Chapter 1 - Kingscross

[Cadrius]

It begins. They do not know it yet, but it begins all the same. From different corners of the Aryth they have journeyed to this out of the way village known as Kingscross; a place whose remote location has granted it relative reprieve from the Shadow.

They all have their reasons for being here, but not all are aware of them; some chase, others flee, and a few simply wander. Yet they all arrive in the middle of the Arc of Zimra. Some have been in the area for a few days, cautiously watching the town, others have just met caught their first glimpse of the town as the afternoon sun shines down upon it.

The air has warmed from the morning chill and the faint odors of food can be detected, floating on the winds. Everything, from fresh bread, to meat, to pastries can be smelled, coming from the village. It's enough to make anyone's stomach rumble. As filling as a ration is, it doesn't substitute for a true meal.

Kingscross itself is set directly within the Westlands with Baden's Bluff and Erenhead approximately five hundred miles to the north and north-east respectively. Caderin, a larger village, is about two hundred miles to the south-west, while the Eren river flows about a hundred and fifty miles to the East.

The village bears the distinct feature of being far removed from any major trade route. Yet on the outskirts one can make out the old ruins of buildings having fallen into disrepair, and some of the edifices still standing are quite large for a village. Even the remains of a ruined keep can be seen in the distance. Whatever hard times had fallen on Kingscross happened long before the Last Battle. A small forest, known as Garamond's Woods, sits to the West while a pleasant stream runs to the east.

And so they find themselves gazing on this town, weighing the risk of entering versus their own needs.

Soradur

It's been a week since that Fell hit him and it's getting worse. Soradur hadn't seen them coming, the trio of red-eyed fiends, but he quickly tore into them, his axe cleaving left and right. Yet one of the wounded ones caught him off-guard, springing up from the ground and sinking its foul teeth into his side. Even then he could feel something terrible seep into his blood.

The gnomes that had smuggled him across the Eren had their healer take a look at the festering wound. He applied several poultices but to no avail, they only temporarily halted its progress. They said a lesser man would've been killed days before. Yet Soradur trudges on, having listened to their advice. A healer, one of incredible skill, was said to dwell in the village of Kingscross.

He's checked the injury every day and it gets worse; the skin seems to be eating itself and the wound reopens frequently. It has come to the point where even the tough dwarf, one who could place his hands in a campfire and not flinch, is beginning to feel the pain.

Finding himself on the outskirts he watches the town, but sees no sign of orc patrols, or worse, legates.

Feyd

Three villages and still no luck. Each of them met him with suspicion. More importantly, they frequently already had woodsmen and fishermen. He could've stayed but it would've been tough and the townsfolk likely wouldn't have made things any easier.

So he wandered, going from hamlet to thorp, but skirting the towns. The more people around, the easier it would be for them to discover the weapons that he bore. Were they simply arms, he might've gotten off with conscription into Izrador's human ranks, but they were elven-wrought, and for him it would mean instant execution.

At last he came to Kingscross, a pleasant village that looks to have seen better days. Yet as Feyd watched from the nearby woods, he saw that they were relatively free from the Shadow, with only the cursory orc patrol passing through now and then.

The village looks as if it could possibly use a woodsman of some sort. The game is reasonably good, but the area is a bit dangerous. While the Shadow might not stay in the town, the woods could be a different matter. He's found the tracks of Fell, as well as other humanoid creatures, although he hasn't caught sight of them yet.

Once more he looks upon the village from his spot in the woods and wonders if he will fit in here.

Heulwen

When Heulwen first escaped she had thought to turn around with her wild companion and strike the orcs each night while they slept, but they were too many and their guard was too vigilant. So she followed them for a time, watching them kill her fellow halflings because of her. It nearly broke her heart, but she restrained herself from returning to the others. They would not have wanted her to turn herself in, not after attaining freedom.

Having fled for a month, Heulwen has slowly come to a stop. She's badly in need of supplies. While she and the wogren, Cytaill, can feed themselves, her clothes and boots are beginning to wear thin. Plus she has a fair amount of trade goods that are taking up excess space. Arrows too, she could use a few more of them to fill up her quiver, although they wouldn't be easy to acquire.

Still, this village seems as good enough as any. Cytaill has disappeared again, likely hunting once more, although whether its wildlife or Fell that the wogren stalks, Heulwen isn't sure.

Dun

It has been a long journey. Dun has lost track how many days he's been on the road, searching for clues as to his father's disappearance. At first he had virtually nothing, only knowing that Dura had gone south for one of his "unexpected opportunities." It wasn't much, but at least he had a direction to follow.

So the young man from Baden's Bluff had set out, stopping in each town and village and discreetly inquiring about a merchant by the name of Dura Abben. In many places they knew of Dun's father, but had not seen him for quite some time. For a time, the Erenlander despaired of ever hearing from his father again. Yet just as he was about to give up, he came across a clue. While sharing an ale with a traveling merchant, Dun learned that his father had met with this man on his way South and had shared an ale with him. Dura hadn't said what he was after but he did mention the village of Kingscross. After that Dun traveled singlemindedly toward his goal.

At last he has come to it, Kingscross, and with any luck he'll find his father, or at least where he went from here.

Lyr

Six weeks on the road and Lyr still can't stop looking over his shoulder. He was lucky to escape the magical chaos, and even luckier to be shielded from the astirax, but he can't help but think that he's still be stalked by the minions of the Shadow. At night, when darkness is at its full, he knows he's being hunted. Yet each morning as the sun washes across the land and no sign of pursuit is present, he feels better.

It's especially true now, feeling that warmth and watching Kingscross from the far side of the stream. He'll need to be cautious, the books he carries spell certain doom should the wrong eyes fall upon them, but this village could be a good place to do some trading, as well as hear another human voice; a commodity that has been in short supply for Lyr.

Elennir

Where is he, Elennir wonders, watching the village from a low crouch. Sigurd had ceased communication with the elves almost three months ago. The last frantically written message they had recieved said that his position had been compromised and that he was fleeing to a remote village known as Kingscross.

Normally Aradil would have let the informant settle himself and establish dialogue again, but it has been too long and up until he fled the man had been and important hand on the pulse of the Westlands. Indeed, posing as a traveling merchant, he could frequently alert the elves to the movement of the orc armies as they waged their campaign.

Elennir and several other young scouts were sent out into the Westlands to look for Sigurd. Elennir had the honor and the risk of traveling to Kingscross itself.

Absent-mindedly she checks her disguise, hoping the townspeople won't be too suspicious.

Aleina

There's something about this place, Kingscross, that has drawn the striking young woman to it. She's learned to trust her instincts when it comes to things such as this, but watching the peaceful village as they go about their daily routine and feeling the warm afternoon sun on her face, she can only hope that she's wrong. Whenever she had a feeling like this, thigns usually ended up going bad.

She doesn't know that there are others nearby who have watched the town like she does now, but she finds the same result. The Shadow does not seem too interested in this place. Yet if the forces of Izrador do not care, why did she get that feeling?

Aleina eyes the village uncertainly, watching farmers tending their fields as their harvests begin. If this village still celebrated such a time, a feast of some sort would take place in the near future, perhaps there is something important there. Still, the very fact that there aren't orcs and legates crawling over this village makes her uneasy.

[PullOfTheSpirit]

Soradur


Deep ebony eyes pierced the darkening gloom as Soradur Eftok gazed down across the vale. Throughout the day he had waited for blackness to begin creeping across the village below. Though he had seen no sign of the Shadows forces during his vigil, he would take no risk of being seen by one of the villagers.

The pain in his side had grown with every passing moment, and Soradur could barely think of anything else. Gritting his teeth, he carefully pulled his cloak tight around his body, his left hand gripping the festering wound. Taking the final measure of his approach, he cautiously began making his way down the path and into the village.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr sits, his hands cupping his chin and absently tugging on a earlobe.

Kingscross... he thinks to himself slowly Too far north for that name to really mean anything, I suppose... Still, when in doubt

Lyr opens his pack and pulls his prescious lorebook out of the sewn-in pocket. Pausing to adjust the latch and bend a kink out of the leather spine, he flips it open and starts paging through carefully, looking for any references to the village. (OOC : Lorebook bonus +4)

After reading what his book this, he wraps the book, loose parchments and ink tightly in his spare cloak and digs a shallow hole with his hands under a bush. Secreting the bundle there, he covers it back over with dirt, stands, and -carefully- memorises the location, taking note of landmarks and so forth, to ensure he can find it again.

Lyr slings his pack over his shoulder and makes his way into the village, pausing briefly to wash his hands in the stream. Certainly prosperous enough to eat well, despite it's isolation... he thinks to himself, nose turned towards the pleasent smells emanating from within.

[Berova]

Dun

So this is Kingscross. It has been a long journey indeed, but is this the end? More importantly, will he find his father here? Dun eyed the village with great care as he had done so time and again in so many other small towns and villages he has journeyed through these many uncounted days.

He adjusts his travel cloak and makes his way into the village proper. There is a relaxed way about him. He matter of factly notes the comings and going of the villagers and folk who have business in 'town'. Noting the few places of business that exist within the village, at last he arrives at this day's final destination, what probably is the village's only tavern or inn.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

I certianly won't be needing these in town, Heulwen thinks to herself as she hides the riding equipment that had been captured with Cytaill. Especially with him out hunting on his own. Once more wishing she had gone with him on his hunt, Heulwen glances over at her pack, reminding herself of just why she needed to go into the town. The spices, which has seemed like such a good thing to take at the time, were proving to be more dead weight than anything else. There was easily enough there to last her a year, a year she probably did not have. Still, they would probably be good trade for the things she did need. Her quiver, while not empty, rattled when shaken it was so far from full, and her clothes, they were still the thread bare rags that the orcs had provided for all the slaves. With winter just around the corner, she would need something far sturdier if she expected to last until spring.

Taking a step back to examine her hiding place for what she must leave behind, Heulwen satifies herself that the gear is well hidden. Hoisting her backpack, she toys with the thought of hiding her stolen weapons as well before thrusting that idea aside. She had seen no sign of the Shadow here, but with only a month between her and her escape she wasn't willing to let go of them yet.

Taking one last sniff of the air before leaving the realative safety of her hiding place, Heulwen heads towards the town, seriously hoping that free halflings were still a common enough sight here that she wouldn't be marked as a runaway immediately.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

He continued to watch the town from the concealment of the woodlands. He thus far had not seen any woodsmen or trappers, but he knew they must be about, someplace. A town of that size could not exist without one, probably several.

Huh, he thought, I wonder why they are avoiding these woods? No sooner had he thought about it than he remembered the signs of the Fell that he had discovered. Oh, great.

Still, he didn't want to chance walking into town with his crafted longbow and arrows. While they were legal 'weapons' in this area, his were of decidedly elvish design. He could always say that he had killed an elf and taken the weapon as a prize, but that would disrespect the last 2-plus years that he had spent with Palethis, and that was out of the question. He may be a wanderer and vagabond, but he had his honor.

So, over the next 10 minutes, Feyd very carefully and quietly dug a small pit for his gear. Using the talents that he had gained over the past few years as a hunter and tracker, he covered his bow, arrows, and crafting tools in such a way as would defy all but the most minute inspection of the area.

Brushing off the leaves and debris from his outfit, Feyd stood. Another chance to find some place to settle ... another chance to get tossed out on my rear. A wry grin appeared on his features, and Feyd quietly muttered to himself, "will it ever be any different?" He quickly and adeptly memorized the location - the stand of trees, the types of undergrowth in the area - where his stash was located.

With that, he headed into the village, the smell of cooking filling his nostrils with long-lost memories of Tans. Maybe ... just maybe this time ...

[Maeko]

Elennir circles the village once again, looking for anything that might seem unusual.

And what, precisely is usual in a human dwelling place?

Yet the Caransil waits a moment still before trusting her disguise and entering the village, she centers herself, focusing on her mission and on her assumed persona: a displaced woman looking for a place to stay and any sort of menial job

[Dirigible]

Lyr

(OOC : If, indeed, he can see the other three humans on the road, as Cadrius implied...)

Making his way across the steam into Kingscross, Lyr grins sheepishly at the tall, red-headed Erenlander whom had just emerged from the trees.

I hope he didn't see what I was burying he thinks fervently, not having the slightest inkling the other man was thinking nearly the same thing. Lyr quickens his pace, hoping to avoid any questions that might be forthcoming. He starts casting around for a bridge or ford across the little river.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She watches the farming village uncertainly for a time, trying to discern the source of the pull. It had been no more than an inkling five weeks past - South was all she had known. Daily, the feeling intensified and somewhere along the way she'd heard the name Kingscross. The name meant nothing to her, except that she knew with certainty it was a place, and that place was where she was headed next.

She watches with startling blue eyes, wondering if it is a stop on the way to somewhere else or a destination. She guesses the former, and that guess brings a distance to her terrible eyes. Each passing day scraped away a little more of the illusion - the fragile belief that things might one day return to how they once were.

Leading a grey-brown mule, she starts along the road to meet today's fate.

[Cadrius]

Lyr

He flips through his lorebook, almost thinking he had come across the name before, but nothing interesting surfaces. The pages drop gently as he flicks through, scanning for the name. It looks like it's just another village in the Westlands.

Aleina, Lyr, Dun, Feyd, Heulwen

Each of them head into the town, some spy each other as they walk, nodding a greeting, others move in alone. The farms and meadows fade into rows of houses, some even with second stories, quite an unusual sight for such a rural locale.

A smithy can be seen, complete with anvil and forge. Inside a large, well-muscled man can be seen pounding some piece of red hot metal with a large hammer. Small sparks fly off with each blow.

The Weary Wanderer, the village's only inn, stands tall and still manages to look respectable, despite paint beginning to peel along its edges. The sign that bears its name also has a picture of a man walking down a road toward what looks to be the town of Kingscross, except larger. Perhaps the artist decided to make the quaint village seem more important than it is.

In the center of town lies a semi-open marketplace. Yet instead of merchants plying their wares, it appears to be more of an area for the townsfolk to come to barter for the goods they need but can't acquire in the few stores. Indeed, there are only two others seen on the way in; one carrying general goods and the other herbs of some sort.

It is here, at the center of town, that the newcomers find their attention drawn. A crowd is beginning to gather around something. Until now most of the villagers have seemed content to keep to their own business, with only a polite nod to the strangers, yet something has attracted their attention; it's a halfling.

She hadn't made it far before drawing stares and curious words. From a distance they might've mistaken her for a child, but anything more than a cursory glance dispels that idea. By the time Heulwen reached the center of town she's attracted quite a gathering. Each of them begin to comment or ask questions, some to the halfling, others to the villagers present.

"What's that? A goblin?"
"No, it's a halfling. Don't be daft."
"Why's it here?"
"What's it want?"
"How are ya, lass?"
"Looks like a goblin to me."
"What's your name?"
"Come to see the healer?"
"You thought that bear we saw last spring was an ogre."
"I hope she doesn't bring the Shadow with her."
"It could've been.'
"Better not. We don't need any more orcs comin' through here."

While initially cautious, they quickly give into their curiousity and begin to badger the halfling for information. Some seem genuinely interested, others suspicious.

Elennir

Taking a wide circle around the town, Elennir does not find too much out of the ordinary. She sees a few people walking into town, and watches the others move about their lives. Once she watches a man supported on either side by his comrades drawn toward a small house on the edge of town.

As the afternoon progresses she watches a crowd begin to gather around the center of town. Who or what they are interested in, however, remains a mystery.

Soradur

Judging that even the best disguise likely wouldn't fool even the most casual observer, Soradur waits until nightfall before coming out of hiding. He's watched the village all day and thinks he knows of one of two places that this healer is at. One is a house located on the outskirts; he saw a wounded man carried there, but then again it could've been his house. The other option is what looks to be an Herbalist, but it's closer to town. Whether or not the proprietor does business after dark is also unknown.

Moving as quietly as he can, the dwarf grits his teeth and hustles into the village.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

I hope the townsfolk don't turn violent, Lyr thinks, watching them surround the halfling. If I have to flee, I might not have time to retrieve my book. The thought makes his belly go icy, just as the memory of the brutalities he saw the orcish guards administering to their halfling slaves at Baden's Bluff puts a sour taste in his mouth.

A rumbling stomach distracts him from his dark study. Following his nose, Lyr searches the marketplace for a baker, or whomever else might be selling the source of the pleasent smell of fresh pastries.

If he finds the baker, Lyr attempts to barter a small bagfull of them for a couple of cups of cinnamon - "Believe me, Master Baker, a pinch of this sprinkled over your cakes will better the flavour, and double your sales".

[PullOfTheSpirit]

Soradur


The night air brushed against Soradurs face as he moved down into the village, his heavy cloak rustling slightly in the wind. No doubt most of the villagers were already returned to their own homes, but still Soradur took a cautious path around the main road leading into the village.

Scraping away a bit of the pus that had accumulated in the wound at his side, Soradur slowly stalked his way towards the house on the outskirts of the village. He would travel here first, for it was on the edge of town and easier to reach. "Best I be fast about this." Soradur thought to himself.

Attempting to look as casual as possible, Soradur strode past the side of the house, pausing for a brief moment at a nearby window, seemingly to check his pack. His dark eyes glanced about the interior of the house, taking in as much as possible. Pretending to secure his equipment, he then walked on, already planning his next move.

[Berova]

Dun

The gathering of the crowd catches Dun's attention and distracts him enough from his intended path. He casually makes his way toward the crowd, eventually joining the edge. Trying to peer over the crowd to see what is happening, Dun asks a villager next to him, "What is it? What's all the commotion here?"

[Cadrius]

Dun

Elbowing his way into the crowd, Dun turns to one of the villagers, a tall, thin man with dark hair and eyes.

"What is it? What's all the commotion here?"

The man turns his gaze upon the young Erenlander, and absent-mindedly wipes his hands across the his gray shirt. He gives Dun a hard, appraising look, not recognizing him as a townsman, but he shrugs after a moment and turns his head back toward the crowd.

"Looks to be a halfling," he says, his voice sounding reasonably cultured for a town so far removed in the Westlands, "either she's escaped from the orcs or is one of the nomads from the central plains. Either way, she must need something to risk coming to a human settlement."

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

The attention she draws as she enters the town is off putting to Heulwen. You'd think these folk had never seen a halfling before, she thinks to herself.

Its not long however, before her sensative halfling ears bear out that conclusion. At least one fellow even thinks she might be a goblin! Disgusted with that thought, Heulwen curses herself for thinking she could just walk into a town and trade. She should have realized that the enslavement of her people by the Shadow had made halflings a rarity in human settlements devoid of its presence. The crowd she was attracting would certianly draw any Shadow presence nearby to her if she did not get away quickly. The press of people, however, made any thought of running or otherwise fleeing out of the question.

I still need my supplies too, Heulwen thinks to herself. Maybe if I allay their fears and start trading, those who are only curious will lose intrest and leave me be. Then, when I finish my trading, I can slip back out of the village and be off.

Looking around, and up, at the surrounding faces, Heulwen tries to pick out those that seem most likely willing, and able, to help her.

Addressing herself to them, Heulwen speaks in Erenlander, in a voice that starts timidly, but grows stronger with each word, "Please, I don't wish to cause any trouble. I'm not a goblin, or other shadow creature. I'm just a simple halfling. I was just passing by your town and needed some supplies. I have spices to trade for what I need. I'm not asking for handouts. I just want to make my trades and move on. If one of you could direct me to where I might find a maker of clothing?" she finishes, gesturing to the dilapidated state of her garb.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

As Aleina makes her way into town, it becomes apparent that there is a commotion in progress. A crowd has formed, though it is impossible to see what lies at the center. She hears the words "goblin", "halfling", "ogre" and "orc" amidst the babble of voices and slows her pace, stopping well outside the circle. Of the four choices, three were bad. Still, an ogre would be visible and an orc would likely be making noise. That left a one in two chance, still worse odds than she liked.

Nearby, one man explains to another that it is indeed a halfling and she releases a breath that she was unconsciously holding. A strange event, to be sure, but certainly not the worst development. A small voice rises steadily in volume from the center of the human circle. The halfling, it seemed, merely wanted to trade. Like every other traveller. Not really, though, since any other traveller should have known the commotion the presence of a halfling would cause. Patting Bombur gently on the nose, she waits to catch a glimpse of the cause of all this activity.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd moved into the town, nodding curtly to a couple of passerbys. He could not help but notice that some of them were as foreign to this area as he was; regardless of the geographical proximity to his own (former) home.

Arriving near the town center, Feyd halted briefly and looked around. There was an inn, by the look of it, and a couple trading stands, but they and the areas around them seemed curiously empty. Then he noticed the large gathering aways over; it seemed there was some commotion. Ever-strong with a sense of curiousity, Feyd moved over in the direction of the crowd.

Winding and shifting his way forward, he could see that there was a small clearing in the center of the throng. He could not see who or what they were so curious and babbling about, but suddenly his questions were answered.

"Please, I don't wish to cause any trouble. I'm not a goblin, or other shadow creature. I'm just a simple halfling."

A halfling! What in the lands is a halfling doing here? Doesn't she know that the orcs will hunt her down??? She continued speaking about needing supplies, and not wanting trouble, and wanting to get on her way. Suddenly, Feyd felt an odd sense of companionship with this halfling - both of them were obviously out of their 'element' (though he had no idea what the halfling's element could possibly be), both in a strange town, both in need of supplies and direction.

A cold slap of reality hit him. So what? Do you actually think she's going to live that long? She's out in broad daylight, in a town that more than likely has Shadow spies. She's a dead woman ... she just doesn't know it yet. They were too close to Baden's Bluff, too close to other 'civilized' bastions of Shadow-dominion. All it would take would be one person to speak the words, "I saw a halfling in this town," and this little hamlet would be overrun by orcs.

Still, Feyd pondered, can't just leave her here to the "mercy" of this throng ... Feyd stood amongst the crowd, waiting to see their response to this wayward being, who seemed to have a doomed future.

[Cadrius]

Aleina, Heulwen, Dun, Feyd

The halfling sounds like she's trying to speak, but the majority of the throng now seem content to speak among themselves. A few listen to her as she raises her voice, but the rest are caught up in their own conversations. Quite a few speak as if the halfling either isn't there or can't hear them. Enough people speak to deluge her ears in rapid, simultaneous exchanges.

"So she's not a goblin, eh?"
"Well, isn't she cute."
"I don't know, she should be reported."
"Wonder where she came from?"
"Say, did you bring in any eggs today?"
"What? The last thing we need is more orcs here."
"I tell you it was an ogre, ten feet tall it was and twice as fierce as any bear."
"If they find out a halfling was here and we didn't say anything, there'll be trouble."
"Did she say she had goods? Maybe she brought something from wherever she's from."
"I'm gonna report her."
"Yes. Did you get that fishing line?"
"They'll be here soon enough, we can tell them then."
"Yeah, they're coming to see him, anyway."
"Bad business that is."
"Eamon, if you bring even one extra orc here, I'll have your hide."

A few, however, do stop and try to speak with the halfling. Putting their hands on their knees they lean forward, attempting to put their heads at the same level.

"All right. That's enough," a voice booms over the din. The crowd parts slightly to reveal a slim man, who looks to be Sarcosan or at least had an ancestor who was, "you all have better things to be doing, I'm sure. I'll handle this."

There's some grumbling but the crowd begins to disperse and resume their previous activities, although most toss the halfling a glance now and then. A few nod to Heulwen and tell her that they'll be around if she's interested in trading later.

Clothed in simple trousers and a loose shirt, he approaches Heulwen and stops a few feet away from her. Leaning his quarterstaff against his shoulder, he watches the halfling. His eyes are dark and hard, enhanced by the ghostly patterns that look to have been painted or tatood across his face and arms. A few moments pass before he speaks.

"I'm Captain Stafford and I'm the law--" he sneers at the word "--around here. Or at least, I'm the law when the legates and orcs aren't around. What brings you to here? You risk quite a bit coming here, and for both our sakes, I hope it's important."

Lyr

Lyr wanders down the streets for a while, trying to follow his nose. Unfortunately, it seems that a good number of the houses, as well as the inn, are baking today. However after a time he does come across a bakery of sorts. Stepping inside a small shop he finds a plump woman arranging some food on top of trays. Indeed, it looks as if she has been working overtime. Pastries, breads, pies and all sorts of cooked goods are strewn about the room, some in jars, others on platters. It seems that she's preparing for something. To see so much food in these days is rare to say the least. The smell of sugar and fruit and bread make his stomach rumble.

Lyr tries his sales pitch, "Believe me, Master Baker, a pinch of this sprinkled over your cakes will better the flavour, and double your sales".

She looks up, listening to the man speak and nods. "Yes, I suppose some cinnamon would be nice, after making all this--" she sweeps her hand across the room "--I'm a little low. Some pastries you say? That's fine. I think I have enough here, don't you?"

The baker chuckles at her joke and Lyr is again struck by the enormity of food present. Clearly she could not have drawn only from her supplies. Accepting the spice she pulls several from a nearby platter and wraps them before handing the parsel over to Lyr.

"So, are you in town for the festival? Or have you come to see the Healer?"

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd suddenly found that he was all but alone, standing there watching the reeve speaking with the halfling. There were a couple of others lingering about, but they were trying hard to appear disinterested.

Feyd, however, wasn't so canny. He was still standing in the exact spot he had been when the reeve had dispersed the crowd. His face was a mixure of its normal scowl, and a playful half-grin, as if he was fighting some internal battle on how he felt about the situation.

Standing, arms crossed, Feyd listened to the reeve ask the halfling why she'd come. Interesting, she covers herself in a shawl ... and her clothing is nearly in tatters. No doubt an escaped slave. If that were true, then perhaps she did have something in common with him - running from the Shadow, trying to stay alive.

Feyd made up his mind to see what this one was about, and to help her if possible. He knew it meant signing his own death warrant, but he'd been a hunted human for nearly 3 years now. The road he traveled was his own, and though he hated to admit it, lonely. His times spent with Palethis had eased the loss of his family and community - indeed, Palethis had shown him a whole new world. A much more dangerous world, to be certain. In the months since his flight, Feyd found out just how much he'd been used to having the elf around. That was the major reason that drove him to find a new place to settle, he rationed.

Very well, halfling. Let us see what you're about, hmm?

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Something about the way the captian refers to the legates and orcs, puts Heulwen at ease. He seems to think there are none around, so maybe I still have time to get away before the Shadow notices me.

"I'm trully sorry, Captian Stafford," Heulwen replies, echoing the title he gave himself in a hollow voice. "I did not realize that my presence here would cause such a disturbance. I've never been to a human town before. I was only thinking of the supplies I need, and the fact that there were no orcs about so I might chance a trade. I do hope I have not caused you any problems."

Feeling the apprasing eyes of one man on her, Heulwen returns his stare, her grayish-brown eyes locking with his blue ones for a moment before returning to the captian.


[OOC: Only the word "captian" is said with a hollow voice. The rest is animated normally. Heulwen associates military ranks with her former captors, and doesn't wish to let the hate that would normally lace through her use of the word show through when addressing the Captian.]

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Festival? Lyr wonders as he gathers up the pastries. Ahhh, it is the Arc of Zimra, and reaping time must be drawing close.

He addresses the baker in Erenlander, "The harvest festival? Is that why you have prepared so many sweetmeats? What sort of celebtrations do you hold here?".

[Cadrius]

Lyr

The baker looks a little confused by the question but she gives Lyr a sweet smile all the same and nods her head, saying "Well of course it's the harvest festival. What else would we be celebrating?"

A good question, really. What else could these people have cause to celebrate? While their town seems to be mercifully spared from the greater part of the Shadow's abuse, they certainly aren't living all that well. Indeed, they might only have this one out of tradition more than anything else. Certainly their winter stores will suffer from this feast, but perhaps it will help flagging spirits; warm food and spiced wine have a wonderful way of doing that, even in these dark times.

"So can I get you anything else, dear?" She asks, dusting off her flour-covered hands.

Heulwen, Feyd, Aleina, Dun

The man known as Captain Stafford looks at Heulwen for a moment, his dark eyes flicking over her as if he could read the truth simply by looking at her. He shakes his head once, perhaps disbelieving her story, but he still mutters incredulously, "She didn't know."

Stafford catches the halfling's eyes shift over to the woodsman and follows her gaze. He gives Feyd a hard look, much like he did with Heulwen before turning back to face her.

He straightens, keeping one hand firmly wrapped around his staff. He looks like he's standing at attention, granting his lithe form a look of discipline, or perhaps about to bark an order. Yet his voice remains soft, his words for Heulwen only. To the rest of the village it only looks as if the captain is giving the halfing a menacing glare. Yet the keen ears of Aleina and Feyd pick up some of the words that pass.

Feyd, Aleina

Even with sharp ears, neither one can make out all the words. Yet they get the impression the Captain is most definitely not threatening the halfling. The words, "orc," "outside," "tonight," and "festival" are the only ones that can be made out clearly.

