A.R.T.Y. finds itself meandering into Vendrinor by late morning.

It appears to be a rather sleepy farming community, with only a handful of buildings near the road itself to announce its presence at all, and quite a few farmhouses and such off in the distance, among the fields.

Near the road itself, however, are three large wooden buildings: the Eagle-Eye Tavern, the Morning Star Inn, and the Bargain Bin.  Posts are available in front of each, and several unmanned horses have been tied to them by other travelers, who left them to graze in their feedbags while they stretched their legs for a bit.

A small path juts out from the main road and leads toward the south, away from the buildings and weaving through the the fields toward what will likely become the village common some ways down the road.

In reply to DM (msg # 218):

Keef spends these miles with a renewed well of energy for asking questions... only this time about generals, The General, and the exploits of generals and The General.

Zuriel spurs Shahara over to the town bulletin board, looking for the latest news and official notices. "Nothing of interest," he reports. He looks around. "Should we move on or stop for a meal?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:27, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 220):

Maeve looks at the Eagle-Eye Tavern.  The food there is undoubtedly going to be greasy, fatty, and plentiful.  Exactly what she wants right now.

I could eat.

Zuriel shrugs and makes to head into the tavern. He considers tethering Shahara to a post to keep up appearances but discards the idea as silly. With the warhorse's golden eyes there would be no mistaking her for anything other than a paladin's mount. Besides, he was still wearing his tabard. They weren't going anywhere unnoticed.

He opens the door to the Eagle-Eye and steps inside, unsure what to expect.

Yeah, I suppose I could use a bite.  We'll need to keep a careful eye, though, to make sure nothing happens to our possessions.

Boreas steps in, always keeping one eye looking out a window at the tethered mounts.

Lyriel follows the paladin, passing by Shahara warily. I wouldn't worry, Boreas. She looks to Shahara tentatively. I'm sure there's no way thieves would be able to take anything with Shahara here.

Shahara bobs her head in assent, giving Lyriel a calculating look. Lyriel looks back for a time before dropping her gaze. She nickers and sniffs Lyriel's hair.

...she seems earnest enough, the mare thinks to Zuriel with an air of surprise. The paladin got the sense that the horse was expecting the cleric's comments to be empty flattery.

Shahara stares at Lyriel for a while longer, then snorts, clearly a dismissal.

She's certainly polite, I'll give you that...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:11, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 224):

The P.A.R.T.Y. meanders into the Eagle-Eye Tavern one by one, leaving the horses tied up outside.

The tavern itself is a relatively modest affair, with a 50x50 seating area and several large, family-style tables crowding the center of the room.  There is a bar, of course, with extra seating in the form of roughly cut stools, and a door behind the bar that leads to the kitchen.

Most of the heat seems to be coming from that kitchen, as the fireplace that sits off to one side has been left cold, with pile of damp, unlit logs sitting in the rusted iron bracket beneath the flue.

There aren't a ton of people in the Eagle-Eye Tavern, but all of them turn to stare.  Three strapping young men -- farmers, perhaps -- sit at the bar, joking with each other over wooden mugs of ale.  Two middle-aged women sit at one of the family-style tables, chatting in hushed voices and giggling every so often over smaller cups of wine.  At the second of the three six-person tables sit three large men and one spindly man playing a card game of some sort.  The third table sits empty.

The barkeep is an obnoxiously large man with a thinning head of hair and a generous gut that's barely held in check by the greasy apron he's using to wipe down the bartop.

"Welcome," he booms, favoring you with a smile.  "Have a seat, an' we'll be right with you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:21, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

The paladin inclines his head politely to the barkeep, and takes a seat at the vacant table, motioning for the other party members to join him as he waits for the barkeep to come over for their orders.

"No rush," he says with a smile to the man behind the counter. "We're just happy to be out of the weather.

Lyriel follows Zuriel to the table, pausing to primly wipe the seat of some unknown substance before sitting down next to the paladin. She threw back the hood of her midnight blue traveling mantle, checking to make sure her hair wasn't out of place before reaching for the menu, only to find that there was none.

How quaint...

Maeve settles down at the table across from Lyriel and Zuriel and peruses the lack-of-menu which indicates that they will probably be served whatever communal foodstuff is cooking in the kitchen.

