# Logos: The Golden Path



## RedTonic (Jun 25, 2011)

I recently started a campaign with a group of friends plus a friend-of-a-friend based on a setting I started developing way back in the mists of time. The world's been batted around quite a bit, but still isn't wholly realized; nevertheless, we've liked it for a long time. The last time I ran a campaign in it, the game wound up dead due to time concerns on my part; I ran it as a pbp game on another board for a different group (I won't be totally surprised if someone from there happens to recognize it, even if I use a different handle now).

We use 3.5e with some house-ruling. I'll start with something about our party...

*****​
Cael Akbar: Acolyte of Zauriel, god of trickery, oracles, and prophecy.
Agniprava: A young ascetic seeking enlightenment through privation, exertion, and meditation.
Mikealus Hel'Halmar: Unaffiliated paladin in the Order of the Silver Horn. A noble third son who dreams of glory.
Belsea: A young guide, hunter, and tracker; half-human. She alone of the group has no family to speak of.


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## RedTonic (Jun 29, 2011)

N.B.: I've rearranged the sections to provide a little more coherence, since Agniprava's section begins with a mention of another stranger to Ceteran. Cael is that stranger.

*****​
The tiny cell was given Cael by the charity and forbearance of the priesthood, and more than a few of the clergy here in Ceteran let him know it, too. The plaster walls were pale, the floor bare, the straw pallet hard, but everything was clean, and there was nary a single louse to be found. A small table and thin cushion in the floor beneath an open shutter gave him a place to write, and there were a couple of candles should he decide to study at night. The library on the temple grounds was open to all clergy, permanent or visiting, so Cael had the luxury of reading alone in his room if he wished. A heavy trunk with a simple lock was provided to hold his things. If he had no company but the Red Brother, so be it--the food here was good, better than most he'd had on the road.

But for the first time in many a month, Cael was given the time to awaken at his own pace.

A scrap of parchment sat on the writing desk. "Make yourself known here, and known as useful. When it's time to move on, you will know." The ink was red, the handwriting hurried but graceful. Cryptic, but that was to be expected from Red Brother, as Cael never really spoke with the man outside of a mentor/pupil relationship. Most of the time, it had been instructions, sometimes chastising if he failed to grasp a concept. He knew very little about Red Brother, not even his true name. 

The bell for morning services was ringing. There would be breakfast in the great hall soon--at this time of the season, that meant coffee, the last of the supplies for gruel and bread, cheese, and preserved meats--the standard fare of the region. Soon, the garden the novices here tended would sprout. The First Thaw had ended and the portents apparently looked good for harvest.

He dressed in his vestments and prepared to break fast. Other clerics and priests were in their prayers, but Cael had already said his at night as ordained by Red Brother. Before taking a seat in the far corner of the dining common, he said a quick prayer anyways, asking Zauriel to watch over his family, whom he had not seen in over two years. After he placed his setting of a meager spoon and fork, he obtained his portion of victuals, and sat in peace. Even though the other members avoided him, Cael was not put off by this. The rest of those staying here were mostly haughty, holier-than thou types that looked down upon Cael and his order. He noticed this from the first day Red Brother and he arrived, though it was made abundantly clear the next few months they spent lodging there. There would always be quiet whisperings when they entered the room that ceased as the two came near.

Cael slowly chewed on his meal, his mind drifting back to the note. It was odd that Red Brother would up and leave so suddenly without taking Cael with him. Cael was not even fully trained in all of the aspects of Zauriel’s order, much less capable of striking out on his own. How would he know when the time was to move on? He tucked the crust of bread into a napkin to save for later and took his plate up to wash. He would probably speak to Father Eltier to seek his counsel. Though advanced in years, his mind was sharp and his speech was pleasant. Of all those staying here, Cael had only felt truly welcomed by Father Eltier. He set his dish to dry and strolled to where the venerable man was deep in prayer. 

The garden where the ancient priest prayed was unlike any Cael had seen before. In fact, by any common standard, the space could hardly be called a garden at all. The space was tucked away in a corner of the compound, between the Old Monastary and temple proper, and hemmed in on two sides by a high stone wall. There were a few dwarfed trees, mainly growing from those ancient walls; their boughs yet budded. Eltier knelt on a weather-worn stone in the center of a wide pool of sand, studded with dark, craggy rock. Moss and lichen grew on them. They could hardly be said to be beautiful or even unusual. The sand was kept clean of litter, a task assigned daily to whatever unfortunate novice aroused a senior's irritation. Eltier seemed to be the one to most frequently visit it. The appeal was lost on most of the rest.

Cael waited in silence and knelt down next to the man until he had completed. “Father Eltier, I come seeking your counsel. My mentor has tarried off to whereabouts unknown and I find myself lacking direction. I hoped you may enlighten me on what course I should take.”

After a time spent listening to the chatter of birds, the priest answered. "Ahh... Your master. He has left. I believe you will not see him for some time." He lapsed into silence again. The wind rustled the contorted trees. "So it is up to you what to do from here. Should you decide to remain with the Temple... Your stay has been long, and if you would do more than drift, you must find a role." He pulled a folded sheet of parchment from the sash tied at his waist. He turned it over in his hands for a few moments. The tiny buds swayed, and in another part of the yard, novices tended the plants which would feed the faithful.

Eltier placed the parchment on the stone beside him. "As a first step, you can make yourself useful. A patrol is leaving tomorrow for two tendays; they have need of one with some healing. They leave from the Sungate tomorrow morn. If you help the Silver Horn... You may not be well-loved, but you may become well-respected in Ceteran." And in an insular town that still remembered its frontier days, that was no small thing.

The wind blew softly through the garden as Cael reflected on the task. He had managed to learn some of the basics of healing, but to watch after an entire patrol? The most he had restored was a sprained ankle or a minor cut. And he had always had Red Brother’s guidance, even if his mentor spoke in mysteries. Cryptic advice was better than no advice, in Cael’s opinion.

On the other hand, the thought of sitting around here and doing nothing was less than thrilling. Not that Cael craved adventure, but getting out in the world to stretch his legs might not be such a bad idea. Plus, he would not need to suffer through the slights the other clerics threw at him ever so tactfully. Coupled with a potential chance to earn some respect would be a pleasant change.

“Yes, Father Eltier,” Cael spoke bowing his head, “I will do as you prescribe. I thank you for your advice, and if I may speak plainly, thank you for your hospitality until now. You have made this man feel welcome when you need naught. I can only hope that if, gods providing; I return, you will once again extend this humble cleric shelter. I shall leave you to your prayers, as I must go prepare my departure.”

Cael made another low bow as he backed away from the garden. He would need to stop by the stables to make sure his mule was saddled and packed before he left. For now, he would busy himself by packing the few scant items that belonged to him. Unlocking his trunk, he carefully laid his possessions on his table. There were many items he used in his prayers as well as a few other niceties he had received as gifts. His pride was his woodworking tools, which he reverently wrapped in a heavy linen cloth. As he placed the various items into his backpack, he finally came across the heaviest item in the trunk, a suit of armor made of hardened leather. Though it was not the prettiest of armaments, it did the trick and had saved him from a hairy situation once or twice. He felt the weight of it in his hands before setting it down. With most of his items accounted for or packed away, he locked the rest of his belongings in the trunk and set off to meet the stable master.


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## RedTonic (Jul 1, 2011)

The new storyhour entry is actually above. I'm merely rearranging these two sections.