Heulwen

She almost thinks Stafford is going to yell, or perhaps hit her with the thick, oaken stick, but instead he speaks quietly. His eyes shift across several villagers before returning to Heulwen. He listens to her response before whispering one more thing, raising his voice and lifting his staff up in the air.

"Begone, filth!"

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Under the Captian's withering glare, Heulwen's frame seems to shrink into itself, taking on a subservient posture. His low words, while obviously non-threatening to those who can hear him, would seem to be a harsh reprimand to those who noticed them but couldn't hear them. After the captian finishes speaking, Heulwen replies in a similarly low voice, her visage one of fear and submission.

Begone, filth!

With the captian's final declaration aloud, Heulwen scampers away under the weight of her pack, heading back out of town the same way she came in, her small frame soon hidden by the surrounding ruins.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Thear stony look the captain gives her and a nearby woodsman is incongruously hard against the soft words spoken to the disheveled halfing girl. From his gestures, it is clear he wants the townfolk to think he has little sympathy for his dimunitive guest.

He is not wholly gone over to the shadow.

Aleina's own presence suddenly seems a hindrance rather than any help, and she clucks softly to Bombur as she moves him along. She picks a spot where she has a fair vantage of the halfling before lifting one of the mule's feet and inspecting the hoof for stones. Her gaze falls on the woodsman once more as the captain dismisses his charge with a final, loud insult. The man was largish, with reddish blond hair and an uncertain expression on his face.

His interest in the situation could be as innocent as her own. Then again, perhaps not. The halfling moves off dejectedly and Aleina shifts to the next hoof in sequence, picking out each in turn, still keeping a cautious eye on the halfling.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr considers clarifying himself to the baker, but to his eye she's clearly busy, and whatever these peple plan to do for the festival should become apparent soon enough.

Instead, he murmurs a quick "Thank you", gathers his pastries and makes his way outside. Seeing the crowd has dispersed, he makes his way warily back to the open-air marketplace.

[Berova]

Dun

Dun finds the sequence of events he just witness quite out-of-place for such a 'peaceful' appearing village. Not what he had learned to expect from the other small villages he had gone through these past days and weeks. He lets off a soft sigh to himself as the halfling scampers off, more out of frustration at the inability to do anything about her situation than anything else.

Suspecting there may be more than what meets the eye, Dun decides to stick around before going to the inn. Dun moves about taking in the sights and seeing what the villagers have available for barter. Meanwhile, he descreetly keeps an eye on this Captain Stafford.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd had not even blinked when the reeve had given him the "hairy eyeball" - a phrase he'd picked up from his elven mentor. To do so would have shown weakness, and that could not be afforded in this day and age. Better to have people think you might possibly be allied with dark forces than to have them know that you run from the same.

Feyd's eyebrow crooked at the snippets of conversation that he could catch. Obviously, this 'captain' was playing the part - he might actually be a decent man under the facade of harshness. The world is indeed bigger, Palethis. Thank you for teaching this to me.

Without a comment or a sound, Feyd fell into casual step behind the halfling as she fled the town. He tried not to make it look like he was following her, but he did have to hurry a little to keep pace.

Finally, when they were on the outskirts, he called out to the diminutive woman, "Hold, miss ... I ... I ... would like to help, if I may?" He tried to keep his features as passive and non-threatening as he could, and found that it actually took effort. Have I been outside and alone for so long? Feyd silently hoped that the lass would not run in fear ...

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Startled by the voice calling out behind her, Heulwen, ducks behind one of the low ruin walls. Dropping her heavy backpack, she reaches for the sword at her belt, as she peers over the wall back at the source of the voice.

A large human male, easily twice her height and then some and more than 6 time her own weight, was standing among the ruins. Taking full measure of the human, Heulwen studies him for a moment. His stance was one of forced passivity. He was doing his best to appear nonthreatening, but the sense of a coiled spring, on the verge of being released, hung about him like the scent of cinnamon hangs about a cake. Scanning up to his face, Heulwen finds, framed by reddish-blond hair, the same blue eyes which had given her that appraising look earlier.

"What do you want?" she calls out, afraid that she knows the answer.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

The wildlander was half-expecting something like what he now saw before him - a very frightened young woman, halfling or not. He could guess why - his gruff demeanor and on-edge appearance must speak the worst to an escaped slave. If he had any chance of actually assisting her, he'd have to convince her that he was not a foe.

"Uh, I'm ... sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." He thought about taking some steps forward - they seemed to be far apart, and it was as if the distance was working against him. Feyd caught himself before he even moved, however. Let her see that you mean no harm.

So he continued. "I ... uh ... couldn't help but notice the small stir you caused back in town." He peered at her, trying to gauge her reaction, but she had chosen a good piece of cover. No availing that. "Uh, I just wanted to tell you ... that is, er ... if you need anything in town, I can get it for you. The, uh, ... captain seemed like he didn't want you around." Feyd looked out across the ruins at that point.

"I kind of know what it's like ... not having a place to call 'home', not being welcomed when you appear in town." Feyd returned his gaze to the spot where the halfling was semi-hidden. "Uh ... and ... well, if you need anything ... from the town ... I could, uh ... get it for you." He then added hastily, "Uh, only if you want, er ... that is ... I mean ... uh ... yeah." He lowered his eyes a bit, clearly ashamed that his dialog was not very intelligible. He'd never been a great conversationalist, and even when he was younger, he stuttered and stammered when speaking to other kids. His time with Palethis had seemed to cure that, but now with the elf gone these many months, it was like he was right back to where he started.

Feyd looked up, and managed a sincere smile. He had tried, that was what mattered. He waited to see what the runaway would say or do.

[Maeko]

The strange commotion at the center of the village intrigues Elennir. The woman moves towards it, skirting the crowd, with a somewhat uncertain pace, shouders slightly hunched, looking but never staring, an uncertain, nondescript stranger trying to get her bearings.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Aleina's strange eyes narrow as the red-haired stranger immediately sets off after the departing halfling. He seemed too eager by half, but maybe that was just curiousity. But if he meant her ill . . .

What could you do about it?

He was big, and easily weighed more than both her and the halfling combined. Fighting was out of the question. He was human, though, and she was well aware of how persuasive a human male could find her. She puts down the last hoof and dusts off her cloak before clicking her tongue to Bombur.

Slowly, the pair make their way in the same direction the halfling and the other had gone. She was nearing the outskirts of the little town when she heard a man's voice. He spoke haltingly, as if unsure of himself. It didn't strike her as the tone of a highwayman or robber. She turns a final corner and sees him, looking off at something she can't see, apparently waiting. Her presence alone might be enough to dissuade him from an evil doing, but she feels the need to be more certain.

"Hello," she calls to him, "I couldn't help but notice you back in town. I thought we might talk for a moment?"

[Black Plauge]

The man's voice is halting, almost stuttered, as if unsure of himself. He doesn't sound like a slaver, Heulwen muses to herself. They are usually haughty, proud, sure of their own superiority. This man is nervous and ... almost frightened, yet resigned. It was as if he expects me to reject his offer of aid, as if rejection was all he expected from life.

Before she has time to muse on this further though, another voice calls out. This time the voice is a woman's, and isn't addressed to her, but to the man. Adjusting her position, Heulwen peers through a diffrent crack in the wall she hides behind, trying to get a view of the newcomer.

The new position rewards Heulwen with a view of a strikingly beutiful human female. Odd that she is accompanied only by a mule, Heulwen thinks imediattely and begins scanning the ruins around her for a hidden protector. Not finding one, her eyes return to the strange woman who seemed to have no fear of being alone for a moment.

Behind her wall, Heulwen readies her bow, nocking an arrow just in case, keeping it low so as not to reveal its now ready state, Heulwen watches, unsure of the intentions of either of the two humans, waiting to see how they react to one another.

[Cadrius]

Elennir

Elennir moves into town, seeming to be nothing more than a simple, unassuming woman. The fact that she's not immediately met with cries of "Elf!" is reassuring. However, the majority of the villagers seem preoccupied with whatever it is that they're staring at.

Skirting through the village, Elennir makes her way toward the center of Kingscross where the crowd is. Yet by the time she arrives, they're beginning to disperse and she sees a man, bearing a staff, staring at what at first looks to be a young child, but a moment and a blink later, Elennir recognizes her for what she is: a halfling. What would possess a halfling, and a runaway slave by the looks of her, to come into a human settlement is beyond Elennir, yet here she is.

She almost thinks there's a quiet exchange between the two before the man raises his voice, yelling, "Begone, filth!" The halfling does not stay a moment longer, retreating back toward the woods.

Elennir notices some of the villagers nodding approvingly. Clearly there are those that support the Shadow here, or at the very least, there are those that do not want any trouble.

Returning her eyes to watch the halfling she notices a man, tall with red-gold hair, and a beautiful erenlander go after her. The two humans go separately, but they both seem interested in the halfling.

Elennir, Dun, Lyr

With the excitement gone the people go back to their business. Some are trading, others look to be helping haul out long wooden tables and benches. There looks like there's something special happening tonight. Seeing three people he doesn't recognize Stafford gives each of you a searching look, the presence of the halfling has looked to put the man on edge.

As the afternoon begins to wear on, platters begin appearing, born by the woman Lyr recognizes as the baker as well as several other men and women. The festival is being prepared.

The tables are lined up around the central square, leaving plenty of space in the middle. A small dias is set up in one corner, presumably where musicians might play. It looks as if Kingscross is pulling out all the stops for tonight's celebration.

There are, however, still those milling about with various goods, looking to barter.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd spun on his heel, crouching low and inwardly cursing himself for being so careless as to leave his back open to anyone who might wish him harm. His hand had gone to the dagger concealed within the folds of his cloak, but upon turning, fell away in complete amazement.

He met the eyes of easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Oh, he'd had acquaintances of the female variety before, but that was back before his village had been slaughtered.

Feyd stood, mouth just slightly agape, drinking in every detail of the angelic young woman who stood some two dozen feet away. It seemed that an eternity passed then, when in reality it had been only a couple of seconds, before Feyd remembered that she had spoken to him, asked him a question.

"Uh ... hi," he blurted, one hand nervously going past his ear and behind his head. Almost as quickly, he put it down again. "I'm ... uh, just out here ... uh," and Feyd realized that he was about to let this stranger know that he was speaking with a halfling, an escaped slave at that. If she works for the Shadow ...

Suddenly Feyd was on his guard. He seemed to stand straighter, and a quiet determination burned in his eyes. What, indeed, is a lone beauty doing on the outskirts of town, with only a mule as a companion? Something was not right, here, and the possibility that he may have to fight gave Feyd a measure of confidence that he had not known since his time with his elven mentor. He spoke again, albeit much more calmly.

"I am here discussing some things with a friend, who does not wish to be seen in the open. I hope that you will respect that. If you still wish to speak with me," and gods, I hope you do, Shadow-servant or not! "then meet me back in town at the inn. I shall return there presently." Has she seen the halfling? Did she hear our conversation? Does she know? How long has she been standing there? Why didn't I hear her and that beast walking up behind me? his thoughts raced.

Feyd's gaze never left the newcomer, even as he listened for the halfling, trying to see how she would react. He had all but thrown his life in front of hers, and if this beauty was indeed a servant of Izrador, he had just signed his own death-warrant. So be it, he stoically thought.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She takes a step back as she startles the man and he clearly moves as if to draw a weapon. For a moment, there is real concern on her face - concern that her worst fears are realized, concern that she had underestimated the danger he might present. His face changes as he looks upon her, and the expression on his face restores her confidence.

At the word friend, one dark eyebrow arches in a skeptically artistic fashion. The change in his mannerisms was strange but oddly enough, both personalities seemed genuine. His words, too, did not strike her as the response of someone caught in the midst of a crime. His guileless answer strikes a chord in her, and the innocence of the tone makes her feel as if the table she had set has suddenly turned. She is now the one feeling uncomfortable.

Frustrated, she glances once more toward the spot where he was looking, certain of who it was that lay hidden there. Yet it seemed unwise to disclose the obvious; the man undoubtedly knew she was aware of the halfling. However, even though both knew the situation, there was safety in pretending to believe the facade that there was no halfling. She comes to a decision quickly; if the halfling was in fear then this diversion had given her an opportunity to escape. If not, there was no reason for her to push the matter further.

"Well, I hope you treat your friends with the same courtesy you have shown me. If not, they might decide to make new friends."

She pauses for just a moment, hoping her offer is clear to the halfling.

"I will look for you at the inn, then."

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd was sure his heart skipped a beat when the gorgeous young woman said, "I will look for you at the inn, then." Other than that, however, he found her dialog telling. She does indeed know about the halfling ... she probably also saw her in town. Smiling just a little ... more like a half-grin, Feyd nodded to the woman.

"Good. My name is Feyd. I shall also look for you there, miss ...?"

Feyd kept one ear perked in the direction of where the halfling was hidden. He could not risk turning, and thereby giving away completely where the diminutive girl hid, so he was forced to trust his honed instincts and senses.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She doesn't look back as she leads her mule away, and for a moment he thinks she hasn't heard his question. Her voice floats back, quite clearly despite the distance already separating them. Her own half-smile is hidden from his view, though he might detect it her tone.

"You might learn it yet, Feyd . . . if I see you at the inn."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Entering the village Green, Lyr takes a half step back against the accusing glare of the oak-hard looking Sarcosan. Turning to make his way around the edge of the Green, he catches sight of a tall, dark haired man watching the staff-wielding reeve.

The people here seem very paranoid... Lyr thinks. With residents like these, who needs the Occupation?.

Deciding to take a risk for some much needed information, Lyr makes his way over to the other Erenlander as soon as the reeve is not directly watching wither of them. He steps around the crowds, keeping them between him and the reeve, and using the awnings and stalls for more cover.

Once her stands next to the Erenlander, Lyr makes a bit of a show of examining the shopfront nearby, and says, quietly but not a whisper -

"You're a newcomer here, too, aren't you? I saw you on the road earlier. Some of the people here can't seem to decide whether this is a festival or a bandit raid..." with a slight nod of the head in the general direction of the reeve.

[Berova]

Dun

Dun goes about his business, perusing what the merchants have to offer, paying the man with the long staff no heed. Appraising the goods displayed, he notes most items available are most likely of local make, with a handful of goods possibly from Baden's Bluff or some even farther afield. He notes those items of local make with superior quality and sufficient quantities for trade purposes for future reference.

Taking a sideways glance at the stranger standing next to him, a fellow Erenlander no less, Dun offers a warm, but wry smile in greeting and responds in agreement, "Aye, I am."

Dun casually picks up a finished good to examine more closely, and offers an observation to no one in particular, "Quite nice workmanship." before placing it back upon the display table. In a quieter, half serious, half laughing manner towards the stranger, "I haven't seen folks so on 'edge' in quite a while. It's almost surreal ... and I've noticed it's quite contageous." Finally turning towards him, "I am indeed visiting here, though only not solely for the raid...er, I mean, festival ..." with a wink and a broad smile. "I have been on the road for quite a while now..."

"If you intend to stay for the festival, may I suggest we secure accommodations at the Inn before the crowds emerge?"

"By the way, my name is Dun Abben of Baden's Bluff." as Dun extends his hand in greeting toward the stranger, adding, "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

This is certianly odd. Two humans seemingly interested in helping me, and protecting me from the other. If it wasn't for the reception I just received in town I might find this funny. Instead it strikes me more as an odd coincidence, especially with an orc patrol due tommorow. How do I know I can really trust either of these two humans?

Thoughts race through Heulwen's head as she observes the exchange between the two humans. Both strike her as genuine, but can she really take the risk? Three trustworthy humans in one day, could it really be true?

Settleing on a course of action, Heulwen puts away her bow as she watches the woman walk away. Once she is out of sight and earshot, Heulwen calls out to the man, "If you truly are interested in helping me, Feyd, meet me out at the edge of the ruins along this road while the sky still has light but no sun. Bring the woman if she will come, but no weapons. I will watch for you and make my presence known if you appear trustworthy."

Staying carefully hidden, Heulwen watches the man, wondering how he would react to her demands.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Something about the beautiful girl's comment - a tease, completely devoid of any subtlety - made Feyd smile. Smile big. Then she was gone.

Feyd turned and listened to the halfling, shifting his pack-weight to a different foot, and focused his attention on the here-and-now. I don't blame her for not trusting me, I guess. Still, Feyd only considered her words for a moment before replying.

"Uh ... all right. I will ... hopefully see you there tonight. I don't know if this other woman means you ill, but I aim to find out. Be careful, and be safe." Feyd inwardly grimaced, hoping he didn't sound too concerned or fake, but he decided to let it go at that. Taking another look around, he turned on heel and made his way back into the town. He did not look back - better that he not see where the halfling ran off to, if she ran at all.

In town, anyone could see that preparations were underway for a festival. That these people, subjugated no less, were having a festival was very intriguing to Feyd. Would the local orcs and legates allow this to happen? Feyd didn't think that they would - and realized just then how 'high-profile' of a place he was in. Oh great. Best to make his stay here as short as possible - maybe he could even be gone by tomorrow.

He stopped at some clothiers, and tried to pick out a decent outfit for the halfling. It was the least he could do for her, and probably more than anyone else ever had. He decided that once he had found something, he would barter his goods for it, and not ask the halfling for anything in return. His father and mother always had taught him to help those whom he could, and these days, there were a great many needy people.

Feyd talked trade with the clothier ...

---------------------

OoC: Feyd will enter into bartering conversation when he locates something that would fit the halfling, whom he remembers to be a little less than 3' in height.

[Cadrius]

Feyd

Checking the town square proves to be fruitless for Feyd as he moves from person to person. However, after a few attempts he learns of a Tailor who's set up shop near the Western edge of town. By the time Feyd makes his way out there, the villagers are well into their preparations.

Delryn's Needles and Threads is the name of the two-floor shop and Feyd opens the door, strolling in. The shop itself is reasonably small, with bolts of fabric strewn about as well as finished pieces; pants here, a jacket there, hats, coats, a wide variety of clothing for a land that sees a wide variety of weather and temperatures.

At the noise of a customer a short man with a short, somewhat scraggly black beard comes out of the back smiling. He is quite well dressed compared to most of the other villagers, wearing a blue, cotton overshirt and grey slacks. It's a garb fitting for a wealthy merchant, or in this case, the tailor who made them.

"Well, good day, sir," he says, planting his hands on his hips, "name's Delryn, I run this here establishment. What can I get for you?"

He listens to Feyd's rought attempt at measurements, taking notes on a small piece of scrap paper with a quill pen.

"Something for your little girl, eh?" he asks, finishing writing, "Seems like everybody's buying something for their daughters today. Well, I can see what I have in stock, but if you want something special or in different colors it might take a day or so."

He vanishes into the back, and Feyd can hear a bit of noise as Delryn tosses things aside, muttering to himself. Looking about the room, Feyd notices that Delryn has at least a decent skill with a needle. The garments on display are all well-made from decent fabrics.

The tailor emerges a few moments later, bearing a red linen shirt, and a pair of black pants.

"Not much, but it's what I've got back there. Afraid someone else came in and got the only other thing I had in that size earlier. Do you want this? Or do you want me to make something else? Speaking of which, what're you looking to trade?"

Aleina

The Weary Wanderer is rather busy for the mid-afternoon, although it appears that most of the patrons are merely stopping in for an ale rather than a meal. Yet the kitchen seems to bustle all the same, perhaps they're contributing to the festival.

With three stories, the inn towers over the rest of the town. While it looks as if most of those rooms stay empty for a good amount of the year, the tables and chairs present still look to be fine if a bit well-worn. Indeed, it looks as if half of the common room has been moved, likely to the town square. The smell of food and drink are heavy in the air, and the noise of townsfolk talking and laughing fill the otherwise too-large inn.

Aleina is greeted by large man, standing behind the counter of the bar. Not exactly fat, not exactly burly, the innkeeper gives the impression of being strong enough to lift a keg of ale while soft enough to appreciate each of the herbs in a stew.

"Welcome to the Weary Wanderer, lass," he calls, waving her over, "can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat? A bounce on my knee, maybe?" He chuckles, eyes twinkling with mischief as he passes several mugs down the bar to some patrons.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"I fear you'd bounce me clear across town."

She smiles back at the innkeeper, somewhat in the manner of an older daughter.

"Nothing just yet, though I will likely take you up on that drink in a short while. If you have a moment, I could use a room and stabling for my mule. Your kitchen seems rather busy and I have some things a busy kitchen could probably use . . ."

She settles about the business of good natured barter with the innkeeper, more than in her element. When the matter is settled Aleina asks a few polite questions about the preparations and festival before steering the conversation away from the mundane.

"Is there a healer in town I might speak with? I have some skill myself; I don't know how long I'll be in town, and it always seems the healers have more work than they can handle."

<OOC: Diplomacy +7; she has salt and olive oil to barter.>

[Dirigible]

Lyr

"Lyr a'Corian... also... of Baden's Bluff" he replies, shaking the other man's hand, as if uncertain whether he should say so much.

Contagious indeed Lyr muses, realsing he is instinctivly acting like a conspirator. He nods at Dun's suggestion. "A wise idea. I hadn't considered how many visitors there are likely to be in town for the festival."

Lyr turns towards The Weary Wanderer, glancing back and pausing to see if Dun is going to follow.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr strolls casually through the Green and down the streets to the inn, perusing the wares of the various merchants en route. When he reaches the door, he ducks in and looks around at the spaciousness of the ground floor, with most of it's tables and chairs gone to furnish the Green outside.

Lyr starts over to the bar, but draws up a short distance as he sees him already bartering with a raven haired woman. He stands, politely waiting for them to finish. Unconsciously, he starts to straighten his coat and smooth his breeches over his thighs, then he balls his fists and thrusts them under his arms.

As he stands, Lyr realises what he is doing. His hands begin to itch... a strange, tingling sensation that seems to ooze out from his very bones and soul a... calling... or resonance.

What on Aryth? he wonders, staring at his twitching fingers. I haven't felt this way since... he looks up sharply at the woman's back, and feels a stab of ice in his belly.

[Berova]

Dun

"... also of ... Baden's Bluff..." pleasantly surprised, Dun's already pleasant demeanor further improves. "What good fortune brings you to these parts?" Dun asks with a smile.

As Lyr turns towards The Weary Wanderer, not missing a beat, Dun heads to the inn in lock step with Lyr.

[Berova]

Dun

Upon entering The Weary Wanderer with Lyr, Dun immediately takes in the lay of the ground floor, noting windows, the staircase, entrances and exits as well as the people.

Not more than half a moment goes by, Dun notices the woman dealing with the barkeep ... something stunning about her even from this vantage. He follows Lyr to the bar and waits patiently to be served.

[Cadrius]

Aleina, Lyr, Dun

The bartender laughs, a deep rumble in his throat, and grins as he sees two more men enter through the front door.

"You wouldn't be the first--" he Aleina a conspiratorial wink "--and hopefully not the last. But you said you wanted a room and some stabling, what've you got for trade? Oil and salt, eh? Hold on."

He moves past the bar and through a doorway into the busy kitchen. Despite the clamor his voice can be heard yelling to someone. A few minutes later, he returns nodding his head.

"Don't think we need the salt, but the oil could be useful. You said you kept them in gallon jugs? How about a room, care for your mule, and as much ale you can drink for one of them? I'd offer you a meal, but I wager you'll be going to the festival tonight, and you've got to save room for that," he says patting his stomach, chuckling once more, "I'll send one of the boys around for your mule."

Nodding, Aleina gently reminds him of her interest in seeing the healer for some work.

"Which one?" he smiles, but it's less mirthful than before, "We've got a herbalist in town, Stephen's his name, he's been doing it a long time but--" he drops his voice a bit and leans forward "--a few weeks ago we got another one. Don't know his name, everybody just calls him the Healer. His work is...good, as good as Stephen can do and in a tenth the time."

He blinks and shakes his head, as if catching himself digressing, "But you wanted to know how to get there, not their life stories. Stephen's on the east side, you probably came near it on your way in. The Healer, well, he has a house on the outskirts of town, but I don't think he stays there much, only if there's a patient that needs tending. Hope that helps."

Turning to the two men, the bartender seems to brighten a bit, becoming more jovial again. He grins and beckons them forward.

"Welcome gentlemen, to the Weary Wanderer, what can I do for you?"

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen


Uh ... all right. I will ... hopefully see you there tonight. I don't know if this other woman means you ill, but I aim to find out. Be careful, and be safe.
The man's reply floats out to Heulwen in her hiding place as she keeps hidden. Still concerned about my saftey, she thinks to herself, Either his intentions are quite genuine, or he is quite the accomplished actor.

Wathing him go, Heulwen stays out of sight until she is sure he is back in town. Then, hefting her heavy backpack once more, Heulwen makes her way back towards the place where she hid her other things earlier. She now had two appointments to keep this evening, and on near oppisite sides of the town at that.

I best determine the safest way between the two points, Heulwen thinks, hiding her backpack with the saddle on the outskirts of the ruins. At least I can see the one meeting place from here. I should check out the other though.

Looking up at the sky, Heulwen notes how much time she has before the setting of the sun before taking off, skirtting the town towards the south.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Thank you very much. I'll be back a bit later to collect that drink."

The innkeeper's eyes shift to look somewhere behind her at about the same time she feels it - a slight weakness to her limbs, as if she'd gone too long without eating. Her face clouds and the feeling intensifies; she leans one hand on the bar, suddenly aware of a peculiar craving. Shaking her head, she turns to go and her eyes look up into the man behind her. He isn't much taller than Aleina, and thin besides, but as their eyes lock she gets a sudden jolt.

Flustered and more than a little confused, she brushes by the men quickly - uttering only a rushed "Excuse me" and is out the door into the sunlight before they can reply. She can feel the heat rising from her skin in the cool air. Bombur gives her a look but she doesn't notice, nor does she notice when a boy comes around the corner and addresses her.

"Lady?"

The odd sensations had departed as quickly as they arrived, but her mind had yet to settle. Was the man some sort of magician? Or something else? Something more sinister?

"Um, lady? I'm 'sposed to get yer mule?"

She looks over at the boy, who is shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"Yes, of course. This is Bombur. Please take good care of him."

He mumbles something in reply, looking at the ground and then leading the mule off. Bombur departs with only token resistance. Aleina suddenly feels very exposed, standing in the street, and decides to investigate the less mysterious of the two healers. She was intrigued by the new one - the more powerful of the two, if the innkeep was correct - but at the moment she didn't want anything to do with the unknown. Adjusting her cloak, she starts off eastward, looking for Stephen.

[Berova]

Dun

As the woman quickly brushes by, Dun takes a quick, practiced half-step to the side, making way for her. He takes a gander back as she leaves the inn offering a silent whistle. Nevertheless, he maintains his good cheer as he turns back to the proprietor and the matter at hand.

Turning to the two men, the bartender seems to brighten a bit, becoming more jovial again.

He grins and beckons them forward.

"Weary Wanderer indeed! Tell us barkeep, are all women in these parts so warm and charming?" Dun asks with a big smile and a slight squint as he steps up to the bar.

"She sure's a looker though, eh?" he adds cheerily.

And before the bartender gets impatient with them, Dun clears his throat and gets to the point, "Um, er ... yes, no doubt you can guess we're here for the festivities and would like some accommodations in your fine establishment."

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd - meanwhile, back at the clothier ...

"Afraid someone else came in and got the only other thing I had in that size earlier. Do you want this? Or do you want me to make something else? Speaking of which, what're you looking to trade?"

Feyd's expression turned to one of curious confusion. Someone else? Now who ...? Ah!

"That wouldn't have happened to be the Captain, would it?" Feyd queried of the tailor. "No matter. I have 10 sewing needles, a couple of vials of ink. I'll bet a clothier as good as you is in need of dyes, as well as the tools of the trade? Otherwise I also have a bunch of other things, I'm sure we can find something to agree upon."

He awaited the answer from the tailor, and tried to see if anything he mentioned had caught a sparkle in the merchant's eye.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Did she feel it too? Lyr wonders as his head swivel's to follow the young woman out of the taproom. If she did.... Shuddering, Lyr turns back, and realises that Dun is already speaking to the barman.

One female L...Legate... he is almost unable to think the word, it is so loaded with hate and revulsion for him just doens't make sense. What, then? Could she be an elf hiding her true appearence, or a channeler?. With an effort, Lyr drags his eye front again. He lets Dun get on with the bargaining, hoping he can then deal on as good terms for himself.

[Berova]

Dun

Dun casually shifts his body ever so slightly to quickly get a glance at his suddenly silent friend without losing focus on or pausing from his conversation with the bartender.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr remains, staring somewhat blankly forward, his brow deeply durrowed in nervous concentration, tugging on his earlobe. As he sees Dun shoot him a concerned glance, he manages a wan smile in return.