Splendid.

When we reach Ikuabai, I am introducing all of you to something called coffee.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:12, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 228):

The barkeep takes your polite "no rush" as a command, ignoring the P.A.R.T.Y. for a good ten minutes before meandering over to your table.

"Welcome to the Eagle-Eye Tavern.  Been on the road long?" he asks conversationally, moving on before waiting for an answer.  "Got a nice meaty stew in bubbling in the back, hearty crusted bread, mushroom tarts, fresh October ale, and some wine from last mid-summer."

"Normally I'd make sure you could pay first, but..." his eyes wander to the green vestments worn by several of the P.A.R.T.Y. members, "I'm pretty confident about you lot. Lunch for everyone, or do you want something more specific?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:13, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Zuriel's stomach growls audibly as he listens to the recitation of the menu. "That all sounds wonderful. I'd like a bowl of the stew, a hunk of bread, a mushroom tart, and some of that ale." He looks at the barkeep's bemused expression and offers an explanation. "We have been on the road for some time, and I've learned to take advantage of hot meals when available."

Not to presume, but stew and ale all 'round.

Boreas leans in and whispers to the barkeep, But maybe water the young one's a bit...

Lyriel listens politely to the basic fare, nothing really appealing to her. What I wouldn't give for a meal at the Gilded Stag right now, she thinks, reminiscing on one of Hae'driels best restaurants, known for both the quality of its food and its hefty prices.

She looks over at the barkeep, shooting Boreas a brief glare. You wouldn't happen to have roast fowl, would you? she asks hopefully. That wine sounds lovely though.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 232):

"Roast... fowl?" the barkeep repeats, raising an eyebrow.  "Afraid not, miss.  You can feed a lot more people with a meaty stew than by serving it plain.  Winter's approaching, after all. Stew and wine ok?"

Seeing nods of consensus, the barkeep retreats to the kitchen.  The ale appears well before the food, which is served accompanied by refills of the thick, frothy beverage. The glass of wine is delivered just once, but with such a large cask that it would be truly impressive to need to refill it.

While the P.A.R.T.Y. eats, it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore the persistent stares from the three farmers at the bar.  They do not look particularly malicious, but rather a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

When the meal has all but ended, one of the farmers at the bar is stands and approaches your table -- after being nudged and elbowed by his fellows.

"Hi there, hi," he stammers.  "The boys and I, um, well, we was wondering if you could help us with something."

Committed to the conversation now, he plows onward with his request.

"You're... healers, right?" he says, locking eyes with Lyriel in particular.  "We... um... we have a little money, and... well, we could sure use your help back home."

Lyriel nods to the farmers, a slight flush from the wine coloring her cheeks. Ooh, Goddess, they make wine strong out here.

Why yes, I am a healer. What seems to be the problem?

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 235):

"It's our sister, miss. She got real sick, an' Reverend Simon said he couldn't do nothing for her."

He goes pale for a moment, eyes lost in thought, when the spindly card player sitting at the other table yells over to the speaker -- without bothering to look up from his hand.

"Dammit, Yuri, these people have better things to do than tend to Crazy Ellie.  Y'had any sense, you'd have done the right thing and put her down when it happened."

The farmer identified as Yuri stiffens as if struck, and the farmers that had been sitting at the bar with him spring up in response and charge over to the gamblers' table.

"You say what I think you said?" the biggest farmer says menacingly. "Y'better look at me when I'm talking to you, Tom."

The spindly man laughs, tossing down a card from his hand and glancing up unapologetically.

"She's a rabid dog, Frankie.  You can't get sentimental about it; you gotta put it down."

"That's enough!"

The barkeep's voice booms through the tavern as he bursts from the kitchen.  "Keep it civil or take it outside.  You know the rules."

Tom shrugs and returns to his card game, and the farmers turn to leave.

"Please," Yuri pleads with Lyriel.  "At least have a look?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 23:05, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Lyriel sees the desperate hope in the young man's eyes. Yes of course, we can take a look. I can't make any promises, but I'll see if there is something that can be done. We will leave as soon as we've paid for our meal.