*****​
The young ascetic had awoken in a  simple cell not unlike, nor far from, that of the other newcomer. He,  too, depended upon the charity of the temple at this time, though in his  faith, it was the greater order of things which sustained and buoyed  him. The monk glowed with a numinous holiness which was almost palpable  even to those not gifted with the ability to detect such things  directly.

Whilst under the temple's aegis in Ceteran, Agniprava was also submitted  to the spiritual guidance of an elderly sage. He had found, through  slow and considered discourse, that many of her views on the nature of  existence were very similar to his own, and that in all ways, her  insight appeared to penetrate much more deeply. With that, and due also  to her age, he found yielding to her instruction less difficult than he  might have--especially considering her nominal patron, the goddess of  death.

The sage was called Usha, and had sun-darkened skin the color of a  walnut, and hair as silver as a star. Her age, though great, was  indeterminate--after a point, all old people simply looked old. It was  with her that Agniprava currently meditated in silence. She had been  sitting in the empty room before he arrived, and they had not yet been  joined by others. The soft scrape of slippers and sandals beyond the  curtained doorway and their own breathing were the only sounds beyond  the turn of Agniprava's thoughts.

Her teaching methods were perhaps even more direct than those of his  commune. An overreach on the part of her students was occasionally  greeted with a resounding slap. Her lessons were laid out often times in  the form of paradox in order to break down the walls of reason which  blocked understanding according to the teaching she represented. She  was, in a word, heterodox; yet she had somehow survived purges and  orthodoxy and yet remained in this backwards town. Some said she had  attained such a state of enlightenment that she no longer needed to eat  or drink, so she had survived imprisonment; then she had attained a  purity that no longer required her to breathe, so she survived the test  of drowning; then she had attained a wholeness inviolate, such that she  could not be burned at the stake--and so the inquisition let her be, for  she obviously had the favor of the gods.

For now, Usha urged Agniprava, in her own way, to learn action without  thought--such that all action emerged from instinct, and was in all  things correct. She entertained questions, of course--but they had to be  correct questions... Which could be difficult to form.

Agniprava had grown more accustomed to this method of meditation in his  short time at the temple into whose arms his journeying had ushered him.  He was far more used to the recitation of mantras, as was the way of  the monks with whom he had grown up. That practice, however, had been  affronting to Usha, whose stern hand was, much to Agniprava's surprise,  nearly at strong as those of his masters, whose iron fists had been his  tutors in the martial arts. 

In truth, he was welcoming of different philosophies - it was, in fact,  why he had ventured out of Astra Forest in the first place. But it was  not simply a desire to learn that rendered him this submissive attitude.  Much more to the point, Usha reminded him in many ways of the oldest of  the monks he had left behind - the ascetics who were older than old,  and whose wisdom and power were beyond contest. So it was easy for him  to come to accept her as a new master - a new voice in his learning.

As they sat together in the consuming silence, Agniprava tried as much  as possible to think nothing at all. This was a teaching not foreign to  him, though he still struggled with it, a difficulty made more so since  Usha seemed to stress it even beyond his family. Sometimes this proved  unfortunate for him, should he manage to disturb her tremendous  concentration, a trait for which he held a great deal of admiration.

He longed for the Mantras - the drone of the unending words, and the  rhythm of the tones and syllables eased the passage of all thought from  one’s mind. He had come to find, though, that that was her point  precisely. Her annoying habit of rarely being wrong was irking, and  though it had on more than one occasion left him put out, he appreciated  the intensity and breadth of her unyielding wisdom. 

Yes, a perfect teacher.

His breathing was well controlled, which after his time here, and his  years in the forest had become effortless. His heart had slowed to a  bare crawl, and he could almost feel the blood slow in his veins. The  very ground upon which he sat seemed to beat in tender harmony with him.  He struggled against a painful awareness of how loud the curtain in the  doorway was as the breeze kicked it to and fro, or the thunderous crash  of the feet of those walking by in the hall. 

In this moment when he seemed to be entirely immersed in the flow of the  world around him, a thought occurred to him. At first he was angry, as  it had shattered his prescience, but then he turned it over in his mind,  and he realized it was a question. A question for Usha. 

He opened his eyes. He cringed - such attempts had ended very poorly for  him in the past - she was at times a cruel task master. But this one  seemed to be...well, the point. He felt as though he never thought of a  question quite like this one. It was the first time when he had the  impression that asking a question might not earn him a swift backhand to  the face. Summoning his courage as he did when one of his teachers  instructed him to attempt to strike them, he spoke.

"Teacher," he began, "If actions are to emerge from instinct only, and  be free from our thoughts, then our actions are in tune with The Cycle,  and in truth will resonant with the world around us." He paused, forming  his question carefully. "If that is the case, and we are to be driven  by instinct alone, how is it we judge when we must act, as our instincts  will drive us to action in many ways, but only some actions will be in  harmony with the Cycle itself?"

Usha did not crack an eye when she responded. For a wonder, she did not  bat him. Her voice was of the potency of a budding storm. "If you act  from the moment--from sincerity, as some say--then there is no judging.  There is only the natural response; the spontaneous good. For what is to  judge but to think? And what is the thought of a novice but the whisper  of false understanding? A student asked me, 'Usha, if a man walking  along a river sees a child drowning and a grandmother drowning, whose  life should he save?'"

After she posited the tale, Usha returned to silence. Her aura of stillness had not diminished from Agniprava's question.

The answer was concise, but he had grown used to that. Not being hit had  taken Agniprava somewhat by surprise. She however gave him a certain  amount of clarity, not just about the murkiness his question implied,  but also, he found, about his teacher. As similar as she was to his  first masters, her thoughts and teachings sounded so different. The  clarity of thought and action was not so different to be sure. Even the  koan she offered to him sounded much like those the ascetics would  recite to him. But to them it sounded much more like clarity of thought -  that to consider, and to judge was the truth of the way. He felt as  though the connection between Usha and his masters was that they would  agree that the decision, the action which proceeds from the thought,  should flow naturally, as merely an extension of ourselves, but there  seemed to be a dichotomy as well, implied in that she felt there was no  deciding, where to the monks it seemed to be everything.

Even as he thought the matter through, it occurred to him that the  distinction may not be so severe as he first thought, though he felt as  though he was thinking himself swiftly into circles. He was still a  novice after all... He had time to think.

He tried to settle back into his meditation with his master, thankful  for the decided lack of pain that accompanied not being slapped, but  feet outside the door shattered his already fragile concentration. At  the same time, his muscles tightened - Agniprava had a preternatural  habit of being ready for anything, as often his masters would test his  reflexes by trying - and often succeeding - to catch him off guard. That  and even though he felt she did not need any of his help, he had an  instinctual reaction to stand between intruders and his teachers, which  was in no small part due to the fact that for his whole life his  teachers had not just been dry old men, but his family, and a family to  his parents. 

Loyalty, it might be said, was in his blood.

He waited, his eyes now open to the veil in the doorway, to see who it was that was making their way towards them.

A slight young woman in a pale, dingy robe emerged. She stepped in and  hesitated when she saw Agniprava also in the room. A nearly  imperceptible change of expression overtook her as she finished her  steps. She knelt beside Usha and spoke tentatively in a language  Agniprava did not know, but had heard a few of the eldest of elders  speak. He had not yet heard the language here, however. The language was  tonal and sounded almost musical. Usha did not respond. There was  silence, and then the novice continued to speak quietly, darting a  glance at Agniprava meanwhile.

