Roisin stepped forward a worried frown on her forehead as she hugged Olven "We thought we'd lost you. We were about to drop everything and come look for you...but teh children needed to be returned before we did that.....what happened?"

When Olven Wolf arrives back at the farmhouse, relief breaks out across his face, but the expression quickly changes to wariness.  He eyes Ochre as the pseudodragon flies around, and when Roisin approaches, the once friendly Olven steps back a pace.

"Something has happened to me," he says quietly, "And quite frankly, it scares me to my core.  I am not safe to be around, not anymore.  I'll collect my things and meet everyone back in Kalaman."

Roisin stepped back, her eyes looking deep into Olven's with nothing more than concern for him filling them. "A moment please." her eyes pleaded with Olven to stay "Whatever it is. You can talk to us. We've come through the lyceum, we've shared much and have many stories to tell, of bravery, of song, of life itself. We understand you're scared. If I could only tell you of the things that confront me in the nights when I sleep that continue to haunt me during the days." she carefully stepped back from Olven aware she was making him feel uncomfortable "We've not walked many roads together, but the roads we have walked tell me that you are strong and trustworthy, and I hope that they tell you the same of us. We can help you Olven. Why not take a risk and tell us what has happened? If we can't help you presently, at least we'll understand what to do to keep you and others around you safe"

Keeping his distance, Olven licks his lips nervously.  The clothes scavenged from the scarecrow ill-fit him and accentuate his clearly larger muscles.  "I am not in control," he says quietly.  "And what's more, I have a deep distrust of others that didn't have yesterday.  I went to sleep contented last night, looking forward to reporting back to the king of our success.  You and D'aden must go now before him, alone, without me."

He looks around himself nervously.  Gone is the confident mercenary who had explored the Lyceum.  In his place is a man paler, with haunted eyes.  Physically, he may be stronger, but his eyes dart to and fro, and his body tenses like an animal ready to bolt.

"I had noticed odd things, how people and creatures smelled different than before, for instance.   It's like I could smell their feelings.  And yesterday."  He shudders.  "There was a hunter's trap.  Its jaws ripped into my skin.  But look."  He pulls up the leg of his borrowed trousers.  "It's clean.  Not even a scar.  My flesh healed itself before my very eyes."

He licks his lips again, afraid, ready to bolt.  "And then there was a rabbit.  The most delicious smelling thing I'd ever smelled.  I killed it with a rock.  And then - "  He shudders.  "I - I can't tell you what happened next.  I need to understand this on my own.  But I believe it's related to what happened to me in Kalaman.  Do you remember?  It was only a few days ago, but it feels like years.  No, I've said too much."  His eyes shoot back and forth.  "Just - just let me take my gear.  You and D'aden go back to report our success.  I don't know where I should go, but I need to stay away from populated areas.  Maybe back to the Lyceum.  I can keep an eye on the place in case more dracs show up.  I'm not safe to be around any more, not for any of us.  Except - "

He remembers the dwarf, who had had a solution to this dilemma.  The dwarf would know what to do, how to prevent Olven from hurting anyone else.

"Please, Roisin," he says weakly.  "I'm not in control, not any more."

Roisin nodded slowly. "I...." her voice faltered as she watched Olven silently for a few moments "I accept your choices. I think you'd be better off involving us. At one time in my life..." Roisin took a long pause, almost running an internal debate in her head "I needed to control everything around me. I wanted power. I still do.. I think all magic users do, but now, my search for power does not come at any cost. Friends are everything, Olven. The connections that bind us to others is the most powerful magic there is. So, I hope when you come to realise this and need our help, you will come back to us. In the meantime, is there anything we can do to help you on your journey?" Roisin tried not to let the sadness show on her face at the prospect of Olven leaving. She already knew in her heart he'd want to travel on his own, but she'd never forgive herself if she didn't at least make an effort to try to persuade him to rejoin them.

D'aden had been quiet, watching Olven, and listening. Finally, he says, "it sounds like you think you're a danger to us, Olven. We're traveling in the same direction, even if we travel separately, we'll not be far apart. How far away from us would you need to be to feel we're safe from you?"

The mercenary nods his head at Roisin's words.  "Yes, friendship is a kind of magic, perhaps the only one I understand, even partially, and friendship compels me to tell you as much as I have already."

He turns to D'aden.  "You have the cart.  You'll probably make better time than I.  I'll give you a day's head start and then follow to Kalaman after that.  If I camp in the forest, I should be safe.  Shall we meet in 3 days' time at an inn in the city?  You can tell me how the interview with the king went."

Alvin hadn't known him very long. She hadn't known any of them very long. Hours really.

"What about your portion of this," she asked while gesturing towards the wagon.

"I don't know," Olven Wolf says, troubled.  Before setting out on this journey, he had had an idea of becoming captain of a lord's guard, or perhaps even founding his own mercenary company, but now, after what had happened to him in the forest, what good were spoils of war or a king's favors?  He does not yet fully understand what has happened, or how he can reverse the result.  Or even if he should.

"I suppose I should go with you to present myself before the king," he says slowly.  "The king has protection.  I think he would be safe from me.  Perhaps if you lot do the talking and I stand there, quietly."

