It's a pleasant sight to which to wake - bright sunlight, beautiful robin, gentle Fergus feeding the bird.  At least, it would be, had Eilieen waked to it - however, she has been up for a few hours now, having taken the last watch.

No matter - it gave her plenty of time to consider the events of the day before, and to sit quietly and watch the sunrise unfold.

Morning prayers completed, she briefly listens in to Colwyn speaking with Bilfro.  The subject - Bilfro's, not Colwyn's addition to it - brings a roll of the eyes, but she eschews comments.  The poor man is insane.  Perhaps someday Zadastha will gift her with the proper prayer to heal his mind...

Oh, and here is Erista, with a lovely circlet of flowers.  Eilieen's eyes grow wide as she realizes it's not for show, but rather for her.  "Oh.  Oh, my goodness!  Oh, Erista, so kindly of you!"  A betraying sheen glows in her eyes as she speaks, leaning forward to study the gift, and a fine gift it is.  With a stone, even, 'set' within the flowers.  "Oh, but I'm just trying to keep up with everyone..." she begins before trailing off.

If the other woman sees her in this light, it would only be rude to temporize.

Reaching out, she hugs the little mage, if permitted.  "This means so much," the priestess whispers.  It is to the thought, in fact, that she refers, though the circlet itself is most appreciated.

The robin moves closer and closer to Fergus' hand.  Bravely it approaches the proffered crumbs... until...

"BOWBE!  THOU BURLY-BONED TICKLE-BRAINED MAMMET!"

The bird is gone in a flurry of wings, leaving only a small feather, drifting earthward, to mark its flight.  Aarnr, meanwhile, oblivious to the effect he has on the local wildlife, continues his early morning ritual, with the intention of wresting an honest day's work from his god.

"FURNISH MY DUE, THOU BOOTLESS BEEF-WITTED FLAX-WENCH, ELSE I'LL COME AND RIP IT FROM THY STINKING HANDS, THOU QUALLING SHEEP-BITING FLAP-DRAGON!"

By which point, there probably isn't a small animal left within a mile or so, and Fergus is left holding a handful of crumbs.  With a sigh he drops them on the ground and brushes the last of them off his hands.

The wagon driver, Jack, has clearly survived the night's trials and tribulations, and already has a cask of drinking water open, along with dry bread and some of last night's stew warming over the rekindled fire.

"Breakfast!" he calls, in case anybody hasn't noticed.

The small lump under the blanket cannot ignore the harsh reality of morning any longer as Aarnr begins bellowing at the heavens. The mention of breakfast has him sitting up so quickly that he thumps his head on the wagon. Rubbing his forehead and blinking blearily from beneath a frazzled mop of hair, Ozzy manages a grin as he catches a whiff of last nights dinner. He drags his boots in the dirt as he makes his way to the fire, trying to warm up and refocus on the reality outside of his dreams.

Eilieen's hug threatens to squish Erista for a moment when the 'prayer' begins, but the priestess releases the little mage immediately, turning to brushing her off.  "Sorry, sorry," she whispers.  "Sometimes...."

Shaking her head, the priestess turns to glance at Jack.  A wry smile twists her mouth.  "Well.  Shall we partake of this...bounty?  Serenaded, even?"

Erista giggles a bit when she can breathe again.  "I just tell myself he's twice as scary to those who don't know him," she says.  "And five times as scary to anybody who'd hurt someone he's looking after."

She looks over at the shouting priest thoughtfully, and hmms.  "Just five, though.  He's still pretty scary."  She nods, joining Eilieen in heading over for breakfast.

"'Morning, Ozzy!" she waves, as they catch up to the trudging troubadour.

Breakfast, for all that it consists of reheated leftovers and dry bread, isn't too bad.  Jack has thrown a little pepper and some thyme into the pot, along with a crushed onion, all of which makes the meal a little different from last night's dinner.  He points this out with some pride, confiding to his "guests" that Honil, despite being a decent enough employer, knows nothing of feeding people on the road and so Jack, himself, is forced to vary the meals as best he can.

Over breakfast, Honil explains to his people that, with the losses, they will need to be a little more vigilant.  "Keep your eyes open today, lads.  There's less of us now, and just as much land to watch.  We can't afford to be ambushed.  It's a good thing that we should reach Bard's Gate by nightfall, all being well."

"Aye, and most of us will have been robbed blind before morning, by thieves, gamblers, and dishonest merchants." mutters Jack, drawing a few laughs and not a few murmurs of agreement.

"Nonsense!" Eilieen puts forth, choosing to take it seriously.  "The lot of us should be quite capable of holding off any further attempts.  We are forewarned and thus forearmed."  The priestess stirs her breakfast with less enthusiasm, but perks up immediately.

"Our mage will face down threats with her spells, our priest of Bowbe is, I am told on good authority -" this with a small smile to Erista "- five times more frightening than anything we would face, and I will do my best to see that Zadastha provides succor to the fallen.  Our cunning and doughty companions -" this with a motion to the rest of her group "- shall battle beside you.  Nightfall is not far, and we are all awake and prepared."