Agniprava wondered why the young woman seemed so off put by his  presence, as he watched her step into the room. He realized it might  have something to do with how intently she was staring at her, and felt  some remorse if he had put her out, but then he had hoped his  disposition towards everyone in the temple would relieve any stress his  occasional intensity might cause.

Usha gave no reply, but he knew she was listening intently. She never  seemed to lose her concentration either, which he found truly inspiring.  She then pointed at him, and he hoped that he had not done anything  wrong. The whole of his observations came full circle - she was off put  by him because she was talking about him... In a language he didn't  know, no less. Now he was a bit off put, but he tried not to be dismayed  by the affair. She could be saying anything to Usha really, and he  would just have to wait.

After a few moments, Usha merely pointed at him. The plain girl frowned  very slightly, nodded, and rose. She left the room much quieter then she  had entered it, and Agniprava found he had some trouble hearing her  foot falls, which made him curious as to why she was trying harder to  not be heard on her way out. 

"You will be at Sunsgate tomorrow at sunrise," Usha pronounced.

He blinked at her, desperate to know what a Sunsgate was, and how he was  to get there. He thought maybe it was a town, but wasn't sure. It  sounded like a town. In truth it sounded like a few things. Maybe it was  actually a gate, although he couldn't remember if this town had gates.  The Temple had a gate - perhaps it was the temple's gate? He racked his  brain a moment longer before he conceded to the slap no doubt headed his  way.

"Where, master, is Sunsgate, and how might I get there?"

A crack resounded through the small room. Usha withdrew her hand from  Agniprava's cheek, leaving a perfect, hand-shaped welt there. "Walk east  until you find a gate," she replied with equanimity in the space of  stillness after she had manually cleared his head.


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## RedTonic (Jul 1, 2011)

[MENTION=52298]Soramain[/MENTION] - actually, I hadn't heard of R. Scott Bakker. So now that I've checked him out on wiki, it looks like I may have a new reading project.  So, it's coincidental. And considering the choice of themes, _eerily_ coincidental.


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## Soramain (Jul 1, 2011)

It's a great series, although it can feel a little heavy at times.  I noticed this particularly in the first half of the first book, where RSB has to do a lot of exposition through internal monologue and it drags on.

The scenes where sorcerers battle are some of the best I remember reading in any series, and the development of Kellhus, one of the main characters, reads to me like a subversion of the hero's journey.  Good stuff.


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## RedTonic (Jul 9, 2011)

Introducing our incredibly laconic ranger:

*****​
Belsea had made another reluctant journey into civilization--granted, the very least edge of it--in order to get the goods she couldn't provide for herself. While the pony was out being shoed, she was in the general store closest to the path she wanted to take leaving. The air was redolent with the stink of tanneries, unwashed people living close together, food frying at various stalls, and a heady dose of cinnamon.

She could stand the smell of food –some of it at least, other parts made her stomach churn. The gratitude for being able to shoe her horse kept her from objecting to the smell of the smithy. The possible need to have her armor patched forced her to forgive the tanner’s scents. The city life needed most the others, though the stench of civilization had many other odors that Belsea could easily do without. 

The most bothersome part immediately after the assault on her sense of smell was the one on her sense of hearing. Metal on metal, a large number of people talking, eating, shouting, and running about to do any number of things. At least there weren’t as many here as further into the city. Belsea rubbed her nose as she entered the shop and paused to concentrate on not sneezing.

At least the weather had turned fair after just shy of a tenday of rain; the roads were becoming less mucky and the game had come out of hiding after the foul turn of spring weather. The worst it had done to town was tamp down the dust and dampen the foulest of the vapors on the outskirts. 

The shop was dark and packed with musty-smelling goods. The old woman behind the counter, Izira, looked about as excited as Belsea was to be there. She idly pushed something across the counter when the ranger ventured nearer. "One-uh th' gents axed me t' pass this on to ya." The item was a rolled up scroll, somewhat tattered, tied with a ribbon, and stained with something that looked and smelled suspiciously of curry.

When the sneeze passed she went further into the store and looked at the roll of paper waiting for her. No idea who it was, but it was, and work was work. Her mouth twitched slightly before Belsea claimed, untied and unraveled the scroll to read it. 

The parchment's interior was much cleaner, though it had obviously been scraped blank of some older message before it had been addressed to her. The painstakingly written characters spelled out a message in crabbed but otherwise legible form.

"Belsea of Astra Forest,

The Order of the Silver Horn respectfully requests your services for a tenday patrol to the Village of Cane for the Weaving of Most Excellent Mats. The expedition is led by Houshang al'Pacem, First Path Warrior, in command of four swordsmen."

That last bit was more or less one word, as it was all the name for that type of cane. The message went on.

"The Order desires an experienced woodsman to assist in wayfinding and scouting for the patrol, and in assessing changes wrought by floods following the First Thaw. The contract is for two tendays, with payment of eight staters a day as well as a hazard bonus of up to ten minae-part and a performance bonus of up to five minae-part. To be paid half upon acceptance and half upon return. Incidental expenses will be covered by the Order. You are entitled to 15 per cent share of the value of any valuables found along the way, which you may take in coin or in the items, barring any consecrated or accursed items. Mineral rights are retained by the Throne.

"Included in the contract is a writ of marque from the Throne permitting hunting and trapping for the next four seasons."

The close of the message exhorted her to meet the warrior and his cohorts at Sungate at sunup two days from now.

It looked as though her timing was ideal. This would give her enough time to truly gather up the necessary objects for this trip, not a short visit to the city and then back to the insulating protection of nature. Belsea’s mind started shifting through the necessities as she rerolled and tied the scroll. They were very polite and included the leader’s title, giving her a rough idea of how self-assured the gentleman would be. 

Pay was pay, however, and Belsea did not get future jobs by ditching them in favor of more solitude. Perhaps it would do Sage good to get a longer trip outside.

“Thank you for the missive.” Belsea stated before spending a few minutes collecting items to replenish her traveling pack; soap, two days’ worth of rations for herself. It seemed as though her usual pick up of necessary dried goods would have to wait. There was no point in getting flour or rice if it was simply going to sit and become moldy in her home. Her small collection she wordlessly placed on the counter, “I will get my usual supplies at a later date. If you see the gentleman before two days from now, I found the arrangement agreeable.”

The price was rung up, and the coins went from Belsea’s hands to the shop keeper. Once her items were wrapped, she placed them carefully into her pack and thanked the lady and wished her a good day. There was still time before Sage was expected to be over, but Belsea headed in that direction anyways. Living light did mean having little to do, and she hadn’t brought in any barter goods this time so not it was that alone.


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## RedTonic (Jul 9, 2011)

Since the previous was rather short, here is an introduction to our paladin.

*****​
This long, cluttered room in the Order's headquarters had once been a smokeroom and still smelled faintly of hams. The swarthy, hawk-nosed man tapped softly on the podium as he watched his dozing students. The heat rolling from the hearth in had made some novices doze off during his lecture on relativism, which he had carefully considered decades ago and updated infrequently to avoid heresies. None of the cretins in the room had the slightest appreciation for his work in law and ethics. Amin al'Farhad cleared his throat, waking one of the youngest, whose slit eyes opened wide. The kobold stammered a sibilant apology, which the paladin did not acknowledge.

