With Goon handling the downbeat, Lani was free to get a little more playful on the potbellied lute's myriad strings. She backed off periodically to let the titanic drummer get his own expression in, though. Myre got a playful wink about the spider comment, and it was tempting to play a little joke on Yatari by brushing an imaginary creepy-crawly from her hair. As much as Lani liked an excuse to touch the tiefling's silken red locks, though, she refrained.

"The tales you all grace me with are worth very much more than a bit of light music," Lani assured Yatari, and everyone else, with a glowing smile.

"And sing of you I shall! Oral histories are among our world's most beautiful works, Davor, and I thank you for mistaking me for the true professionals," she drifted backwards to give the priestly half-orc and his mighty scythe a respectful nod. "Though it is I who shall be the footnote! It's a mighty ego, indeed, who meets five fascinating people, puts ink to page about their lives, and still fashions herself as the most twinkling star in the sky." She made a pointed look at Sakr's dark frame at the head of the pack. "Even when some of them revel in being the strong, silent type."

There was perhaps more Lani could say on the subject of gnolls, but she held her tongue. She'd been around long enough to have an idea what Davor spoke of, and to hear more than one heartbreaking tale about what happened when a tribe like that turned their sights on those less-prepared.

"A wonderful insight, Yatari! What puts us all on the road to Red Fern, darlings? What is it you're seeking?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:52, Wed 05 May 2021.

Myre's jibes (Davor assumes that she is teasing Yatari) elicit a grin from the half-orc, who manages to restrain himself from barking out a laugh. He manages to control himself enough to agree with Yatari's sentiment. "Something mischievous will hear, no doubt." He allows himself a small chortle as he resumes the march.

Davor gets a faraway look in his eyes when Lani asks what he is seeking. "The spirits tell me about many things. Lately, they've been telling me that my destiny begins at the end of this road. Or at least at the end of a road. It was a road leading to a fiery bush anyway. So when I heard you and Yatari talking about a place called Red Fern, I made a decision. I swear on my grandmother's ashes that I won't be as cryptic with my descendants when I speak to them from beyond the veil." By the end of his statement, Davor's gaze has returned to the road ahead and his expression is one of exasperation.

The wooden flute stuck in a pocket of Davor's backpack stays there as Lani and Goon play their song. If he has any inclination to join in, Davor doesn't show it.

Suddenly, the party hears a rumbling from around the bend ahead of them and six horses with riders come into view. The riders whip their mounts, driving them onward. As they charge past the party, the travelers can't help but notice the lead rider, a brutish human with a handlebar mustache and a black eyepatch. An elaborate dragon tattoo covers the left side of his face, and he sports several bloody wounds. The six humans and their mounts race past the travelers without a second look, then turn abruptly off the road and charge up the side of a nearby hill.

Myre opened her mouth in mock shock as Yatari shook a finger at her and when Davor commented on mischievous spirits Myre sighed, "Oh, we can only hope!" All this walking was decidedly dreary.

Myre occasionally cast her eyes to Goon as he moved about the group as they travelled. She smiled politely when he looked her way and if she noticed that he hadn’t stopped beside her then she didn't seem worried. She may have been a bit intimidated by the size of the half-orc, as with Davor the racial brethren both towered over her. This was except for the fact she had now spent some time with Davor and her opinion on half-orcs had settled into a rather positive one, especially on her current companions.

The strange, mostly silent man who led the way was still a mystery to her. She could understand the possible reasons for his restraint; they were a curious group who drew a lot of eyes. Being stared at was not something Myre was a stranger to but since joining with these other travellers the stares were not followed with insults about her stinky self or how dirty her clothes were. Now, it seemed, while being stared at was still commonplace the gawkers kept their yaps shut and moved on. Eyes still followed them; especially Yatari who, while beautiful, Myre couldn't quite decide if she was truly a devil or just the distant progeny of an infernal master. Well she certainly seemed to enjoy nature, which was a good enough reason for Myre to enjoy her company and ignore her heritage.