[Cadrius]

Lyr, Dun

The large man smiles broadly, and spreads his arms, palms up, saying, "Son, have a few ales and every girl in Kingscross will look like that one. I always make sure to have a few before I see my wife."

He grimaces in mock anguish, before grinning once more and waving them forward. The Innkeeper leans on the well-worn counter, arms crossed. His eyes twinkle once more with mischief.

"Accomodations for the festival, eh? Certainly. How many nights will you be needing and do you have any animals that need stabling? And what do you bring for trade?"

Feyd

Delryn merely gives Feyd a glance out of the corner of his eye as the woodsman mentions the Captain. However as Feyd begins to rattle off his inventory, the tailor turns to face him, tapping the side of his cheek with a short, well-calloused finger.

"Hmm, I could use some new needles. How about we make that a deal; the outfit for the needles. Sound square?"

Aleina

Feeling altogether uncomfortable inside the Weary Wanderer, Aleina rapidly makes her way outside. The two men in her way behave like just about every other she's met. They're more than happy to move aside to watch the startling Erenlander move pass.

Outdoors she takes a deep breath trying to figure out exactly what just happened. The boy sent to stable Bombur, only offered her a confused smile at ignoring his presence. Aleina sets off down the street, trying to get a handle on herself.

The feeling itself had been strange, it was a cold spark; it chilled and invigorated her at the same time, much like a plunge in an icy river might. Nervousness and fear walked hand in hand. While the town might let a poor Halfling slave go, the chances of letting a witch leave were slim. Still, the man didn't have the look of a legate, and she hadn't seen one of their magic-sniffing companions.

Once more she spies the people of Kingscross setting up for their festival and it clicks with her. It would be unlikely for a legate to be in town without some orcs, and more importantly, he would've likely put a stop to the celebration, or at least dampened the jubilation. So if not a legate, then who?

The question rolls through her mind while she moves swiftly across the streets until she finds herself outside a building that looks like many of the other ones in Kingscross: weathered with age. Only the humble sign on the sign declaring it as Hahn's Herbs gives the young woman any idea that it's the right place.

Stepping inside Aleina is struck by two things; it's reasonably dark, with the curtains drawn only letting some of the light in, and the odor of years and years of herbs being cut, mashed, and prepared in this house. No one smell dominates the air, instead all combining to create a very heady scent. The impression of age grows with the scent, and she fancies that if the entire house was cleaned out today, the wood itself would still smell like herbs for years afterward.

"Can I help you," a quiet, cultured voice says rather than asks. Aleina turns, her eyes already adjusting to the darker setting, to see a thin man sitting on a stool, behind a table, with a mortar and pestle before him. He moves his eyes to look at her before returning his attention to the task before him, the soft grinding the only noise that can be heard.

Heulwen

Heulwen moves through the woods, outside of town, not entirely certain if her new friends would turn out to be true. Stafford, Feyd, and the woman, the question of whether she can trust all, some, or none of them weighs on her mind as she passes between tall, trees some already bearing leaves exploding with color while fallen ones crunch under her small feet.

She marks the amount of light in the sky and reckons she can pull off both meetings, but not without a bit of effort on her part. She winces at picking points so distant, but there is little to be done now. Certainly she can't march back into town, find Stafford and Feyd and inform them that they need to pick more convenient spots.

Looking back at Kingscross, she can make out the small forms of people moving back and forth, ferrying various objects to the center of town. To the north and south of the town she can spy farmlands, some still ripe with crops, but many either harvested or in the process of it. The shrubs and other underbrush is thicker off to her right.

Crack. A twig snaps nearby, suddenly drawing every ounce of the halfling attention back to where she stood. Freezing in place, her hand grasps the hilt of her sword and her muscles tense.

Snap. She squints, trying to peer at the underbrush, but she can't see whatever's coming.

Crunch. It's getting closer.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Unable to see the source of the noise, Heulwen's curiosity takes a back seat to her own sense of saftey. Glancing about her quickly, Heulwen looks for a suitable hiding place; one that will hopefully offer her some measure of protection as well as concealment. Spotting one, she moves as quickly and quietly as possible, settling herself out of sight before whatever it is that is making the noise appears.

Once out of sight, her sense of security satisfied, Heulwen's sense of curiosity reasserts itself and tentatively she peeks out of her hiding place, hoping to catch a glimpse of what ever's comming.

Still unable to see it through the undergrowth, Heulwen relies on her other senses, taking a large, but quiet, sniff of the air, hoping to catch the scent of whatever is out there.

[Cadrius]

Heulwen

Moving backward, Heulwen ends up eschewing silence for speed, her feet snapping several twigs as crouches behind a fallen tree. Whatever's in the underbrush will have a hard time of finding her. Yet she peeks her head over the top of the tree, scanning the underbrush.

A second before she sees it, she smells it, and the tension runs out of her. A moment later a familiar wolf-like form emerges from the underbrush. It sniffs once before leveling its gaze at Heulwen and loping over to her. Cytaill has returned and he bears a dead rabbit clenched in his teeth.

Dropping it at her feet the wogren makes a sharp but quiet exhale, greeting Heulwen before dipping his head down to be scratched.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Her mind churns restlessly as she walks, trying unsuccessfully to rationalize her strange reaction at the inn as nothing more than a lack of food and sleep. It was more than that - she had no idea how she knew but of all people, Aleina had learned to trust her feelings. What it was about that man that disturbed her is no clearer when she finally approaches the herbalist's shop, and she reluctantly lets the matter drop from her mind.

She enters, pausing as her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. The smell of a crushed mish-mash of herbs assaults her senses, making her almost light headed for a moment. When the proprietor addresses her, she turns and smiles at him reservedly. Clasping her hands in front of her, she nods once to his question.

"Perhaps. You are the owner of this place? I am new in town, but I have had some experience harvesting and preparing the herbs of your trade. I thought that while I am in town, I might be able to assist you."

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen & Cytaill

Scratching Cytaill behind the ears, Heulwen mock scolds him. "Don't frighten me like that," she says, laughing as she does so. Her releif that the noise has only been Cytaill is all too apparent in her voice and body language and she does little to hide it.

Looking down at the rabbit at her feet Heulwen chatters on as she continues to scratch Cytaill's ears, "Well it looks like there's decent hunting around here. Have you been enjoying yourself? I'm sure you have. Plenty of game to stalk and chase and no orcs to bother you."

Although she hadn't meant to mention the orcs, the thought of them suddenly rushes across her mind, reminding her of the warning Stafford had given her. Growing suddenly more serious, Heulwen stop scratching Cytaill's ears, causing the wogren to look her in the eyes. When Heulwen next speaks the voice that comes out of her mouth sounds diffrent; more animalistic.

"Cytaill, there is danger coming. A man in the town said that a group of orcs would be comming tommorow. I know it would just be easiest to be off now and avoid them, but there seem to be people here willing to help us. I've already made arrangements to meet with a few of them tonight, and I don't want to just leave potential pack-friends behind. I'm going to meet with them; find out if we really can trust them, and I could use your help. The two meetings are on near oppisite sides of the town and you move much faster than I do. What do you say? Will you help me keep the meetings and watch my back?"

[Berova]

Dun

Dun returns the bartender's smile with a wink, "Sir, before the night is through, I hope to find more than a few ales myself. As for accommodations for my friend and me, a few nights if you would have it, though even one night will do. But no, no animals to board for my friend or myself."

"As for trade, I have a number of propositions for you, the least of which are a handful of candles and two large burlap sacks for the night ... if wax, wick and burlap is what you fancy ... though perhaps what may serve better might be for me to assist with any pre-festivities work for I have two strong hands and a sturdy back for my father, Dur Abben, has taught me not to fear hard, honest work. However, for room and board for a few nights for the both of us, I certainly can be of even greater service to one such as yourself if you or someone you know would have need for a locksmithy ... or if you would be so inclined, we can work out another arrangement ... for a more far-sighted person such as yourself, I may have a resource to some of the finest of brandy and wines that may make their way to Baden's Bluff from far and wide from time to time."

OOC: Not sure which would better apply here [+5 Profession-Merchant] or [+6 Bluff].

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

"Hmmm ... 10 needles? These aren't easy to come by, good tailor! How about 5 of them?"

--------------------
OoC: Feyd will continue to barter/haggle with the merchant, and won't go for all 10 needles unless he absolutely has no other choice.
--------------------

Feyd concluded his business with the merchant.

Having secured the clothing in his backpack, he hurried off to the inn, which - being the tallest structure in town - was not hard to find.

Entering, he scans the crowded establishment for that one ray of beauty - the girl who teased him with learning her name. He searched for a few minutes, but could not seem to locate her. Maybe I've arrived ahead of her ... or maybe she went off to get her orcish friends! No, that doesn't seem right. Still ... best to err on the side of caution.

Feyd moved to a table at the inn, hoping that he could get served, and that it would not cost him as much as the clothing had.

[Cadrius]

Feyd

"Five? Good sir, this is a finely stiched outfit, made with loving craftsmanship. It might not be good come winter, but your little girl can get a good amount of wear and tear from it. Seven is my offer for such a wonderful garment."

Feyd reluctantly hands over the needles, but upon examining the clothing, the tailor's word seems to be true. It might not fit the halfling perfectly, but it's quite better than her current clothing. Delryn looked to be right, it wouldn't due for the winter but while the days stayed warm and the nights cool, she'd be fine.

Heading into the Weary Wanderer, Feyd passes two men speaking to what looks to be the innkeeper. One of them says something that the man apparently finds funny, as he chuckles and thumps his hand upon the bar.

After a few minutes a plain-looking girl emerges from the kitchen. She looks around, catching sight of Feyd sitting down, she smiles and moves across the relatively empty common room.

"Welcome to the Weary Wanderer," she says, the phrase sounding as if she'd said it a thousand times, "any bills can be settled with Master Holm." She inclines her head, indicating the innkeeper.

"What can I get for you? The kitchen's pretty busy getting ready for the festival but I might be able to sneak something out."


Dun, Lyr

The bartender nods, grinning, "If ales are you pleasure then you've come to the right place. I just tapped a keg from Erenhead, and if all goes well--" he drops his voice a bit, glancing left and right "--I might be able to use what I got off a merchant a few weeks ago. Something special from Sweet Water."

The patrons are thinning out, as more and more go home to rest before the festival. Yet still the kitchen bustles on, oblivious of how many people are actually there.

"Hmm," he says, drumming his fingers along the bar while listening to Dun speak, "well, if the two of you want to stay here I'll need a bit more than some candles and sacks. I could use those to be true, but surely a stay here is worth more than just that.

"The festival itself isn't my charge, you'll want to speak to Lusk about that, although if you help us set up, that might be worth something. And while brandy from Baden's Bluff might be tempting, lad, 'a rabbit in the snare...'" he intones, trailing off.

Aleina

The man looks up, looking to be caught off-guard for a moment, although with the gloom it's difficult to tell. Indeed, how he manages to get his work done in the darkness is a mystery to Aleina.

"You?" he asks, his voice remaining level, with but the slightest tremor of incredulity, "You want to assist me?"

The gentle grinding of the mortar and pestle stop. Resting his hands on the table he gives Aleina a searching look. Before speaking again, this time a trace of bitterness can be heard.

"Haven't you heard? There's a new healer in town, I'm sure he'd love your help."

Heulwen and Cytaill

Heulwen isn't always able to speak with Cytaill. Indeed, it takes quite a bit, to even alter her way of thinking. Ever since she first started speaking with the wogren, Heulwen has broadened her horizons. While she hasn't tried it with others, animals seem to have a much different view of the world.

She knows she can only concentrate hard enough to speak for a short while, and the halfling makes the most of it, speaking quickly. Throughout it Cytaill cocks his head to one side, looking into Heulwen's eyes. With time running out, it is the wogren's turn to speak.

"I do not trust the 'men,'" Cytaill says, although "men" sounds foreign in his mouth, "but I have watched you since you left the forest, I will keep watching you. You--" he's cut off as Heulwen's connection fades, turning Cytaill's words into breaths and growls.

[Berova]

Dun

"Aye, I understand about rabbits, though it's been a few days since ... but we were talk'in 'bout accommodations ... so what's me helping you set up worth to ya? Enough for a room for me friend and me?" Dun glances at his friend and gets a little concerned, he hasn't been the same since that woman brushed by...

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen and Cytaill

The breakdown of the connection between her and Cytaill leaves Heulwen cursing that she had taken so long to say what she did, but there is little that can be done about that now. She could try reestablishing the connection, but she had never had any success with that. Sighing, Heulwen looks into Cytaill's eye's trying to see the rest of the answer she could not understand.

"Oh, well. We'll just have to trust each other, won't we Cytaill?"

"Will you let me ride?" Heulwen asks as she moves to mount bareback, "Will you carry me to where I need to go right now?"

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Thinking on the waitress's words, Feyd figured he should see if she had seen the woman he was searching for, and get himself something to wash the dust from his throat.

"Miss, you can get me just an ale, nothing fancy. And ... I was wondering ... I was supposed to meet a girl here. She's very attractive ... you'd remember her blue eyes. She wore a tan-colored robe of very fine make, and I believe a blue tunic. She would have only been in here within the last hour or so, unless she has not arrived yet. Have you seen anyone like that?"

Feyd leaned a little closer, and added, "also, any idea on what the innkeep is looking for - as far as barter? I have a wide assortment of things, but is there anything - you know - special that he's looking for?"

[Cadrius]

Dun and Lyr

The bartender scratches his chin, weighing what's been offered, and nods once, saying, "With the sacks and the candles? I think so. If you'll go put your things in a room and come back down, there'll be enough time to sit and have something to drink before we really get started."

Feyd

"I'll think about that," she says, moving behind the counter, for a few moments.

Feyd lets his eyes wander across the room. Aside from one or two other people, the common room is quite empty. The two men he observed earlier look to have struck a deal of some sort with the innkeeper, he nods and gestures toward Feyd. The woodsman is surprised until a glance over his shoulder sees the stairs behind him.

Returning the serving girl places the mug before Feyd.

"Pretty?" she sniffs, "She might've been in here earlier, getting a room for the festival."

Heulwen and Cytaill

Gingerly, Heulwen climbs onto Cytaill's back and for a moment, she's convinced the wogren is going to hurl her to the ground. Yet he remains still, standing a little too stiffly, while she settles herself. He's likely uncomfortable, as carrying a halfling bareback isn't something he does often.

The moment she's settled, he's off, and Heulwen finds herself clinging to Cytaill for fear of flying off. Perhaps he's being playful, or perhaps he's testing her, or maybe he simply doesn't understand the challenge of riding a wogren bareback.

Arms wrapped around her companion's neck, Heulwen and Cytaill hurtle through the forest.

[Berova]

Dun

Extending his hand as their bargain is struck, "Very well and done! And oh, Dun Abben's me name."

Taking a longer look at Lyr's condition, Dun adds with some concern showing in his voice, "I'll be back down for that drink right quick, as soon as I settle my things and see to my friend here." He then asks the barkeep, "And by the way, who was that woman who has seem to affect my friend so?"

Dun then helps Lyr go up to their room making sure he is alright before he returns with the burlap sacks and candles.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Dun's hand on his elbow startles Lyr out of his introspection. He foreces all thoughts of the girl out of his mind, and, opening his ears properly for the first time in the conversation, he hurridly pieces together what was said in the last few moments.

Figuring that he can do something to help with setting up the festival grounds, despite being a good handspan shorter than his friend, Lyr goes upstairs with Dun (OOC : Oooo-err!), and stows his pack in their room. He then turns to Dun, and says

"It would be unfair for you to pay the full barter-price for this room... allow me to provide these," he says, producing a handful of good, wax candles. He fervently hopes that neither Dun nor the Innkeeper recognize them as being unhallowed, soaked in unholy water and suitable for Legate rituals.

As the two men head downstairs again, Lyr gives his first genuine smile in what seem like a long time.

"Now, shall we see what the sweat of our brows will earn us?"

[Berova]

Dun

Once up in their room, Dun checks on Lyr, "You alright buddy??" With mounting concern he asks, "What's wrong? ... since we saw that woman ... it's like you saw some spirit or somethin' worse."


When Lyr offers the candles for barter, Dun smiles, "Why tis unnecessary of you, but if it would make you feel better, thanks." and accepts them.

Dun pulls out the two burlap sacks he's promised the innkeep and places the candles upon the folded sacks, ready to take the items down, before storing his own gear. Suddenly getting a whiff of something in the room, Dun sniffs the air and says to Lyr, "Hmmm ... curious ... if I hadn't known any better, I would have thought sweet Daisy was in the room."

"Now, shall we see what the sweat of our brows will earn us?"

Dun returns Lyr's smile with one of his own and replies with a gentle nod. "Well, we've been promised an ale fer starters." then he admits, "It's been quite a while since I've had a good one."


[OOC: as long as the candles don't 'look' unusual (i.e. all black for instance or in the shape of Izrador himself :evil:), Dun won't notice]

[Dirigible]

Lyr

"An ale would go down well... my friend" Lyr replies.

As they head down the stairs, Lyr confides in the taller man "That woman... it was almost like I had seen a spirit. Her presence was... strange. Stranger than anything I have felt in a long time." He glances sideways, guardedly "I expect I sound like a fool..."

As they reach the taproom, Lyr approaches the bar and nods to the robust man behind it. "Master Innkeeper. I neglected to introduce myself before... my name is Lyr, and we would be grateful for something to wet our whistles before the festival".

[Berova]

Dun

"An ale would go down well... my friend" Lyr replies.

Dun simply nods wholeheartedly.

As they head down the stairs, Lyr confides in the taller man "That woman... it was almost like I had seen a spirit. Her presence was... strange. Stranger than anything I have felt in a long time." He glances sideways, guardedly "I expect I sound like a fool..."

Dun's tone turns a bit more serious, "No, not a fool ... nor do you sound the least bit foolish. In dark times like these, one cannot be too careful..." Dun voice trails off as if he is lost in thought.

"You said it has been a long time since you felt this way before, when have you felt this way before?"



Upon returning to the ground floor, Dun looks around to see if he noticed anyone new had arrived since they went up to their room.

As they reach the taproom, Lyr approaches the bar and nods to the robust man behind it. "Master Innkeeper. I neglected to introduce myself before... my name is Lyr, and we would be grateful for something to wet our whistles before the festival".

In anticipation of the ale promised them, Dun's good spirits return. A wry smile returns to his face as he awaits the barkeep's reply.

[Cadrius]

Soradur

Pain. He's still very much in pain. It's an odd sensation for the dwarf, but he recognizes that if he's feeling it, the infection must be getting bad. Yet his options are limited, a wounded dwarf walking into town could only spell trouble. Even if he could get to the healer, who's to say he could get back out again.

Animals have come and gone throughout the afternoon. They each pay him no heed, though, as he sits, leaning against the oak, and trying to conserve his strength. Yet around mid-afternoon he hears the approach of another animal, moving quickly by the sound of it. However, unlike the rest, it stops a short distance away, on the other side of the tree and growls once. It could be a wolf, but Soradur isn't sure. Why a single wolf would be concerned about his presence isn't clear.

There's also another noise, perhaps a second wolf, but he can't quite hear it. Yet a moment later there's a crunch of leaves from where he thinks the wolf to be.

Lyr and Dun

Once downstairs they return to the bar, placing the goods upon the table. The bartender nods once as the introduction is made, and takes Lyr's hand in a firm grip.

"Name's Leiden," he says, "now about that drink."

He pulls two ceramic mugs from below the counter, placing them before Dun and Lyr. A light froth, peeks above the top of each.

"Good ale, I think. From Erenhead."

While Dun and Lyr take pulls from their drinks, Leiden gives the goods an examination. He nods at the sacks and candles given by Dun, but stops when he comes across those donated by Lyr. He picks once up and scratches his chin before lifting a candle from Dun and comparing the two. The difference isn't drastic, but Lyr's candles clearly received some sort of treatment. They're slimmer, and are a slightly different color. Dun's tend to be a typical, dark yellow candle, while those given by Lyr are of a deeper, almost orange hue. Lyr's pulse quickens as he sees Leiden scrutinizing the candles but after a moment more he shrugs and places them within one of the burlap sacks.

"Now, about the work that needs done," he says, turning his attention back to the men, "the kitchen's been going since early this morning, so has everyone else's, but as we've got the biggest one in town, we have the most food. I need a couple of strong backs to help carry that out as well as help me with a few kegs. It'll probably take a couple hours."

Heulwen and Cytaill

After a time, Cytaill's quick pace abruptly slackens. He comes to a complete halt, his head moving back and forth, sniffing. He growls once, not aggressive, but not altogether friendly either. A few moments later Heulwen smells it too, although what it is, she isn't sure.

She'd almost say it was something dead, but it didn't have the same stench. For a moment she fears it's one of the Fell, but again, the smell of death would likely be stronger. A wounded deer, might make this smell.

It is then that she hears it; the faint sound of labored breathing. It isn't loud at all and she might've missed it entirely if things weren't so quiet at the moment. Looking around she thinks it to be coming from the other side of a great oak tree.

[Samurai]

Soradur


Soradur mumbles a curse as he pulls himself to his feet, wincing slightly as the sudden motion aggravates the wound in his side. Perhaps the wolf was starving, and had smelled the blood. No time to think about it now.

Soradur realized he needed to conserve his strength as much as possible, for if he was detected inside the village, he had no doubt of the consequences. Quickly turning to the oak tree he had been resting against a moment before, Soradur grips the bark firmly in his callused, blackened hands, and begins to climb upward.

[Berova]

Dun

Dun savors the ale while Leiden inspects the goods. He is intrigued by Leiden's scrutiny of the candles but doesn't say anything.

When they are finished with their ale, Dun says to Lyr, "That was refreshing indeed and most generous of Leiden to let us enjoy one before we earn our keep. Well, the sooner we get started, the sooner we can partake in the festivities."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Smacking his lips over the last drops of ale, Lyr stands and stretches his shoulders, still feeling a little sore form the morning's travels.

"Well put. Let's to work". Lyr turns to the inkeeper and nods grasciously. "With your permission, Master Leiden..."

He then waits for Dun to get up, and they head to the barrelroom.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen and Cytaill

So intent is she at holding on that Heulwen doesn't even notice Cytaill slackening his pace until he comes to a stop. The way he sniffes the air and tenses though, immediately puts her on alert and she strains her own senses to detect what brought Cytaill to a halt.

Floating on the breeze comes the faint smell of death. No, not death, the smell is not strong enough for that. Its more along the lines of a wounded animal, but not an animal that she's smelled before.

Then a faint rustling catches her ears, the sound of movement. Orienting her gaze to look in the direction of the sound, Heulwen strains for further signs of what is there, her hand reaching for the sword at her side.

Is it an animal? No, Cytaill wouldn't react this way if it was nothing more than that. But then what is it? Its smell contains the stench of injury, and a large one at that to be so near death.

Her thoughts racing, Heulwen once again catches the sound of movement. This time the noise is loud, obviously from a creature larger than her, and contains the distictive clatter of metal on metal that an armored individual makes. The sounds are not getting closer, however, instead it sounds like they are getting higher. Who ever it is, they must be climbing the tree. Almost as if they are afraid of me! Smiling with the thought that conclusion brings, Heulwen begins to debate the benefits of stopping.

The more I delay, the less time I'll have to scout out the place where I'm supposed to meet Stafford. At the same time, there aren't many individuals that would be afraid of a halfling. Maybe I can startle whoever it is out into the open.

Patting Cytaill on the head, Heulwen re-establishes her grip on his fur, just in case he begins to run again before calling out in a voice as big sounding as she can make it, "You there, in the oak tree! Reveal yourself!"

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur hears a voice calling out to him, and curses under his breath. He was certain that he had heard a wolf earlier, and in his seventy-two years he was only aware of wolves traveling with one type of sentient creature. He notes the voice has a feminine quality to it, and that it is a bit high pitched, but he mostly ignores this as he madly scrambles up to the perch at the center of the tree.

Once there, Soradur unsheaths one of his Urutuk Hatchets, and steels himself for the coming confrontation. Placing a hand on a nearby branch to secure himself, Soradur blows out a steadying breath as he wills away the pain in his side. He would have to be quick. Though safe from the wolf, the Legate could have a ranged weapon, or worse, use spells to remove him from his precarious position.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen and Cytaill

Listening carefully after she calls out, Heulwen hears that he call at the oppisite effect as intended. The creature, whatever it is, continues its climb and secures itself amongst the branches. As the scent of the injury once again fills her nostrils, a mad thought stikes fear in Heulwen's heart.

What if its an orc? It could be an advance scout for tommorow's patrol! With an injury like that it would want to avoid confrontation if at all possible, especially if it doesn't realize that I'm a halfling.

Nearly panic striken at the thought, it takes a moment for reason to settle Heulwen's mind. Whatever it was, and however badly it was injured, it did not have the smell of an orc or a goblin. In fact, under the injury, it did not smell like any creature Heulwen had encountered before.

Maybe it doesn't understand Erenlander...

Calling out again, this time in Trader's Tounge, Heulwen mentally crosses her fingers, hoping that her reason, and not her fear, is correct.

"I mean you no harm, though it seems that someone else did. Show yourself that we may talk face to face."

[Samurai]

Soradur


Soradur cocks his hatchet back patiently, preparing for a throw, sensing the slight hesitation from the creatures below. No doubt the Legate was preparing the proper spells to use against him. He was quite surprised when he heard her call out once more, this time in the Traders Tongue.

Gripping the hatchet firmly in hand, Soradur carefully brushes back the overhanging leaves obscuring his vision. He grits his teeth as he beholds the largest wolf, if that is what the creature below was, he has ever seen in his life, and mounted on its back is a small halfling girl.

"A halflin?! Here?" Soradur thinks to himself. Still cautious, he calls out in a rough tone,

"Right. I'll just drop down there so yer wolf-thing can chew me ta pieces. Nice try, halflin. I dinnae know what ye're doin out here, an it's no business or carin o' mine. I just want ta be left in peace, aye?"

[Cadrius]

Dun and Lyr

With an ale quenching their thirst, the two men join Leiden and the others helping. Covered platters of food are handed off and sent to the middle of town. Each of them makes several trips, some bearing stews, others meats, and a couple sweets. Later they help roll kegs of ale as well as carry Leiden's delivery from Sweet Water.

A couple hours later, the innkeeper claps them on their backs and grins broadly. The two of them pant a bit from the exertion, but it feels good to do a little honest work, especially for what appears to be such a good cause.

"Good work. Couldn't have done it without you, and just in time. The festival's about to start."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr digs his thumbs into his spine with a grunt, rubbing his aching muscles. For a moment, he gives Dun and envious look for the man's height and stronger physique.

"You're quite welcome, Master Leiden. I expect we'll see you after the festival..."

Lyr gives the innkeeper a respectful nod before heading out to the festival grounds.

[Berova]

Dun

Dun returns Lyr's look with a smile as he stretches his arms and shoulders, tightening, then relaxing his muscles to draw out the ache from them.

With an appreciative smile and nod, Dun replies Leiden's complements, "It was our pleasure to be of service to you. See ya after the festival." and leaves the inn with Lyr.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd watched the people in the taproom, quaffing his ale eagerly. It had been a very long time since he’d had one, and this one was like liquid gold to his throat. Still, as good as the ale tasted, Feyd began to realize what it was that had been gnawing at his consciousness since he’d arrived here. He’d felt the sensation before, in other towns (before he’d been asked to move on). While his inner self craved some companionship … it was as if the town was everything that he was not. Busy. Kept up. Ordered. On a routine. Feyd paused for a moment, somewhat stunned by his realization. Maybe it is not that I want to belong and can’t, maybe it’s that I shouldn’t want to belong in the first place.

His quiet introspection led him to think of the fields, and moreso the forests. Running free … well, at least as free as anyone can be these days … , living life under the open sky, taking food where it could be found, trading for it when necessary. It was not a life full of responsibilities, but it was a good life nonetheless.

During the course of his reflections, Feyd had finished his first ale, acquired a new one from the serving girl, and half-finished that one as well. He noticed two men near the bar, talking much with the innkeeper. They must all be friends, he considered. He then watched as the three headed back and forth between the kitchen and the town square, moving food and barrels for the festival.

The Festival! Feyd silently cursed his foolishness. He was certain that the orcs would come to quash such a gathering of merriment and open celebration. He did not want to be around when that happened. ... and all for a beautiful woman? Feyd silently cursed at himself again. He would go and meet with the halfling, and then he would be off, but not before settling his debt.

Finishing the rest of his ale in a large gulp, pausing a long moment to savor the taste, Feyd headed to the bar, and tried to flag down the innkeeper.

“Excuse me, good master … I’ve had two of your ales. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for? I have much in the way of trade goods.”

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen and Cytaill

Spying the dwarf through the leaves as he takes a peak at her and Cytaill, Heulwen is suprised, and not quite sure she believes her eyes.

A dwarf? It couldn't be. They're supposed to be holed up in their mountians. No, it must be a short human with a beard.

