"The go get a shovel." Longstrider said absently. "I am sure that after you dig eighteen holes for the dead, and then fill them in once the bodies are recovered you will feel like eating without so much grumbling. You are alive, you Knight of the Order, take pride in that."

Once the group returned to Ye Olde Bucket, Malcolm inquired about his room. "Need to wash off some of the dirt and grime from the road. I'll join everyone in a bit."

Samuel had been a soldier long before The One God had chosen him and eating was a matter of practicality. So he ate. But he offered no criticism.

The evening passed. People would clap them on the shoulder, buy them a sweet roll, or offer them a pipe of local cherry tobacco. None would bring up the lost troops, the dead Gnolls, or the fighting out of respect, however. A bard played as the chilled buckets of stout and bowls of venison stew drifted past them. After a while the Mayor, with the Magistrate and the local Commandant of the Watch trailing in his wake walked in to speak with the group of now-famous Gnoll slayers.

"Good evening, Heros!" The mayor, a tall Halfling name of Kellog von Hoffenbaust, called to them as they approached. "Glad to make you acquaintances. And please enjoy the services of the tavern on the town tonight."

An Elf in regal judges robes stepped up and dropped a heavy bag of coin on the table. Plates and forks near the bag jumped when the heavy bag hit the table top. It spilled open sending a cascade of golden coins across the table.

"Apologies for the untidiness. I am magistrate Luras Inar. I understand that you wished that the portion of the reward for the troops who fell in battle to be given to their families, i have made those arrangements."

"And I have several watchmen seeing to the heads and recovered weapons and armor." The last of them, a human fighter of local repute said. "I am Sylus Biaz, Commandant of the Watch locally. I am afraid your services are needed again."

"Longstrider, you see, put your names forward." The mayor said. "A person has gone missing. An important person. It would mean trekking into the swamp again I fear. And to find foe somewhat more dangerous than Gnolls. But, we are willing to pay you for the risk taken. Are you interested?"

"I will help."

Samuel clapped Yprish on the shoulder.

"My friend here is a native of the swamp."

"I anticipate he is going to ask,'Pay? How much?'."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:29, Sat 12 Feb 2022.

Malcolm kept silent as the matter of compensation came up.

Finally, he asked. "Who is this important person? Was anyone else with this person before he went missing? Was he alone?" Malcolm didn't like the person's chances if he was alone in the swamp. "I'll go as well." He offered.

Tarek watched with interest and was silent. He then nodded. He had gratefully accepted the offering from the townspeople of the tobacco. He stuffed some of the tobacco into a pipe and struck a flint against some tinder and quickly lit his pipe. As he took a few puffs, the sweet smell of the cherry tobacco filled the room and the flaring embers from the pipe illuminated his face.

"I for one would be honored to assist as needed. Count me in this and I will endeavor to assist to find this person."

"A Drow trade delegate from the city-state of Lanis to the north." The Mayor said. "Her name is Portia Anno. She is also a Priestess of their goddess Lolth. She was traveling with a caravan that has gone missing in the swamps to the northeast. I have a rough map of their proposed route and several of their known stopping points. This needs to be handled with a mind towards saving the delegate and assisting her as she needs. This is to ensure a very favorable trade agreement. So, please, do not let her theocratic airs drive you to do something to jeopardize this. For this you will be handsomely rewarded."

"It's only fair that I warn you..."

He gestured at the two paladins and then to himself.

"...that if she asks us to do anything that is a violation of their code, or my own vows, she will likely never leave the swamp?"

"No promise I can make to you will foreswear my service to The One God."

"I'll be glad to try though."

"You have my word, that so long as she does not inflict evil upon others, she will be returned to you safely.". Vogryn states, his deep voice carrying easily across the tavern.

Tarek nods after Vogryn and Brother Samuel comments. "I too will pledge my word that I will do what I can, and let me be clear about this, if it benefits the cause of good. But if there is any evil that results of this then I will do what I can do to right these wrongs."

"Let me get this straight. We are going to try to save a lost trade delegate from Lanis. Her name is Portia Anno, a priestess of Lolth." Malcolm looked to his three companions, who seemed to be hedging their bets. "Is this related in any way with Madam Druall?"

Yprish had been sitting next to Samuel quietly eating his fare and thinking about what it meant to have killed the gnolls who killed his family, when his new friend slapped him on the shoulder. Looks like they were being offered payment to go rescue a drow.

Smirking at the priest he said, "'Handsome reward' shore is pretty words, but beggin yer pardon, it's a pig-in-a-poke. Lemmie see that there map, some places more dangerous than others, if'n you follow."

---

OOC:
Hi folks. Sorry for the absence; necessities of IRL.