Myre grinned at Lani's wink and while a bit too verbose for the cloistered druid Myre definitely appreciated the mischievous nature of the woman. As the minstrel poked fun at Sakr Myre couldn't help but chime in, "Oh, we can't be too hard on him. Perhaps he has a terrible singing voice. Or maybe he's a dancer... he looks like he could dance." She raises her voice, "Hey Sakr! Can you dance?"

As the riders flew past Myre frowned at their passing, "What's the hurry?" She peered down the road from where they came, "Hope they're not running from something? We are headed that way, yes?"

Sakr considers responding to Lani and Myre but his thoughts are cut off by the sudden rumbling up ahead. He stops in his tracks and instinctively reaches for his bow and an arrow as the riders approach. When they pass by without so much as a glance at him or the others, he frowns and furrows his brow, puzzled by the incident.

"They were definitely fleeing something," Sakr says, turning to face the rest of the party. "Stay alert as we proceed." He then turns back toward the direction of travel and continues to lead the party down the road, keeping his bow at the ready.

At the warning from Sakr Myre stops for a moment. Holding her staff before her in both hands she kneels before it. Tapping the staff on the ground pale spores fall from the mushrooms and cover her form, "Puipuiga!"[Language unknown: "Ndeersvirruttio!"]

An arcane shield in a green tortoiseshell pattern clings to her briefly, rolling from her head to her feet.

She stands, looking between her companions, and shrugs. "I dunno, he seems worried." Indicating Sakr.

Casting Mage Armor.

Goon took no excess with his freedom on the drum, but he did not play meekly. His fills weer syncopated and multi-tonal, tuned with practiced strikes. It seemed years of waiting around and slapping at his thighs did not go completely to waste. There was a muse about him, though he was far from a bard.

Davor's decision of his deed in death made Goon snicker appreciatively, and Lani and Myre's shared ribbing of Sakr made him belly chuckle. Along this trip the big bouncer never thought he'd laugh so much. The fresh air, the kind company, it was messing with his head. He needed a drink to dampen all of this silly clarity.

The thunder of hoofs added so much need confusion to his day. Goon hardly slowed his drumming as the riders rushed past. He was well-practiced in assessing threats quickly. Or maybe he was a little slow. Either way, after they passed, he calmly put away the drum. Looks like their wouldn't be music for now.

"They were definitely fleeing something,"

"Maybe they're late for a dinner party." Goon mumbled, his voice deep as cave waters, a quick clip behind the consonants. They're was a slur in his word; whether it was a product of city living or the scar caused by his missing tusk was a mystery. Maybe it was both.

"I dunno, he seems worried."

Goon made a thoughtful "huh" sound. He imagined when you could perform magical manifestations, you could easily subdue your sense of caution. He kept his eyes on the riders, watching them as they charged up the hill. Now he wondered why they didn't have horses.

Oh yeah. Because horses were expensive.

"I'll be back."

Goon thumbed his nose, then jogged after the riders. He certainly didn't hope to catch up to the riders, but his long-legged stride was an attempt to crest the hill and see where they went.

Rolled a Nat 1 for Perception on their initial pass.

Moving to the top of the hill to see where they're headed.

Davor has the presence of mind to move to the side of the road before the riders charge past and he does not draw his weapon. After they have turned off the road and charged up the hill, he looks back down the road to see if there is anyone, or anything, following them.

Like Myre, Davor deems the strange encounter enough to warrant a little extra caution. He pulls a small flask from a pouch at his side, speaks a word in orcish as he passes a hand over it, and then takes a swig of the apparently black liquid inside before replacing it.

[Language unknown: "Conher-yinwil!"]

As he swallows, the veins of his neck glow briefly with a pale green light and travel down towards his chest before disappearing under his armor. He lets out a loud, satisfied breath and grins. "I hope that's a sign that there's more excitement to come. They looked like they had been in a fight recently."