Insenced that the..., whatever it was, would refer to Cytaill as a 'wolf-thing,' Heulwen replies in an angry voice, "'Wolf-thing' indeed! *Sniff* Cytaill is a wogren, and if he wanted to attack you, he would have done so before you climbed that tree."

"As for leaving you in peace... Just be sure that there's some one around to cut off your head when you die from that injury. Otherwise your not liable to rest in peace for very long as one of the Fell."

Prodding Cytaill gently, Heulwen tries to get him to continue around the town.

[Cadrius]

Aleina

Her mind in tumult, Aleina makes her way back from the herbalist she presumes to have been Stephen. It occurs to her that he had never given his name, nor spoke much about himself. It was the work that concerned him, and perhaps briefly the last few minutes of conversation that they shared. An odd fellow to be sure, but the opportunity and the reward for a task well done were great.

The light is beginning to fade from the sky while she hurries along. Her quick strides making little noise. She sees a few people, all making their way toward the center of town, where the festival will likely commence.

The inn is relatively empty. The innkeeper is still behind the bar, this time speaking to a man she knows and recognizes, Feyd.

Heulwen, Cytaill, and Soradur

Picking up on her angry response, Cytaill wuffs softly, stretching out his forepaws before tilting his head to stare up at Soradur quizzically. Yet Heulwen urges him on and the wogren reluctantly agrees, setting off again.

Feyd

"Ah good," the innkeeper says, "I was afraid you'd want to stay there all night. Goods, eh? Well, it's convenient. You have a wide variety, and I accept a wide variety. So make me an offer, son, and let's go to that festival."

Opening his mouth to say more he's cut off by the door opening. He begins to sigh but stops once he recognizes the striking young woman striding into the common room.

"Ah, you've returned, lady," he says, smiling, "and just in time. I was getting ready to close the place down for the evening. If you need anything, now would be a good time to get it."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Eyes like chips of turquoise flicker dimly in the fading light, her thoughts hidden behind them. She hadn't intended to stay so long, hadn't meant to be distracted from the events of the afternoon and she hurries back to the inn. As she steps inside, she immediately spots the one who had named himself Feyd. She answers the innkeeper without looking at him.

"Thank you, but I can think of nothing else I require at the moment."

She waits until Feyd turns around before continuing.

"Leaving so soon?"

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

"Leaving so soon?"

Feyd turned just as the words were being spoken, following the innkeeper's gaze right to the very beauty that Feyd had come into this inn to find. Her eyes seemed to reflect every facet of the waning daylight streaming through the windows of the place.

There was no way he was falling for this - this woman. He saw now the surety he has missed in her poise before, the almost haughty light behind those wonderful eyes. This woman knew how to use her charms, all right. Why, just a bat of those eyelashes over those sapphire orbs ...

He caught himself before getting lost in them. He stood from the leaning postion he had assumed while talking to the inkeeper, never taking his eyes off of the comely lass. "Actually, I was just now settling up before heading out." Feyd paused a bit, but then he crossed his arms across his chest, and resumed leaning his side on the bar. "Should I be staying yet a while longer, young woman-without-a-name?" Feyd's features showed neither grin nor frown. If she thought he was a simpleton that could only think with what was in his pants, she was in for a big surprise. Two could play the cat-and-mouse game.

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur narrows his eyes slightly at the Halflings remark. "How did she know I was wounded?" he thinks to himself. A thousand thoughts rush through his mind as he watches her angle her path around the town. Threadbare garments, close cropped hair, no doubt an escaped slave. And the strange creature she had named a Wogren carried her across its back as a horse might a Sarcosan.

What little curiousity Soradur had was piqued. But more, he wondered at the wisdom of letting this one go without learning her purpose. It would not do if she were to alert the people of this village of his presence, and he had no doubt she was fully aware of what he was, and what that meant.

Soradur raised his voice slightly as he called out to the retreating Halfling, saying, "Wait a moment. Mayhaps I spoke too hastily, halflin. I doubt one such as yerself is workin fer the Shadow, but I thought from that wolf-thing, ah, Wogren, ye might be a Legate. And o' course, this ain't exactly where I would be expectin to find one o' yer kind."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Fair enough."

The words are spoken lightly, with a hint of a smile on her face. She regards Feyd for a moment longer, her eyes shifting once to the innkeeper, who decides he has other things to do then listen to these two. Apparently reaching a decision, she steps forward and offers her hand.

"My name is Aleina. I was hoping I'd see you here - now that your other business is concluded."

She raises an eyebrow as she finishes the sentence. If he had meant the halfling any harm his reaction should give him away.

"I take it your friend is well?"

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen and Cytaill

Cytaill's reluctance at leaving reminds Heulwen that while she might have understood the quip aimed at him, he had not and so could not have been insulted by it.

I must remember not to be so sensative about these things, she thinks to herself as she and Cytaill begin to head out again.

Before they get too far, however, the short bearded human in the tree calls out to her again. Listening to what he has to say, Heulwen can't help but laugh at the thought that she had been mistaken for a Legate. Allowing Cytaill to give into his reluctance and stop, Heulwen turns around on his back to reply, "Me! A Legate! That wound must be rotting your brain as well as your flesh! The servants of the Dark God would kill both myself and Cytaill on sight if they could. The wogren are friend, companion, and protectors of the halflings and would rather die than serve a Legate."

"Its sad, but true, however, that my people are no longer a common sight around here. Once these plains were home to my people, but with the comming of first the humans and then the orcs we are a scattered and diminished race..."

Her voice trailling off as she speaks, Heulwen falls silent a moment before shaking her head, as if to banish the thoughts she was entertaining, and speaking once more, "From the smell of it however, you are not here to listen the woes of the halfling people. I'm no healer, but you are in need of one. Why do you not go and seek one out in the town? They may find one such as myself a curiosity to be gawked at, but I doubt they would refuse help to one of their own who is injured."

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur quietly listens to the Halflings words as he studies the girl and her Wogren. She seemed trustworthy enough, but he had never been very perceptive in such matters. Still, words called out from above and below required a loudness that he knew could carry far along the wind, and he was growing increasingly uncomfortable clinging to his precarious perch.

Soradur slid the Urutuk Hatchet back into its sheath underneath his cloak, before glancing down to the Halfling girl, saying, "I'll be coming down now. Better to talk down on the ground, then up in this tree. Just be keepin that Wogren critter well away from me. I trust yer word, fer now, but I ain't one ta take chances."

Smoothly grasping the hard oak, Soradur patiently clambers down and onto the ground, keeping his eyes on the Halfling girl while doing so. Settling his ponderous girth upon the ground, he steps slightly to the side, angling his position to remain a little off center from a straight line to the Wogren.

Once set, Soradur wraps his voluminous cloak tighter about himself, ignoring a flash of sudden pain from his wound, aggravated once again by his exertion climbing down the tree. Gritting his teeth, he says, "Oh, aye, the wound is fierce alright. But I dinnae think I will be headin in just yet. I canna say I 'ave seen one such as yerself often before, and one should take advantage o' the opportunities that present themselves. Tell me, what are ye doin out here? The village 'ere may be a little less oppressed by the Shadow, but it still falls under its darkness. Not a safe place fer a Halflin ta be."

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Now that she has a full view of the personage with whom she had been conversing Heulwen's eyes go wide in suprise.

"A dwarf!" she exclaims in her native tounge. Even though she had half suspected that it might be one, the actual visual proof still takes her by suprise.

"Your a dwarf!" Heulwen continues, switching back to the tounge the dwarf understood, "But what are you doing here? This may not be a safe place for me with an orc patrol coming tommorow, but I'd imagine that it would be even less safe for you!"

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur smiles slightly beneath the cowl of his cloak. Glancing around the forest, he pulls it down, revealing his face. Blowing out a deep sigh, he says;

"I suppose that depends on whether ye view death as worse or better than enslavement, aye? As fer the reason I am here, ye yerself already spoke of it. Me wound grows worse every passing day, and though I 'ave had it treated by another healer, he could only slow the affliction, not cure it. The Healer o' this village is said ta have truly miraculous skills. Even if a thousand Orcs were down there, I would still have ta go. And better a death in battle than ta be downed by a festerin wound. Still, with luck, I can get in and out afore anyones the wiser. Best o' all, I 'ave seen no active agents o' the Shadow lurking about the village in the time I 'ave studied it."


Soradur raises his hands in a gesture of resignation, while his ebony eyes glimmer with a deep determination, as he smooths out his beard with a blackened hand. Continuing, he says, "But as I said, Halflin, what of ye? What brings ye to this place? And while we're sharin our purposes in this place, we might as well share our names. I be Soradur Eftok. What of yerself?"

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen and Cytaill

"My name is Heulwen, and this, as I indicated earlier, is Cytaill. As for what brings me to this place, I am in desperate need of a few supplies. The weather will be getting much colder soon and the clothes I have will not last the winter. Truth be told, I did not know of the orc patrol until after I had made my presence known in town and by then it was too late. I would leave this place now were it not for the few people who seem willing to help me. I hope to meet them tonight, get my supplies and be off long before the orcs arrive. Cytaill and myself can cover alot of ground when the need arises," Heulwen finishes, scratching Cytaill behind the ears.

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur crosses his arms while he listens to Heulwens tale. His mouth curls back in a grim smile as she finishes, and he says, "Few people willing to help ye? Well, Heulwen, I would be wary of any who dwell in a village under the Shadows veil. Ye mentioned earlier of people gawking at ye, so I can assume ye've already made yer presence known about town. All it'll take is just one o' those people to give word about ye to the Orcs and they will be after yer. Mebbe ye can cover enough ground to get away, but I wouldn't count on it, especially if they gots a tracker with em."

"As fer these people ye're goin ta meet, they no doubt know that too. So, why waste resources and time helpin out a Halflin lass who canna repay them? Could get them killed, and fer what? Mayhaps they just want ta turn ye in, hopin fer a bounty or reward from the Shadow. Never trust in the goodness of those under the Shadows veil, or anyone else, fer that matter, and ye won't ever be dissapointed."

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen and Cytaill

"Trust them? I do not, but my needs far outweigh the chances I'm taking. I offer spices in trade, so it is not as if the humans will gain nothing from helping me, but still I am cautious. Even now I was headed to scout out one of the meeting points before the meeting was to take place."

"Indeed, were it not for the fact that you are a dwarf, a race hunted by the Shadow even more so than my own, I would not be talking to you now. Trust is something we halflings can ill afford when dealing with other races. But that is not to say that we are paranoid, only that our chance must be wisely chosen."

Even as she speaks, Heulwen can't help but question her own choices that day. Had she chosen wisely? Would those that appeared to help her betray her in the end?

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur brushes a hand across his beard once more as he considers the Halflings words. For a few moments, he stands there, before speaking in a somber tone, "Aye. Yer path seems to be laid out afore ye in a way ye cannot avoid, no less so than me own. A free bit o' advice, afore ye go. Let not those who ye seek out see that Wogren creature unless ye need it. An unexpected ally is far more dangerous ta yer enemies than one who is already known."

Soradur quickly pulls the cowl low over his head once more, the dark cloth shadowing his visage, as he mumbles, "Would that I could offer ye more, lass, but me own troubles be no less than yer own, and me path upon leavin this place shall lead me down a road I canna ask any other to travel with me. May Father Sun and Mother Moon watch over ye."

Gazing up at the sky and noting the position of the sun, Soradur realizes his time of entry was fast approaching. Wrapping his cloak about himself, he stomps forward into the forest and does not look back.

[Black Plauge]

Huelwen and Cytaill

Sound advice, Heulwen thinks as she watches the retreating form of the dwarf. Once he is gone, she too looks up at the sky, wondering if she still has time to make it to scout the area where she was supposed to meet Stafford before she had to head back and keep her appointment with Feyd, and maybe the woman.

The position of the sun however, indicates that she doesn't. While it may still be fully in the sky, its close enough to the horizon that its already begun to move faster.

The sun is always in such a hurry to end the day and get to bed. Heulwen thinks to herself as she nudges Cytaill back towards the hiding place where her stuff was.

Reaching the hiding place, Heulwen dismounts and begins rooting around in her backpack. Pulling out a cloth wrapped hunk of meat, Heulwen mutters a quick prayer of blessing over it as her mother had taught her, before giving it to Cytaill.

"Here, this should make up for that rabbit you left behind to help me."

Then, while Cytaill eats, she transfers the spices from her backpack to the saddle bags, before settling into a hidden position with a clear view of the designated meeting point to wait for Feyd to show up.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

"My name is Aleina. I was hoping I'd see you here - now that your other business is concluded. I take it your friend is well?"

So ... she does have a name. Feyd stood again, straightening from his relaxed postion, and took Aleina's offered hand, giving a firm-but-not-hard grip. He nodded to her as well, never blinking.

"Well met, then, Aleina. Yes, my friend is doing fine." Feyd gestures towards the barkeep. "A moment ... I just need to settle up with the good tender here, and we can be out and about the festival."

Feyd turns to the barkeep and offers some things he had since removed from his rucksack - a container of spices and a jar of sugar. He presented them for the innkeeper's approval. "I'd like to think that the sugar might get an additional ale for the lady and myself, as well?" Feyd casts a sidelong glance at Aleina, trying to get a read of the attractive woman's features.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Your generousity seems unbounded, Feyd."

Her face is clear and she nods slightly at his unasked question: an ale would be welcome. Her eyes betray a hint of the inquisitive, along with a faint searching quality. She was watching, waiting for a reaction to the double meaning of her words.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

"Your generousity seems unbounded, Feyd."

She was giving him some kind of appraising look, and even Feyd could tell that her eyes were asking some kind of question ... but what? Why are womenfolk so durned confusing? Why cannot they just ask their questions, rather than play these silly mind games? His thoughts raced; he'd better come up with some kind of answer. His eyes shifted from Aleina to the bar to the floor to the innkeeper and back to Aleina again. He was having that damned nervous feeling again, like someone here knew more about the surroundings - maybe even more about him! - than he did right now.

"I ... just try to treat others ... well, like I would like to be treated." Feyd dropped his gaze to the floor, and his features hardened. You will NOT give in to despair, you will NOT give in to anger ... came his thoughts as he closed his eyes for but a moment, and seemed to steel himself once again. He raised his gaze and looked the woman in the eyes.

"I try to be better than the evil that lies around us, permeates our world; the evil that kills our people and our hopes." Feyd spoke with conviction, and he spoke boldly. He did not care who or what might be listening. Turning back to the barkeep, Feyd slid the offered tradables to the burly, good-natured man, waiting for his response or counteroffer.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Her strange eyes had tightened slightly at the man's discomfort, but widen as he finds his voice with a bold declaration. To make such comments, even in a place that seemed safe, could be disasterous. The moment is frozen in time but when nothing happens immediately Aleina lets out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding. She shakes her head in what appears to be disbelief.

"You are nothing if not direct."

She continues softly enough that he can barely hear her.

"I respect your views but perhaps it is better if we speak more privately."

With that, she turns her back and seats herself at a corner table in the nearly empty common room, waiting for him to arrive with their drinks. He is either a very good actor or he is telling the truth, she decides.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

He heard her words, saw the shock that registered on her face, and watched as she moved past him into the taproom.

Did I just scare her??? Oh, great ... Feyd surmised, as his eyes found the top of the bar and lingered there. He knew that to speak openly of such things was nigh on a death-sentence in most places. He just did not care. The last few years had instilled in him a firm resolve - a resolve to hunt the forces of the Shadow, and never let them rest while he still drew breath. He would make them pay for every last atrocity they had ever committed, and he would die in the pursuit of such.

Feyd waited for the innkeeper to accept or counteroffer his proposed trade. And then, I shall see to you, fair maiden, and to what fears you suddenly harbor.

[Cadrius]

Feyd and Aleina

"The sugar will do just fine," he says, slowly, eyes shifting back and forth between the two. He watches them for a moment before fetching the ales. He places the foamy drinks upon the table, but as Feyd makes his proclamation, Leiden grunts and begins to bustle about.

"Dangerous talk, son," he says, stacking chairs on top of tables, "even if the orc patrol isn't here." He glances to the sides as if there were other people in the room besides the three of them, "Take care of who hears you. I'm going to the festival now, but I left one of the lads in the kitchen to watch things. If there's anything you need, well, I'd wait. He isn't all that bright. Good evening to you--" he nods to Feyd, and then Aleina, "--lady."

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd let his gaze linger awhile on the barkeep, a quizzical look on his face. Did he just imply that we could - with his blessing - rob him?!? Feyd slowly took the ales, and before turning to head to Aleina and the quiet table, he quietly told the innkeep, "I appreciate your generosity, good master. But please - keep your stores. I fear for this place ... after the festival. In truth, I cannot believe the town is going through with it."

Feyd leaned closer, and nearly whispered, "Keep your eyes and wits about you in the coming days, sir. I am a man of the wilds, but you have hearth and home to look after." Nodding once, Feyd shot the man a weak smile, truly hoping that nothing untoward befell the man. The innkeep was one of the rare ones, these days it seemed, that would care to look after others over and above himself. Feyd made a mental note on the honor of such a conviction.

He headed over to where Aleina sat, placing a mug quietly in front of her. Feyd sat down, swallowing a quaff as he did so, only to set his mug down and stare at it, one hand still holding the mug.

After several awkward moments, he felt he must explain. "I ... am sorry that my outburst startled you. I am ... well ... not used to towns, you see." Here he raised his face, and looked the striking woman full in those mysterious eyes. He gave a wry smile before continuing in hushed tones. "It is just that I hate the Shadow, and everything they stand for ... and for everything they have done." Feyd's voice seemed to waver a little, but his features held the same morose visage that they had since he raised up to look at Aleina. "The Shadow ... the orcs and the legates ... have murdered everything I have ever held dear." Feyd looked down, grabbed his mug and took a deep draught. Replacing the mug on the table, and wiping the foam from his lips with his sleeve, he gazed into Aleina's eyes once more. This time, however, his eyes held the determination of one who would not be stopped. The statement he made then, low and unmistakeable, could have chilled a lava flow.

"And soon, I shall begin to kill the orcs as best as I can, for as long as I can." His gaze quickly fell back to his ale, softening, realizing he'd probably just scared the girl more than if he would have overtly threatened her life with a blade. But I must share with someone ... even if that someone runs in terror from me.

"I ... I ... am sorry if I frighten you. It has ... been months since I have spoken with someone else ..." His gaze stayed on his mug.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Fright

The word rolls around in her mind, spiraling, dropping down to her heart and settling in her stomach. It was her constant companion. She was frightened, yes, but not of him.

"Is that the way of it, then? Kill or be killed?"

She places her hands on the table, her mug forgotten. That had been her brothers way, and she had no doubt Brall had killed before his own death. There must be other ways.

"There must be more to it than that."

Her words sound hollow, even to her own ears. One life is all we get, with nothing to follow. Her eyes, locked on Feyd, turn downward to stare into her mug. A stranger's reflection stares back, her eyes a lambent blue. Eyes that seemed to hold the answers to her questions. Eyes that seemed to relish her ignorance.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

"Is that the way of it, then? Kill or be killed?" She stared at him hard, almost begging him, it seemed, to tell her that life wasn't that harsh. "There must be more to it than that." Her sorrow-filled gaze turned to her ale, much like Feyd's had ... she remains! Could it be ...?

His voice was now only the barest of whispers. "Aleina ... there should be more, yes. Much more. But while we live in fear ... when we are afraid even to talk freely to one another, wondering if someone will turn us in, wondering if our words will get us killed ... it is wrong. Wrong on a level I cannot even begin to describe." Feyd hesitated, another kind of fear welling within him.

Beating down his own trepidation, Feyd quietly reached his hand up, and placed it on top of one of hers. "To tell you the truth," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers, whether she looked up or not, "the halfling is not really my friend. She is obviously an escaped slave. I just want to help her. I even traded for some clothes for her." Feyd relaxed back from the closeness to the table. He had not even realized he'd been leaning in towards the table, towards Aleina.

"I'm supposed to meet her in a little while. Do ... do you want to come with me?"

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

His hand falls on her own, and her eyes glance down at it before looking up at him once again. Feyd's gaze is sincere. His hand is warm, rough even, but alive and she is unnaturally aware of the contact. His voice drops to a whisper. "To tell you the truth" his voice sinks even further as he speaks, a ship going down in calm water, and she strains to hear the rest as it vanishes beneath the still surface. Her pupils shrink and shrink as she meets his gaze, until they are like ice blue gems staring back at him. She can feel the skin of his palm pulse with his heartbeat and then the world disappears from her senses.

Truth

The word reverberates disturbingly and then the images come. Black and white this time, soundless. Feyd, the halfling and herself. Together. They talk but for her there is only silence, as though she is deaf. They seem neither happy nor sad, nor does it evoke any particular emotion in her. It just is.

". . . meet her in a little while. Do ... do you want to come with me?"

Belatedly, she jerks her hand out from under his, her pupils springing back wide like midnight wells in a sea of ice. She flushes in embarrassment, realizing that he will mistake her actions.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry - you just startled me."

She gives a quick smile that doesn't quite hide her embarassment but does manage to smooth the situation somewhat. The vision hadn't been clear, hadn't really told her anything - not like the one she had about Kingscross, or some others where she had known definitively a good decision from a bad one. It could be either, she supposed, or it could just be neither good nor bad. Consulting her inner compass, she finds that she wants to know more. Regaining her composure she continues in a calmer tone.

"I'm awfully jumpy these days. Yes, I would like to join you."

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd had noticed the change in her eyes while he spoke, but when Aleina jerked her hand out from under his, she looked both startled and embarrassed. She explained that she indeed had been startled, and that she was jumpy these days. Feyd was no less wary; there is something about this woman, beautiful or not, ... but then ...

"Yes, I would like to join you."

Feyd moved his hand back to his ale, once more in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. "Sorry about the hand ... thing. Uh ..." He brushed his other hand through his unkempt hair. "Maybe we should finish up these drinks. It's getting close to dusk, and that's when I agreed to meet her." He kept his eyes from hers, not wanting to embarrass himself further.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Despite her attempted remedy, his discomfort is obvious. She watches his face as he nervously grasps at his ale; he refuses to return her gaze. She bites her lip then shakes her head slightly.

"There is nothing to apologize for. Really."

It was impossible to explain in any way that would make sense to him. For that matter, she didn't even understand it herself. She drops the matter, deciding it's best to simply leave it alone.

"I'm ready to go whenever you are."

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd downed the last of his ale and stood, resting the now-empty mug on the table.

He looked up at Aleina, then speaks, "Okay ... uh, I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression. You're ... you're really beautiful, and I expect that you get ... that other men ... well ... I just don't want you to think of me as another guy who is only after one thing. It ... I ... think I've talked more with you in the past few minutes than I have in all of the last year with everyone else." Feyd tried his best to smile, and he thought he had succeeded. It was genuine, not forced. "I don't have too many friends, and sometimes I get nervous ..." he trailed off.

Feyd waited for her to stand and then led her out of the inn.

[Cadrius]

Heulwen, Aleina, and Feyd

They converge upon the agreed upon meeting place; the two humans arriving after the halfling, her wogren ride being swifter despite the greater distance. She still isn't certain what to think of the wounded dwarf she cornered in the woods, nor what bane or boon this man might bring her. Yet she trusts him, at least as far as she can.

The ruins themselves sit on a small hill outside of town, across the stream. It looks to have been some sort of battlement at some point, perhaps a tower, or perhaps a barracks or training grounds of some sort. Whatever it might have been is now lost to time and only the rocks remain, old bones of a culture that diminished long before the Shadow took hold.

Feyd and Aleina easily make their way to the sight. Aleina recalls seeing it in the distance as she came into the town from the North, and Feyd spies it easily enough, even in the dying light. The halfling might have picked an unusual spot to speak with them, but her very race marks her as an unusual person indeed.

The air is cool tonight, and their breath fogs the crisp air. Occasionally a light wind sweeps across them, sending goosebumps dancing along their flesh. Heulwen hunkers down behind a well-worn stone wall and idly passes the time. Just after the last light from the sky begins to fade, she spies Feyd and Aleina approaching up the hill.

Soradur

He emerges from the trees and is forced to wait a bit longer. Not all the villagers have moved away from their houses quite yet. However as night falls the last stragglers have made their way into the center of town. A good amount of light can be seen there and the distant beat of a drum can be heard.

Seeing his chance, he slips into the town, attempting to be as stealthy as his girth and his wound will allow. The infection is getting worse; he can almost feel it eating away at him. Soradur needs to get to this healer tonight, or he'll be joining his brother in the ether.

The house he marks as the healer's is a small, humble one story building close to the edge of town. He almost despairs at the thought of the healer attending the gathering, but he's in luck. A man, who he can only assume is the healer, sits in a chair at a table. A mug sits before him which he sips from occasionally. There are couple of books sitting on the table, but he does not read. Instead he merely sits, and looks at his hands, watching them. His age is difficult to judge, but if Soradur had to guess by the lines on his face and the slight flecks of gray in his black hair, he'd be about forty winters, perhaps older.

Dun and Lyr

The two men make their way with the rest of the townsfolk to the center. It seems as if every man, woman, and child in Kingscross has turned out for the event, and why not? Why would anyone miss what is likely their only holiday for quite some time? Once more the two men are struck as to how these people can even afford to hold this feast. Their winter stores will likely suffer, and if spring comes late, there could be trouble.

The great tables that had been hauled out to ring the square were not enough. Dozens of people stand around the fringes each. Room has been cleared in the center, likely for dancing, and on a small stand, off to one side, a couple of what look to be musicians are tuning their instruments. Kingscross has put everything they've had into this, clearly it will be a night to remember.

Torches ring the square as well, casting a great deal of light into the center. The murmer of the crowd as they talk among themselves gradually subsides as a man steps into the center of the square.

He's well dressed, sporting well-made and brightly, but regally, colored linen. He clears his throat once, and then begins to speak, a strong, bass ringing out over those assembled.

"People of Kingscross," he says, spreading his hands and smiling, "welcome to the festival--" he's interrupted by some cheers, which he pauses while graciously nodding "--of the Arc of Zimra. We have much to celebrate tonight. All summer we have worked, nay, slaved in the fields and in our homes. Yet our hard work, coupled with our new friend, has blessed us with this bounty. We must never forget the harshness of the world, but for one night, let us put it aside and be merry--" once more he's cut off by cheers, louder this time. He raises his hands waiting for the noise to dissapate. "Tomorrow we might not have the opportunity so tonight, I urge you all to eat, drink, and dance!" The crowd errupts once more, people cheering, hands clapping, and fists thumping on the table. The man bows his head slightly and returns to his table while the rest of town begins to dig into the food layed out at each table.

Dun and Lyr manage to find themselves a spot at a table and begins to take part in the feast. All manner of foods can be found here; fish, foul, breads, cheeses, pies, pastries. Kegs of ale and pitchers of warm, spiced wine are passed around. The air is heavy with the smell of food. In the background the musicians begin to play a jaunty opening tune. A few begin to dance, but most are too focused on eating and drinking at the moment to partake.

The two men feel warm, infected by the cheer of the town. If people are still able to pitch together and create something like this, perhaps the world is not so bad off as they believed.

[Berova]

Dun

Seeing, hearing, smelling, but most of all, feeling the celebration, but still not believing, Dun shakes his head as he turns to Lyr, "Are these village folk mad or am I just dreaming?"

He gazes back at the revelers, not realizing he is one of them, "Now, don't say it ... am I simply too cynical? Has my life in Baden's Bluff simply jaded me so?"

All the more amazed by the genuine merriment at hand, "Never have I imagine the people of Baden's Bluff would ever carry on this way. It simply would not be permitted, not without consequences."

As the evening wears on, Dun lets go his concerns, his worries, and his duties and obligations, at least for one night. He soaks in the festivities, partaking in the bounty that is offered freely, openly. Hoping Lyr can make out his words over the din of the revelry, Dun whispers in his ear, "I have heard a term used but only once, then, but never could I forget, though I never understood it's true meaning at the time. These people have not been Shadow Touched. Only now ... in a sense ... I truly do ... understand."

Dun observes, "My Friend, this is how things should be! This ... celebration of life ... truly glorious! The bounty of these people ... the spirit!"

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur rubs his hands together as he walks away from the side window. Thanks be to Mother Moon, a man who appeared to be the Healer was sitting inside the small house. Soradur could feel the wound eating deeper into his flesh, towards the organs beneath, even now. With no way to conceal his appearance, he knew the Healer would recognize him for what he was. Would that be his doom?

Soradur thought of Toryas for a moment, wondering if he would join him in the hereafter soon. As Soradur contemplated the events that had brought him to this small village, he wondered if it had all been for naught. Was his fate to be brought low by the slow death of disease from a Fells bite, never to avenge his brothers end? A flash of raging pain brought his teeth clamping down, shutting his jaw against the scream of agony that threatened to leap forth.