"Redemption is that process by which each of us atones for our transgressions and allows the Light to resist our innate sinfulness. Through transcending our natures, we become closer to the will of the Benevolent Orders, blessed be their names. There is one path to Light, and that is the Law. Those among us who are most strictly held to the Law do so for the reward of being better able to serve their Benevolence. 

"All mortals are capable of redeeming themselves--and the greatest deed any paladin can achieve is to accomplish a fellow man's rebirth into Light. However, among us walk those who will, time and again, turn from the Light and walk shadowed lands. The antinomian heretics must not be suffered. There are those among us who are dedicated to the ways of the damned," he made a sign to avert the Watcher's gaze, "and even among us fiends whose very essence is that of evil, and to whom the divine love of the Benevolent Orders, blessings upon them, is direst poison."

He admitted, privately of course, that this collection of would-be paladins was probably the most eclectic group he'd seen. Several were not even committed to a deity, yet had blessings, which was uncommon--and several of either stripe didn't even utilize heavy armor. The senior paladin, who was originally from the capital, had come to realize that this far from any civilized center, the people tended to wear more leather and hides. Thankfully, most of Ceteran was too well-settled for the smellier habits of many of the tribal humanoids. Among these rural greenhorns were, gods forbid, women; there was even a winged kobold in plate, somewhere on the grounds. Al'Farhad had recently reconciled himself to the oddities of the rural posting--he had resisted, for some time, the less civil ways of the country, yet over time he'd come to accept the charms. The women paladins weren't so bad; at least none were noble ladies, so he didn't have to worry about being challenged to a duel for hitting any of them during sparring, or for seeing them in revealing states of dishabille.

"To the ends of redemption and justice, a paladin of the Order of the Silver Horn should strive always to capture his mortal foes where possible. To slay a great foe of Light is honorable and good, but to evoke a change of heart through justice is great and mighty. To the criminal, to the blackguard, give quarter; show mercy. Through the power of the good you do to others, you further open the door of their souls to the Light." He spoke further, delving into the relationship between redemption and sacrifice.

Closer to the hearth, sandwiched between bookshelves, a trio of more senior members of the order quietly studied. The presence of acolytes and full members of the order in lessons was not unusual. Part of the Order's ethos was that to revisit these simple lessons was a way to incorporate them more fully into one's moral health, improving the well-being of one's soul through the lessons the Benevolent Orders had passed to mortalkind and a way of warding one's soul and hardening it against the whispers of the Forbidden. Among them was a local lordling from the Hel-Halmar clan. The boy was amiable enough, a third son with no place in his father's household but to find an acceptable status elsewhere in society and reflect honor to his small clan. He was the only one in the family with a martial leaning--the rest of them were not much more than glorified merchants of horseflesh--barely more than commoners. Still, the gleam of nobility seemed to be searching for a window in Mikaelus. In Amin's opinion, this acolyte was one to watch.

He was, however, not yet pledged to a sect--though with his name, it was a foregone conclusion that he would follow the Lord of War. "Mikaelus. In this vein of sacrifice, why don't you briefly tell us of how our tithing system works?"

Mikealus tried to smile at Amin, his green eyes glinting in recognition. He vividly remembered his first bout with this lecture, how good men and women had fallen before the merciless barrage of virtue and enlightened speech. It had been a slaughter. Al'Farahad's request for an answer had, sadly, been the closest thing to a joke that was ever produced in this pork-scented tomb, and the horseman was of the opinion that students needed to encourage this in the speaker as vigorously as possible. Moral relativism was not a joking matter, of course, but when drowning you did not care what you were holding onto so long as it kept you above water.

Besides, the only other way to break up these lectures was through inappropriate questions that flirted with heresy. Mikealus had even opined, in those first days, that it sounded like wisdom to fall from grace, as the act of willful redemption would necessarily bring you more in harmony with the Light than you were already. Playing the system, as it were. There had been many careful whispers and ethical discourses after that comment. He had learned to keep such fanciful impulses to himself, where they banged around in his chest until smoothed out, and given a proper space in his heart. Or something like that.

Turning in his chair loudly enough to rouse a few of the dozers - not that he turned away from Amin, but enough so he could look over his shoulder and speak to everyone if he needed to, Mikealus decided to return to the straight, dry, and narrow. But with purpose! He was not so experienced as Amin... but who doesn't think they can out-speak a speaker when they're bored to tears?

"By way of tithing, not only do we follow the letter of the law, in serving the Throne of Thorns, but also the spirit. Giving freely from the whole of our possessions necessitates temperance, enhances our appreciation of that which remains, and makes sure that our every action can - potentially - do good, as our labors are returned to the Order, and the people." Maybe. Hopefully. More than once, Mikealus had quipped that the Silver Horn's tithes all went to the wine cellars and the hearthfires, assuring that the young stayed drunk and the old stayed comfortable. An uncharitable thought created in a fit of pique after lessons much like this one, but really, a reasonable assumption, that one's good was being squandered by another's lack of virtue. A healthy concern.

"Practically, though, those who have our compensation accounted by books and bookkeepers are simply required to present a tithe to our lord or quartermaster. Land-owners and lords, in turn, must sum up their crops and possessions, and make an equal donation. The poor are taxed in accordance with the law, and a share of what they pay is held separate, as tithe."

Well there. He'd crossed the whole of Ceteran off somewhere in there. Everyone in this room had watched their mother or father pay one of those, before, cursing under his breath at how small the crop had been, or how sparse the meals were going to be from now on. He'd tried to get everyone's attention for Al'Farhad: he could do nothing else but hope that the 'jokes' would keep coming. From here on, the hard part would be keeping himself awake. He would remain faithful to his usual strategy of pretending the lecturer was staring at him, and him alone, which meant he had to listen to every nuance of the speech, and react to everything. Made him look a bit like a spasmodic troubadour unless his head was down, but it kept him awake.

"Indeed. And for the upkeep of the Temples, which is the upkeep of the Soul." Amin nodded slightly to the youth. "As he says; practically. In the spirit of returning part of one's bounty to the people, so too does what we tithe flow into the Temple to provide that which man needs to do more than merely survive. In this we do more than charity--the contribution of each man goes to the salvation of souls, elevating the status of the giver. Since the end of blood sacrifice in the fiftieth year of the Empire, at the order of Naraanbatar the Merciful, blessed be his name..."

Amin droned on a time, knowing that his students' wills would be challenged. Still, those with the mettle to aspire to greater things would absorb this knowledge one way or the other. He offered the easy way to gain virtue--memorization. The rest... _Peace be upon them that they never learn virtue through suffering or bloodshed._ Behind the podium, where none could see, the made the sign to ward off the gentle hand of the mother of death and the wandering eye of the great darkness. 

Several students had nodded off again when a knock came at the doorframe. The converted inn was not so busy a place that Amin hadn't heard the man's approach, but truthfully the paladin had not expected interruption. A grey-haired warrior dressed in dark tunic and breeches stepped in; Barad'durh. The old paladin nodded at Amin in silent greeting and folded his arms to wait out this section of Amin's lecture.

In due time, Amin returned the nod. Barad'durh ibn Jibril strode swiftly to the back of the room and touched Mikealus lightly on the shoulder. He leaned in to briefly whisper something to the boy, and gestured for Mikealus to follow him from the room. Amin did not bat an eye. As soon as the two departed, he continued his discourse, this time targeting the flagging heart of a young half-orc.

"Come with me."

