"You shut your mouth elf," Galnor snarls back, teeth gritted as he rubs his hand sulkily.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:25, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Tyronius, who has barely flinched, smiles coldly as he continues to stare at Galnor.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"You'll regret crossing me," Galnor growls at him as he gestures for a pair of his men to hoist Tyronius into the wagon.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Ironic," Tyronius replies as he is shoved roughly into the wagon, "I was about to tell you the same thing."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:30, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Galnor shakes his head and sends Aerendir a venomous glare. Then he turns to the rest of his men.

"All right boys, let's move out!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:31, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Valdan gives a curt nod.

"You heard him men!" he shouts as the wagons containing the prisoners and injured rumble off down the muddy road to the northwest, the mercenaries trotting their mounts beside them.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Calvorn, bundled in with the rest of Tyronius' men, exchanges a grim nod with Aerendir as his cart trundles off. Pressed against the back of the cart, he glances around surreptitiously shifting his bound hands to slip a small dagger from his boot which he slides up his sleeve.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:38, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Aerendir resumes his tending to Marabir, though he does spare the man driving the wagon an unimpressed glare as it sets off with a violent jolt.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:40, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

The two parties make their way in procession to the town gate, where they branch off, Tyronius' men and the injured taking the road to the northwest, while Galnor and the larger portion of his forces escort the wagon containing the princes set off due north in the direction of Calarn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:44, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Worst of all, we missed breakfast," Aerendir mutters to Tyronius as they bounce and jolt along the road into the sparsely wooded lands which are becoming all too familiar.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:46, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Tyronius doesn't grace this comment with a response.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:47, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

The sun has just begun to climb over the mountains to the north as they round a bend in the road and Lastorn is lost from view.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:48, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Inside the tavern, Nod peers cautiously out of the window as he watches them leave. The moment the last of the riders has disappeared through the town gate, he swiftly darts out into the corridor, keeping a wary eye for any sign of the barman or tavern staff. He winces at every creak along the landing, and curses as he almost slips in Marabir's blood on the stairs.

OOC: Nod the Minstrel rolled 7 using 1d20+1. Hide.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 7 using 1d20+1. Move Silently.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 11 using 1d20. Spot.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 8 using 1d20. Listen.

Luckily for Nod, the barman seems prepared to turn a blind eye to these creaks, whistling very loudly as he scrubs the bloodstains out as best as he can from the floor. The barman's back is facing the stairs and the door to the tavern.

OOC: Alphard the Barman rolled 4 using 1d20. Spot.
Alphard the Barman rolled 17 using 1d20. Listen.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:32, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

Nod holds his breath as he tiptoes across the taproom behind the barman, holding a ceramic pitcher from his room upstairs threateningly, lest the man happen to glance around. He reaches the door successfully and slips out. He reappears a couple of seconds later to place the appropriated pitcher carefully on a table beside the door, before exiting a second time. He continues to hold his breath as he edges his way cautiously along the outside of the building, peering into the darkened streets for any sign of danger.

With great effort he refrains from doing his own theme music.

OO: Nod the Minstrel rolled 14 using 1d20+1. Hide.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 17 using 1d20+1. Move Silently.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 18 using 1d20. Spot.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 14 using 1d20. Listen.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:34, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

While Galnor's men have done a good job of leaving nothing of value behind, the signs of battle still remain. The ground is churned up and there a few dozen crossbow bolts stuck in the tavern roof from where the assailants were clearly firing blindly at Aerendir on the roof. The townsfolk seem largely to have hidden indoors while the fighting took place, though a brave face or two has begun to peek out from nearby windows now that the roar of the fighting has died down.

Luckily for Nod, Galnor's men were in too much of a hurry to raid the stables, and a whinny from that direction indicates that at least one of the horses hasn't been harmed in the fight.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:50, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Nod steals into the stables, and seems quite relieved to see his bay mare among the remaining horses. He gives a grunt of surprise a moment later as he collides with the bulky form of a dwarf partway through backing out of one of the stalls, leading a small pony.

"Pardon me..." Nod says hastily as he rubs his knee.

The dwarf barely seems to notice him.

"'Stay for the Lastorn Fair'," he mutters, "'Not to be missed'. Bah! That be the last time I let a bloomin' barman talk me into stayin' a few extra nights!"

He kicks open the stable door with a booted foot before disappearing out into the slowly lightening streets.

Nod glances quizzically after the dwarf, before coming to himself and swiftly saddling his own horse.

It is just as Nod has finished saddling his horse and is unbolting her stable door that he hears a rather indignant snort from a couple of stalls down.

"Cyralas!" Nod says in surprise as he hastily moves over to unbolt the stallion's own stall, "Marabir is gone I'm afraid. We need to get help from the Vordrens."

Nod has only gone a few more paces when there is another indignant whinny, this time from the stall beside Cyralas'. Aerendir's stallion pops his head out a moment later, with a distinctly unimpressed expression.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Uh, right. Yes, obviously," Nod murmurs, looking a little flustered as he unbolts the stallion's stall as well before hurrying back to mount his own mare.

"All right you two," he hisses, "Let's go!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

A rooster crows and the first light of dawn is just beginning to creep over the hills to the far east as Nod reaches the gate to the town and, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his head, walks out onto the muddy road. He curses as his left foot sinks into a particularly deep puddle of muddy water, before mounting his bay mare.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:56, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

As Nod sets off along the road to the east, Marabir and Aerendir's stallions in toe, he glances glumly toward the north.

"Aerendir's going to kill me..."

OOC: End of Chapter V...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:56, Fri 31 Dec 2021.