She finishes the last of her stew, takes a delicate sip from her wineglass, finishing off the goblet, and makes to stand. Looking over to the barkeep, she takes out her satchel of coins and gestures to the spread on the table. How much do we owe you? she asks, making to count out the requisite amount.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:30, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 237):

"Two gold pieces should cover it sufficiently, miss."

Lyriel counts out two coins and passes it to the barkeep with a smile. Many thanks. The wine was delightful. And the food was just what we needed.

That is to say, hot. And food-like.

She follows the farmers out, curious as to what afflicted their sister that the local Reverend couldn't cure.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:46, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

Maeve quickly drains the last of the stew and follows the cleric and the farmers out the door of the tavern.

Pardon me sir--Yuri, I believe?--but where are we going exactly?

No way am I going to let three strangers spirit Lyriel off to gods know where.  And if I'm not, then Zuriel sure as hell isn't.

Zuriel follows close behind as Lyriel departs, pausing to compliment the barkeep. "Your stew was the perfect thing on this cold day. I'll be sure to be stopping back by the next time I'm passing through. Tassada's blessings on your house."

On his way out, Zuriel pauses by the belligerent card-player. Speaking softly, the paladin says to him, "If it was your sister who had been so afflicted, I would pray to the gods on your behalf that you never had to experience firsthand the cruel callousness you showed those brothers today."

Having said his piece, he sweeps out of the tavern without waiting for a response.

Boreas leaves his payment on the table, thanks the barkeep, and follows the others out.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 242):

Keef, long ago having refused the ale, finished his stew and snuck away from the table to watch the card game, realizes that his friends are departing just in time to catch them at the door.

In reply to Keef (msg # 243):

"Just down to the house miss," Yuri says on response to Maeve's inquiry. "Just a few minutes away."

The PARTY mounts up and follows the farmer and his brothers at a show pace, as their guides must walk on foot.

They lead you down the southern spur that branches off from the Merchant's Path, weaving through fenced fields and modest homes until eventually stopping before a larger building made of stone.

"I'll see if the Reverend is in and have him join us," Frankie says. Yuri nods and continues to press onward.

It takes about half an hour to reach the farmhouse, a small, one-story dwelling that has seen better days. The shutters are warped and rotted, and the whole thing could use a fresh coat of paint.

The fields around the house are overgrown with weeds, and the only activity to be seen comes from the grizzled old lady who sits on the porch in a rickety rocking chair that looks about as old as she is.

"Trouble with the law, Yuri?" She calls out when you get close enough, her voice as shrill as a barn owl.

"They here to help us, Ma."

The woman looks dubious at this claim, but merely adjusts her shawl and shrugs.

"Long as you didn't promise them much, I suppose it's worth a try. Lord knows we don't have enough to go around as it is."

Yuri sighs and leads the group around the back of the house, ignoring his mother's last comment.

"You can tie off your horses here," he says.  "Miss, it's just this way."

Yuri motions toward a pair of heavy storm shutters, which lead into what must be the home's basement or root cellar. It is bound with an iron bar and two lengths of chain.

"You, um. You ready, miss?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:27, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

Lyriel nods. They keep her locked in the basement? What illness is this?

Maeve finds herself standing near Zuriel as their resident cleric prepares to descend into the root cellar.

Is Lyriel so skilled as all that? I know firsthand of her talents patching up battle wounds, but. . .this sounds different.  If the Reverend couldn't do anything, it must be a nasty ailment indeed.

I wonder if they keep the poor woman in the cellar because she is contagious or because she's prone to fits of violence.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 246):

A cellarmaiden?  Cellarcrone?

Keef looks puzzled and intregued.  He lays one hand on Flametongue but waits to draw it.  He pokes tentatively at the iron restraints with one toe.

In reply to Keef (msg # 247):

As Yuri begins to undo the chains, your horses (and Chubbs) begin to act somewhat erratically, refusing to get closer than 20 or 30 feet from the doorway.

[Private to Boreas Highwind: "Bad. Bad!" is all they'll say.]

Shahara is a bit more measured in her protestations, snorting and stopping short precisely 30 feet from the storm doors before snorting in Lyriel's direction and looking at Zuriel meaningfully.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: "That woman is going to get you hurt.  There is something wrong about this place."]