To his credit the young paladin had given only a slight start at the knock, which he passed off as a more exuberant nod than necessary. It helped him pretend he was still fully awake and aware, made the blood move a little bit more around his bones. The pork-stink was half-imagined, he was sure, but absolutely cloying... and the fire was only getting warmer. The words of Amin-ji would only grow heavier and sleepier to Mikealus' ear as time went on. He'd tried his best to rouse the crowd, which was already falling prey to sleep again. He did not want to be their hero - to loudly awaken them by volunteering the next paragraph of this speech time and time again... they'd learn nothing, and he would have attention rather unbecoming of his station.

...Not that being called out to speak with and elder did not place some notice upon him, but at least it was not intentional on his own part. He pulled himself out of his place gracefully enough, and took the time to crane his head respectfully towards Amin from the back of the room. He did not wait for a response, as his intention was not to draw attention away from the speaker - he'd done enough of that today. Rather, as he escaped the self-imposed enlightenment he'd very nearly made it out of in one piece, he turned his focus towards the dark-clothed man whom had summoned him.

The air outside was fresh and quick to rouse tired eyes. Mikealus fought the urge to address the older man until it had been made clear he had something to say in return. He smiled at his good fortune to require the paladin's attention, and made sure to speak to him with respect, not merely the genuine relief of being called away. "Barad'durh-ji?" Mikealus' back straightened. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Well--let us move somewhere away from prying students first," Barad'durh replied amiably. The elder man led the way to a room on the second floor which served as a rather cramped office for himself and Septimus ibn Rashid, a middle aged officer of the order who had been consigned to desk duty after an unfortunate accident lamed him. Septimus was known for his sharply bitter tongue, and luckily the office seemed to be, for the moment, well clear of his presence. Barad'durh waved Mikealus to an old wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk and sank slowly into his own. Its padding was his main concession to the demands of age and comfort, aside from a smokeless brazier currently collecting dust beneath the open window.

"Sit, sit, please. The novice today isn't quick on his feet so I'm afraid I have no coffee for you--or me, for that matter." It was clear that Barad'durh was more amused than annoyed by whoever had been assigned as gopher for the Old Men's Platoon for today. "Hospitality aside. . . A good word has been put in for you--you are being called to join a patrol to the Village of Cane for Weaving Most Excellent Mats. I'm sure you know of it; it's a tenday's ride from your father's lands. If you perform well, you will be doing more than town patrols from henceforth. I predict that your future will be quite busy.

"You will be under the command of Houshang al'Pacem, along with a company of 3 initiates. The patrol departs in two days, at dawn, from Sungate; make ready, and be certain to requisition appropriate rations and. . . It's my understanding that you already have a mount," he winked, "So you know what remains. As well, inform your mother." Barad'durh coughed. The rather formidable woman was sometimes referred to as the shadow ruler of the town, local lord notwithstanding. Doubtless no one in the Order wanted to have to face down her wrath if she found out that her son had left without performing his due diligence in regards to filial piety.

Ah yes. Mom. Carina Graveth had not always been the unmovable juggernaut of internal politics, family favors, and draconian judgments she was now. According to Muna and Sallah, it was not until Mikealus had been born - his name positively demanded in its entirety, with a forcefulness the family had never seen before - that she had changed. Before her youngest baby was born, she had merely been a practical, no-nonsense Lady who's upbringing was well-grounded enough to keep her head out of the clouds. She had been smart, efficient, and unimpressed by rank or status, except when it was necessary to pay due diligence to an inflated ego. Her little boy, who had his grandfather's eyes and chin, somehow sparked a fire she had kept cool and quiet since marrying Janaab Sayyid. From then it looked as though she barely aged a day throughout his raising - she plied him with bedtime stories she'd never even whispered to the other children, seemed to be shaping him for... something.

Mother had cried tears of joy when she learned that she was the first Mikealus spoke to about joining the Silver Horn. He was not an ignorant boy - he was quite aware of his mother's overbearing nature, the claws she had lovingly sunk so deep into him - and knew that she had claimed him as her own, and that his father had surrendered the child to her willingly. While towering over him, Carina worked tirelessly to change Ceteran for inscrutable reasons. Mikealus had done the only thing he could do - respectfully and humbly accepted his lot, paid gratitude and love to both his father and mother, and struggled to live for himself. It was, in fact, his self-surprise - that he could reconcile the difficult decision of loyalty to himself and to his family - which gave him that confidence to test himself against the Will of Thrones.

After handling the Dragon of House Graveth his whole life, even the gods could challenge him with little greater.

From the plain wooden chair, in the unassuming little room, Mikealus' smile beamed up at Barad'durh. He had always appreciated the man's ease, his beneficence... and was rather glad that he, of all people, had been the one to grant him these orders. Never mind that something as basic as a patrol was handed down to him as a rare jewel of advancement - he was grateful for it, and fully intended to prove himself by it. Never mind that the village had one of the most foolish names that he could not stand to mouth - he would follow the four tenants, and do the best he could.

"Yes, sir. I will begin making my preparations immediately." It would take little enough to speak with the quartermaster and collect his things. If it went quickly - and he had little doubt it would - he'd mount Harrow after, and return home for supper, and to inform his mother. Was she responsible for pulling these strings, he wondered? It was a shameful thought, and one he hoped was false. She knew he wanted little more than to reach glory under his own power, as hard as that was to do as a mere Greenhorn. "I will meet Houshang-ji at Sungate in two days... if not sooner. Thank you, Barad'durh-ji, for this opportunity. I will not shame the Order."

That would be pretty hard to do. Any act of heroism or greatness would probably be so stunningly unexpected that it would be talked about for years. ...it was all Mikealus could hope for, really. He'd take it.


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## RedTonic (Jul 18, 2011)

Whew, coming in late with this one. This entry marks the end of our opening RPs. I conducted each individually over pbp, and they were, I thought, a pretty fun way of getting into the swing of things. Next we get to deal with the dratted GM NPCs in the party. (I'm still surprised that, so far, no one has decided to ditch the patrol and strike out for glory.)

*****​
The ride back to his family's manor was a quiet affair; Mikealus passed a few farmers on their way to Ceteran, and a one traveling lmerchant on his way further east. The latter spared Mikealus no time, and the two former merely greeted him with silent bows, steering their foot-wagons to the side of the road to let him pass. The rice paddies were full, and birds sang. The very freshest of green had come to the land after winter's passing. The roads east of Ceteran were only partly paved; a day out, they were muck.

By midday on the second day, he was passing the fields where his family's good fortunes grazed. A youth in the field, working a mare, didn't notice the paladin's passing. Ahead was the old stone manor, its wooden shutters thrown open to sunlight. The air was heavy with the scent of wet grass and stables.

It was good to be home. Even Harrow seemed to be glad to be back, if only temporarily. It would be nice for both to see the rooms (or stables) they'd slept in and been raised in - to be around the familiar smells and places. The rains from the last tenday had undoubtedly kept father indoors. Hopefully there would be enough sun that Mikealus could go for a walk with him before heading back to Ceteran. He had little time to tarry, sad to say. At least all was fresh and green. The young paladin did not even have to stop at the gates - Lawson, whose family had kept Hel-Halmar in good order since it was only Halmar, recognized him by miles, and had them flung wide open. Harrow was quickly taken, and Mikealus spoke pleasantly with the older man as they walked towards the manor.

No doubt Sayyid was in the fields. He would at least have mother and father waiting for him.