Davor rolled 7 using 1d4+4.  False Life.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:49, Fri 07 May 2021.

Goon made his way off towards the group of men, but Yatari took to the skies instead.  She couldn't determine--in that fleeting moment--whether the obvious bandit man was in fact a bandit.  She felt confident he was, but 'Your Honor, I was very certain the shady-looking man was up to no good!  He was driving too fast!  With mutton chops and a facial tattoo!' wasn't going to hold water anywhere she wanted to be.

Goon was off looking for where the posse was going, so Yatari attempted to look and see whether there was something chasing them, or perhaps a pile of bodies, or some smoldering ruins... something that would be more conclusive proof.  While Davor and Myre used their magic, Yatari put her body to work in order to try and obtain the information she sought.

The merriment and excitement of traveling with a group of interesting people paled in comparison to the sudden jolt of adrenaline at the thought.  Davor's commentary about cryptic ancestors had very nearly elicited a double entendre from the tiefling, so she was at least grateful she didn't have to apologize to a group of relative strangers for her bawdy sense of humor.

Imagine the lack of decorum!

20:31, Today: Yatari rolled 7 using 1d20.  Perception.  I don't think she sees anything from on high.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Fri 07 May 2021.

Lani giggled to herself listening to Davor's answer to the question of what he sought. She wondered if anyone's else mind was going to the place hers went, but the six riders came barreling past and utterly messed up the comedic timing before she could comment. Top that with Sakr running ahead, Goon running behind, Yatari going full demoness and the group's two most fragrant members getting their magic on, the Antic found herself at a little bit of a loss.

"Lady Adventure, she doth call. And what a bitch she is." Lani shrugged and gave her dark hair an airy whip around her shoulders. First thing's first, she slung her lute across her back and shook her hands loose. One must always warm up the muscles before exertion! You can't pose heroically after doing something dashing and sexy if your hamstring is on fire, literally or otherwise, that was her dear papá's wisdom! And Nigelus Merrweneh was rarely wrong about anything -- except his taste in partners.

Then, with all the practiced flair of a stage performer, the Antic slid her shortswords from the scabbards at her lower back, gold silks fluttering from their handles and striking a damn fine contrast with her drab armor. They looked even better when she was dressed for show, but her performing costume would be an absolute wreck from even an hour on the open road.

So armed, Lani ran ahead after Sakr, hoping to help the ranger spy whatever might have sent the riders riding.

21:11, Today: Lani rolled 10 using 1d20+4.  Perception.

By the time Goon got to the top of the hill, the wild-out riders were long gone by every stretch of his sight. He stood there for a bit, trying to pierce the mystery of the world's curvature and foliage for any signs of their traversal. Nothing was made known. Seemed his work here was done.

The group would see Goon jog back, his pace casual but noticeably unhindered by his pack and what little weaponry one could see. He slowed to a stop, meeting their expressions (and possibly Sakr's back) with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ain't see 'em." The ex-forcer pulled a wayward gold-nocked loc out his face, behind a slanted ear. "'Ey're long out." He noticed Lani's sword-bearing, jut his chin at her, and smiled. Or tried to. One corner raised enough to remove some of the deadpan from his face, which in turn widened the space in his mouth where his tuskless teeth could be seen beyond the scar.

"Look right t'ave a chatty wittem fat lady pig pokas?" He followed the statement with a waggle of a brow as his voice changed from bass to mezzo-baritone. "M'choppas bene for t'Lay, gone get." His own hand patted at one of the three hand-axes strapped to his chest as he winked at her. The group would have heard Goon and Lani pass a couple of cryptic quips, some unusual questions along their journey. While Goons city speech was generally subtle, it seemed that another side of him was accessed when he shared the strange speech with the sometimes-sordid sworded performer.