The farmer glances at the P.A.R.T.Y. grimly.

"We thought it was just our lazy farm animals that got skittish around Ellie, but if your hardened critters feel it, too..."

Yuri sighs, running a hand through his hair for a moment.

"I just hope you can help her."

Understood, thanks for the warning.

"We should be on our guard. Shahara senses something."

He nods to the farmer. "Open the door. Let's see what we're dealing with."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 14:50, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

The horses are saying something's wrong.  I don't like the look of this.  We'd best proceed with caution.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 250):

Yuri slowly unwinds the chains and dislodges the bar, then gingerly opens the doors to the cellar.

He advances slowly, beckoning the P.A.R.T.Y. to follow, and soon you find yourselves in dark, damp storage space about 30x30 in size.

Carrots, turnips, potatoes, radishes, and other produce are stored in wooden crates off the right, while a 5x5 space has been set aside in the upper right-hand corner of the room -- far from the door -- with iron bars.

Within this cramped space is a small cot, a dirty blanket, two empty bowls, and a girl of eight summers or so, who lays sleeping on the cot.

The girl stirs as you enter, squinting in the gloom that must nevertheless seem bright to her with the addition of a faint ray of sunlight attempting to illuminate the room from the doorway.

"It's ok, Ellie.  It's ok.  It's Yuri, see? I found some help."

The girl looks up at the newcomers, shying away toward the wall of her cage.

For a moment, there nothing but silence as you examine one another.

Your first impression of Elli is that she looks... pale.  A series of fresh-looking scratch marks mar her face beneath her left eye, and her hair looks tangled and matted with briers and hay.  She wears a simple one-piece gown that's light blue in color, though it's torn in several places, and her feet are bare.

"You can't really see it like this," Yuri apologizes, lighting a nearby lantern and moving to shut the storm doors.  "But now look..."

In this darker lightning, you can now clearly see Ellie isn't just a pale girl wearing a light blue dress; her entire body glows with a faint blue light.  Though she is standing and walking around, you can't be sure her feet are quite touching the ground -- and they certainly aren't making any noise when she moves.

"She went out to play in the fields one day, and didn't come back until well past dark," Yuri explains.  "When she came back... she looked like this.  We tried to hug her, comfort her, help her, but she's so cold and silent, it's hard to know what to do. She stays down here during the day, but at night she vanishes.  There have been strange happenings in town after dark lately, and I hate to think she's got somethin to do with it.  Reverend Simon tried everything he knows, but... so far, nothing's helped."

He looks at the P.A.R.T.Y. members imploringly.

"Can you help her?"

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: The girl does not appear to be breathing.]

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: The girl radiates a decidedly evil aura.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:27, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

Zuriel's eyes flash as he opens his inner sight. The girl burns darkly in the gloom. He shoots a meaningful look to Lyriel, nodding.

This can't be good...

Lyriel crouches down in front of the bars, putting her face on Ellie's level. Hello Ellie, she says soothingly. We're here to help you. Can you tell me how you're feeling right now?

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 253):

If the girl hears you, she makes no response, instead cocking her head inquisitively to one side and reaching a hand through the bars toward Lyriel -- not aggressively, but rather like a human would reach out toward a goat or sheep in a petting zoo.

"I, uh, I wouldn't touch her," Yuri says.  "Even with gloves on. She's really cold."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:41, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

Maeve remains quiet and unobtrusive off to one side of the room, watching with apprehension while Zuriel and Lyriel examine the girl.

This is well beyond my skills or knowledge.  The best thing I can do is to not interfere.

Maeve keeps a sharp eye on Keef to make sure that he does not do anything ill-advised, such as making any loud sounds or sudden movements that might startle Ellie.

Zuriel addresses Yuri in an undertone. "I've never seen anything like this before. If we are going to help her, I need to know everything. Even details you might think unimportant. Where was she playing the day she was afflicted? And what has been happening in the town out of the ordinary?"

[Knowledge Religion - Possession and Exorcism: 25 - Nat 20]

Odd...this girl looks...undead.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 256):

"Just out in the fields, sir.  Nothing special, by herself, like usual."