The manor was a touch stuffy; the shutters had been flung open, the doors as well, to let the spring air sweep away the bad humors and malevolent spirits cloistered inside all winter. Just inside, as expected, waited Mikealus's mother, along with a lady in waiting--in reality, just a village girl of no relation. His mother smiled warmly and reached to embrace him.

"Mikealus! One of the boys told me you'd come--your father's in the field, but he should be back soon. Will you be here for dinner?" In other words, _how long?_

Father was in the field?! Well! It looked like the warmer weather was agreeing with him after all! The news was cheering. "Yes, Mother. I'll be here for dinner, but I must not stay much later." He smiled up at the woman, knowing that even now, she saw her little boy, hopefully venturing out for approval. ...that was something he'd never be able to change in her eyes... so he'd best just ignore it. It was exciting, though: A real commission from the Order. He'd tell them all about it when Father came... but she probably knew already.

"You're looking well. How have you been?"

"Well enough." She whisked her son indoors and toward a small reading room he knew quite well--it was from here that his mother arranged the affairs of the house, while the boys, as she called them, took care of the business. "Your father is feeling restless; the spring, you know--the rains always make him a little," she whisked her hand in the air by her head. "The villagers have begun planting now that the Thaw has passed. We had to prune back some of the cinnamon grove--the last freeze was very hard on them. The druids assure us that that means we will have an extra large harvest this year. I look forward to bushels of bushels of apricots, in that case--and given last year's harvest, we should certainly have a bumper crop of limes. Your brothers are also tying up a deal with the Ymir clan for breeding rights for the season... They're working on a line of rose-colored walking horses. They'll likely be a hit among the ladies at court. I wouldn't be surprised if the Imperial capital makes an order." 

There was a plain table with four chairs around, and a couple extra to either side of a pair of bookshelves which held a wealth of knowledge--most of the books were quite old, practically treasures in and of themselves. Carina had read many of these books to him as a child--all of those dealing with myths, legends, faith, and the arts of war. Scrolls and ledgers also had their place, and were far less dusty than the tomes Carina had put aside when Mikealus came of age. 

The room was otherwise quite spotless; sunlight danced in a wayward dust mote. Here, too, the shutters were open on the eastern window. A cup of coffee had been left to turn cold; a closed ledger of accounts waited beside it, along with quill and inkwell. As she directed him to take a seat, a servant entered with a board with sliced cheese and cold sausage, along with crusty bread. "I'm sure you're hungry! It's quite a ride." Carina beamed at Mikealus. "So, what brings you home, son?"

"Well I thought it proper to visit, that's all." The man returned, glad to see both much-welcomed food and his mother's ebullience. "I've been given a commission by the Order of the Silver Horn. Not mere page work like before. I'll be part of a patrol with Houshang al'Pacem and some initiates. I'm effectively second-in-command, I think - and was promised this might be the beginning of something greater."

Mikealus could imagine the conflict in his mother's heart. Concern for his well-being... but still, a certain twisted excitement - whether she knew it or not, she had bred him for this. He felt a thrill in his heart that she had first planted there. It was a bond forged between them he thanked her for deeply, and never wanted her to regret having put there in the first place. He entertained the sausage, chewing thoughtfully. "The Order thought it right I have time to inform you before I left. I could not agree more." he said, finally, his eyes still bright upon the woman.

Carina's eyes gleamed. "I'm glad--I admit, I'm relieved, even." She put the ledger in its place on the shelf. "Ina," she said to the girl, "Coffee, please."

She drew Mikealus out on the details of the assignment as they waited on his father. Ina returned with two hot mugs and a carafe on a carved tray and left it between them, disappearing shortly after. Carina was visibly proud of her boy, practically glowing as she beamed at him. In the background, Mikealus could hear his father's heavy footsteps coming near and then fading. A while after, his mother still pleasantly chattering, Halmar stepped in.

"Hm! I see our warrior has returned." He smiled slightly, sitting heavily in the seat across from Carina.

She lifted her chin. "He's staying the evening, so the cook is preparing."

"Well--good." The elder Halmar regarded the younger. "Your brothers are out today; it's unlikely you'll see them. So, tell me what brings you? Feels like it's been an age, boy."

"It has nearly been two months," Mikealus agreed. He'd last been here for The Equinox, deep in the death throes of the Frost - the horses blanketed, fires roaring, and his oldest brother already griping, over wine, how the Ymir would try to gouge him come Thaw. "I'm bound for the Village of Reeds for Weaving Most Excellent Mats with the Order - second under Houshang al'Pacem - and hopefully to something greater than that after."

Carina glowed as Mikealus described his newest commission. She seemed more excited than she had when his father had declared that her youngest was officially of age. Mikealus's father seemed pleased as well, but was more reserved in his praise, as was his habit. Still, he sat a bit more upright. As they passed the time with talk, the shadows slowly stretched longer, fleeing as the sun moved in its eternal campaign against the moon.

Mikealus had privately bemoaned his lack of direction to his family before. He was honest enough with himself to know that no God had called to him - none required his service, and so he had little choice but to privately serve them all as best he could. Without direction or inspiration, he knew, he stood little chance of progressing beyond the Silver Horn as quickly as he wanted to. Direct intervention could not come from himself without seeming impetuous, and willful: the young paladin knew that patience and humility were required, but perhaps the time for such virtues was now over.

He sized up his father, then. The intense labor he'd performed in his youth, and the high breeding of the man had combined quite nobly with the burden of age. He was every inch the wearying patrician, his skin beginning to wrinkle and sag, yes, but fighting hard before backpedaling every step. It was not that his gut was overlarge, merely that his bones were weary - he sat too heavily to appear brittle, but moved to slowly to seem spry, these days. To exert great effort would be a magnificent sight: fading strength guided by great experience - but would take a definite toll, as well. Mother's cool determination served Father well, now, as she and brother Sayyid ran a bit more of the household each year. "Any word from my sisters? I've not seen Muna in town these past months. Nor had a single letter from Naddiya."

The former was more surprising than the latter, actually. Muna had always been good about keeping in touch, but because they both lived in Ceteran, communication needed no formality. Naddiya's vile husband made it seem more like she lived a prison sentence. Mikealus was almost regretting asking for her at all. 

His mother smiled a little and fluttered her hands. "Muna is well. She's gone with her husband and his entourage off to the coast--I imagine they're not yet halfway there. Naddiya..." She shook her head.

His father cleared his throat. "Mmm... Yes, Naddiya. Well, the roads are poor this time of year. We have received no letters, either." He shifted in his seat and looked out the window beyond Mikealus.

The awkward silence was banished by the appearance of the manor's cook. "Dinner is prepared; I've sent for the others." The Hal-Helmars were not so high that they ate separately from their servants, who after their long service to the families were practically family themselves. 

At that, his parents rose and he trailed them to the old high dining room, a drafty affair draped in faded tapestries. Dinner was a simple but hearty affair. Afterwards, the elder Halmar disappeared for a time, leaving Mikealus and his mother and staff to their small talk. He returned with a long, wrapped burden in his arms and set it in the cleared space on the table before his son. 

"But in truth, the novice was just-"

"You should have this," Halmar interrupted.

Mikealus stopped. He would have to tell Jans the rest of the joke later... this had some gravity to it. His eyes considered the long bundle, and his father's expression. "...Father?" The length of the object, the weight it must have had, considering the ease that came to his father's shoulders when he lowered it. That could only be one thing. It was instantly a treasure... and to have his father offer it to him was...

Staggering.