Soradurs vision blurred as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, the wound seeking to take his life when he was so close to a cure, yet so far. Cold sweat dripped across his brow as he held his side with one hand, as he dropped to the ground on his knees. The icy grasp of death seemed to reach out for him, and for a moment all he could feel was the flesh peeling away, eating into the ribs, bone and marrow beneath. Soradurs black eyes seemed to dull for a moment, as he began to fall face first onto the grass.

Then, a strange sensation, a familar sensation, cut through the wave of torturous pain, and he caught himself through sheer force of will. Soradurs mind shot back to that night when he had held his brother in the flames, the crackling fire leaping up his arms as he had finished the deed started by his own failure as a craftsman. The pain had been purifying, cleansing, and the focus he gained from it would be with him forever.

His arms tingled with the memory, but it was not there he felt the old sensation. Across his back the warmth spread, searing and comforting him. Shaking slightly, he reached the hand not clutching his side beneath his cloak, clasping the haft of Duryas, and ripping it forth. The blades fiery glow enraptured him, pure white flames dancing across the entirety of the weapon, caressing his hand with the heat. Barely aware of his own actions, Soradur, with his arm trembling from the exertion, pressed Duryas deep into his wound.

The icy cold, festering pus filled skin quailed, and then crumbled before the touch of the flames, the healthy flesh around it crackling. The pain was incredible, but somehow refreshing to Soradur, and he bared his teeth in a victorious smile, just before he blacked out.

Soradur snapped his eyes open, breathing heavily. Mother Moon shone brightly upon his prone form, as he lay on his back and looked up to the heavens. He felt the secure weight of Duryas resting against his back, and he wondered if it had all been a dream. His body shaking, he slowly pulled himself up to a standing position. Gritting his teeth in anger, he cursed his weakness.

No doubt he had been hallucinating from the pain. Any delay now could cost him his life. He thought of his brother once more, and remembered why he had begun this journey in the first place. "Toryas will be avenged!" Soradur thought, his dark eyes glowing once more with a burning rage.

Gathering himself, he narrowed his eyebrows angrily, and stomped towards the entrance to the Healers home. Reaching the doorway, he brought his fist against it thrice, as he called out, "Hello! I realize this is a late hour, but if yerself be tha Healer I heared so much about, I 'ave grave need o' yer services."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

The slim young Erenlander watches the lordly man address the assembly with a mild frown, a nascent suspicion growing in his belly.

A half smile rides Lyr's face as he watches the celebration begin. At Dun's words, Lyr shakes his head.

"Everyone needs some goal to strive for, Dun. If they work themselves as hard as they can every day of the year, cut the fat and scrimp the lean, all to have enough that they can afford to feat so well on one night... then perhaps that's their way of coping with the harshness of life." he pauses as Dun turns back to the convivial meal, his, Lyr's, eyes on one of the flautists, and adds in a whisper, lost to the sounds of joyful carousal "Whatever gets you through."

Even though it would be wiser to spread what they have through the year, Lyr thought glumly. That wouldreduce their suffering. Ahh, Dun, my friend, it isn't you who is the cynical one.

Lyr tries to lighten his mood, and finds it relievingly easy to loosen up amidst these warm, cheerful folk. When Dun speaks again, Lyr has to lean close to listen, and what he hears adds another layer to the nascent worry in the pit of his stomach.

A pretty, wheat-haired lass catches him by the eye and smiles, but the expression etched onto his face makes her fade back into the crowd of dancers.

"Shadow touched," he whispers to himself. No matter what he eats or drinks after that, he cannot cleanse the bitterness of ash and sawdust from his palette, nor smooth the lines from his brow.

[Berova]

Dun

After the man finished his speech, Dun asks one of the villagers as he claps along with the crowd, "Who was that speaking?"

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Although Heulwen's encounter with the dwarf had ruined her chance of scouting the area where she was supposed to meet Stafford later, it had had the unforseen benefit of her knowing that the pair now approaching had not been out here earlier to set a trap. The time she had spent watching the area here had made sure of that, but she would have to be extra careful at her meeting with Stafford.

Staying carefully hidden, Heulwen watches as Feyd and the woman approach. Studying them carefully she looks for weapons or other signs of betrayal. Sniffing the air, Heulwen tries to detect the scent of any possible hidden observers. So far so good...

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She doesn't speak as Feyd haltingly compliments her and tries to explain himself. She just nods solemnly at the man and follows him out of the bar, wondering how he could be so shy at one moment and so bloodthirsty the next. And soon, I shall begin to kill the orcs as best as I can, for as long as I can. His words still ring hauntingly in her head and when her skin prickles it isn't entirely from the cold.

Yet his assessment was accurate: the state of their existence was all wrong, and it needed to change. How other than violence? Even if every Erenlander took five orcs with them, it still looked like it wouldn't be enough. Killing seemed not only pointless but ultimately ineffective.

This same man that believed in killing was also on his way to help a stranger. The two things didn't quite add up in her mind. Or maybe they did and she just didn't like the equation. To make matters worse, he was already pursuing the only other remedy she could think of - that is, to help instead of harm. It wasn't a solution in that it didn't get rid of the problem, it only treated the symptom.

She looks up to see the ruins that must be their destination, remembering how forlorn they looked when she had seen them in the light of day. Tonight they look only forbidding, and she shivers beneath her warm cloak, the fingers of fear dancing along her belly. Her brief vision was cold comfort. It hadn't been explicitly bad, but the visions had been wrong before, and this one had been ambiguous.

"Is that our destination?"

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

"Is that our destination?" Aleina asked, after walking along mostly in silence. Her voice was quiet - almost, Feyd thought, as if she were afraid to hear her own voice. He knew some kind of inner battle was going on with the girl - that much was plain from her changed countenance and voice. Feyd did not have time to ponder such things, however.

"Yes, Aleina, I believe it is." Feyd moved up to the ruins, and puled the clothes he had purchased out from his pack. Looking around, he tried to spot the halfling, who, if she was there, was obviously hiding.

It suddenly occured to Feyd that he'd never learned the halfling's name. Stupid, Feyd ... very stupid. Chalk up another learning experience.

"Uh ... miss? Are you here?" Feyd called out, as loud as he dared. "I've brought you some clothes. It's cold out, and I'd imagine you could use them." Feyd kept looking around, trying to see if anything stirred at his comments. He hated not having his bow, but that would have to come later.

Feyd looked back to Aleina, trying to gauge her sentiments at the moment, but seeing nothing which told him of her thoughts. He turned back, looking for the halfling ...

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Feyd calls out hesitantly, his words crashing like lobbed glass among the stones. She looks around somewhat nervously, seeing only shadows and hearing nothing but the wind.

This place is haunted.

The young woman chides herself for such superstitious thoughts, trying to discredit them for the baseless fears that they were. When Feyd looks back she meets his gaze, expressionless, her blue eyes gleaming with opalesence and, perhaps, with a hint of dread.

[Cadrius]

Dun and Lyr

The festival continues and before they know it, Dun and Lyr have food heaped upon their plates; roasted pork, bread, cheese, and more. Bowls of stew balance precariously upon plates, while mugs and goblets are hoisted and clinked together. Laughter can be heard coming from the various tables as people begin to tell stories and jokes.

Dun turns to the man next to him, a large fellow who sports scraggly beard and inquires as to who the speaker was. He glances over, dark eyes glittering, and says, "An outsider, eh? That there was Mayor Lusk." He looks at Dun a moment longer before lifting a ceramic mug to his lips.

The two men attract their fair share of attention from the Kingscross girls, as well as a few of the younger widows, but the expression on Lyr's face keeps the majority of them at bay. Dun, however, finds himself swept off into the dance square by a pretty, but strong farmer's daughter.

Soradur

Thrice the dwarf's meaty fist thumps against the stout door. The celebration sounds to be in full swing, but he still risks being discovered. Yet after what had just happened, be it dream or otherwise, he needs attention. The grains of his hourglass are few and they are being spent quickly. His surge of energy, of rage will fuel him for a while, but even that will die.

A moment passes, then two, and for a split second Soradur isn't sure if the man will answer the door. Yet the knob turns and it's opened to reveal a man that looks to be in his middle years. The faintest bit of gray can be seen dashed here and there amidst his jet black hair. Lines run his face that look to be more from worry than from laughter, and while his face is not unkind, it does not look altogether warm.

He's dressed simply, wearing a loose white robe over a shirt and breeches. His eyes widen slightly, but a second is all it takes for him to recover. Looking up and down the street once he ushers the dwarf inside.

"Come in," he says, jostling Soradur into a nearby room that is quite plain in nature. A table, a chair, and a bed are all the features. He points to the bed, indicating that the dwarf should lie down as he moves to the window and sharply draws the curtains shut, cutting out what little light is left in the sky.

His movements are swift as he darts back to the dwarf, but his hands are gentle as he pulls Soradur's hand from the wound. He notices that the healer's hands are thickly calloused, his gaze slips up to the man's face and notices that it's red, as if from being in the sun too long, or drinking too much wine.

The healer's mouth twitches as he looks at the wound but after a moment he nods once, seemingly to himself before saying, "I can heal it," he says, "but it will be...uncomfortable."

[Samurai]

Soradur

Soradur wonders momentarily at the ready acceptance of this one at the appearance of a Dwarf at his door, but dismisses it from his mind at the prospect of a cure. The wound pained him still with every step he took, and he could feel his body slowly, achingly, giving out.

Grinding his teeth for a moment, Soradur rasps out a reply to the Healer, saying, "Uncomfortable, aye? Tis hard fer me ta imagine feelin worse than I do now. Death is comin fer me, and though I dinnae know why ye offer yer help freely, and to one o' me kin, I will take any aid that ye can offer. No matter tha pain it may bring."

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Clothes? Are they bait for a trap? Or is he expecting something in return? Heulwen wonders to herself as she listens to Feyd call out. Well, I suppose I ought to make my presence known. I did after all ask them to meet me here.

Moving out of her hiding place while Feyd's back is turned to her, Heulwen waits for him to turn back and see her before replying.

"Its not so cold yet that what I have is insufficent, but it will not be long before winter comes."

Shifting her weight slightly so that the sword on her hip is more evident, Heulwen continues, "What do you expect in return for these clothes?"

Glancing at the woman, Aleina, Feyd had called her, Huelwen catches the hint of fear in her eyes and her mind begins to race. Sniffing the air quickly, she strains to detect the precense of some unseen observer without taking her eyes of the pair in front of her.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

One moment she is alone with Feyd in this deserted place and the next the halfling is there, next to a small outcropping a short distance above and away from them. She is somewhat surprised at how small the halfling looks, not really having seen her very well in town and having little experience with her kind. Yet despite her size, she seems sure of herself, the confidence reflected in her voice. Yet when her eyes meet Aleina's, the human woman senses a change in her bearing, a sudden sense of heightened alertness.

She is made wary by my own unease.

Aleina shakes her head slowly, her eyes suddenly sad. Feyd's haltlingly spoken words - when we are afraid even to talk freely to one another - held more truth than she wanted to admit to. Yet here she was, doing exactly that. When she looks up again, she is calm, finally accepting the possible consequences for even being here. In this she would follow her heart and, for good or ill, reap whatever was sown.

"My name is Aleina, and though your question is not to me, I tell you that this is given freely and with hope that it will find use where there is need. All hope is truly gone if we cannot even help one another out of fear for our oppressors."

<OOC: Diplomacy +7>

[Cadrius]

Soradur

His vision is getting worse. Stationary objects seem okay, but any movement from the man leaves a blurred, washed-out image of where he was a moment before. It remains in the room, much like an image from the sun remains if gazed upon for too long. Scraping the last vestige of his strength from the barrel he gives his consent. The man looks up sharply, studying Soradur's face, seeming surprised. He says something, but sounds are becoming more difficult to comprehend. Their breath seems to echo about the room while the volume of their speech fades in and out. Yet one phrase comes in clearly amidst the rest of the ghostly speech.

"Time's running out."

Soradur thinks the man closes his eyes, but with his vision blurring, it's hard to tell. He hears the slow drawing of breath, unnaturally reflecting off the walls. The man's arms move around, leaving those same faint images and for a moment it looks as if he has eight instead of two. The room is spinning, it's becoming harder and harder to concentrate. He can feel the ghosts of his ancestors reaching out for him.

Just as the man lays his hands upon the dwarf, Soradur loses consciousness, spiraling down into merciful oblivion. What dreams that might visit him there are unknown, and for a time part of him even considers the dwarf to be dead.


Outside a boy, whose chores have kept him late from the festival, pauses to look over at an otherwise indistinct house on the edge of town. The curtains are drawn and only a faint light can be seen coming from within. Suddenly an explosion of radiance blasts through the curtains, which only serve to dimly block it. He hurries on his way and does not look back until he's far from the house.


Water. The sound of water pouring gently into a bucket of some sort can be heard. Soradur's eyes open, it is an effort, but they move. He's weary, very weary. It feels as if he hasn't slept in a week or more, and to be honest, he hasn't truly rested for a long time.

The room as stopped spinning and the images of the man moving about have faded, yet his vision is still a little blurry. He does, however, recognize the man who had sat next to him before. Soradur's eyes drift downward and he sees the bucket and the water that had awoken him. The man pulls a small white rag from the water and wrings it out before placing it on the dwarf's forehead.

He looks tired, likely as tired as Soradur feels, but he manages a wane smile.

"Good. It worked. I had thought it...it was for naught."

[Samurai]

Soradur

The cool, soothing touch of the water on his forehead is most welcome. He breathes deeply, finding that for the first time in weeks, he can do so without pain lancing across his chest. Reaching out a shaking hand, Soradur runs his hand across the area where the gaping wound had once lain.

The exultation of the feel of warm skin, of flesh, rather than diseased pus, floods Soradur with relief. His touch confirming what his mind had already sensed, he spoke, voice trembling with the effort. "Ye saved me life. Thank... thank ye."

For a moment, he attempts to rise, but his body rejects his will, having already gone well beyond its considerable limits. Though whole once more, his bid for survival had drained him of every reservoir of strength he had. Soradurs eyelids fall down, exhaustion claiming him at last. As he drifts to the land of dreams, Soradurs last concious thoughts sound a warning he cannot heed. The small voice of the Halfling girl echoes in his mind... "An Orc patrol coming in the morning...". And then, he knew no more.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Eyeing the woman carefully as she speaks, Heulwen notices the change in her demeanor and rethinks her assesment of Aleina.

"Perhaps you are right. The forces of the Dark God make every one weary, but if history shows us one thing, it is that division will be the end of us all."

"I accept what is freely given, and hope that you will forgive my suspicions. You must understand that the history of my people does not lead us to trust outsiders very easily. You humans have driven us twice from our homes, but in the face of the Dark God's minions we must learn to trust humans again if we are to see the end of this war."

"My name is Heulwen, and your help is most certianly appreciated, but tell me, what brings you, two humans, to help a halfling? While my people might not be able to live a tolerable existance under the shadow, yours certianly can and in helping me, you have endangered that chance for yourselves."

[Berova]

Dun

"An outsider, eh? That there was Mayor Lusk." He looks at Dun a moment longer before lifting a ceramic mug to his lips.

Dun raises his mug and nods at the dark eyed man before drawing from it.

Dun, however, finds himself swept off into the dance square by a pretty, but strong farmer's daughter.

Even though he is not well practiced with dancing, this night, Dun's feet are as light and fleet as can be, he feels he can dance the night away. His spirit soars as his soul soaks in what is to him, an amazing demonstration of the celebration of life. This is what living is, what living is for. Dun is part envious of these villagers because of what they have and are able to do, so many others simply cannot. And yet, he is also fearful of what the end of the festival will inevitably will bring. But for now though, Dun relishes, nay, indeed bask in their glorious celebration, to live in this moment no matter what tomorrow brings. He is happy to know that he was able to share that which was openly offered by this one small community.

As they complete their dance, Dun gives his dance partner one last swing just as the music ends and offers her a complement of her dancing skills. He introduces himself, "I am Dun." then offers her a warm, genuine hug of affection.

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd turned and looked at Aleina as she spoke, "All hope is truly gone if we cannot even help one another out of fear for our oppressors," and he suddenly, sincerely felt that he had found a kindred spirit. He started to smile. In all of their shyness and reserved conversations earlier, Feyd had dared to hope that he could find someone who knew ... someone who understands, and thereby understands me.

Then the Halfling spoke, Heulwen by name, and his smile began to rise even more as she said, "if history shows us one thing, it is that division will be the end of us all." She spoke further of the need for trust, and of his own kind's treachery over the years towards the Halfling peoples. Feyd knew he could not deny those accusations, even if he had never read the histories for himself. He knew his people well enough to know that evil lurks behind many hearts. Still, his smile persisted. It was time to act.

"Both of you speak the truth," he said, approaching Heulwen and offering her the clothes. "Yes, these are freely given. It seems as if my friend Aleina knows my mind well enough," and he shot Aleina a sidelong wink. "And yes, Heulwen, we do risk much. I, for one, have been hunted for the last few years by the forces of Shadow, for I am the sole survivor of a village that they burned to the ground." Feyd's smile had disappeared. His grim countenance had returned, but not with the hard edge it held normally. I am about to give away my soul, it seems ... but the Halfling is right. We must trust. Feyd looked at both of them - a silent plea for acceptance - before continuing only loud enough so that his two companions could hear.

"I alone escaped. The legates and filthy orcs were looking for someone who had been using magic in the area, and, finding none, nor no one that knew about it in our village, they slaughtered them to the last. Now I am all that is left, by a fluke - I had been out that morning earlier than normal to gather berries. I ... I saw i ... I saw it all." Feyd looked at the ground for a brief moment before continuing. "My father and I had met an elf ... no, I speak truly ... an elf, some weeks earlier. He was a cautious but friendly sort, and so father and he took to exchanging information - local happenings, the wider world, but nothing I thought out of the ordinary. Soon after, my village was destroyed. I found myself wandering the woods several miles away from the village, where this elf found me. He took pity upon me, and trained me to live off the land."

Feyd seemed to gain a measure of confidence, then. He straightened a bit, as if some form of resolve had made itself apparent.

"He also taught me how to fight. Fight them ... fight the Shadow. With blades, but more importantly, with a bow. Being able to lay low an enemy before he can close to fight you one-on-one is a large advantage, especially in these times. I knew from the day that I first saw him that he was some kind of spy for the Elven nation, alone in the wilderness, keeping watch on the area." Feyd sighed then, forlorn. "Several months back, the same force that destroyed my village caught up with us, and chased us for weeks in the woods and low-lying mountains far to the east of here. In the end, this elf sacrificed himself so that I could escape. I will never forget his sacrifice, and I will honor it by fighting the Shadow however I can. I can do no less; the lives of all peoples are worth it, regardless of race."

Feyd looked at both of the women, then. "I see in you both the same kind of resolve that I have; this is no small thing. You may doubt me, but I have seen it in your eyes, heard it in your words. After months of walking all over the Erenland, seeing mostly only a defeated, broken people ..." Feyd trailed off, looking to the east. Then he looked at each of the women in turn.

"You give me hope. And hope can forge the fatal blow against the Shadow."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She regards Heulwen with seriousness and compassion in her eyes. In the south, humans who served the shadow were common and she had no doubt that the halflings had suffered at human hands.

When Feyd responds, Aleina knows by his words and expression that she judged him well, and she almost smiles at his spirit. As he continues, though, her stomach drops and it is only through mental discipline that she manages to keep her falling emotions hidden. The past, like the spirits of the dead, is never as far away as one would like to believe.

When she speaks, her voice is quiet, and she answers Heulwen's question with but little elaboration.

"I make no excuses for my people or the sins they have committed, albeit in another's name. For myself, I find the suffering of others intolerable, and so despite your claim cannot tolerably live beneath the shadow. I wish to do what I can to help where I may."

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Taking the proffered clothing, Heulwen is slightly shocked to see what they are.

A RED shirt? That'll stand out anywhere but a catbird berry bush. And pants? I'll be lucky if they fit over my armor, and I'm willing to bet they're going to be uncomfortable. Hopefully, Stafford was a little more reasonable in his choice of clothing.

"Thanks," she replies, some what hesitantly after Feyd speaks his piece.

Pressing on quickly after Aleina speaks in order to disguise her ambivilance towards the clothing, Heulwen says, "So, it seems the two of you are in many ways like me. You, Feyd, watched as the shadow destroyed your home and have been harrassed by them since, and you, Aleina, seek to help those who cannot help themselves."

Figuring that her clothing had already given away what she was about to say, Heulwen presses on recklessly, "As you may have guessed, I have seen my own people subjigated. Indeed until very recently I was like many of them. Only a fortuitous quirk of fate led to my current freedom and I wish to repay that quirk of fate as best I can. But tell me, what has led the two of you to take such a chance as exposing your self on the eve of a orc patrol visit? Myself, I was driven by my needs, but neither of you needed to risk such exposure. Were it not for the festival," Heulwen says, gesturing to the town from which the obvious sounds of celebration were drifting, "our meeting like this would be a terrible risk, yet both of you are here. Why?"

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

Feyd nodded as Heulwen offered a hesitant thanks for the clothing, no doubt still wary, even after his tale. I can expect nothing less, I suppose.

He listened to both Aleina and Heulwen, confident tha this assessment was correct, but his eyes grew wide indeed when the Halfling added, " ... to take such a chance as exposing your self on the eve of a orc patrol visit?" Feyd felt his heart begin to race, and his mind began to move, even as the Halfling asked again what prompted their assistance. I knew it! I must get to my bow!

Feyd stared at the Halfling, wondering suddenly how she had come about this information. "An orc patrol? How can you be so certain?"

[Black Plauge]

"I am not entirely certain," replies Heulwen, "Stafford, the human who berated me for entering town, mentioned that a patrol was comming tommorow. Since I cannot afford to disbeleive that kind of information, no matter its source, I must act as if it is true, despite my uncertianty. Certianly you know how it must be if you have been hunted by the shadow."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

The fear returns to her eyes when the halfling mentions orcs and her mind snaps into gear. Feyd's question is valid, but Aleina doesn't doubt the halfling's words.

The festival.

It only made sense. Such a gathering was bound to draw unwanted attention. The shadow would see it as a spark of hope and attempt to stamp it out mercilessly. She didn't want to be here to see it, but she didn't want to leave these people to their fate either.

Yet this Stafford already knows.

Why would he let the festival continue despite this knowledge? Normally she would have guessed him merely an agent himself, but he'd gone out of his way to help Heulwen. Perhaps he felt all evidence would be gone before the orcs arrived. That seemed rather foolish, though.

"What will happen to the town? Stafford cannot think this festival will go unpunished."

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

After hearing whom Heulwen's source was, and his own thoughts chiming in with Aleina's words, Feyd just shook his head in disbelief.

"The fools. I knew right from when I entered this town that something was going on. When I heard about the festival, I knew what kind of attention it would attract." Feyd looked up from the ground where his eyes had been lingering, closed in apprehension. Now with them open and looking at the two women, his face wore a somber countenance.

"This town is finished. The orcs, probably legates as well, will show no mercy. We should go in, now, gather what food and supplies we can, tell any who will listen, and get out of here, fast. My weapons are hidden in a nook near the forest. I will retrieve them once we gather who and what we need from the town."

He looked to them both, trying to gauge their reactions.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

"I know not what will happen to the town," Heulwen replies, "I only know that I must make myself scarce by the time the orcs show up. Were it not for my meeting with you and my need for supplies I would already begone from this place."

Looking up at the sky, Heulwen realizes that the light is begining to fade from the sky, it would soon be dark and time for her meeting on the otherside of town.

"As for why Stafford allows the festival to continue despite the arrival of the orcs, I know not, but could certianly ask him. I am supposed to meet him in a little bit and must go now in order to make it in time."

Reaching into the hiding place where she had been sitting when the pair arrived, Heulwen pulls out the saddle bags she had prepared earlier, and whistles for Cytaill. Turning back to Aleina and Feyd as he emerges from his hiding place.

"If the town truly is to be doomed for holding this festival as you say, I must ask a favor of you. I met a dwarf in the woods earlier. He was gravely injured and here to see a healer. Indeed he smelled near death. He was undeterred by the news that an orc patrol was coming, but really he didn't have a choice in the matter. Please make sure that he is away safely. Helpful townspeople may have been able to hide him from the orcs, but dead ones certianly will not."

Proffering the saddle bags to Cytaill, Heulwen waits for his body language to indicate his willingness to accept the burden before placing them on his back.

"I must go, but I will not forget your help. Should our paths cross again, I hope to be able to repay your kindness."

Swinging up onto Cytaill's back, Heulwen and he disappear into the encroaching darkness, headed south, around the town.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

The thought of the town being overrun by orcs, having it's spirit crushed like ants beneath a bootheel, turned her stomach. Her strange eyes glaze over almost vacuously, and she hugs herself for warmth. Even Feyd, full of hate and ready to fight, knows that in this case flight is the wiser choice. Yet her gut had led her here and she didn't want to believe it was to do nothing.

She can feel Feyd's gaze on her, expectant, while Heulwen anxiously makes ready to depart. Perhaps the orcs and the festival weren't why she was here after all. Maybe it had to do with these people she had so coincidentally met. Or maybe it was something else, something she had missed. She seems to come to her senses as the halfling rides off.

"Check for us here before you depart for good - perhaps we can bring some extra supplies that might help you on your way."

[Swashbuckler]

Feyd

"Aye, please check back here. We shall be here in an hour." Feyd watched the halfling and her large mount ride off, then turned to Aleina and spoke.

"I like not the idea of her riding off alone, but it seems she does not trust us entirely. I cannot blame her, I suppose." Feyd paused, and looked at the ground for a moment. Shaking his head once, he gestured back towards town. "Shall we, miss? Perhaps we may even find this 'dwarf' Heulwen spoke of ... I've never actually seen one of their kind before. This should be interesting."

He and Aleina (ooc: presumably) headed back into town, intent on gathering some food and looking into the possibility of an ill dwarf ...

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"No, she doesn't trust us entirely. Her survival depends on her wit, and she must be cautious."

She walks silently beside Feyd, pondering the matter of the dwarf. He smelled near death Heulwen had said. If he was that ill and he was looking for a healer, Aleina had an idea of where he would go though she had yet to visit there herself.

She sighs, wondering if she even had any choice in the matter. She didn't want to disappoint Stephen, he seemed a good man, but the dwarf - and likely the healer - were in grave danger if an orc patrol was indeed coming. After her meeting with the herbalist she had almost decided to let her curiousity go unsatisfied, suddenly feeling a kinship with the man and his craft. Now she was driven to his rival by need. Feyd, as sincere as he was, wasn't going to be diplomatic enough to overcome the natural suspicion of a renegade healer sheltering a dwarf.

"I have some things I must do before we leave, and an hour isn't alot of time. Warn who you can - doubtless they are at the festival. When you stop at the inn, please warn the innkeeper also, and can you stop by the stable and bring my mule? Bombur can easily carry whatever supplies you are bringing and won't slow you down. I will see to the dwarf."

<OOC: If Feyd agrees she will stop by either the healer's residence or the herbalist's shop - whichever is closer.>

[Cadrius]

Dun

The dance concludes and there is a brief pause while the musicians take drinks from nearby flagons. Any other evening Dun would have been greeted by a crisp, cool air, but tonight the heat rolls through the town square as surely as any summer afternoon. Feeling caught within the joy of the festival, the fundamental celebration that despite these dark times, they are still alive, Dun embraces his dance partner. The girl, previously forward, recovers a bit of modesty and only hestitantly returns Dun's hug, blushing the entire time. The compliment on her dancing only further serves to redden her face.

She smiles a bit bashfully, and replies, "I'm Lydia."

Heulwen

Cytaill grudgingly accepts the added weight, a shake of his head, and a sharp, "wuff" indicates his preference in the matter, but the wogren nonetheless yields. He sets off at a good pace, loping down the hill and away from the keep.

The wind is coming out of the north east tonight, and Heulwen shivers. Red or not, the new clothing will likely be a boon as the arc progresses. Cytaill stays far from the town, and Heulwen can faintly sense his wariness at the human settlement. Indeed, he stayed out of sight while Feyd and Aleina spoke with her, only appearing at the very end.

Swift are their movements as the pair travel alongside the creek, yet they only just manage to make it to Heulwen's second meeting. It is now fully dark and she can hear the sounds of music and laughter and life coming from the center of town. Dismounting at a safe distance, Heulwen can spy Stafford standing by the edge of town, as he had said. He looks to be carrying several parcels, but with his back to the light, it's difficult to make out his features.

Feyd and Aleina

The two of them depart, moving at a slower pace than the halfling and her mount. The last light in the sky fades before they reach the edge of Kingscross. Both are caught within their own thoughts and concerns as to the coming events. The threat of an orc patrol looms over the village and the question of Stafford allowing the festival weighs heavily upon them.

