Hesitating only long enough to fill his mouth with food, Rath answered: “Well, if Ben Sristos was here, I’d say Musfara should doll him up to look like Ehridol and send him up to ply the secrets from the wyrm-slayer. But Ben ain’t here, so I say leave well enough alone.”
This message was last edited by the player at 01:02, Thu 29 Mar 2018.

“Huh,” Rath grunted, secretly impressed. “Then let’s get there, and make sure the sigger-doter don’t follow.” He finished his beer. “No coincidence that the Warlock was here this morning, and the wyrm-slayer, and the vrocks. We got our work cut out for us. Musfara, how far can your new familiar carry us? We should go now.”

In reply to Inas Eoinsson (msg # 221):

"If there's a limit, we might want to save him for later.  We can take horses part of the way, but most of the way would have to be on foot."

"We don't need Ben, I could make myself look like Marissa quite easily," Saliq said quietly.

After an awkward pause he glanced at Rath. "I fear I do not know all the djinni can do. I do know his whirlwind would leave an easily seen trail, at least over land. What we'd gain in speed we'd certainly lose in subtlety."

" if we start the journey by horse and put a couple of days Travel In, the start of your servant's Trail may not be easily discovered.  Either way, starting immediately is a good."

Folke wasn't bothered by Marissa's comment, but he had the decency to nod his head in a sign of capitulation.  Morals were somewhat different in the South, after all.

"I have not heard nor read of any specific resistances for the Sigurdsdottir, Saliq," he answered the illusionist.  "Maybe some extra tolerance for dragon breath?  But even that is conjecture."

When talk turned to a new destination, Folke peered at the map along with the rest, and then nodded along as Inas and Rath began describing an immediate departure.  "Putting space between us would be useful, but I wonder if that will be enough.  Saracutti made some reference to dreams that guided her.  It could be that the Morde Witch is lending her aid supernaturally."

"Nevertheless, no one ever complained about a head start."

"Hold," Marissa said. "I am going upstairs."

Her tone is preemptory, as if expecting her wish to be their command, but her expression is distracted as she stands from the table. She checks her gear; with the spear shaft sitting lazily upon her shoulder, she makes her way to room #4.

Knocking once, she awaits the invitation to enter. Her opposite hand is on the hilt of her dagger, just in case.

Inas interrupts Marissa's contemplation before she departs.  "Why?" he growls.

"Why not?" she challenged, her eyes flashing real anger now. "You would rather we have a committed and clever foe dogging our heels? I'm not going up there for pleasure, Inas. I'm going to see if I can neutralize her."



She ignores further questions and moves up the stairs.

"Wait!" Folke called after Marissa, now seriously concerned.  He did not know if she would listen though."How?"

He was pretty sure he knew what she meant, but the conclusion was dangerous and distasteful at the same time.  Especially when they had no idea how things would turn out in the future.  A pre-emptive strike supposed so much knowledge that they simply did not have.  And the implications were grave.

Despite protestations, Marissa disappears up the stairs from the common room of the Nail into the overnight rooms.

Inas' sub-audible muttering (the words "damn fool" can be heard) conveys his irritation.

Inas walks to the tavern's door, seems to pull something out of his pocket, toss it, then return.

Rath stared after Marissa. He was less judgmental then Inas, but perhaps equally concerned. He waited a minute, then stood up. "Well, somebody's got to sit at the top of the stairs and listen for trouble." He made a move to do just that.

Rath moves up to the top of the stairs, and sits in a spot that has been worn smooth by the countless people sitting there over the years, doing just what he is doing.

As everyone sips their drinks, nibbles on the food, but minds are wondering what is going on above, senses sharp waiting for some sign of trouble, the doors to the Nail open and Inglebern, Seneschal of the Lord Mayor walks in, followed by two iron plated soldiers.   Seeing the party, he moves straight over.

"All is quiet here I see, I suppose the black smears outside are your doing, thank you for that.  I was asked, should I see you, if you have any theories on why Stormhaven was swarmed with demons, we, so far, do not".

"Inglebern," Folke nodded, greeting the seneschal politely but as an equal.  "How widespread is it?  We saw three groups on the way here.  Were they everywhere?"

"As to the reasons for it," he continued, deciding Inglebern could answer in another second, "we have nothing definite to offer.  We did visit the swamps the other day, to deal with an issue in the Glades.  But I don't see any connection that would explain attacks against the city at large."

"Though there was a mention of a pact between Stormhaven and a denizen in the Glades," the skald mentioned, suddenly curious.  "You wouldn't know the terms of that agreement, would you?  It doesn't mention demons at all, I trust."

Inglebern listens, nods, "They came from everywhere, we have have a dozen citizens dead, four times that in the hands of the clerics, and we got off easy, so many of the guild were in town, and you, and some others..." he wipes his forehead, "we could have lost more people, so far we've counted seventy five demons killed, I don't think the swamp folks had anything to do with it, if they had, well, it would have been much worse.  Let us know if you find anything".  With that, he leaves, clearly flustered.

Marissa returns from upstairs, having issued her warning to the unnaturally sleepy dragon-slayer.  The group feels it best to get started sooner than later given the odd meetings and events of the past day.  The rangers idea that the first few days would go quicker by horse, makes sense and so the group makes plans to slip away from the city quietly, near sunset when many of those who come to sell goods in the great Bazaar head home for the day.  It will be easier to leave without notice (if such a thing is possible).  And Inas can find a route in the right direction even in the early night to a private glade some many hours away from the city to camp for the first night.  And, there are just a few hours to say goodbye's, grab any last minute goods before heading out on the road.

ooc: You can continue to post here for a few days if you have anything left to discuss in this thread, then I will close it.  I will open The Quest for Seven Fall Canyon tomorrow.

Marissa exits the woman's room to find Rath at the top of the stairs.

"Did you lose something, Rath?" she asks with a small smile. "Come, let us make plans to be away."

She slides by him as he rises from his perch and heads down to the commons. Noting Inas missing, she asks Folke and Saliq, "I suppose our good ranger was watching my back as well?"

She grins slowly, nods once and says, "Thank you, all of you. It is good to have such faithful companions."

Inas lingers outside the tavern for a few moments.  Eventually, he returns.  He directs a glance to Marissa, but only says: "We are agreed then? -- a quick departure by horseback?"

"Me?" Rath says with a smirk, looking up at Ehridol. "Heck, I got nothing to lose. How 'bout you? Lose anything?" He stands up and follows Marissa down to the common room.

Folke nodded to Marissa with a small smile.  "He stepped to the door shortly after you left.  I think he had a friend keeping watch."

"And you're welcome.  Just don't scare us too often, right?"

"Hmph, lost that a long time ago, Rath."





"Were you really afraid for a little ole gal like me? I'm flattered Master Folke."


"A quick departure sounds perfect, Inas."