He lifted the oilcloth which served as a last layer, and a familiar metallic scent approached. He did not unwrap the weapon in its entirety. He kept his eyes on the small bit he'd unearthed from the cloths, cradled the weapon underneath his hands, lifted it slightly, to accept the weight.

"I. Father..." Mikealus looked between his parents, over at the servant, and back, with near befuddlement. Here, sitting down with the scents of dinner on his breath and the world perfectly at ease, he was suddenly given something like this? "A sword..." Was this weapon a part of his office? Of his land, his title? He knew his father to not be a man of war - trained in the art a bit, perhaps, but no solider. "...is this yours?" But still he asked those three words reverently - there could be no greater honor than to carry his father's blade to glory.

The sheathed sword was easily the length of any practice blade Mikealus had ever wielded. The clothes which wrapped it were dusty, and the indigo embroidered silk covering the scabbard, faded. One of the cloths appeared to be a tattered standard--that of the Halmar clan. The sword was quite long and slightly curved, with an end weighted more heavily. In some ways, it resembled a cavalry sword. Unsheathing it slightly revealed that it had a single edge.

"This was passed to me," his father admitted. "It has not seen light, let alone use, in decades; not since this place was well-settled, and our holdings much greater than now. The name no longer is in our records." But the hand-guard, an intricately formed iron disk, revealed that it was a sword of honor. The design was a spiraling bird, perhaps a phoenix or crane. "It is water-steel; it will never rust, though it perhaps needs sharpened. At the time it was forged, it was, I believe, worth a prince's ransom."

"I... I will do it honor." Mikealus assured him. The metal was not dull, but instead suspiciously dim. It seemed to his fancy that it almost glowed, some energy hidden beneath layers of well-folded metal. Water-steel indeed - it would fit well in his hand, and would flow where he willed it to. He hoped.

The young paladin's thumb ran along the corner of a silhouetted horse - just an edge of the Halmar standard. "....thank you Father." He nodded with deep gratitude, his eyes still shining a bit with the electric joy of his new possession. "And... if... if I may be bold enough..." a momentary hesitation, "I would ask for a steed worthy enough to ride upon, while such a weapon hangs at my side." The warhorses of Hel-Halmar were still known throughout the land, and there was no doubt Mikealus would both be proud to serve - and do his family a great deal of glory - to be a true warrior of Hel-Halmar.

His eyes wandered along the design again. What was this blade's name, he wondered - what was that bird, once, when it was first born of the forge?

"Indeed," his father exhaled. "You should have a solid mount. You may leave your hunter here; take Khongordsol." It meant thistle in the old tongue. The horse could not calve, yet her form and temperament had charmed the Halmar men, and she had not been culled. Carina clasped her hands together over the table, as if to hold in some burst of joy. The contrast between the two was stark; the resigned father, the mother in glory.

What more could a son ask but a sword--the ancient symbol of independence and fealty, of power and submission? A grand steed--the blessing of his father--and, one hoped, accolades to be won. 

What more indeed?

It weighed on Mikealus' heart that he could not revel with his parents all through the night, to be granted such honors. He knew that his resolve had been redoubled by their generosity, and their presence would ride with him into battle, that it would give him support and comfort.

All the Thrones seemed to smile upon him today. As he prepared for the long ride back, he knew it would be a good thing: the long silence atop Khongordsol would cool his blood, and help him to reflect on the reality of the situation. This was not some wild war he was riding into. It was a mission for the Silver Horn - no amazing deeds, not yet. But also it was the first sign of his parents' absolute faith in his path, the time when they'd given him these tools, and shown they too wished for him to complete great deeds. That, in truth, was more valuable than either the objects themselves, or the fantasies he could weave for himself of what honor he'd gain, and good he would do.

Still, Mikealus had lingered as long as he'd dared, to do right by Sayyid and Carina Hel-Halmar. They spoke until the hours seemed to grow shorter, and the young Paladin had to acknowledge his schedule. The time he would need to rest, to travel, to prepare. They parted with few enough tears, and a smile on the young initiate's lips, as he proudly rode off to whatever the Gods deemed right.


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## Azkorra (Jul 18, 2011)

Wonderful writing and great, very in-depth characterization of the PCs.

Looking forward to your next entry!


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## RedTonic (Jul 23, 2011)

I was pretty busy this week, so I didn't get the session recaps done that I wanted! So I will post up some setting information. This entry is what I provided to players first to start building their characters. I'll save the gods and some other things for the next time I'm not as well prepared as I'd like. 

As time goes on, I'm refining the world and occasionally ret-conning names that the PCs really have no reason to interact with. There's some naming inconsistencies that I need to deal with: either changing the names or coming up with a decent enough reason for the variance.

*****​
The world's name is Arcturus. It is a world much like our own, circling one yellow sun and in turn circled by one small moon. The year in which your campaign begins is A.F. (After Founding) 399. The era before Founding is known as "The Time of Exile."

On the lonely world Arcturus, in the old empire of Ruber, many a strange thing has been known to happen. Perhaps these mysterious occurrences are the works of old gods gone mad from solitude and the vastness between stars. Perhaps the events are the results of old wars between the blessed and the fallen. Perhaps the titans on the earth have become so separated from their mortality in their scheming that they no long resemble the beings they once were.

*Ruber*

The campaign takes place in the continent-spanning empire of Ruber. The empire was formed by a massive band of tribal horsemen who slowly but cunningly and strategically overwhelmed the many smaller kingdoms which had divided the continent of Oester. During this massive campaign, the clans which comprised the conquering force slowly became more "civilized" and gained an appreciation for the specialization of the kingdoms' forces and bureaucracies, and gradually began implementing improvements to the infrastructures of their new lands. As these projects' efficacy was proven, the Rubai clans themselves became more hierarchical and arrayed themselves behind the leadership of the man who would become the first emperor, Ideshir Al'Rubai. The last small kingdoms were conquered 399 years ago. This series of campaigns is now known as "the Second Conquest." No one knows what the first conquest was, but obviously it didn't stick.

Many of the noble families from the minor kingdoms still survive as bureaucrats and hereditary landowners.

The Ruber Kingdom currently fields 4 major noble houses (aka Thrones) for its throne, namely the 'Iron Seat', purportedly made of the weapons of all its conquered enemies. Lamina Throne currently rules; Sanguis Throne is second in power; then come the Potestas and Spina Thrones. Ruberian nobles are well known for their bloodthirsty temperament and elaborate, formal courtesy.

Ruber's pure-blood descendants are of dark hair and skin, and usually have brown to black eyes. They are tall and strong, and fiercely beautiful. They are adapted to harsh climates and have outstanding stamina.

Its capital city, Ruberia, is the second largest city. The city of Virtus and Sanguis's old capital are nearby. The country's eastern coast, which borders the Galac Ocean, has many safe, natural ports and thus many large cities, the whole strand of which is known as the Sea Jewels. Much of the west coast is unnavigable by ship; its northern border is protected by a sharp, craggy volcanic mountains, the Phyrrus Range. Half of its southern coast is mountainous, protecting the Kushiite Commune located around a group of springs. Virtus is located on the southeastern coast, where the Adamant River, which flows past Ruberia into the Urisual Forest at the foot of the Phyrrus, meets the sea. Ruber also includes the Island of the Sun, which holds a huge volcano which hosts the Phyrreth temple. Ruber's major exports are weapons, both novelty and explosive.

