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.