Following Alvador's example, Hewney tends to his horse, though he leaves the saddle on, in case of a need for a speedy exit from the town. He glances at Pathwyn and Myrick, but is only mildly curious about the significance of the flask.

"Well, thank you kindly," said Myrick, accepting the trade of cheese for the metal flask.

"You needn't mind doing that," Myrick said, seeing Alvador and Hewney starting to tend the horses.  "I'll get right to it."  There was almost a hint of wounded pride, as tending the horses was his job at the stables, not merely showing visitors to Farnworth to empty stalls.

Thank you Alvador responds to Myrick. I'll leave her in your capable hands. I wanted  to give her to associate me with taken care of. He steps aside and is ready to start the skulk.

Pathwyn squinted at the word on the flask.  While the letters were easy enough to see, the meaning was a bit murkier.  She handed the flask to Alvador.

"It has something to do with magic, I'd say," she said as much to Myrick and the others as to Alvador.  "The kind of magic Gwysol was up to.  I'd guess it is for holding some magical ingredients, but why go to the trouble of engraving such a thing?"

---

Dak went through to the front of the stable to keep an eye on the town while staying out of sight.  He had one of the smarter horses and had just removed it's bridle and let it go in the stable.  It could find whatever it needed on its own.  He felt he'd gotten quite good at reading it since they'd met.

He was anxious to get to the tower.  They'd added some extra time tramping through the woods and he didn't want to miss the other group's landing if something happened.  It wasn't good that Cannibal was making plans.

Alvador takes the flask, looks, and says The script is Old Karakulian. The word is  "enchant" What or who is to be enchanted, perhaps by drinkiing.... He shrugs. What do you want done with this?

"See anything interesting" Hewney asked Dak in low tones. He glanced up into the rafters, and around the stable, looking for good ambush points in here, or hiding places, just out of habit.

The street, from the closed front of the stables, looked fairly quiet.  A few voices could be heard coming from the inn's open door, some talk of Burl having gone missing and another voice indicating interest in a sword.

---

If the flask is opened, you can see the contents look a bit like it has the viscosity of an oil.  Spellcraft check for more information.

"All quiet for now," Dak relayed to the half-elf.  "We should be getting on to the tower."

He turned away from his vigil and returned to his horse to remove the heavy saddle bags.  Looking around, he found a corner to stow them in out of the way.

Javelin in hand, he was ready to go and looked expectantly to the others.

Dak was right, of course, they needed to move. A shiver ran up hHewney's spine, last time had been too close. He didn't relish the coming combat. He was glad they had found some allies. Now he just wanted to get this over with.

Alvador unstops the flask (or unscrews the top) and takes a look inside. Looks like oil of some kind, so it probably would be rubbed on a body or an object. Just mundane thinking would guess that. More than that...a more learned mage than I probably could figure out more. He restoppers the flask.

He purses his lips and decides to speak further. If you want a wild guess, I'd say it could be rubbed on a weapon.

21:08, Today: Alvador rolled 7 using 1d20.  Spellcraft Check.

Pathwyn saw Dak stash his saddlebags.

"If you want to bring those along, we'll probably have time at the church to count out what we found yesterday and the pay and split it 4 ways," she said quietly to Dak.  She knew he was keen to get his official share.

She listened to Alvaldor's assessment of the flask's contents.  She'd love to know more, but he was the expert.  Enchanted weapon oil would be great if they had to fight something ethereal or extra-magical.  Then again 'wild guess' sounded far from certain.

"The flask is rightfully yours, Myrick.  Do you want it back?" she asked.

"You're right.  No sense hanging around here waiting for Cannibal to cause us trouble.  Let's slip back behind the inn to the entrance of the church's secret passage."

Pathwyn got her bow out and led the way.

"No," Myrick replied, "something like that seems like it'd do more good with you."

---

Prepared to take the lead, Hewney left his blade in it's scabbard in an effort to appear less concerning, and started scouting the way.

"The split is actually in everyone else's saddlebags," Dak pointed out just as quietly.  "It wouldn't fit in mine, but we can deal with it later.  Let's just get going."

He moved to the back of the stable and made his way back toward the secret entrance.

Alvador starts to hand the flask back to Pathwyn when his arm stills. His eyes close and he strokes his forehead with his free hand. After a few moments, he unstoppers the flask and takes a sniff. Finally he goes out in the sun and tilts the flask so he can see the oil's color. He stoppers the flask and goes inside. He wears a big smile.  I remember now. I've heard of an oil of enchantment which will, for a 24 hour period make mundane weapons or arms magical. The oil smells steely, and has a sheen. I judge the flask would contain four "doses" if full, and there seems to be three measures present.  From what I remember, one dose will treat one shield, two melee weapons, or six arrowheads, two doses for armor.

My thanks to Kailanimana and Mahuika for aiding my recall.

He hands the flask to Pathwynn.* Here you are, Lady Leader.

*Who may or may not take it

Pathwyn was quite impressed with Alvador's new depth of detail relating to the oil. His acknowledgement of the elvish gods made her smile.  She tucked the flask away in her belt pouch while pondering how best to use it in the future.  It seemed a waste on shields or armor, but using it to fight otherwise invulnerable magical creatures would be very useful.  Hewney's daggers were already enchanted.  Dak's sword would be the most beneficial to temporarily enchant.  Maybe some arrows, maybe not, depending on the situation.  They wouldn't need it today anyhow.  Cannibal's gang was totally mundane.

Pathwyn saw Hewney taking the initiative to lead them through town to the secret passage entrance and followed him.

Moving very cautiously, and giving Cannibal's house quite the wide berth, moving with houses and trees and such in between them and the rest of the village proper, the small group of the Forhorns made their way to the secret exit from the church.  Had they not exited through this opening, it might have been quite hard to find indeed.  But as it was, they managed to make their way into the church basement without incident.

Pleased with the success of things so far, Hewney heads quietly to the door that leads upstairs, and takes a listen.

Although their elven blood may have allowed them to see a bit in the tunnel leading to the church, his blood couldn't see anything.  He kept a hand on the wall and one in front so that he didn't walk into anyone.  If he hadn't been down the tunnel once before, he'd have turned back for the lantern back at the stable.  Even a candle would have worked.

---

OOC: What's the lighting like in the basement?

Alvador speaks at Dak's side. He asks Would you like to place your tunnel hand on my shoulder?

The basement lighting is dim, with light filtering down the stairs.  One of the candles previously lit is still sputtering along, but it looks nearly spent.

"I'm alright," Dak whispered.  "Just don't go running and I'll be fine."

The last thing he wanted was for someone to practically hold his hand in the dark.

"Lets make our way up to the bell tower and post a lookout to watch for the Ananke and another to watch Farnworth, the inn in particular.  We can discuss our plans and ideas," Pathwyn said quietly.

She wanted to secure the first floor too, so they wouldn't get trapped up in the tower.  They could worry about that after Cannibal's inn meeting.