He shakes his head in frustration.  "I awoke in the forest with none of my belongings, no weapons, no clothing, nothing.  I honestly don't know how to stop this from happening again.  It's not a question of if it will happen again, but when.  Until I learn more about this affliction, it's hard to see much value in material wealth, other than in a potential cure that it might buy me, or transport to someplace where I cannot endanger anyone else."

OOC:  I don't want to bog things down here, but Olven will agree to see the king.  He will still want to travel separately so as not to endanger the others.  He will accept whatever portion of a reward he is given by the king.

The heroes started heading home to Kalaman. They traveled for the rest of the day and made camp. They would be back tomorrow at about lunchtime.

Roisin spent the trip mainly thinking to herself as the journey progressed. She wondered what happened to Olven that he would be so reticent to even speak of it, knowing she was an accomplished healer and somewhat talented mage.

She looked around every now and again, just making sure everyone was where she thought they would be as they got closer to their return.

Olven waits until the other have disappeared down the road and then leaves town to find a secluded area to wait.  He decides to give them half a day to travel on.  So, making himself as comfortable as he can, he waits for the next day.

OOC:  Olven will wait until the next day and then travel to Kalaman.

D'aden returns to the position he started the trek in. On the seat, driving the wagon, darning his socks. Occasionally he adds a new verse or two to what he has decided will be his magnum opus. Perhaps fortunately, perhaps not, the other travelers heard snatches of the tune and never the whole thing.

A little while after the heroes had made camp, a rider approached. And even before they could see him, they could hear that he was an excellent singer, even better than D'aden, with an attractive voice, much like Roisin's, but a tenor.

Closer, they could see that he was dressed in leather armor under a dark green hooded cloak. On the cloak was fastened a brooch of black metal in the shape of an equilateral triangle, with the point upwards, circumscribed by a circle. He was armed with a long knife and had a three-quarter filled backpack on his back with a wineskin, a wooden case, and a wide scroll case about as long as his arm fastened to it.

He stopped near the heroes' camp. "Greetings fellow travelers," he said congenially. "I am Gareth the bard, could I perhaps share your camp this evening?"

D'aden looks to Roisin and nods a smile her way, "perhaps he's a tune or two to drive that brave draconian ditty from my ear. It's my own fault, but it keeps circling my mind and is sure to drive me mad before too long."

Roisin laughed at D'aden's comments "You are welcome to share our fire and our food. Truth be told I am weary of the incessant meandering warbles coming from my friend. Perhaps you could teach him to sing properly this evening...and if I even dare, a song about something other than introspection and the easy clutches of despair, and keeping secrets that lead inevitably to parting of the ways and a short, painful death alone and apart from others." she said teasing her friend. She held up a warning hand "Anything bawdy and it may be you that ends up in the fire."

With a look of surprise, D'aden gasps at Roisin, "meandering?!"
But despite his indignant beginning, he can't help the smile that grows on his face as he continues, "I like meandering! Surely you wouldn't have me stop, who would ineffectually whack our foes with a stick while you subdue them with arcane power?"
"No, now you must answer me. Do I or do I not make you look good?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:43, Wed 14 Feb 2018.

"Thank you," Gareth said and dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, removed his backpack, and the horse's saddle.

"I am certain I can think of something to elutriate your senses."

Roisin rolled her eyes "D'aden, you make everything and everyone around you look good. Even Utrecht himself is as an Adonis hewn from nature. Why, I may even go so far as to admit that having a kender as a best friend might look good in comparison to you.... being on an alter as a ritual sacrifice to She of Many Faces might look good in comparison....no that's not fair. I'd need to think about that one." Roisin shrugged "Maybe 50-50"

She smiled to the newcomer "I'm Roisin, by the way, and this is D'aden, a self styled troubadour and troublemaker. What brings you this way?"

"Pleased to meet you both," Gareth said. "My muse brings me this way. The song takes me many places. What brings you this way?"

Roisin smirked as she responded "My song merges with another. The song that merges with mine belongs to the King....and it has a commanding voice and is more than a little insistent that I...." she looked back over her shoulder at D'aden "that... we return and join the chorus."

"That sounds like a very interesting tale," Gareth said. "What brings the king's business this far east?"

"Not a tale that can readily be retold, as it is the Kings business, and not my own....and..." she smirked as she pulled at the silver circlet of metal around her neck "I have enough interesting tales of my own that others seem so much more mundane by comparison."

"Please go on," Gareth said. "What is the tale behind such adornment on a wonderful woman such as yourself?"

D'aden gives Roisin a sardonic smile and speaks to Gareth "even with a tale difficult in the telling, it is easy for a melody to convey the feeling. Besides, I have a melody that does capture one part of our adventure. For reasons we aren't aware of, there seemed to be quite a few of the scaly human/dragon people. They weren't interested in talking, which I completely understand. It must be SUCH work with those large mouths and heavy teeth. Anyway, I have a song about the whole thing that I, frankly, planned to sing to end the evening. Perhaps you would have one, as well, to take the foul taste of my poor voice from the ears of my companions. Would you sing for us?"