Yuri scratches his head.

"The strange happenings have been something else entirely.  The groundskeeper at the church was found dead -- jumped from the top of the belltower, the sheriff says.  The Harris family lost every goat they had in one night, just found 'em dead in their pen one morning.  Two of the Sutter kids went missing last week, we haven't heard from 'em since."

He sighs.

"The Sheriff's pissed, the Reverend don't know what to do, and the town's getting jumpy.  Worst time of the year is coming up, too; I don't know how we'll handle the hardships of winter will all this bad luck happening, too."

Zuriel nods. "I think I might know what's wrong, but I need to be sure."

The paladin takes out the chalice, and focuses on filling it with pure water. He takes a brief sip, and then passes it to Lyriel, who does the same. Knowing what he intends to do, she blesses the water with a quick benediction. He then sprinkles a few droplets on the girl's outstretched arm, looking at her intently to assess her response to the holy water.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:21, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 258):

The water hisses and bubbles the moment it touches the girl's skin -- or, rather, as it passes through it.  The drops hit the ground, leaving sizzling marks upon the outstretched arm, and the recoils in silence.

Her eyes darken, and she glares at Zuriel and Lyriel for a moment before stepping through the bars entirely and grabbing Lyriel's wrists with suprisingly wrenching force.

~~ Surprise Round ~~

[Touch Attack: 24]
[Damage: 3]

Her hands are more than icy cold, and Lyriel gasps as she feels the warmth of her lifeforce dim savagely.

[Fort Save: 14 (fail)]
[Lyriel gains 2 negative levels (see below)]

"What are you doing?!" Yuri exclaims.  "They are trying to help you!"

Despite her brother's pleas for obedience, Crazy Ellie seems unwilling to release her grip on the cleric. You are left with little recourse but to fight.

~~ Initiative! ~~
Keef 26
Boreas 20
Crazy Ellie 19 [Private to GM: (55 hp)]
Maeve 15
Lyriel 12 (Damage: 3 & -10 max hp)
Yuri 9
Zuriel 6

~~ Disposition ~~
Ellie is standing one hex beyond the door to the cage, with Lyriel on one side and Zuriel on the other.  Yuri is near the door in the rear of the room, and the rest of you are between him and the cage.  You are all within one move action of Ellie, though there is only one free hex on your side of the cage in which a melee fighter could stand.



A Note on Negative Levels
These suck, but at least they're temporary.  For each negative level gained, you suffer the following penalties:

    -1 on all skill checks and ability checks.
    -1 on attack rolls and saving throws.
    -5 hit points.
    -1 effective level

Most importantly, casters loses access to one spell as if she had cast her highest-level, currently available spell. (If she has more than one spell at her highest level, she chooses which she loses.) In addition, when she next prepares spells or regains spell slots, she gets one less spell slot at her highest spell level for as long as the negative levels persist.

Negative levels remain until 24 hours have passed or until they are removed with a spell, such as restoration. If a negative level is not removed before 24 hours have passed, the affected creature must attempt a Fortitude save (DC 15 in this case).

On a success, the negative level goes away with no harm to the creature. On a failure, the negative level persists for another 24 hours, at which point you can try again.  Repeat this process until success is achieved.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:40, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 259):

Keef leaps back, drawing Flametongue.  He stares at the spectre over it's ugly blade and lowers his voice.  Maiden or no, NONE attack mine own.

Red electricity arcs between Keef's limbs, then leaps through the air to touch each member of the P.A.R.T.Y.

As the energy crackles, then just as quickly vanishes, you feel... energized.  Your vision flashes reddish, then the world begins to slow down... down......down............down

(OOC: Haste on all of us, 6 rounds).

"Open the door, let in the light!" Zuriel shouts.

Boreas obliges, moving supernaturally quickly to the door and flinging open the storm shutters as sunlight floods the basement.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 262):

Crazy Ellie shrieks -- the first noise you've heard her make -- as the sunlight filters in, and retreats to the furthest corner of the cellar: the corner of her cage, where she was when you entered.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:35, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

Boreas shouts, A spirit!  Stop attacking her.  Better idea.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 264):

~~ Combat Suspended ~~

If anyone moves within 5 feet of Ellie, or if the sunlight stops pouring in, combat will resume as the situation currently stands.