The light and music from the celebration can be seen and heard from quite a ways off. They move through empty streets and Aleina recognizes that Stephen's home and shop is close by.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

He watches the laughing swirl of people without really seeing, too deep in his own worry he is buried. Someone knows what is going on here. The mayor, perhaps? His talk seemed far too ominous for my liking. Some other part of his mind laughed mockingly. Arrogant fool. Who made you guardian of these people? You have not the right.

Lyr pushes his barely-touched trencher of food away and stands quickly. He looks around, and catches sight of Dun... but his new friend seems to be enjoying himself. Alone again, Lyr the cruel, dry part of his soul reminds him.

Pressing that cynical voice down, Lyr tries to weave his way around the crowd, looking for the authoratative man in the bright coat.

[Berova]

Dun

She smiles a bit bashfully, and replies, "I'm Lydia."

Dun rolls "Ly-di-a" off his tongue only to state the obvious, "What a lovely name indeed!" and offers her his arm asking, "How about a drink? I'm certain you can use one as can I."

As he turns toward his seat, Dun states, "I would like to intro..." his voice trails off as he sees Lyr making his way through the crowd from their table. Dun looks ahead at where Lyr is appears headed and spots that strange woman they ran across back at the inn and says under his breath, "Why that ... good luck my friend." before catching himself smiling, "um... well, how 'bout that drink Lydia?"

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Grabbing the saddle bags off of Cytaill's back, Heulwen scratches him behind the ears, thanking him for putting up with the extra weight.

"I know my friend. I don't like the extra weight either," she says as she places the saddle bags over her own shoulder, "Grabbing these spices was not nearly as good an idea as I thought it would be."

Turning towards Stafford, Heulwen takes a deep breath, and begins to head towards him, keeping her head down until she is a little bit away from Cytaill. Not surprisingly, Cytaill doesn't follow, instead slinking away into the darkness, no doubt to keep watch over her.

Swinging wide through the shadows, Heulwen decides to approach Stafford so that the light will be to both of their sides, rather than directly behind him. At least that way I'll be able to see half of his face.

Taking one last sniff of the air and a look around, Heulwen steps out of the shadows and approaches the stern looking Sacrosan.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

The walk back to town goes quicker than Aleina would like, her mind still occupied with thoughts of the not too distant future. She is quiet, self absorbed, trying to quell the rising tide of conflicting emotions. Staying was tantamount to suicide, yet leaving rankled deeply - not the least because running meant abandoning people to suffering. All so she could save herself. Yet she would do no good for anyone dead or imprisoned.

Sounds of the festival cause her to look up, blue-white eyes shining in the moonlight. Those sounds would be replaced by others more sinister. Her eyes find Feyd's and she nods at him once, wordlessly, before looking in the direction of the herbalists shop. Still not looking at him, she adjusts her cloak, not relishing the discussion she was walking towards.

"Thank you for seeing to Bombur. I'll meet you as soon as I am able to."

With that, she steels herself and walks off toward Stephen's shop, eyes fixed on her goal. Hopefully, he'd still be around.

[Cadrius]

Heulwen

Even coming from the side, moving within scant feet of the dwellings, it isn't easy to make out his features. Stafford peers in her direction, at the moving shadows, and she thinks he looks wary. Yet he visibly relaxes once the form of Heulwen is realized.

"Good," he says, eyes flitting over the halfling, before returning to patrol the nearby darkness, "I was afraid you wouldn't come. Here--" he holds the parcels out to her "--I secured as much as I could."

Dun

Lydia brushes a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear and bites her lip slightly before taking the offered arm and moving back with Dun. They weave between dancers and revelers, only to find Lyr, a rather somber man, gone. Lydia giggles at Dun's befuddlement before fetching an empty goblet and pouring herself some spiced wine.

Aleina

Aleina knocks on the door, one slender hand softly resounding against the wood. She shivers and draws her cloak around her. The air's growing crisper and colder. The festival can still be heard, going in full swing. Her mind begins to stray to the celebration for a moment, but the door is jerked open by Stephen. Surprise flickers through his dark eyes but it's quickly replaced by a smile.

"Y-you decided to come back, then?" He asks, glancing up and down the street, sounding both nervous and relieved at the same time.

Lyr

Unwilling to sit any more, Lyr moves through the festival, brushing through a crowd of people who don't notice his presence. Their eyes are on each other, whether they dance, sing, laugh, tell stories, or merely quietly enjoy the event.

His mark is found easily enough. The man, the Mayor, sits at one of the long tables, speaking in a rather amused voice. He tells a story of sorts, the end of which is punctuated by uproarious laughter from the rest of those gathered. He smiles, eyes watching his thumb running along the rim of his mug. When he looks up again, he locks eyes with Lyr. He doesn't say anything, merely observing the young man for a moment before beckoning him forward.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

"I apologize if I have kept you waiting. Your town is much bigger than I first thought, and you did say to meet you after dark," Heulwen replies.

Setting down the saddle bags, she takes the packages that Stafford gives her and looks them over quickly. Then, pulling the spices out of the saddle bags, she offers them to Stafford saying, "I imagine that after this festival the town will be a little short of spices. Please take these as a thank you for helping me."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Her face is serious, and she looks down before looking back at the master. How to tell him?

"Only to warn you."

She lets the words hang a moment, chiding herself for not being more prepared. She didn't want to tell him these things, but he needed to know.

"I've learned there will be an orc patrol coming through here. Tomorrow. With the festival, I'm sure there will be consequences and I wanted you to know."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

He beckoned me forward. I wonder, does he have something to say? That would be an odd coincidence. Lyr steps closer, inclining his head to the man. "You are the head man of Kingscross, sir?"

[Berova]

Dun

Dun raises his own goblet and raises it to Lydia, smiling, "To Life!" and takes a deep drink.

[Cadrius]

Lyr

Even seated he maintains an aura about him. Lyr gets the impression that the mayor has held his position for more than a few years. Dark eyes regard the young man, and while there may be wrinkles from laughter, Mayor Lusk regards Lyr seriously, a moment passes, two, and then he nods once.

"I am Mayor Lusk, and I do not believe you are from around here," he says, speaking at a volume loud enough to be heard despite the noise. Most of the others at the table have broken off into their own conversations, or have left to dance or drink.

"Please--" he gestures at an empty spot on the bench across from him "--have a seat."

Dun

Lydia raises her mug but does not repeat Dun's toast. She takes a decent draught from it and then attempts to modestly wipe her mouth while blushing once more. She looks around her, seeming to shift back into shyness.

"So," she hesitantly begins, "where are you from?"

Heulwen

"No, not long at all," he says, exchanging one set of goods for another. "I'm certain the spices will be well-appreciated." He checks each of them, nodding at each of the spices before turning his eyes once more to the shadows.

"What do you plan to do?" he asks, moving to put his back against a building, putting him out of the light entirely. "The woods are not...safe."

Aleina

"Orcs? Yes, I suppose they will be coming, and there will be a price to pay."

His eyes are almost distant, remaining focused on Aleina while turning introspective. A blink later and they return to their normal, furtive state.

Despite the noise of the festival, the street feels quiet, as if the town was vacant but for the two of them.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

A small crease appears between her delicate eyebrows.

"You aren't concerned? They will want to inflict punishment for the festival. I doubt they will care whether you attended or not."

Her eyes are troubled and she is suddenly unsure how much she should reveal about her next destination. Perhaps his bitterness went deeper than she suspected.

<OOC: Sense Motive +2>

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Stafford's move back into the shadows makes Heulwen weary, but she tries to cover it up by quickly stowing the packages in the saddle bags.

"I will make myself scarce by tommorow. If you are right about the orc patrol, then by this time tommorow I will not be safe anywhere around here, woods or no."

"Still, I think the less you know the better. Legates can force the truth out of even the most unwilling, but even they cannot not force a person to reveal what they do not know," Heulwen continues, "But I am intrigued, if an orc patrol is comming tommorow, why would you allow the festival to go forward? Will it not bring punishment down on the village from the orcs?"

[Dirigible]

Lyr

"Thank you, ser," Lyr replies, slipping on to the bench opposite Lusk. He pauses for a moment as someone in the crowd presses a tankard into his hand, and then settles himself, staring at the mug as it it was somehow incongruous to him.

Clearing his throat, Lyr looks up at Lusk and explains "You're right, ser, in that I am a visitor to your town." A tiny smile quirks his lips. "And I must say, I have found Kingscross to be an extraordinarily warm and friendly place; a welcome haven, given the nearby lands. To tell the truth, that is what attracts my curiousity; how is it that your people can afford to be so open, and to hold such a lavish feast? Everywhere else I've seen in my travels holds itself paranoid and miserly."

[Cadrius]

Aleina

"Yes, yes I am...concerned," he says, looking back at Aleina with sad eyes. Whatever he has been through wears more heavily on him than it did earlier in the day. Yet he sound sincere and she does not hear anything suspicious in his voice.

"Y-you will be going then?" he asks, his face twitching slightly, "If not, I could maybe find a place to hide you while they are here. With him in town, I hope they would not trouble a poor herbalist."

Heulwen

Stafford remains in the shadows, leaning against the house. In the darkness Heulwen can see him tilt his head back until it rests on the wood. He draws in one long breath and then lets it out in a sigh, a slight puff of steam trails out into the light.

"No offense intended miss, but if I had my way, we wouldn't even allow visitors in town. Still, Lusk is bound and determined to give this to his people. I can't say that I blame him, and I won't be the one to deny them this."

He falls silent for a time and only the outline of his form, lets Heulwen know that he's still present.

"Moving on would be best for all of us." They are the only two there but it doesn't sound like he's speaking to the halfling.

"I wish you a safe journey and hope what I managed to gather will serve you well."

The slight crunch of boots on the road is the only sign of Stafford's departure.

Lyr

The mayor gives Lyr another appraising look before leaning in and speaking more quietly.

"Not exactly a good topic for a festival, but you do have a point," he takes a pull from his mug, "You see, it's our unimportance that shields us. We are not large enough to produce a great amount of excess and we are too far from the river to be a trading town. Indeed, we are a good distance from any of the cities and do not lie along the roads inbetween any. While the orcs do take their tithe we are too far from the war in the West to be of much use. I hear they have enough problems there without wasting more orcs in an out of the way garrison.

"But do not mark out celebration as a sign of wealth, of any sort. I pray this winter does not stay too long or I shall fear what may happen. Even our newfound friend may not be able to help us. Yet I am the mayor, and I'm responsible for keeping my people happy. If it means risking my life to do so, then so be it. I hope that answers your questions, young master...?"

Soradur

For a time Soradur's consciousness merely floats, not dreaming, not awake, he merely is. It withdraws inward so that the body can have time to heal, to enshroud itself in whatever healing has been worked. It was not done a moment too soon either.

Yet as time passes Soradur's mind slips out of the peaceful oblivion of unconsciousness and back into the world of dreams. Rock, he dreams of rock and fresh air, and high vistas. He dreams of home. Dwarves, those he knows and those he does not, float through this not quite real world. They come and go, fading from place to place as if made of mist or smoke.

But it isn't all tranquil. Soradur comes to another dwarf, one more substantial than the rest, whose back is turned to him.

"Wake up," the dwarf says. The voice, there's something about the voice that haunts Soradur. "Wa--"

''--ke up."

His eyes open revealing the man, the healer, that had taken him in. The first instinct is to check the wound and he does so, finding a large bandage wrapped around his side. It's still quite dark in the room, clearly night has not yet left Kingscross.

"It will take time to heal," he smiles wanly. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"

His hand sweeps back, revealing a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a couple apples sitting upon a tray on the previously empty table. The rumble in the dwarf's stomach suggests that he hasn't eaten in weeks.

[Berova]

Dun

Slight or no, Dun pays Lydia's ignoring his toast no heed. He simply smiles warmly, staring into her eyes with his deep brown pair.

So," she hesitantly begins, "where are you from?"

Taking another deep draught to quench his thirst, Dun replies, "Down quite a ways." He moves a bit closer so he doesn't have to speak over the din of the festive gathering, "I called Baden's Bluff home." Continuing the small talk with the obvious playfully, "What of you?" grinning.

Dun then asks, "Do you all always celebrate so?" as he looks about the celebration.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Stafford's solem attitude is contagious, and Heulwen simply watches as he goes. Then, gathering up her saddle bags with the packages inside, Heulwen slips back into the shadows and moves back out to where she left Cytaill. Petting him gently when she he melds out of the shadows Heulwen says, "Thank you for your help tonight friend. I know you are less inclined to trust than I, but it seems there is still some hope in the world."

Beginning the long walk back around the town, Heulwen shifts the saddle bags so that the weight hangs more comfortably on her shoulders and slips through the darkness.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Thank you, Stephen, for your generous offer but I cannot stay. I do not know what experience this town has with orcs, but I do know that they don't need a reason to trouble people."

She looks meaningfully at him.

"Especially good people."

She looks away again, carefully weighing what she will say next, debating if she should say anything.

"I know you have no love for the newcomer, but I believe you are right when you say he is in great danger. We are healers, you and I. We have taken up this craft to help, to see people made whole. Whatever hardship you have suffered, do not let it cloud your memory of the purpose behind your path."

She pauses, trying to gauge the effect of her words on the man.

"Neither should you forget that he walks the same path as you and I, though his methods may be different."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

As Lusk finishes speaking, Lyr's dark eyes glitter in the torch light, and he looks very far away. After a long moment, Lyr closes his lids, and speaks softly, "I wish it were more men in this Age had your sense of fellowship and goodwill, ser."

When he opens them again, Lyr seems to have regained his balance. "Yes, thank you for answering my questions, ser. My name is Lyr a'Corian, and I am just passing through Kingscross, in truth. I doubt one with my skills would find useful employment here."

He hesitates before continuing, "I wonder, if there was something else you could tell me... when you addressed your folk earlier, you made mention of a 'new friend' who was helping you? I was curious as to whom you meant."

[Cadrius]

Aleina

"No, of course not. You must be going," he says, his eyes regaining their eerily distant quality. "Good people. They never get what they deserve."

He continued words, however, bring his gaze back to the matter at hand. Stephen's eyes flick rapidly, only looking into Aleina's for a moment before darting away again.

"Healers, yes. Stay healthy, apprentice." In that last moment before the door closes his eyes once more look up to meet her's. They are deep, melancholic and almost apologetic, and then they are gone, shut off from the outside.

Dun

"N-no," she says, biting her lip, "my da said this is the first time we've had one in a long time, longer than I've been alive."

Lyr

Lusk looks at Lyr, not quite studying him, but it's clear the young man has the mayor's attention. The mention of his skills being useless in Kingscross causes a raised eyebrow, but Lyr continues on before any response can be made.

"Our friend? Benefactor might be a better term. He, he came from somewhere else, further north, I think. We don't even know his name, most just call him the Healer. Not a bad name, given what he does. You see," Lusk leans in, keeping his voice low, "he can heal wounds that Stephen, our herbalist, could have never begun to touch. Not only that, but he can tend the land, or do something, to make our plants healthier, our crops more bountiful."

He leans back, smiling, "Son, 'friend' is too light a term. If he wanted it, I'd give him my office. Hell, if he put on a crown I'd make him my king.

"Now, perhaps you'd enlighten me as to why a young fellow like yourself has skills that are of no use in my town? Unless you were a mayor back in your home I'd daresay we could use you."

Dun and Lyr

The evening is wearing on and it can be seen in the selection of music. The tune currently circulating is a slower, more somber one. The lutist takes up the lyrics, a clear tenor rising over the somewhat lessened crowd.

"Down by the sleek, swift brooke,
I met my fair love with glee.
The leaves, trees, and shrubs shook,
for my pretty, sweet Marie.

A dark-eyed Sarcosan lass,
from great and strong Sharuun.
Near the wet banks of the morass,
we vowed to meet again soon.

For a boat she was bound,
plying the river Eren.
With a merchant she sought ground,
at the distant Port Esben.

The days were long and slow,
the nights were warm and lonely.
I wrote many a song to show,
the world of my love's beauty.

A storm brewed, booming with sound,
the merchant yelled to hasten.
The storm would run them aground,
but the man would not listen.

The Captain fought like a fiend,
but a storm dealt a foul blow.
The ship tore with a deep scream,
the sea making a great show.

Now, pain plauges me as it does,
taking my love beneath the sea.
And the wind reminds me of what was,
and what can never be."

The words matter less than the emotion invested into it by the musician. The dancers have long ceased and merely stand, arms wrapped around each other. The laughter has died, and men and women regard each other with sad eyes. A somber air sweeps through those assembled as they're brought back to their reality. Some see the long winter ahead, others the ramifications of their actions, and a few, more pessimistic folk, question the purpose of even continuing on.

From each side of the festival, the two young men experience the change in mood like a flash of lightning. Dun finds Lydia's arm entwined with his own and Lyr notices more than a few husbands and wives seeking each other out amidst the crowd.

The musicians, as if realizing their error, start up another jaunty tune, which slowly seeps some life back into the crowd. The young begin to dance again, and there are bursts of chuckles or laughter as jokes and stories are taken up once more. Yet the total indulgence in the celebration is gone, a shadow of uncertainty and fear taking its place.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr's eyebrows climb as the Lusk tells him of the Healer. Another channeler? he wonders. Another channeler? Ha. You're hardly a channeler yourself, boy, he rejoinders with a mental sneer.

"He sounds like a worthy man..." Lyr begins, but he stops as the sad ballard begins. The slow, haunting melody and words that tell of loss and sadness strike him deeply, and he sits, listening, affected, as it plays. He hand clenches and unclenches slowly and unconsciously, until the song ends.

The melancholy change of mood suits him well as the song ends. He shuffles uncomfortably, and glances across at the mayor, and murmurs "A good band of players you have, too."

He considers the other man carefully. What can anything I say be as damning as what he has already vouchsafed? He trusted me, I should return the favour. "Ahmm... as for my skills, ser, scant though they be, I suppose you could call me a scholar. I was taught in the arts of pen and letter, and schooled a little in the people, places and ages of our land." He smiles wanly and spreads his hands, indicating helplessness. "As I said... of little worth to you and yours".

[Berova]

Dun

"N-no," she says, biting her lip, "my da said this is the first time we've had one in a long time, longer than I've been alive."

Dun softly replies, "Sad enough to say, this...my first time too."

As the music plays, the song sung, Dun listens to the lyrics, content with Lydia close by him, in his arms. Dun takes the lyrics close to heart, though mere words they were. Those mere words deeply affected him at song's end, when he realized this can not, nay must not be, but for this one, and only one...night.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Stay healthy, apprentice."

Their eyes meet just before the door closes in her face, and then she is staring at the scarred wood, wondering what the future held for him. He called her apprentice, and in matters of his chosen craft he was right. Yet Aleina can't help but think that in other ways she is already wiser than he. Or maybe she just hadn't lived long enough to become so jaded.

She sighs, at least partly relieved she was spared from having to decide whether or not to tell him where she was going. Still, what she had been able to say should be some explanation for him, if ever he came to find out that she was the one to warn the healer. Her voice is a small whisper in the darkness.

"May the spirits smile on your path, master."

Turning away from his cottage, she starts off with brisk strides, pushing aside lingering doubts about what -if anything- this visit had accomplished. The healer needed to be warned and, if her guesses were correct, his charge.

[Cadrius]

Aleina

While Kingscross is not large by any standards, particularly by those of the great Sarcosan cities, it feels as if an age passes while Aleina crosses the town. She moves with purpose, short, fluid strides moving her through vacant streets and empty houses. If the mass of light and music coming from the center wasn't present, she'd swear she was in a ghost town.

The directions to this healer are not specific, but after a brief period of searching she matches the nondescript, small home on the edge of town to the one told to her. The building itself is unique in its completely plain manner. No decorations, no personal affects, nothing but the house stands there.

Heulwen

Cytaill grumbles, apparently glad to be away from the human settlement. The halfling and wogren slip into the comforting blanket of foliage, shading them even further from any unfriendly eyes that might lurk in the night.

Curious as to the health of the dwarf, Heulwen gently guides her mount back to where she had first met him, clinging to a tree, the stench of death rolling off of him. Yet she finds nothing but the dark shapes of trees and the haunting call of an owl. Gone. Perhaps he sought help, or perhaps he moved on. Either way, he's not here.

Once more setting off through the woods, Heulwen squints, trying to use what starlight she can to see. Yet once more, she manages to locate her destination. Her belongings are where she left them, hidden.

Lyr

"No? We've no use for an educated man here? Strange, I'd think any place could use one of those. Although I'd wonder what the legates would have to say about that. Don't take kindly to those that can read."

He speaks simply, carrying a conversational tone that might've been used had the topic been anything else, anything mundane. Yet his eyes, his eyes watch Lyr carefully, curiously.

"You are an interesting man, Master a'Corian."

Dun

Time passes without much notice to Dun, so caught up in the evening. Be it quick or slow, time does move on as the crowd thins. Young couples move off arms wrapped around each other, sharing warmth, and families head home, sleeping children carried by tired parents. There are fewer people present, and the music begins to slow again.

At last he spots Lyr, conversing with what looks to be the mayor.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Its late by the time Heulwen arrives back at her hiding place. Far too late for it to be safe to travel.

Better to get some sleep and push on at first light, Heulwen thinks to herself. Patting Cytaill one more time, Heulwen wishes him good night before tucking herself and her new possesions away in a hidden nook, sword ready at her side.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lusk's words fall like drops of ice water down Lyr's spine. Is he threatening me? No. He sounds like a good man. Maybe.

"Perhaps, ser." Lyr gives a sickly smile, and licks his lips. Oh, I know what the legates would say about that. About me. "Could you direct me to this man, the Healer? Mayhap two... ahhh... 'educated men' could exchange lore on matters of... errr... chirugeonship?

If Lusk provides him with directions to the Healer's abode, Lyr heads that way; if not, he seeks out Dun again.

[Berova]

Dun

Wishing there was more time, to know Lydia better, to know her hopes and dreams, to know if she had any brothers and sisters, a favorite song, or a fond childhood memory. And yet, the last of the waning notes played dispite his wishes to the contrary.

Dun enjoyed the last moments he had with Lydia together. And yet, not wishing to hear the last of the magic play out of a magical night, Dun offers to escort Lydia home while the musicians played on.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She pauses outside the small cottage, wondering at it's utter lack of adornment. Perhaps it's owner was too concerned with his craft to bother with such things. Aleina thinks otherwise, though. In her mind, this seems a purposeful thing, a statement of sorts although she cannot discern the meaning.

Her dark hair swishes faintly as she shakes her head, knowing that she is merely procrastinating, putting off meeting this man. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it slowly, she raises a small hand and knocks gently on the door. The hollow sound seems appropriate to the stark building. She straightens her shoulders and pushes back a stray lock of hair, and waits for Stephen's rival to answer.

[Cadrius]

Dun

"Home?" Lydia asks, her cheeks reddening once more, "C-certainly."

Yet even as they leave the town square the effect of the music begins to wear off. It had lifted them up and then laid them low, but now a chill sets in, one that will not be easily warmed. They have lost, what victory there might be in simply surviving is a hollow one. Yet what seals the sense of despair is the fact that they lost before they were born, never having a chance to fight, to die, only to suffer.

So the two young folk, a city lad and a country lass, walk in silence toward the outskirts. Lydia continues to take Dun's arm and the human contact, the warmth, the reassurance that there are still some beautiful things left, manages to stave off despair. So it goes for all of those leaving the square, each vowing to remember this time when the nights are dark and shadows close around.

Arriving to a farm, Lydia turns and regards Dun. A small house standing fifty or so feet away.

"T-thank you, for this evening."

Lyr

"The Healer?" the mayor asks, "Why would you want to see him? Drink too much? Feeling a little ill?" He offers Lyr a smile.

"He lives right on the edge of the south-western side of town, in a small cottage. We offered him a bigger place, to help repay him for all he's done, but he wouldn't have any of it. Seems to like living alone. You have a good evening, Master a'Corian," Lusk gives him a brief and completely unreadable nod.

Leaving the festival Lyr feels that he's reasonably certain where his destination lays. And so he sets off, a quick pace keeping his body warm in the cool autumn air. Here and there he can spot people making their way home, he even thinks he sees Dun walking with the farmer's daughter that has been at his side all evening.

Rounding a corner, Lyr sees the woman he met earlier, or rather, the woman he brushed past. She stands outside of a small, very plain looking house speaking to someone in the doorway.

Heulwen

Cytaill nuzzles the halfling's hand once before turning around several times and lying down next to her. The wogren provides more than enough heat to keep Heulwen warm and her eyes close, trusting to her senses as well as her friend's to alert them of any dangers.

But Cytaill's presence provides a second warmth; he's her only true friend, the only one who has stuck with her since their flight from the slavers. They've hunted together, fled together, and fought together. The wogren might grumble at times, but he has been an ally and boon companion. Glad to be in his presence, the halfling gently drifts off to sleep.

Aleina

There is such a long pause that Aleina readies her hand to knock again. An instant before her knuckles connect with oak, the door opens, revealing the man she presumes to be the healer.

He looks much like any other man in his fortieth winter, dark hair flecked with gray falls to his shoulders and a matching beard adorns his face. His garb is simple, but his gray eyes are intense. Indeed, his eyes seem to be the only thing unusual about the man. They look like they are capable of seeing much. Flicking up and down they take her in before returning to meet her gaze. He does not appear to be suspicious, but clearly wary of anyone, particularly a lone, slim, attractive girl, knocking on his door in the middle of the night.

"Can I help you?"

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr nods uncomfortably at the mayor, standing up a little to fast and nearly spilling his drink with unseemly haste. "Ahhm. Thank you, ser..." Lyr takes a respectful step back before turning away.

He shudders, somewhat grateful to be away from Lusk as he makes his way around the festival. Too many secrets, Master a'Corian, he thinks ruefully. I hope I don't bring any maloccurance on these people; let them savour their ease.

When he catches sight of Dun and the girl leaving, he can't help but grin. Dun, Abben, you old rascal. More fortune to you. Lyr presses on, rubbing his forearms against the bite in the air.

He nearly swollows his tongue when he sees the dark haired lady again. His palms start to itch. Oh no, not again. Not this time, he thinks grimly, balling his fists. Though his bones feel as if they are shedding a layer of dead flesh, and long-suppressed eldritch incantations writhe on his tongue, he bites down on the rising, buring tide of magic inside him and presses himself against the wall, starting to edge closer.

Lyr tries to get within clear earshot, lurking in the shadows and keeping out of the line of sight of the man in the doorway, and the young woman, should she happen to turn.


OOC:
Move Silently and Hide, untrained +2

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Aleina's piercing eyes meet the healer's grey ones, searching for something she cannot define. He seemed wary, but at this hour in this land any normal person would be.

"I come to offer help rather than recieve it. "

She lowers her voice, though her gaze remains fixed on the man.

"Tomorrow there will be an orc patrol in this town. Perhaps they will be looking for Dwarves. Or maybe it will be led by a legate, looking for magic in this town. "

She pauses.

"It is best if they find neither, is it not?"

[Berova]

Dun

As Dun walks Lydia to the farmhouse she called home, he keeps Lydia close to him, offering his body's warmth in return for hers to keep off the night chill and offer some reassurance that everything was alright.

"T-thank you, for this evening."

Dun looks deeply into Lydia's eyes and gives a reassuring smile before replying gently, "No, thank you ... for this special evening, one I shall cherish and remember the rest of my days." He then gives Lydia a tender, affectionate kiss.

[Cadrius]

Dun

As quickly as it begins it ends. Too soon, lips parting, farewells made, and Dun finds himself alone, walking back to town. The night air casts a chill on his arm, previously kept warm by the farmer's daughter, Lydia. The small road winds its way by the brook, and so lost in his thoughts he almost misses it. A sound, something out of the ordinary.

He stops in the middle of a leisurely stride and listens. All is quiet except for the the slightest breeze, and the chatter of the brook, but even that seems dimmed under night's blanket. He does not hear anything and sets his foot down again, ready to move when he hears it once more. Splash.

It's hard to see under the light of stars and moon, and while there is some light from the farms, it isn't much. Yet he's sure of one thing, someone or something is moving through the water, and toward him.

Lyr

Attempting to be as stealthy as possible, Lyr creeps his way up near the residence, ears straining to catch whatever he can. A dry twig snaps under his weight and he stops, his breath frozen. Aleina casts a glance over in his direction, but doesn't look to see him and returns her view to whomever is in the doorway.

He has to stay a good distance away to remain hidden, but he still manages to catch some of the conversation.

"--Dwarves. --legate, looking for in this town magic."

The other person, who Lyr presumes to be the healer, takes so long in replying that Lyr almost thinks he didn't hear the response. Yet he says something, his barritone voice not carrying as far as Aleina's alto, and a hand appears beckoning her inside.