"Yes, yes, excellent, wonderful." The Mayor said. He set a packet of documents on the table. "This is some useful information on Priestess Anno. And a good likeness."

The packet contained her letter of introduction. A document of of her family lineage. Admission into the order of the Dancers of Elbe. And a listing of her religious and professional studies. The last was a picture of the Drow. She was beautiful in an exotic fashion but she was not a exquisite beauty. She would be easy to identify, however, thanks to the scar across her right cheek. Or was it a brand?

Samuel pushed the map toward Yprish and picked up the picture.

Vogryn observes the documents, easily looking over the heads of others.  Considering their contents, and necessities.

Tark puffed on his pipeweed while trying to glance at the documents

Malcolm reviewed each document as they are passed to him. "Will we get a chance to enjoy the night or do we need to leave immediately?"

"Please, take you ease tonight and recover your strength." The Judge told them as the trio eased away from the table. "But, please, come the morning move with a sense of urgency. This is a matter of great concern."

Yprish rubbed his chin as he looked at the map, offering what he knew of the area. "Yessir, plenty of spots this lady coulda found herself in: lotsa ruins and such of time gone by."

He moved his finger around the whole area of the map. "Down here the trees is plenty thick: don't expect much sunlight gettin through. Don't step on no logs floatin in water neither; could be that there's an ally-gator. Good eatin' on one of them, though. Creepy-crawlies, too, so poison might could be a problem."

"Boat might be of some use, if'n y'all knows how to use it. Couple of dry roads, but ain't much."

"Folk down in them parts don't take too kind to stranger, and they's got their own ways. Best mind yer manners and not get all preachy, now, y'hear?" He said the last with an arched eye and grin at Malcolm, Tarek, and Samuel.

Tarek clapped Yprish on the shoulder. You speak well on this. I am no tracker but I will be here in the morning to offer what assistance that I can. "

The night was one of music and laughter at he Ye Olde Bucket of Beer. Minstrels played while entertainers sang, tumbles, juggled, and so on. The beer was cold and the buckets marched along until the middle of the night. A cow had taken a fall in the afternoon, by the evening it had become a fine roast with carrots and cabbages. Games went on into the night as well; cards, dice, chess, backgammon, and darts, until much copper and no small amount of silver had changed hands.

Many would come by and shake a hand or pat the back of the 'heroes' of the Gnoll hunt. Brother Samuel found it no small measure to keep an eye out for the errant brawl between young men. Especially between the local Elves of the swamps and the caravan running Dwarves of the far mountains. Something about dainty swamp flowers wilting in the heat of real work.

Yrpish received many well wishers that offered a 'sorrow felt for your lost clan' sentiments. Malcomb delighted in the commonality of it all, the acceptance, and the way the young females seem to be drawn to him. Even if strong drink, and much of it, ruined any amorous opportunities.

Vogry sat stolidly, mostly talking with Tarek of the tales of the knights they admired, until he was offered a brew of brandy from a passing caravneer. A remarkably tall and elegant human, she handed him a glass of what she called Dragon Fire Brandy with a smile as dazzling of bolt of lightning. He awoke without a headache but there was a subtle lip outline on his left cheek.

From the kitchens came the sent of breakfast cooking; ham, eggs, frying potatoes, and fresh bread.

Malcolm certainly enjoyed his evening. The drinks flowed and several young women approached him with flirtatious smiles and honeyed words. The young noble smiled and enjoyed the attention but restrained himself to just the attention in common room. He made sure to secure the door lock to his larger room upstairs before retiring for the night.

The young wizard spent the early hours preparing spells and reviewing several pages of notes. Finally, Malcolm emerged from his room drawn by the aroma of breakfast sausages. He filled his plate before he sat by the hearth. As he waited, he smiled as his thoughts returned to the previous night. "Seems that my friends may have taken too much ale." He got up to take a second helping of breakfast.

As Vogryn woke, and collected his thoughts, he wondered who that woman might be.  Trying to focus on the details of her firm and face, to fix them in his mind.  This thinking, he bathed himself, then checked his belongings.  Once done, he geared up and headed downstairs, the outline of her lips scrubbed from his cheek, but their presence still felt on his skin.

Yprish began the night sullen, fondling the foot-long white-streaked scalp of Umog he's spent the afternoon scraping clear of blood and fat. Over time the leather would toughen but it was a token he'd promised himself he'd bear forever.

But by and by, and as the buckets emptied themselves, he found himself roaring to antics and singing the songs. For a time he picked up his shawm and

10:59, Today: Yprish rolled 11 using 1d20+4.  Shawm performance.

managed to keep near the beat, but playing meant having two few hands to drink with and he gave it up before long. The song he sang nearing midnight about the love-sick crocodile would have had the place in stiches, had anyone understood him.