Goon sighed as he continued with the group. "Maybe we'll find a party ahead." he mumbled, back to his regular rumble. "Hope 'ey still got invitations."

After a few moments of fruitless searching, Yatari alighted upon the earth again.  On the plus side, she didn't cast a shadow so at least no one had their view marred by her temporary aerial antics.  "I couldn't see anything of note, but that's more an indictment of my own abilities than it is a reflection of the Truth," she grumbled, a quick prestidigitation to keep her finery dust-free.  "What a peculiar group.  We all sensed that, right?"  Of course they did--everyone seemed ready for combat, if combat had come along.

"Well..."  She cleared her throat.  "I think we were learning about what motivates everyone to travel, were we not?  Someone was interrupted by the sudden horses."

Lani was still trying to see, but she strongly doubted that she would notice anything that Yatari, who had literally been in the sky, did not. The elf thoughtlessly twirled the sword in her right hand, rolling the curved crossguard over her middle finger back and fore and back again.

"An, ii're rum li'a chawlder tap," the Antic replied to Goon off-handedly, in an accent so dense it might have been literal stone. "Moky to salan 'ibne uon sy intan banasko. To'm 'ibne a bitama--" Lani stopped herself and squinted tightly. "Sorry. I mean: To dinnae like tae lay down cramp words. Ah'm nae a hitter nor a grampa." Lani smiled apologetically to Goon, and shrugged with her swords up.

"I may be overestimating the body language of a broad back, but Sakr seemed poised to say something before those gentlemen came a-riding by on whatever grim business they have. I dearly hope they had a simple lover's quarrel, not that there's something ill towards Red Fern that we've failed to suss out. Lani let her swords fall by the silks, looped into her pinkies so she wouldn't drop them outright, and cupped her hands over her mouth. "Sakr! Do you see anything? And if you don't, what brings your possibly-dancing self down this colorful spring road?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 22:15, Fri 07 May 2021.

As the others darted or flew about trying to work out the curious passersby Myre didn't move after casting her spell. It was only due to Sakr's words of caution that she even did that. The riders who sped past the group didn't concern her, after all they had passed without incident. What had her concerned was what was ahead, and her eyes remained fixed on the road. She still seemed ready for troble, especially as the others in the group followed her in their casting or drawing of weapons. It seemed though, that any potential for immediate trouble had passed.

Myre nodded in agreement with Davor, it did seem as the horsemen had escaped some fight further down the road. "Looks like it might be our fight next." Her eyes widened as she bobbed about, trying to see further along their path. It was difficult to tell if it was in anticipation or hesitation.

She had no idea what was going on between Goon and Lani and turned back and quizzically looked between them when they started speaking in the strange accent. She could make out the words but they just didn't make sense! What by rot was a 'lady pig pokas'? Or a 'li'a chawlder tap'? She shrugged and instead addressed Yatari, "A peculiar group? Them or us?" This time a smirk did play across her lips which only widened as Lani brought the attention back to Sakr. It seemed Myre was not the only one curious about the brooding man.

Curious to see what had brought the strange group of horsemen barreling down the road, Davor resumed walking back the way the horsemen had come. He followed Sakr at a distance that would allow the ranger to scout without interference, but not so far away that Davor couldn't reach him quickly.

Also not one to let the strangeness of a situation distract him, Davor chimes in with some thoughts of his own. "People have told me that orcish is an incomprehensible language and that they have no idea how orcs learn to speak it. I try not to take offense at the implication, but I always reply that there is no language in the world so incomprehensible as common." He turns briefly to look pointedly at Lani and Goon before glancing at Myre and cocking an eyebrow.

"Hmm? No, I don't see anything," Sakr says, stopping and turning to face the others. "But we should still be careful." He pauses a moment then continues, "What brings me here? I suspect the same thing as the rest of you: the need for a change." He then continues down the road toward their destination.