Jacks comment makes Ozzy grin, the strains of an old ballad coming to mind. Having already wolfed down last nights leftovers, Ozzy burps, setting plate aside and picking up his lute. He pauses to adjust the tuning with a few plucks on the strings, then begins singing his own redefined remix of the classic tune...

I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show
 My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw
 Papa would do whatever he could
 Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of
 Doctor Good

 Gypsies, tramps, and thieves
 We'd hear it from the people of the town
 They'd call us Gypsies, tramps, and thieves
 But every night all the monsters come around
 And lay their money down...

Colwyn gives Ozzy a nod of approval for the song.  "I 'asn't been 'earin' that in a bloody age, mate.  Ain't no bugger bein' singin' it in Tsar fer the last few years."

Breakfast is hurried, with Honil keen to get his caravan back on the road as early as possible.  Eilieen's assurances that they should be able to defend themselves seemingly fall on deaf ears, judging by the man's worried expression.  So, with breakfast over, the fire thoroughly doused, and the dishes scrubbed clean, the wagons are hitched, and the caravan sets off east again.

The party ride in the wagons, though all avoid the wagon with the freshly deceased corpses, and Aarnr continues to practice his driving under Fergus' watchful eye.  Perhaps surprisingly, the savage priest appears to be getting the hang of it quite well.  The oxen, meanwhile, plod stoically along the Tradeway, their general demeanour telling a tale of resignation to their lot in life.

Not even the lack of further rain appears to lighten their mood.

Towards mid-morning, Honil rides back along the caravan, pausing briefly to speak to each driver, including Aarnr, "We're making good time.  There's a bridge just ahead that's a little narrow, so you need to keep the animals under control if you want to get across without trouble.  And you need to keep an eye open, in case of an ambush.  Sometimes orcs, ogres, or worse things lay in wait there."

As it turns out there is something waiting at the bridge.  To Aarnr's disappointment, though, it turns out to be a patrol.  Two dozen men are there, stopping and questioning travellers, in search of bandits, brigands and thieves.  Honil is well known on the Tradeway, it seems, and the patrol leader waves him past with a cheery smile.  Everybody with him is afforded the same courtesy.

The bridge itself is of wood, with a span of some fifteen feet.  Below it a brook splashes and burbles around jagged rocks at the bottom of a ten foot deep gully.  The timbers creak ominously, and the bridge shifts and flexes under the weight of the wagons.

Honil sends Aarnr and the cart first, that vehicle being lighter than his wagons full of cloth.  The passengers are asked to dismount and walk across.  With those out of the way, the wagons make the crossing, one at a time.

"It wasn't always like this.  There used to be a stone bridge here.  But it was destroyed by trolls a decade ago.  The wooden bridge is easier to maintain, and to replace in the case of another attack." Honil explains to anybody who seems prepared to listen.  "There's usually a new one needed at least once a year."

The last of the wagons, the one containing the bodies of the deceased, as well as its more usual cargo, starts onto the bridge...
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:11, Wed 03 Sept 2014.

Eilieen appreciates Oswald's songs.  She appreciates even more the lack of rain, so despite the fact that the men don't heed her she maintains her good mood throughout the day.  The bridge provides some interesting history, and she ponders over the wisdom of wood versus stone as she awaits the wagons.

"It appears less-than safe," the priestess murmurs, looking out over the gorge then ducking back.  It's not far...but when one is talking about water and jagged rocks, 'not far' just means one has less time to think over one's affairs.

'Affairs' used in a more general sort from this Zadasthan.

Colwyn crosses the bridge, walking close to one side, where there seems to be a little less give in the construction.  Once across he moves to one side and peers down at the water below.

"'ere!  There's bein' a fish dowm there!  I's seein' 'im.  Jus' there, by that big rock what's 'avin' a white bit on it."

There is, indeed, a large fish, laying in the shallow water close to a large boulder, and lazily maintaining its position against the flow of the current.

"Wonder if'n we could be catchin' 'im.  Maybes be gettin' some more too, an' 'avin' a spot of fish fer supper."

Ozzy looks over the bridge down into the water as Colwyn points. " What? Where? ...that's no fish. It's just a rock with some white paint on it." he comments with a giggle that implies Colwyn is just being daft, " White bellied trout don't swim upside down! That's just a rock!"

Disappointingly the bridge didn't collapse, and the short drop afforded little risk, so Aarnr sits, impatiently waiting for the others to cross, drumming the pommel of his dagger on the side of the cart.

"P'raps there's a froggin' troll down there," the priest suggests, eyeing the last of the wagons, though his tone suggests there's not much hope Bowbe would be so kind.

"Mark on a rock ... someone's territory," he brightens.  "P'raps we could fight them for it ?"

Colwyn regards the rock, and the fish.  "No, there's definite bein' a fish there.  Next ter the rock, Ozzy, not on it."

Aarnr's suggestion brings a nod, "I's seein' what yer's sayin' mate."  He looks about, taking in the surroundings - seemingly endless forest and a stretch of road, "What I's not seein' is aught what'd be makin' this territ'ry as is worth markin'."