"A spirit?" Yuri exclaims.  "That's my sister you're talking about; what do you mean?"

I mean... I believe... that we need to investigate the field where she went on the day this happened.  Can you take us there, and quickly?

Boreas calls back to the others, Come with me.  We may be able to fix this.  Zuriel, someone should stay here.  Perhaps keep Maeve's torch in case things get out of hand.  And for all that is good, keep the doors open!

"Look at her, Yuri. She is incorporeal," Zuriel says sadly. "Please take Boreas and the others to the field where she was playing. I'll stay here."

Find the body, he adds silently.

Shahara, go with them. We can stay in contact more easily if you accompany them and relay messages.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:50, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 267):

Maeve presses the coldfire torch into Zuriel's hands before departing back through the cellar door.

Just in case.

Lyriel backs up and sags against one of the cellar walls. Her face is white as a sheet, but her jaw is set in determination. I...will stay...too

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 269):

Keef takes up a stance between the spirit's cage and his friends and refuses to budge.

Maeve looks around at the vast majority of the P.A.R.T.Y steadfastly refusing to move from their positions and continues out the open door to where the horses are waiting. She mounts Wes and then addresses Shahara:

Hello again, Shahara.  Will you consent to carry Boreas?  Zuriel is standing guard now, but we need to investigate something important.

She's aware that the horse can't understand her, but keeping up a stream of soothing chatter to her mounts is second nature.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:14, Tue 14 Jan 2014.

Boreas places a hand on Shahara's mane.  His gem glows faintly, though he can't speak to her directly, like other horses.

Greetings, friend Shahara.  Zuriel has offered your services.  Will you take me to the place where this poor girl was slain?  I believe Yuri will lead the way.

He holds out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she nuzzles it.  Boreas swings up onto the celestial mount, ready to ride out.

Four, please allow Yuri to ride you for a bit.  Thank you, friend.

He addresses the farmer, That horse there, indicating Droopy Four, can carry you.  Please show us to the field where Ellie was playing.  We may be able to help, somehow.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 271):

Inside the Cellar
Yuri hesitates for a moment, then nods and heads up the stairs, with Boreas and Maeve following close behind.  Zuriel, Lyriel, and Keef remain behind with Ellie, who remains cowed in the corner of the room.

Outside the Cellar
Shahara bucks and whinnies slightly, but ultimately consents to allow Boreas to mount her.  With permission, Yuri borrows one of the Droopies, and the three are soon riding across the fields in the midday sun.

The harvest being over, most of the fields lay fallow or in disrepair, with weeds and dying stalks of corn cluttering the once immaculate rows.  Yuri rides through the fields without heed of the plowed paths, eventually coming to a stop by a scarecrow situated at the top of a gently rolling hill.

"We don't know exactly where she was that night," he begins, adjusting his weight in the saddle.  "But she used to love to play up here in the cornfields with Henry."

He blushes slightly.

"The scarecrow, I mean.  She named him."

Boreas and Maeve do a sweeping search of the area, but are unable to turn up anything of interest until they turn to the scarecrow, which seems to have a scrap of blue cloth snagged in the straw that serves to stuff his right arm.  The closer inspection that follows reveals rusty stains on either sleeve -- perhaps the long-dried remains of blood.

Zuriel lights a torch and hands it to Keef. "Help me keep the light steady, Keef. But don't get too close."

He moves over to Lyriel, cold fire torch unlit in one hand, chalice in the other. He hands the water to the cleric, then interposes himself between the spirit and her.

How is it going, Shahara?

He hears her response in him mind, though a bit fainter, as if from across a large room. Nevertheless, it is easy detect her deep discomfort with being so far from her charge. Um...not good. I don't want to leave you...the smelly hairy one has found something. It smells like blood.

Blood? Where?! he thinks with alarm.

I don't know. It's hard to describe. It looks like a person made out of hay. But not the kind I would eat... she replies, following up with a nervous whinny.

He looks back at Lyriel, concerned by her pale expression. "They may have found something. Are you alright?" he asks worriedly.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:45, Tue 14 Jan 2014.