Rhotha'ah

Days. It's been days since he left his tribe, tracking them. He pushes himself as far as he can each day, but every morning he awakes to find their trail, and his heart, a little colder. Too stubborn for despair, he presses on. He had been lucky to cross the Eren yesterday, finding a sympathetic gnomish barge. He might be strong, but he wasn't sure if he could have survived the swim.

And so he finds himself at another village, Kingscross, he thinks he heard the gnomes call it. He could use the supplies, but more importantly, he could use whatever information he might glean from its inhabitants.

He makes his way quickly from his hiding spot outside of town, uncertain as to the greeting a Dorn might receive here. For he knows they could all be Shadowfriends. Still, it's a chance he must take.

Coming to a brook he pauses. It's dark, and difficult to see, but it doesn't look deep and there isn't a bridge within sight. He shrugs, a little cold would do him good, and he begins moving from rock to rock across the stream. Yet the dark plays tricks on the eyes, and he judges a shadow for a rock and plunges up to his knee in the water. It would be quite cold for another, but for a man whose people have lived in the cold north, it's refreshing.

Coming out of the other side of the brook, he thinks he sees a figure, watching him.

Aleina

He watches Aleina, the ever-attentive eyes suggesting that they see more than is possible. Yet there's also a tinge of sadness to them. A moment passes, two, and he sighs heavily and speaks, keeping his voicel ow.

"Dwarves, magic, elves, weapons, literature, does it matter what they are looking for? If a legate or an orcish captain wants something, they'll find it, or something close enough."

Eyes moving away, losing focus in a manner eerily akin to Stephen, his mouth twists into a frown, and whispers, "It always ends in fire."

Shaking his head he looks back at Aleina, as if seeing her for the first time and says loudly, "Where are my manners? Please come in and share some tea with me. I think we have much to discuss about your sick cousin."

He extends a hand, beckoning her in. Before she can move he leans forward again and whispers, "There is someone watching us. Ten yards away, perhaps."

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah
The Dorn curses in the northern tongue of his ancestors, cursing the waters, the shadows, the night, and himself as he trudges through the knee-deep brook to the edge and out of the water. He looks about him for a large enough boulder or log to sit on to drain his boots of the water now chilling his legs when he sees it. The shadowy figure watching him.

Instinctively, his hand reaches for one of the two hand axes at the small of his back hidden under the deer-skin tunic, fingers dancing in anticipation over the wooden shaft of the weapon, and his other hand out slightly to the side for balance. His feet slide into a pseudo-fighting stance and he stares intently in the direction of the figure, not daring take the chance that it be a Shadowfriend - or worse.

"Show yourself." Are the only two words he barks in the words of this land's people.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

His response, effectively that the orcs needed no reason to cause trouble, is true enough. But that isn't really what she is getting at - their reprisal will be far worse should they find something amiss. Before she has a chance to elaborate, his eyes seem to fade and his mouth twists. For a moment, she has a sense of deja vu, having seen that look earlier this evening.

Her spine stiffens when he tells her they are being watched. There were several possibilities, and none of them were good. Resisting the urge to look around, her ice blue eyes remain fixed on the healer's own grey ones. He could be lying, for all she knew, but she was sure Stephen would have warned her if this healer was known to be dangerous.

"Tea would be most welcome on this chilly night."

She folds her arms, putting her hands inside the opposite sleeves, and enters the healer's abode.

[Berova]

Dun

"Show yourself." Are the only two words he barks in the words of this land's people.

Dun calmly responds back in Erenlander, "Whoa there, lest you are in great need of firewood this chilly night or intend great harm, I'd suggest you lay that axe aside." He then takes a couple of cautious steps forward before continuing, "You hurt or something? What 'er ya doing way out here this time of the night?"

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Angry breath hisses between his teeth as he makes a misstep, but they don't seem to have seen him. Lyr presses himself closer to the building and settles his weight slightly, prepared to wait.

Did my ears just deceive me? he wonders. He spoke of dwarves and of legates... making him a spy in the service of the Shadow at worst... or someone dedicated to fighting the same at best. Such a dichotomy made Lyr uneasy. But who else dave one of those extremities would talk about such to a stranger. Were they strangers? Hm. He kept her talking outside, which he would not were she a well acquainted co-conspirator. The weight of evidence was shifting towards the benevolent side of the equation.

If the young woman enters the 'healers' dwelling, Lyr will sidle closer and attempt to listen at a window, or, failing that, at the chimey, keeping low all the while.

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

As the man comes out of the shadows in which he hid, the Dorn barbarian stands deathly still, as if the merest breath would alert the rest of the Shadowfriends to their presense. "I have no intentions of setting aside my weapons, stranger, lest it be you who intends great harm. None can be too careful in these lands." His baritone voice reverberating in the shadows and echoing off the trees.

Watching the man show himself under the silvered moon strands, his stance softens a little, though he is no less imposing in his bulk. "You show concern where none is due - the words of either a healer or a fool in times such as these - which are you, I do not know yet." Seeing that the man shows no obvious attempt to harm him, he relaxes some, his hand still on the shaft of the axe.

"As for what I am doing out here, I am neither hurt nor cold. I have come from the North, trailing the black-clad owner of this." He reaches into his tunic and drags out a black and white chunk of rock tied to vine-string around his neck.

[Berova]

Dun

""As for what I am doing out here, I am neither hurt nor cold. I have come from the North, trailing the black-clad owner of this." He reaches into his tunic and drags out a black and white chunk of rock tied to vine-string around his neck.

Dun squints his eyes to get a better look at the crude pendant this hulk of a man is referring, "How strange, as I am neither healer nor fool and come from yonder south." Dun tilts his head in an attempt to get a better view of the rock asking, "What is it?"

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

Rhotha'ah reaches his free hand behind his head, trailing the vine-string over the shortened gold hair, before throwing it to the smaller man. "It's is but one coin of a debt to be paid in full to my people, and I am intent on collecting it."

As he stands there, waiting for the man to return the item, he cracks his neck to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. "And what of you? Why do you travel far from your people?"

[Berova]

Dun

Dun examines the rock and gives an understanding nod after the stranger offers his explanation. "As for me, I follow the footsteps of my father who plies his trade on these many dangerous roads."

Stepping forward a few more paces to return the man's crude stone, Dun introduces himself, "Dun Abben's my name, and, if ya don't mind, it's getting a might chilly. I was headin' back into town, King's Cross, and wouldn't mind the company ... that is if you were going that ways anyway."

[Cadrius]

Lyr

He watches Aleina enter the front door and begins to move, only to catch himself and duck back down. The man sticks his head out the door and peers down the street, his gaze sweeping up to Lyr's hiding place, and then beyond. Frowning, he closes the door.

Lyr finds a good window to listen in at and waits, hoping that the pair will settle there. He's in luck, they do. After a few minutes he hears the man come in speaking to Aleina, something about tea and herbs.

Aleina

She notices him looking out the door, down the street toward town, but if he sees the watcher, he doesn't show it. He joins her in the small entryway, wearing a frown, but it fades as he gestures to a doorway.

"Please, have a seat in there. I'll be back with the tea," he says, heading through the door on the opposite side. He raises his voice a bit so that Aleina can heard him, saying, "I'd offer you some food, but I'd wager you had enough at the festival tonight."

It's warm inside the house and while there's no fireplace in the room that the healer gestured to, the heat from wherever it is clearly does its job. The night's chill already begins to fade from her bones. The room itself is much like the cottage from the outside, plain. No elaborate embellishments adorn the walls, nor do finely woven carpets decorate the floors, not that a healer would need such things, but Aleina imagines that he's likely received quite a few unusual items in return for his services. What use is a tapestry while your son lays dying?

There is a well-worn oaken table in the center, with two chairs placed on either side. Nothing rests on the table and while there is a bookshelf on one wall, it's quite empty. The room grants the impression of being both cozy and cold at the same time. Everything in it has been well-tended, but at the same time they don't look quite right here, as if they weren't quite used enough. On the far side of the room there is a closed door.

A minute later he returns, bearing a black kettle and a pair of mugs.

"I hope these are good, I acquired the herbs from a very sour man named Stephen," he says, pouring the steaming water into each mug. Almost immediately the smell of blueberries begins to waft from the tea.

He pulls out a chair and sits in it, and takes a mug in his hand. His face is serious now, the role of the jolly host being discarded.

"Now, let us speak."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

The idea that someone is watching them bothers her more than a little, but she is used to hiding her feelings from others. So she takes a cue from his own composure and simply pretends that they are alone. Still, she keeps her voice low.

"If they are from Stephen, then I have no doubt they are very good. And I am certain a man as perceptive as yourself knows the cause of his present disposition."

She pauses, resting her hands on the table and staring at him through the steam rising from their beverages. His solemn face reflects nothing and she allows herself a brief frown.

"Healers have the same goals, regardless of their methods."

She sits back slightly then and lowers her hood before picking up her own mug. She wraps her hands around it allowing the warmth to seep into her chilled fingers, inhaling the armoa of the steeping drink.

"But I am not here to settle petty bickerings. There is more to yourself than you present, just as their is more to this dwelling than the facade you maintain for public benefit. You must know of the patrol of which I spoke, yet you remain right here when the town without buzzes with stories of your accomplishments. Why is that?"

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

The man half snatches the rock on the vine from the smaller man's hand, placing his head through the vine-string loop and tucking it under his tunic. "I am Rhotha'ah."

The Dornish man hooks the small axe back underneath his tunic, putting it back into the loop which holds it hidden from the prying eyes of the Shadowfriends. "You are noble to follow in the footsteps of your ancestors. For this, I shall accompany you into the settlement. Besides, two pairs of feet on the same trail do well to conceal the paths of both, do you not agree?"

[Cadrius]

Dun and Rhotha'ah

Two men walk down the same path, one a huge Dornish man, the other a smaller Erenlander, but unbeknownst to them, they both have similar goals. And so they walk, the night's cold weighing heavier on Dun than his large companion, but the journey is made lighter by the company.

Lyr

They begin to speak, and he can't make out every word but they seem to give only passing notice to pleasantries before the tone of their voices change to a more serious note. Aleina says something regarding a man named Stephen and then something about this healer maintaining a facade. The man inside responds speaking of leaving and the Shadow and home.

Aleina

He blows gently on the mug, sending the steam swirling off and takes a sip. He takes a deep breath and sighs, keeping his eyes on the tea.

"I've meant to leave for a week now," he says, "longer, perhaps. I just haven't been able to do it yet, though I should. It always happens like this. People mistake a healer or a miracle-worker and then the Shadow comes. They wouldn't, won't, listen. The accusation is enough. And it always ends," he trails off, lost in thought, undoubtedly reliving memories of the past. "This is a good place, a good home. And yet I must leave, must flee, merely because I am skilled."

He seems sincere, but there's something else, something he's not saying. Aleina, however, cannot say as to what that is, only that there is more to him and his story than what he relates to her in those few sentences.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"What you say is true, and yet here you sit on the eve of a raid with a dwarf in your care."

She puts her mug down and rests her forearms on the arms of the chair, heavy grey cloak rustling. Her eyes are guarded, the icy blue - a window to nowhere.

"It is none of my business what you do. I came here to warn you, and I have done so. I should leave now and let you choose your course as you will, yet my heart disagrees."

Unconsciously, she straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin slightly. Her voice is still quiet, but rich nonetheless.

"There are few enough with the skill you possess, fewer still with the courage to use it, and only a handful of them make it a tool of hope instead of hate. You are meant to live and help others who are in need."

[Berova]

Dun

The man half snatches the rock on the vine from the smaller man's hand, placing his head through the vine-string loop and tucking it under his tunic. "I am Rhotha'ah."

Dun repeats to himself, Rhotha'ah. Dun's mood set to melancholy upon escorting Lydia home, his mind taken to wander.

Something had been gnawing away at him, what Dun could not determine.

The Dornish man hooks the small axe back underneath his tunic, putting it back into the loop which holds it hidden from the prying eyes of the Shadowfriends. "You are noble to follow in the footsteps of your ancestors. For this, I shall accompany you into the settlement. Besides, two pairs of feet on the same trail do well to conceal the paths of both, do you not agree?"

To the Dorn's question, Dun nods in answer, though still half lost in thought, "Aye, but against the discerning eye, only if one steps behind those of the first... but thanks the same ... in truth, I follow more than my forefathers, for not unlike you, I am on a quest of my own though not one of my own make. You see, I seek out my very own father who had ventured from home but not returned, long overdue these many weeks. I had tracked him to KingsCross..."

Midway back Dun steals a good look at the big Dorn before turning toward the path ahead of them, "One cannot have too many traveling companions in this world."

Just outside of town, Dun remarks, "I have secured accommodations for the night at the Weary Wanderer, you may wish to do the same."

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

"The Weary Wanderer? What kind of accomodations do they have there? I usually settle for a good pelt around me and the soft grass for a bed." The big Dornish man says to nobody in particular, keeping his brow furrowed as he looks out before him to make sure that no Shadowfriends are lurking behind an up-and-coming tree.

When the pair get closer to the township, Rhotha'ah allows the smaller Erenlander to lead the way, and it is obvious by the befuddled look on the barbarian's face that he is not used to being in a settlement any larger than a well populated hamlet or a small thorp.

[Berova]

Dun

"Well, it's goodly warmer than sleeping out in this chilly night no matter how soft your grass, how soft your pelts."

On the way back, they make their way by the now nearly empty town square. Dun looks for any sign of Lyr as he leads the Dorn towards the Weary Wanderer. "There it is." Dun says to Rhotha'ah as he points toward the larger building that is their destination.

[Cadrius]

Aleina

His brow furrows at her mention of the dwarf and his eyes remain focused on the dark, almost blue-black, tea. He sighs, and looks up.

"My belongings, what little I have anyway, are already packed. I planned to leave tonight, but the dw...the patient, caught me off-guard. I wasn't expecting to see someone like him so far from the mountains. His wound was terrible and...and it took a lot out of me to heal it. I hoped to be gone with the first light, but now I fear that will not be soon enough."

His eyes at last turn upward, glossy from unshed tears. His voice does not quaver, but the tremor of fear lurks just beneath the surface, "Something draws near. This town is...doomed," his voice drops to a whisper and repeats what was intoned before, "it always ends in fire."

Dun and Rhotha'ah

The inn is, unsurprisingly vacant. Leiden, has either retired or is still at the remnants of the festival. Either way, no one can be seen in the common room. A silver inlaid candle has been left on the counter, wax slowly running down the side before collecting on the metal stand. Shadows twist and bend with each flicker.

Lyr

There is mention of packing and leaving as well as a dwarf and a wound of some sort. The conversation flows somewhat naturally but the topics are quite strange, perhaps not so to one such as Lyr, but certainly a normal Erenlander would laugh at the suggestion of taking in a dwarf, let alone tending his wounds.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

The dark haired woman sits back in her seat, her mind stirred to chaos with the certainty of his words. On the edge of consciousness are nagging questions about who or what might be spying on this place. Her own fears about magic and it's use bubble up, bursting with the hissing regret of consequence. It wasn't always fire. Sometimes it was worse.

"Then you must leave tonight and the dwarf too."

How many did that leave to suffer? Many and more, the voice of her conscience said. It was grotesquely unfair; the emotion inside her swelled until it threatened to snap the confines of her will. Taking a deep breath, Aliena conjures thoughts of an icy river - the surface far above, she blind beneath it.

There is yet light in the darkness.

Shaking her head slightly, her eyes focus again. How fragile that light seemed, pushed to the edge of extinction by the mounting walls of night. Those few that held the torch must not drop it.

"You say something draws near. What do you know?"

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

Rhotha'ah looks about the empty common room, and from his limited reckoning of these places, is slightly unnerved by the lack of people. "Dun, is this place not supposed to be crawling with people, even at such a time of night? Even the innkeep is not here." As he looks about the shadow-filled room, his hand unconsciously starts inching behind his hip, ready to grab an axe at a moment's notice.

[Berova]

Dun

"Nah, you must be thinking of tales of the taverns and inns from the big cities. KingsCross is but a sleepy hamlet, the proprietor has either gone to bed or is still out cleaning up from the festival." Looking around a bit, "Dun says, you hungry? Maybe there are some leftover from the festival in the pantry, are you game?"

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

At the mention of thievery, the big Dornish man's brow furrows more, large creases appearing on his forehead.

"You speak of taking another man's livelihood as if it doesn't even matter to you.." Rhotha'ah remarks, barely able to keep the appalled tone out of his voice, though it shines through his eyes like lanterns in a darkened room.

[Cadrius]

Aleina

"Then you must leave tonight and the dwarf too."

"Yes, yes," he says, agreeing, his voice sounding distant, "the dwarf will not be safe here, nor I, --" his eyes return to Aleina "--nor you, I suspect." He keeps his eyes firmly looking into her own and pauses, as if considering her before adding, "It is unlikely that the spy is a friend."

"You say something draws near. What do you know?"

At this, something changes within him. His back straightens slightly from its slump, and his eyes harden, appearing flinty in the candlelight. Again it's noticable when he speaks, his voice is changed somewhat, perhaps stronger, or perhaps the danger merely snaps the man back to the reality, and the danger, of his situation.

"I know when they are near. I can...feel it, and I fear they are looking for me, or have found me once more. I --" his voice falters "--am not sure why, only that they come."

He looks lost in thought, eyes taking again that eerie, faraway quality. They remain looking at Aleina, but it feels as if he's looking through her, or past her. A chill runs across her spine, out of place in the otherwise warm room. Yet within a few moments his eyes return to their former intensity, focusing once more on the young woman. He draws a long breath and sighs, looking down at his tea.

"We must leave soon. I will wake the dwarf," he stands, taking the mug in hand, "I do not ask for your company, but I do counsel that you leave tonight and make certain any of your companions join you."

His gaze turns to the window, curtains still tightly drawn shut.

"I fear otherwise you may not live out the night."

Nodding once to Aleina, he moves through the door on the far side of the room, closing it gently behind him.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

The door closes with a sound that seems to mark the end of the world. For a long while her iridescent gaze remains fixed on it's splintered surface, her mind churning with things both said and unsaid. It was disturbing to think that this man who helped others could be so apathetic. He seemed dead inside, resigned already to the futility of his own position yet unable to end his misery. Was it a snapshot into her own future? It seemed a jaded place beside his own was already set, and all that was required was the passage of time until she filled the seat with her own unfulfilled promise.

You are not he, and he is wrong.

She inhales the aroma of Stephen's tea once more but takes no further sip. It was already growing cold. Her thoughts turn towards this spy. Likely he was right, and she was already in danger. There was little enough to defend herself with - her tools were all with Bombur. She had magic, but using it might be the worse choice when it came down to it. Yet the healer - she had never learned his name - most obviously did not want her company. Truthfully, if he could sense what was coming he might sense her own abilities. He probably didn't want any more problems than he already had.

The legs of her chair scrape as she pushes it back from the table and rises, looking confident and assured, seeming somehow taller than her dimunitive height. Her eyes are hard as she lays a hand on the latch and then opens the door. Cold air floods inward, and she concentrates on radiating strength and security as she sets out. If Feyd was true, he would meet her with Bombur. That is where she wants to go but with a spy following her it is less than prudent. With a determined stride, she sets off for the inn, subtley attempting to detect any sound of pursuit.

[Berova]

Dun

"You speak of taking another man's livelihood as if it doesn't even matter to you.."

Indignant and clearly taken affront at the Dorn's insinuation Dun responds, "Who said anything about 'taking another man's livelihood'??? I was mearly askin' if you were hungry, seeing there must've been plenty of food left from this evening's festivities. I only offered the suggestion out of concern and seeing it'd be ashame to see it go to waste. It just wouldn't be right, they've sacrificed so much and all. At any rate, if ya choose not to partake of these people's generosity or are simply not hungry ... why forget I ever mentioned it. Far be it for me ta force their kindness on you."

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

Rhotha'ah quirks an eyebrow at the man's tirade. "I would gladly accept your offer of kindness if it was yours to give, Dun. But it is not yours to give, so I will decline."

And with that, the Dorn takes a seat near to the dying hearth, taking the black chunk of porcelain from around his neck and looking at it, lost in thoughts of revenge and memories of pain that threaten to spill over through his entire being like a cup filled with too much liquid.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

A frustrated scowl marrs Lyr's face as he squats in the narrow gap next to the Healers cottage, straining to hear the words from inside. When he hears the door open, he eases to his feet, supressing a grunt of pain as his cramped calves groan in protest. Well, that proved fruitless.

Lyr waits a good few moments for the woman to pass, then sneaks out of the alley and tries to follow her.

[Cadrius]

Lyr and Aleina

The two travelers, both with secrets that could prove fatal should the wrong ears hear them, move down the street. Aleina strides with purpose, and Lyr trails her, attempting to be as silent as he can, but his training relied on books and scholarly things, not moving as a shadow might. Yet he's been successful thus far, Aleina has either been too distracted or Lyr too quiet for her to notice. He hopes it will persist. Unfortunately for the young man, it does not.

He tries to remain as far back as he can and still follow her, but the light is dim on the outskirts and he has to move closer than he'd like. Still, her mind looks to be elsewhere, pondering her conversations with the healer. However, Lyr's boot makes an untimely scuff, the heel scraping across some loose gravel, sending small pebbles scattering. With the festival in its waning hours, the sound carries directly to her ears.

Lyr whips his head about for a hiding place, but there's nowhere he can get to without her at least catching a glimpse of him.

Rhotha'ah and Dun

"What's all the jawing about?" a rumbling voice asks, and a large shadow moves out from one door. The candlelight brushes it, revealing the form of the bartender and innkeeper, Leiden. He looks a little tired, but his eyes sharpen quickly at the sight of a large Dorn standing in his inn.

"Can I help you boys? Ah, Master Abben. Did you enjoy the festival? Find any pretty girls? And where's your friend, Master al'Corian?"

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Her ears straining to hear any sound, Aleina makes her way back toward the inn. The night is quiet and cold - a bleak deserted place, in sharp contrast to the heat and confusion of her thoughts. The attempts she had made tonight were fruitless. Nobody had been warned, nobody had been saved. She would flee this town and the hordes of darkness would descend upon it, to wreak their havoc unchecked. Her form is shadowed save for the lambent blue glint of her eyes, her alleged shadower nearly forgotten.

Then the sound: the unmistakable scuff of boot leather on stone. Her body tingles as adrenalaine courses through her yet she reamins outwardly calm. Delicate fingers flex, remembering the dance-like somatics of spellcraft.

I must control the situation.

Aleina turns towards the source of the noise, to all appearances poised and fearless. Her stomach twists itself into a knot, yet her voice is at once commanding but reasoned. Somehow she seems more capable and more dangerous then her slight frame would indicate.

"Show yourself. I will not be hounded like some wild beast."

<Diplomacy +7, bluff +8 - whatever works.>

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Heh. Perhaps I should have been a burglar. This isn't as hard as I had thought.

Crunch

Damn. Lyr bends sharply at the waist and half crouches, trying to reduce is silhouette out of sheer instinct. She doesn't act like someone who's being chased. But then, a Shadow-spy wouldn't, would she? Fool, fool, fool.

"Show yourself. I will not be hounded like some wild beast."

Those eyes... Meeting her gaze, Lyr feels a strange sort of lurch in his chest, not fear, only a little shock, it is something unfamiliar to him, and he almost takes a step forwards, his dark eyes drawn into those pale blue lights. Though he can't look away, he can feel his fingers twitch, trying to mimic some arcane, unknown patterns half remembered from the agonising, an unsuccessful rote learning Pitas Voreen had worked him at.

Her voice is so regal, though... Time to roll the dice, Lyr thinks grimly. He straightens and steps slowly forwards, his hands at his sides but slightly wide to show he bares no weapons.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She catches a glimpse of something half-crouched in the shadows, her uncertainty making it seem large enough to be an orc, or maybe a human in the heavy robes of a legate. She raises her hands slightly as the figure steps from the darkness. The tiniest of creases appears between her eyebrows as a slight man emerges, not much taller than herself; seen through the lens of her fear he had seemed much larger. He is silent, though he holds his hands out in non-threatening manner. She regards him silently for some moments before it dawns on her that she had seen this man before, at the inn. Her gut twists once more as she recalls the bizarre sensations associated with that encounter. Whatever else, he was more than he seemed.

"Who are you and why have you been following me?"

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

The Dorn stands from his seat, a hand automatically reaching for an axe handle out of reflex. He catches himself and stops reaching for it near instantly, instead putting the hand at its side.

"I presume you are the keep of this sleepeng house. My companion here has suggested I find lodging here for the evening." He states matter-of-factly.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr forces his quailing stomach into stillness as the woman speaks. Seeing her face to face this close makes his palms itch again, a queer arcane tingling that seemed to crackle out of the very core of his being. The... power... was giddy-making and nauseating at once, he danced on the edge of being swept away by this woman's presence. Woman? Or girl? How old is she... it's hard to tell with that cowl. The young Erenlander lowers his arms slowly back to his sides, folding the fingers slightly to try and stop the trembling.

With more confidence than he feels, he speaks in a soft tone "I could ask you the same questions. I... had thought you were a ...legate," with an oddly tense inflection on the word, "or one of their spies at least. But one such as that wouldn't associate with alchemists..." he leans forward, dark eyes suddenly bright "or magicians, like your new acquaintance the Healer. So, who are you?"

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"A legate? No, I am neither a legate nor one of their spies."

She regards him critically, her delicate features hard. Her hands remain slightly raised; she resists the urge to lower them when he mentions magic. Instead she stays motionless, her mind rapidly attempting to sort out his intentions.

"It seems your stalking has netted you rabbit instead of bear. I am just a traveller, with an interest in the local fauna - and hardly worthy of such scrutiny."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

He twitches his lips wryly at her talk of 'stalking'. Not so stealthy, it seems.

"I'm hardly proud of what I did... but, mistress, there is something beyond the mundane about you. I have a... sense of it." Lyr narrows his eyes fractionally. "And what's more, you spoke to the Healer about some encroaching threat to Kingscross. Something has struck me as wrong ever since I've been here. I may be a stranger and traveller here too, but if you know something about this danger, you must tell me."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Something beyond the mundane?

It gave her pause to think that he might have felt that bizarre sensation at their earlier meeting. Either way, he clearly suspected her magical ability. The smart thing to do would be to walk away, and put as much distance between herself and this man as possible.

For a moment, she is on the brink of doing just that. Then the man unwittingly hits upon exactly the right words to stay her feet. So far this evening her warnings had fallen on deaf ears. If this man was a shadowfriend he already had more than enough information to damn her - he wouldn't be bothering with more conversation. She lowers her hands, her face softening with the gesture.

"Traveller, this town is not safe. I have learned there will be an orc raid on the morrow. If you are wise you will be leaving as soon as you may."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr blinks in shock at the woman's words. Suddenly, all too many scraps of rumour, innuendo and intuition fall into place, and he pales a little, feeling the chill in the air renewed. "An orc raid? Izra'dor." He sounds truely shaken. "You're sure? No, of course you are." The spellsoul stares blankly at the ground for several long moments, tangled in thought, before meeting her gaze earnestly.

"Have you spoken to mayor Lusk about this? Light, we'll have to start everyone moving now... How did you find out about it? How many? From where?" Unaware of what he's doing, Lyr steps forward and gently takes the dark haired woman by the elbow, accompaning her as he attempts to lead her back to the festival and the mayor of Kingscross. It is an incongruously chivalrous gesture, though unintentional.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

The channeler finds herself being led by the elbow by the stranger almost before she knows it. For a moment she is dumbfounded, staggered by a sudden heady feeling of power, numbly following in his grasp. Catching herself, she disengages her arm; the feeling lessens but does not depart, lapping at her insides like the swelling of the tide. She stops and waits for him to look at her.

"Did the mayor strike you as a fool? If not, then he must already know. I learned in a roundabout fashion from Captain Stafford - the watch commander of the town. I suspect the elite of the town are already well aware."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr looks surprisedly at his own hand as she detatches it. Her skin... that close... A chill ran through his spine... the searing energy had felt closer than ever to the surface at that moment. And a great part of him was afraid of what would happen when it did. Carefully, Lyr took a respectful step back. In his eyes, a perceptive person may have seen a glint of uncertain fear.

"Captain Stafford? The man who was harassing the halfling?" Lyr frowns, and his tone indicates long, painful memories of such things. "If he knows...why aren't they preparing? The reeve lets them stand and dance while death dusts his shoes on their doorstep?"

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Yes, that same man. I don't know why they wait for the hammer to fall, but those few I have spoken with seem resigned already to whatever may happen."

The tortured sound of his voice tugs at her heart. He had been mistreated in the past, she suspected.

"Captain Stafford is not the bully he seems. I think if there was something he could do for these people he would do it."

She felt steadier now but that bizarre feeling was still present. There was something about this man, but what it was she had no idea.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

"There is something he can do. And if he is unwilling... it falls to you and I to do it." Lyr starts to pace.