Fergus offers his own opinion, "I don't think it was marked.  Unless it was by a large bird - a goose or the like, that had to empty itself."

But, undeterred, Colwyn just carries on with his speculation, "Course, could be as some bugger marked the rock on account of 'ow they's 'id somethin' under it, or near it.  Jewels, or coin maybes."

" Treasure trove?" Ozzy asks, his eyes going wide with the possibilities. He quickly backs away from the railing, heading to the riverbank and down into the water. His curiousity piqued, Ozzy wades into the water toward the stone with the strange marking, intent on flipping it over to find the loot.

If his blood brother will wrestle with trolls for their treasure, then Aarnr ... actually, the priest doesn't need an excuse.

Tossing the reins of the oxen to Fergus, the priest grabs his sword, half sliding, half climbing down the river bank to stand at Ozzie's side, eyes gleaming as they scour the shadows for the foe.

Aarnr and Ozzy both end up standing in the stream, with no thought given to how they'd get back up in a hurry if they need to.

The stone, well... more of a boulder really, is easy to spot, and close up, the mark is definitely painted, but also faded, as if it has been there a long time.  Ozzy, up to his thighs in cold water, looks about and soon spots a broken branch which might serve as a lever...

Honil is attracted by the group standing peering down into the gully and makes his way over to take a look.  "What are they doing?" he wonders, catching sight of the intrepid stream delvers.

Colwyn looks at him, and is about to say something, but then changes his mind and says something different instead, "They's bein' after catchin' some fish fer supper.  Don't reckon as 'ow they'll be 'avin' much luck, what with Aarnr splashin' 'bout down there."

"Were that Jack callin' yer?"

"Was it?  I didn't hear anything.  I suppose I should see what he wants." and the merchant wanders away...

Erista glances up at Colwyn and nods agreement.  There's a little too much agreement in the nod to cover a simple statement like, `they're fishing'.

Aarnr eyes the solid looking boulder and eyes his diminutive blood brother in what might be mistaken for thoughtfully.  With a nod the priest sheathes his sword and casts about for another (but bigger) branch.

"This might froggin' need two of us," he growls.

"What's they bein' up ter now?"

Colwyn leans forward for a better look, then steps back rapidly as a part of the edge crumbles away, dropping a little dirt and a few pebbles into the gully.

"Oh, I's seein'.  They's goin' ter use a branch ter be shiftin' the rock.  Clever."  He ponders the situation for a moment, then finds a good place and starts to descend.  Just in case whatever his friends find down there needs his own light-fingered touch to handle it safely.

Aarnr, meanwhile, finds a large branch, and starts stripping smaller twigs from it until he has a decent sized pole.

Colwyn reaches the bottom, and looks back up the low cliff speculatively (though without knowing the word).  "'Ere, I 'ope as nothin's jumpin' our mates while we's bein' down 'ere, or ol' Fergus'll be 'avin' all the fun."  He casts about for a branch of his own.

The rogue hops onto a boulder, steps to a second, then a third... using them as stepping stones.  The fourth proves to be treacherous, shifting under his weight, and the rogue finishes with his right leg in the stream up to the middle of the shin.

"Nadgers!"

With a shrug, he wades the rest of the (short) distance, and takes position alongside Ozzy and Aarnr.  "So what's bein' the plan?"

Fergus quickly secures the oxen to a bush, though he's reasonably certain they wouldn't have tried to run off anyway.  Then he hurries back to the stream, where he joins Bilfro, Eilieen and Erista in watching their comrades in adventure.

The big farmer understands the general principle of the lever, he's used them on the farm from time to time.  Even so, he scratches his head.  "If they want to move that rock, why didn't they just ask me to throw a rope down, and use the oxen to pull it?"

Then a second question strikes him, "Why do they want to move it anyway?  It isn't blocking the road or anything."

Erista shrugs.  "I'm not sure," she admits.  "My very best guess is that it just looks difficult, so, they want to do it.  I will agree with Colwyn that using a stick for it is, within itself, as far as that goes, pretty clever, though."

Hanging from the end of the stick like a determined child, Ozzy kicks and bounces, trying his best to simply will himself heavier. Why wasn't the soggin' lever working? He had seen it done by laborers countless times in his life and it always worked for them, what had he done wrong? He keeps hanging, kicking and bouncing, doing his damnedest to make the stick defeat the stone. Ozzy knew little of the laws of physics, the geometry and counter-pressure needed were apparently just beyond him.

Wakening from her doze in the back of 'her' wagon, Eilieen slowly sits up.  One hand rises unerringly to her hair, fingers finding the single tiny leaf that fallen onto the silken strands; a single flick, and it flies free.  The priestess pushes herself from the wagonbed, feet finding purchase on the road, a frown flickering upon her features.

"What in the names of the gods are those scoundrels up to now?" she mumurs, irked at her disturbed sleep.  Wandering back, she studies the situation in some befuddlement.

"Oswald," Eilieen calls out.  "Are you well?"