The party continues along the road for about two miles before reaching a small town with about two dozen buildings. As the party enters the quiet town, they spot a man nailing a notice to the front of a door. It reads:

Wanted Alive!
"Bruiser" Holloway
Reward for capture: 1,000 gold pieces

Beneath the writing is an unflattering drawing of a brutish man with an enormous handlebar mustache, a black eyepatch, and an elaborate tattoo of a green dragon coiling about the left side of his face.

"Lucky we didn't engage him," Yatari murmured, examining the notice.  "Knowing he must be brought in alive is very valuable.  And a thousand pieces of gold..."  A little inconvenient, given it didn't divide into six particularly easily, but that meant there was potentially room for negotiation...

Scritching along her chin with her somehow-purple-polished nails, Yatari considered the situation.  "Sakr, Davor, you're both men of the--" she made a little hand motion towards nature, "--world.  And Myre, you're a woman firmly of the loam.  Do any of you three, by chance, have training in tracking?"

Myre looked to the sign with a grin, "They're not very good at drawing. But I suppose it gets the point across." It was fortunate this Bruiser Holloway was so distinctive, the artist may have had some trouble drawing somebody with a less notable appearance.

She was brought out of her daydreaming when Yatari mentioned her name, "Oh, yes. It shouldn't be hard for me to track a horse, let alone six." She looked back down the road they travelled, "We know where they went off road, so it should be easy."

"It shouldn't be too difficult to find him," Sakr says with a nod. "But I'm not tracking anyone unless I know who wants him captured and why." He approaches the man who had posted the sign and asks, "Excuse me, sir, but who is this 'Bruiser' fellow, and what did he do that would warrant a thousand gold piece reward for his capture?"

Davor grins at Yatari, appreciating the wit in her comment about bringing Bruiser in alive. "As Myre says, it shouldn't be too hard to track six men on horseback when we know where they went off the road. I have to agree with Sakr though, better find out what he's wanted for at least. Don't get me wrong, I'll never say no to a path so clearly laid out by fate, but there's no need to rush off."

"Bruiser Holloway is wanted for stealing the official molds for the duchy's silver piece," the messenger replies to Sakr. "Did you say you saw him and know where he went? Well, if you all can capture Bruiser yourselves before reinforcements from Red Fern arrive, the reward is yours for the taking! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got more notices to post." He then hurries off with his wanted posters.

By the time the group found themself in the tiny town, Goon had found himself at the back of the group. It seemed right enough to wander at the rear, allowing the shorter half of their party to get a good view of the township. The freshly mounted sign had quickly drawn his attention alongside the others, and he squinted his eyes tighter with every word. Seemed that they let their bar tab run right by them.

"Hoh."

It was distinct, the way Goon's thoughtful huff opened up from his gut as he  scratched at his stomach. Knowing half of their company were skilled trackers made the prospect seem even more enticing. Davor and Sakr's hangups for "reasons" did damper his mood. It was easy to get caught up in the logistics. Sometimes you were simply paid to punch someone out.

Hopefully the signman's answer assuaged his companion's curiosity.

"Well, 'is here town looks light on the buffet," Goon mutters. He always mutters, like a hollow boulder with a smart mouth. "Might as well round up our room an' board."

Goon hoped his company would be able to see Bruiser like he did; as his bed, breakfast, and beer.

"He stole from the duchy itself," Sakr thinks aloud. "He must not be the brightest fellow... Well, then, it seems that we'll want to hurry if we want to catch this Bruiser before the royal forces arrive."

"Or this 'duchy' isn't strong enough to hold power in the area. It doesn't speak to the chief's leadership if a gang of men can steal their valuables." Davor raises an eyebrow at Sakr. "Putting up a poster in the middle of town offering a reward, a big reward, makes it seem like the chief's men probably won't be along to deal with the situation any time soon."

The big orc shrugs. "Still, it sounds like a good time so I say we go for it." He chuckles in agreement with Goon's sentiment. "With that much coin, even the most respectable inn keepers won't turn us away."