"The villagers... if they take what food and clothing they can and scatter into the wilds, even just a few miles away from Kingscross and seek shelter, the orcs will come, the orcs will burn, the orcs will leave, and then they can rebuild." He frowns. "Orcs lack the discipline to scour the area more thouroughly... and even if a legate" he gobs on the dirt of the road... Too many times today have I had to speak that word. I thought I was free of you, father. "...a legate leads them, he may not have the will to drive them that hard."

He sounds more than a little desperate. There must be a way to save these people... because the alternative is too awful to contemplate.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

What do you know of a Legate's will?

Her ice rimmed gaze settles on his frustrated visage. His passion is stirring, and it falls well in line with her own wishes. Yet Stafford had risked himself to warn the halfling. She didn't think he would do that if he was willing to sacrifice this whole village.

"Stafford or the mayor must have some sort of plan. I cannot believe they would simply let this town be destroyed."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

The Erenlander sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He looks up into her face for a moment, but is unable to meet that cool gaze that gives away so little for long.

"Is that how you can remain so calm? I wish I could trust in that faith." He pauses in thought for a moment.

"What is your plan? You warned me to be gone before dawn, and you told the Healer the same... do you intend to flee?"

He blinks, remembering something. "Did I tell you my name?"

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Yes and no. Yes, I intend to flee and no, we made no introductions.

"My name is Aleina."

She shifts slightly but makes no move to offer her hand by way of greeting. It has been her habit to avoid casual contact as a matter of course, but doubly in his case. The aura seemed to have less of an effect on her but it was in no way diminished. Perhaps she was getting used to it.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

He inclines his head. "I am called Lyr a'Corian."

"You are staking all the hope these people have that Mayor Lusk or Captain Stafford plan to do something in the next few hours?"

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

"Greetings then, Lyr a'Corian."

Her eyes cloud over slightly as she considers the burden of the choice before her. Had Stafford not already known about the raid the decision would be easy. That knowledge coupled with the cold response her first two warnings had received put things in a less certain light.

"That responsibility, and the weight of that decision, falls on the leaders of this town. If they were unaware it would be different. As it stands, causing an uproar now might serve only to hinder any plan that they have."

Her voice is confident but she feels the rat's teeth of doubt gnawing steadily at her resolve.

"If you are close with any here you would do well to warn them, but beyond that it may do more harm then good."

She pauses, on the brink of bidding him farewell. He could go warn whomsoever he chose, could go start a riot if he wanted. It didn't matter to her.

Or did it? Now it came down to it, she is drawn by the lure of the unknown. Whatever that feeling was, his presence was a trigger for it. She chews her lower lip for the briefest of instants, racking her brain for answers. It was unlike any of the visions that had come to plague her, but those visions didn't always manifest themselves in the same way. Perhaps in time it would become clearer. Suddenly her eyes focus sharply, piercingly, on his own. Fear thrills down her spine.

What if it is him and not me?

The possibility hadn't entered her mind before, and it didn't comfort her now. Either way, she wanted to know more.

"What will you do? I plan on stopping by the inn and then leaving immediately."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Unlike before, Lyr manages to meet Aleina's gaze steadily this time, though the lurching sensation intensifies. For a moment, he thinks he sees alien lights flickering in the depths of her eyes, but whatever phantasm it is passes. As she speaks, his expression takes on the faintest look of hurt, as if he is dissapointed in what she says.

"And if Lusk and Stafford have no plan? Would you stand idly by and let these goodly folk be put to the sword and brand? You say the responsibility is not yours... but if you can help your kin, and do not... how are you any better than the orcs?" He shakes his head mournfully. "Unless it is fed and tended, the flame of what is keft that is still sacred to us will go out... and we will all be at fault. And we will all be drowned in the darkness that flows from the North."

"Nevertheless... I have to find my friend Dun Abben... he may be back at the inn, too" Unless that girl he was with was more friendly than I thought... Lyr thinks wryly. "After that, I'm going to speak to Master Leiden, the innkeeper, and the Mayor. Maybe there is something I can do to help."

He pauses. "If you will not help me, then so be it. But if you will..." Lyr turns and walks towards the inn, but cannot stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder curiously several times, is eyes drinking in Aleina's image without truly appreciating it, feeling the swirl of disconcerting magic she stirs up within him recede with each step.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

He rails at her, perhaps justly, for her refusal to take action. He was right about one thing at least: the shadow would bury the tiny flame of hope the minute none were left to keep it alive. All the more reason for those tending the fire to not throw away their lives needlessly. She manages to deflect the shame he casts her way, and when she follows it is with the same confident air as before.

"I would not see you risk yourself unnecessarily. I will go with you to speak to Lusk that we may see what plan he has, but more than that I will not promise."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr gives a seigh of relief when he sees Aleina start to follow him, and slow his pace to let her catch up. He makes his way towards the Weary Wandrer, searching for Dun.

[Cadrius]

Lyr, Aleina, Dun, and Rhotha'ah

The door to the common room opens, letting in a draft of air that sends the candlelight flickering wildly. Shadows leap and spin to the dance of air and fire. Standing in the door are Lyr and Aleina. They are two very different people, perhaps not as day and night, but more like a starry night and an overcast one. They find Dun standing in the middle of the room, speaking with Leiden and a large Dorn. The sight of a pureblooded Dorn is unusual, although perhaps less so since they were driven from their ancestral lands.

"Ah, two more of my guests have returned, and from a wonderful night, too. Did you enjoy it?" Leiden asks, grinning at Lyr and Aleina before turning back to Dun and the Dorn, "Anyway. If you've got something to trade, you're more than welcome to a room in my inn. Just make it quick, I'd like to catch a little sleep before Lusk has us up at dawn."

Even with the addition of two more bodies, the inn still seems all too large in the dim light. The shadows cause the doors and archways to yawn cavernously.

Heulwen

She dreams. This isn't an ordinary dream though, she dreams of what was not, or at least, what is not. There are halflings, and none bound in chains, being tortured by their orcish keepers. Her dreams here are pastoral; green flourishes everywhere, and halflings move about. Some look to be farmers, others sheperds, a few run businesses in a modest village that lies in the center of a shallow valley. Heulwen watches all of this from her vantage point on a low hill. There must be a stream nearby, she can hear it gurgling merrily. A warm breeze gently caresses her skin, and she almost thinks she can make out the smell of fresh baked bread.

A hot breath on her palm lets her know she's not alone. Cytaill sits next to her, watching the same scene. After a moment he tilts his head and looks at Heulwen. Meeting his gaze is like beholding the infinite and for a moment she becomes lost in the dark, intelligent eyes. He turns his head away from the halfling village and looks onto the other side of the hill. Impossible though it may be, Kingscross sits before her and trees suddenly sprout around her, growing from sapling to full-grown in the blink of an eye. She's in the woods again. Cytaill remains at her side, and he watches the human encampment. His hackles rise and he lets out a low, throaty growl, before bounding off, down the hill and toward the town.

[Berova]

Dun

Dun turns around to see who Leiden is addressing, and to his surprise he sees Lyr and that ... strange woman ...

A smile returns to Dun, "This night is full of surprises." he thinks, and greets his friend, "Lyr! Out for a midnight stroll I see..."

"Oh, this is Rhotha'ah," indicating to the Dorn, "whom I met on the way back to the Weary Wanderer. Care to introduce your new acquaintance?"

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr's eyes widen in surprise, then he grins as he hurries over to clasp Dun on the shoulder.

"I'm glad to find you here, my friend. Master Leiden." He nods a greeting. The short, slim man straightens and throws off his cloak, eager to be done with the necessities. Suddenly, he pauses, eyeing the towering Dorn. Steady... this is no time to become careless and give too much away. The man cleared Lyr's height by a clear foot, and even standing still he looked ready to do battle. Fierce green eyes regarded Lyr briefly.

"Ahhm... Master Rhotha'ah," Lyr murmurs politely. Dun would not surely not associate with one of their enemies... But what man would announce his allegiances so openly?

"This is Aleina." He indicates to her, somewhat unsure of what other introductions to make.

"Dun, Master Leiden... might we perhaps have a word in private?"

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Seeming impatient, Aleina simply nods as Lyr and Dun make introductions. Her gaze lingers a moment on Rhotha'ah, noting the way his jaw muscles bunch, as if he survived by chewing his anger. He was almost a giant and he looked as strong as one. His warlike demeanor set her on edge, dredging unpleasant memories from the past.

Attend to the business of the present.

Without comment, she moves beside Lyr and Leiden. If there was to be a private discussion, she would be involved.

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

Rhotha'ah raises an eyebrow at the innkeeper, reaching for the talisman around his neck. "I am no trader, inn keep. I am in search of one who would wear a mask of this make. Do you know who they might be, or know anyone who has this information?"

He tosses the object onto the table closest to the inkkeper, before looking up to see the two newcomers. Watching the smaller man almost duck for cover like a mouse was partially amusing, but the way the slender woman looked at him with what looked like no little amount of fear was painful like a knife cutting through his stomach. As the phantom pain crept through his soul, his thoughts trailed to one name that made the final twist of the blade. Ilri'thi.

Jaw clenching tighter, Rhotha'ah closes his eyes and forces himself to not think of what might be happening to the owner of that name, instead focusing on the owner of the fragment of mask on the table and the world of pain that would be introduced should they ever meet. He turns his piercing green eyes towards the innkeeper once again, awaiting an answer.

[Berova]

Dun

A surprised, yet curious Dun answers Lyr with a nod and a simple, "Of course." The sudden dynamics of events happening fast and furious with Rhotha'ah and Leiden's entrance then Lyr and the strange woman has Dun intrigued, but there is little time with which to dwell and ponder.

Dun awaits the innkeeper's answer to Rhotha'ah's question before he excuses himself and moving towards Lyr.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Heulwen shivers slightly as she watches her dream unfold. A mere spectator she watches through her own eyes as the dream progresses. Turning in her sleep, Heulwen's hand reaches out instinctivly for the comforting presense beside her as her dreams turn dark. Never even really awake her hand streatches to find fur.

[Cadrius]

Aleina, Dun, Lyr, and Rhotha'ah

Leiden's brow furrows at the Dorn's question. He shoots a glance to Dun, before replying.

"Son, there are plenty of hours in the day where I'm available for talkin', but now ain't one of them. So if you don't have any business, I suggest you go find some place warm to sleep."

His frown deepens though when he's pulled aside by the others. He draws a deep breath and sighs. Shaking his head, likely attempting to dissolve some of his fatigue.

"Young masters, my lady," he says quietly, "I hope this is important."

Heulwen

She dreams. Cytaill's disappearance sets her a bit on edge. His dislike for humans and their towns were known to her, so why he would go toward one strikes her as both curious and worrisome. She takes a glance over her shoulder, perhaps faintly hoping for another glimpse of the halfling village, but nothing but dark woods greet her. The shadows are long indeed, and the branches almost completely obscure the sky. It's still dark, but the faintest tinge to the East lets her know it will be short lived. She follows the now far distant wogren and wonders what she might find.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr guides the four to a table on the edge of the tap room, hoping for a little privacy. He seats himself on the bench next to it.

"Indeed it is, master Leiden. Perilously so." He takes a breath and rubs the back of his neck, summoning the will to overcome his naturally shy disposition.

"Mistress Aleina has told me of a dire tale she learned from Constable Stafford. That... a war party of orcs will descend on this place by tommorrow morn. Their purpose..." he shrugs, "can be safely assumed to bode no good for you, master Leiden, your kin, neighbours, or even we wanderers," his sombre, dark eyes taking in Aleina and Dun.

"Though clearly Stafford knows, and presumably mayor Lusk must as well, I have seen no preparations being made... and I fear that they are willfully leaving Kingscross unready for this danger. My intention is to seek out the mayor and ask him why, and then lend whatever aid I can to lead as many people to safety as possible. I thought that a local vocie might add a little weight to our pleas."

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

The furrows on the barbarian's forehead deepen considerably as his nostrils dilate to allow for an equine-like snort of dissatisfaction.

"Fine. I shall return at dawn for your answers."

Barely able to contain his rage over their unwillingness to help, he snatches up the mask from the table and storms out of the building, walking through the streets which he walked to get to the inn to return towards his cache of equipment to rest for a few hours.

[Berova]

Dun

As Dun listens to Lyr's tale, he study's Leiden face to gauge his reaction.

Dun observes the Dorn stomp out, but quickly returns his attention to the conversation between Lyr and the innkeeper.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

The strangeness of the scene sets Heulwen on edge. In a futile effort to catch up to Cytaill, she begins to run after him, knowing full well that she will only catch him if he stops to let her.

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Aleina watches the barbarian's departure with a mix of curiousity and skepticism on her face. He obviously wasn't used to local customs, which wasn't particularly surprising. What did surprise her, though, was the depth of his anger over so small a thing. Whatever his purpose, it was dear to him.

Returning her gaze to Leiden, she waits quietly to see how Lyr's words are received. It annoyed her slightly that Lyr had indicated her as the bearer of that information; even more that he had revealed her source. She didn't know Stafford, he didn't know her, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Naught to be done about it now.

[Cadrius]

Aleina, Dun, and Lyr

Leiden frowns at the barbarian's behavior, but nods and calls after Rhotha'ah, "If I'm not here, I'll be out cleaning up."

Once the Dorn has left he turns to Dun and asks, "Is he one of your's, Master Abben?" His voice is polite, but clearly the man isn't happy about being rousted from his bed, especially to have demands for information made upon him. Dark rings hang below his eyes and he looks less jolly than he did earlier in the evening.

He frowns at Lyr's remarks, but remains silent until the man has spoken his peace. The innkeep's face darkens at the mention of a war party, but otherwise remains neutral. He seems to have received plenty of practice when it comes to listening impassively.

"We weren't told it was a war band," he says, slowly, "but yes, there were preparations made. Lusk has a good number of us to me roused at dawn to begin putting the town back in order. The orcs aren't expected until tomorrow night given that they don't like daytime travel," he pauses, "we should be safe."

Heulwen

She dreams. Flowing down the landscape in pursuit of the ever shrinking form of Cytaill, Heulwen makes better time than she should be able to. Yet she doesn't see it until the first of the buildings are within a stone's throw.

Kingscross is ruined. She isn't certain as to the cause, but she couldn't see the damage from the woods. Wreckage lies strewn about the ground. Homes are shattered and charred, fire looking to have eaten greedily. Here and there she spies bodies of humans, each bearing grevous wounds, but they all bear one common characteristic; they all died with a look of complete terror carved into their features. It's as if the wounds didn't matter.

She finds Cytaill at the center of town and quickly sees that he is not alone. Standing at the opposite side of the square where she had first met Stafford, is a man of middle years. The faintest bit of gray touches the area around his temples. He face is not unkind, but lines mark his face, as if from excessive frowning. Yet his eyes, sharp as any eagle's are what catch her own eyes. The briefest flicker of surprise rolls through them before he strides toward the halfling.

"You should not be here, child," he commands, "it is coming."

As if on cue, the light in the dreamscape darkens slightly, like a cloud had passed in front of the sun. Heulwen looks up but the sky is overcast. When her eyes return the man faces away, looking East, watching a dark speck that is growing at an alarming rate. Yet as it draws closer, Heulwen is unable to make out a definable shape. Indeed, all she can tell is that this shadow, this form, is merely getting closer and closer. It looks to be as large as a house and she begins to make out great black wings. Just before it reaches the town he turns back to face the halfling.

"It always ends in fire," he whispers.

She wakes. Confused and disoriented it takes her several moments to reaffirm where she is. One hand clutches Cytaill's back, wrapped around the wogren's thick fur. He looks at her, eyes shining in the dim light of the stars.

Rhotha'ah

The Dorn storms out of the inn, angry at being denied knowledge of the owner of the mask. He winds his way back through town, retracing his steps in an effort to find the path that the young erenlander named Dun had taken him on. It takes a while, but he eventually finds it, leading him to the brook.

[Berova]

Dun

Leiden:
Once the Dorn has left he turns to Dun and asks, "Is he one of your's, Master Abben?"

"I would not quite put it that way, Master Leiden. I happened upon him on my way back to The Weary Wanderer and thought it quite unusual that a stranger be out alone by the creek in the darkest of night, but nevertheless thought he could use a roof over his head this cold night. I guess I was wrong..." Dun replies simply to the innkeep's query.

Dun listens to Leiden's response to Lyr intently, occasionally throwing side glances at Lyr and Aleina, but otherwise does not say anything.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr a'Corian seems to deflate as Leiden speaks. Of course. You thought you could do anyhting to help, anything these people couldn't have done themselves? Fool, fool, fool.

"Ahh." He manages a thin smile. "I'm glad that my warnings have proved unecessary." After a moment, the slim man's expression grows sombre and serious. "Is there any way I can lend myself to your aid? I'm no warrior, but I have studied the lives of those who were; I know a little about the battles that have marred Eredane... if that knowledge could be of any use to you, consider it at your disposal."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Her strange eyes find the floorboards near her feet as Leiden speaks and she puts her hands into the sleeves of her cloak, each grasping the opposite forearm. Of course he already knew. Of course he didn't think anything else should be done. That had been Stephen's reaction as well. Why, then, did she still have the nagging feeling that Lyr was right in wanting to see the town run?

The gaze she turns on the small man is brief enough to be unreadable. When she looks at Leiden she is wearing a sad smile.

"Our apologies for disturbing your rest, then."

She turns as if to go, but then changes her mind and looks back at him.

"You'll call it naught more than a woman's fear, but something in my gut tells me there is nothing routine about this inspection. Be prepared for anything."

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

Back in the wilds, the barbarian seems to calm down a little, his frustration ebbing like a receeding sea. He manages to find his way back to the brook where he met the smaller man and halts, stooping himself to wash his face in the cold waters. Whilst most men would be loathe to touch the cold water, Rhotha'ah is happy to find at least a moment's refreshment, his Dornish heritage keeping the cold at bay.

After cooling his face down a touch, he continues walking the already trodden path to his hidden cache of weapons, and settles down for at least a short rest before returning to the town to recieve the answers. As he closes his eyes, his fingers toy with the black porcelain 'amulet', as visions of vengeance dance through his slumbering mind.

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Slowly untangling her hand from Cytaill's fur, Heulwen smile reassuringly at him. Sitting up, she takes in her surroundings, trying to determine what woke her up. Everything seems the same as when she went to sleep.

Slowly the memory of the dream works its way into her waking mind. Once again Heulwen shivers, the memory feels as real as the dream had.

"It was only a dream," she says, half to Cytaill and half to herself. But it had not been like an ordinary dream. Indeed even the memory of it did not feel like a real dream. It had been almost as if she had been there. Quickly looking up at the sky, Heulwen half expects to see the form from her dream come to life. Instead the comforting sight of the stars greets her eyes.

Standing up, Heulwen looks towards Kingscross, trying to assure herself that it is still there. The town is quiet, most of the people having gone to bed, but here and there she can make out the faint glow of a lamp or candle burning near a window inside. Everything was normal.

Reassured by the sight, Heulwen settles back down. "It was only a dream," she sighs again. Curling up under her blanket again, Heulwen tries to fall back asleep. Her nerves are on edge however and the sleep that comes is only fitful. Her body does not want to be asleep when the sun rises.

[Cadrius]

Aleina, Dun, and Lyr

"Is there any way I can lend myself to your aid? I'm no warrior, but I have studied the lives of those who were; I know a little about the battles that have marred Eredane... if that knowledge could be of any use to you, consider it at your disposal."

The man's brow furrows at the statement. He smiles sadly and says, "No, son, I fear we wouldn't be much for a fight. Haven't been for a long time. If all they want is to look around, steal some of our hard earned goods--" his eyes pickup a more dangerous glint in the dim light "--then...then I say we nod and go on. No sense in dyin' over bread and pies."

"You'll call it naught more than a woman's fear, but something in my gut tells me there is nothing routine about this inspection. Be prepared for anything."

"Aye," Leiden says, "So you folk will be off to bed then? No more disturbing a poor innkeep's sleep? If you are able, please join us in the morning for the cleaning. Plenty o' leftovers for breakfast--" he grins "--including some brandy I kept safe from the rest of the celebration. Good evening to you, or good morning, whichever it is."

Waving, Leiden's large form disappears back through the black doorway and the three find themselves alone. A quiet settles over the inn once more and the three Erenlanders face each other.

Heulwen

From her vantage point on the sloped hill that the forest rests upon, Heulwen observes the village. Reassured by the sight of the intact town she settles back down. Her eyes are drooping and sleep almost overtakes her again but it's interrupted by Cytaill's low, throaty growl. The halfling comes fully awake at that point, eyes taking in her surroundings made clear by the starlight.

Standing quite still, not twenty feet away is a traveler. A man by the looks of his shape, but he is cowled and covered in thick wool clothes, suited to travel at this time of year. He bears a walking stick and leads a fully-laden horse. The horse whinneys softly at the growl but a few soothing words from the man has it quiet again.

"Easy, boy," he says to Cytaill, "just passing through."

Heulwen reaches out a hand, to her companion uncertain as to this man's intentions but not wanting her wogren to tear out his throat before she can figure out who he is. Yet to her surprise Cytaill has calmed, his muscles are still tensed, but he no longer bears an immediate murderous intent about him. Still, he watches the man with intent, wary eyes.

"Didn't mean to disturb you, miss," the man says, "just on my way out of Kingscross."

Rhotha'ah

Rhotha'ah has little trouble finding his cache, despite the night. After a brief check he's satisfied that all of his possessions are still, in fact, there. The Dorn begins to settle himself in when he notices it; torches, coming from the East and headed directly for him and Kingscross. The darkness and the distance shroud both their numbers and identity but he counts several dozen torches all the same.

[Kahluah]

Rhotha'ah

Just about to close his eyes, the barbarian spots the glimmer of torches moving through the forest, coming directly for him and the township to the west. He growls to himself once again as he stands up to grab his belongings and roll them up as quickly as he can. He straps the bastard sword over his back in its usual fashion, being that it is easier to carry that way, and stuffs the remaining bundle under his arm or over his back.

If this is an advancing raiding party, it does not bode well for this town. Mayhaps that strange woman or her companions will know more..

With that thought, Rhotha'ah makes his way, once again, into town towards the Weary Wanderer Inn, hoping that the trio of Erenlanders are still there.

[Berova]

Dun


[Leiden]
"Aye," Leiden says, "So you folk will be off to bed then? No more disturbing a poor innkeep's sleep? If you are able, please join us in the morning for the cleaning. Plenty o' leftovers for breakfast--" he grins "--including some brandy I kept safe from the rest of the celebration. Good evening to you, or good morning, whichever it is."

Dun gives the innkeeper a nod and answers for himself, "It's the least I could do for you and this town, to help with the cleanup and all." as he gives a sideward glance at Aleina and Lyr. "I'll hold you to the breakfast and that brandy, and, if you will, I would have a word or two with you, but in the morn, after you've had a good night's rest. Good evenin' sir."

Patiently he waits for Lyr and Aleina to have their say with Leiden and for the innkeeper to take his leave before he has a word with his two fellow Erenlanders, "Now what's all this talk of Orc warbands? ... afterall, it wouldn't be unheard of for a goon of Orcs to come through here and, as master Leiden said, steal some bread and pies, nor would it be much out of character for them, pardon my language, to gut a villager or two just kicks an' to put 'em in their place..."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

She says nothing as the innkeeper incorrectly assumes she will be staying the night, nor does she say anything as he departs. His receding footfalls gradually fade, but her dread does not. Once again, her warning is for naught. She shakes her head slightly at Dun, frowning, before she responds.

"I know little more than what Lyr told Leiden. You are right, it shouldn't be anything to worry about. I am worried, though. Something is very wrong; I can feel it in my bones. And I am not staying here. I am leaving, as soon as I may, and I advise you to do the same."

She looks quickly at Lyr.

"Are you still certain you wish to waste time speaking with the mayor?"

[Black Plauge]

Heulwen

Who is this man that he can put Cytaill at ease with just a few words?

"You did not disturb me much," Heulwen replies to the strange man, "Truth be told, I was awake when I heard you approach and was simply curious as to who would be traveling so late at night. Understandably though, both my friend and I are cautious around human settlements, so you will have to forgive him if he startled your horse."

Eying the man carefully Heulwen spares a sidelong glance to look back the way he came, and uses looking down at Cytaill as an excuse to check the location of her sword near her feet.

"Why do you travel so late at night, if you don't mind my asking. You carry no light, which I find unusual for your kind."

[Dirigible]

Lyr

"Are you still certain you wish to waste time speaking with the mayor?"

Lyr closes his eyes and lets his head slump for a moment, weariness, frustration and depression warring for control of his consciousness. With effort, he raises his eyes and shakes his head at Aleina. "No. I doubt he'd be any more concerned than master Leiden. Besides, they may be right; they know the region and it's occupiers better than we, or at least I; perhaps this is just a standard blood-tithe or ransacking." The slender man scowls. "Nevertheless, I'd rather not be here when they arrive."

He pauses, glancing at her almost shyly. "Ahhm... Where does your journey take you? I have no destianation for myself, and I wouldn't mind... uhhhhm... travelling with you."

[Gralhruk]

Aleina

Where am I going?

The question sits uncomfortably in her mind, an undigestible lump from a meal forced upon her. The truth was, she didn't really know where she might go next. Hadn't her goal been to help people? It rankled deeply that she could only dress the wounds, not prevent them. Her eyes get a far away look before returning to focus on Lyr.

"I don't have any final destination in mind, but I know at least where I will be spending this night. The ruins of some fortress or tower lie on a small hill just outside of town - that is where I will go for now. You are welcome to come with me, if you want."

Her thoughts go briefly to Heulwen and Feyd, wondering what their reaction would be should she appear with two more humans in tow. Feyd would probably accept them with little question, the halfling might well be more suspiscious. She unconsciously straightens her shoulders. That would have to be dealt with when the situation arose.

[Dirigible]

Lyr

Lyr nods. Those broken-down walls obviously didn't aid their last defenders, but if worst comes to worst, they may shield us from the eyes of the orcs.

"Alright. I will fetch my belongings." He turns to his recent friend. "And what of you, Dun? Are you going to stay here the night? For my say, you are wlecome to come with us."

[Berova]

Dun

"The ol' tower eh?" Dun asks, no one in particular. "Thanks for the offer to join you two at the tower... but I have some personal business I must attend to before I can leave..." He glances at Aleina before returning his gaze to Lyr, "If I can finish my business here early in the morning, I'll see 'bout meeting with you two there."

Dun rises from his chair, prepared to follow Lyr as he heads up to their room.

[Cadrius]

Rhotha'ah

His breath comes in and out in short bursts, sending small gouts of steam whirling into the chill autumn air. He isn't entirely sure who bears those torches, but it's uncommon for anyone with good intentions to travel by night. Still, if he judged the distance right, they aren't too far from the town, an hour at the most, probably less.

He jogs back along the dark path, careful to avoid any stray rocks that would send the large Dorn sprawling. Feet thump steadly against the earth as Rhotha'ah makes his way back as quickly as he's able. Within a few minutes he's back at the outskirts of town, moving through the now silent village. All the revelers look to have gone to bed, retiring for a few hours of rest before an early rise.

Rounding the corner Rhotha'ah spies the Weary Wanderer, only slowing just enough to get a grip on the handle, the door--

Dun, Lyr, and Aleina

--is flung open, rebounding off the wall with a loud crack. In the doorway stands the lightly panting form of the man who had stormed out only a few minutes earlier. The three are assembled at the foot of the stairs, Lyr and Aleina shouldering their belongings. The Dorn that Dun knows as Rhotha'ah looks determined, intent on something.

Heulwen

"Your friend was merely being a good companion, I do not take offense," the cowled man says, a tint of humor in his voice. There's something about it, his voice, that strikes Heulwen as familiar. Perhaps he is one of the townsfolk that was in Kingscross earlier today.

"Why do you travel so late at night, if you don't mind my asking. You carry no light, which I find unusual for your kind."

Silence envelopes them and he doesn't respond. For a moment Heulwen almost thinks that he hasn't even heard her. Instead he looks over his shoulder, toward the east, and then back at her. In the distance an owl addresses the woods.

"I am leaving because a great danger is going to be visited upon those people if I do not. I would urge you, madam, to seek shelter further in the woods and begone from these lands as soon as you are able. Things will be...difficult for a while."

He shifts the bag from one shoulder to the other and busies himself checking over the supplies on his horse when Heulwen notices something. The man covers it up less than a moment after she spots it, but the starlight provides enough light for Heulwen's sharp eyes to spy it. She can see another reason why he doesn't ride, besides the darkness. What she mistook for a great deal of supplies she now sees as something else. More than food and water are borne by the horse. A large, bulky shape lies across the saddle of the horse, covered with a large, thick cloak. She can't make out what it is, but for the briefest instant, she sees a thick, gnarled hand.

"I have kept you too long," he says, "I bid you good evening."