Most of the so-called savage races have either been assimilated into the Ruber culture or destroyed. The same is true for most of the monsterous species you find in the Monster Manual--those creatures are rare. For the most part, when adventurers go out, they fight marauding gangs of outlaws, explore, and subjugate the few goblinoid tribes not brought into the overarching system. There are some tribes of orcs and goblinoids who have semi-autonomous status for assisting in the original conquest of the continent and those treaties have been honored. They include keeping slaves and their descendents in bondage. There is legal slavery in Ruber--mainly hereditary slaves (those captured by warbands) or criminals and debtors who were enslaved for specific terms to pay off their "debt." Indentured servitude is not uncommon.

While this is a high magic world, everything you'd find in the monster manual is widely unknown and those creatures are almost never seen outside of very specific areas. This includes undead, since most have been destroyed and necromancy is illegal (thanks to Mikhael's church).

The "World" map shows the world that the more educated among you would know. Ruber is an enormous empire--it literally covers the entire continent of Oester. Aurum is quite large in and of itself.

The Warring Kingdoms are traded with but Ruber has no political alliance or real contact with any of them. Their numbers and names change often. Idrias is somewhat hermitic, perhaps out of fear that Ruber will attempt to annex their small continent. There may be more than one country on that land. The Savage Lands are places where no political organization other than perhaps tribes was found by Ruberian explorers.

_The Conquered Territories_



_Argentum_: Rumored to be the lost floating kingdom of the gods; the civilization disappeared hundreds of years before the Rubai conquered the territory, which was actually a magically shielded series of islands populated by semi-feral elves. Some claim to have found the ruins of Argentum. The kingdom was rumored to have extremely advanced magical artifacts.
_Sanguis_: An even more warlike country of barbarians. They were assimilated into the Ruberian culture. Sanguian descendants are likely to have dark skin, reddish hair, and hazel, brown, or green eyes, and of quick temper.
_Visus_: This was a mystically-inclined kingdom composed mainly of mages, summoners, healers, and elementals. Visean descendants are of fair skin and hair and have light eyes; they are most likely to be mages. They are scattered around the world and tend to be unaware of their heritage. They are said to be the original mortal mages.
_The Seven Sisters_: A set of seven territories ruled by female liches who may or may not have been related while alive. Though generally at least somewhat terrified, the inhabitants of those lands were always relatively prosperous and healthy, and though the Sisters in-fought, they had been known as tough and wary generals. They caused perhaps the most damage to the Rubai forces during the Second Conquest.
_The City-States_: Eight city-states had held most of the western coastal territory as well as much of the southern lands. Though they had dubbed themselves city-states, these lands were nearly as large as the kingdoms. They were (from north to south) Fleur, Haute de Terre, Sacre Terre, Sang-mar, Soleil, Rue de la Mer, Stella, and Pax Grise.
 
*Ceteran*
This town is located on the crossroad of the major east-west route (the Highroad) and a minor north-south route (the Apprentice Road). The inner portion of the town is walled and has a barracks. The town is overseen by the Mayor, who is elected yearly by enfranchised men and women (business owners, landowners, minor nobility). There is one minor mage school in Ceteran, run by a female wizard named Gaiea Torvus, who specializes in Abjuration. Most of the town is human, though there are some elven families and fewer of other races. Caravans travel through on occasion, so the place is familiar with more exotic people and items than many towns and villages. The local lord is Count Rood Al'Khaber.

Within Ceteran is a chapterhouse of the Silverhorn Order, the only sponsors of fresh paladins who have not already seen service. While sometimes mocked by other orders and martial organizations, they are generally well-regarded by the common man for their hard work in keeping the roads safe and providing security for less wealthy towns and villages.

Ceteran is also host to a large temple composed of a few distinct followings. Those followings include Mikhael, Sapential, Asarael, Gabriel, and Cammael. Each has a head priest. The abbot is the priest of Cammael for this year; the office of abbot changes hands each year on a rotating basis. There are of course shrines in the town and in outlying areas. Many people from those areas come to the Temple of Five to worship, and during festivals, even the most distant farmers come to Ceteran to celebrate and tithe.

*Aurum Empire*

Aurum has 6 major noble houses in contention for the Absolum Throne. The Sapientia House currently rules; Virtus and Fulgor Houses contend; Pulcher and Nobilis Houses feud; Corvus House plots for the Absolum in the background, from the House Seat.

Aurumanians are known as fierce bargainers and traders. Pacatus Fortuna is its capital. Much of Aurum, which covers the northern half of the western continent Miel, is actually coastal.

This nation has only recently become a household name on the eastern continent. Much of the rest of the world is of little concern to cityfolk and nobles in Ruber.


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## RedTonic (Sep 22, 2011)

Well, since last time, Agniprava's player and I have received our masters degrees and two other players are applying to grad school. We've all had number of family events during my two month update break, leading to a month without any play. Now that I'm catching up with our campaign logs, I have set myself up a nice buffer for updates... Without further ado, the first live session.

*****​
Absent this session: Agniprava.

A crisp morning awaited the Order patrol’s departure. The scent of winter had not yet fully left the air, and, as the patrol assembled, the sun had not yet fully broken over the horizon. Mikealus gave Khongordsol’s nose a soft pet as they trotted up to the four men waiting outside the Sungate with horses and mules. The mare had awoken early, and Mikealus earlier still, but they were at last prepared.  Mikealus recognized Houshang al’Pacem on sight, as well as his four fellow subordinates. Al’Pacem was a distant cousin, and usually very busy. The young paladin raised a hand in greeting as he fell in step with his cousin. “Houshang-ji.  A good morning to you.”

The captain nodded to Mikealus. “Welcome, Hel-Halmar. We depart once the others arrive—ah, here come two now.” He pointed to himself for the benefit of the newcomers. “I am Captain al’Pacem. These are Mikealus Hel-Halmar,” he pointed, “Khader,” a very dark-skinned human man, “Ravi,” a stout man with a short beard, “and Borche.” The last was a half-orc man. They each greeted the newcomers.

Belsea kept to one side; Sage, her pony, was prepared to leave.  The ranger made note of faces, and where they came and went.

 Cael led his own mule up to the gate, still travel weary. His stay at the cell was pleasant, but short-lived.  He had caught only a few hours of sleep during the night. He yawned to shake the sleep from his eyes. "Greetings, friends," Cael says with a bow,  "I am Cael Akbar at your service."

Mikealus nodded, taking his place with the others as he trotted his horse back into the others' formation.  He too greeted the other travelers - as did Khongordsol , whickering softly, keeping one eye on the quiet girl off to the side.

"We are glad to have another of the gods' servants," the captain replied diplomatically. "We await one more---then we are off. You are the tracker, correct?" The last was addressed to Belsea.

Belsea nodded to each man, and bowed to the contingent. She nodded once more to the captain, "Yes. Belsea's my name." The half-elven woman was the only female in the group; a slight, small form in contrast to these men, bundled in hides and armor.

After a short time, a wiry fellow emerged from the gate, clad in the simplest of homespun. He looked up at the mounted Mikealus, then to the rest, and made a short bow. "I am Agniprava, come from the temple. I hope to be of assistance." He joined the other men on foot.

Mikealus gave another nod to the holy man.  It seemed only right, considering that the believer's eyes had picked him out in particular.

Captain al'Pacem scratched his stubbled chin. "We depart--on foot for now." The road east was still obscured by fog; few of even the earliest risers in town had begun work, and so the road through was dark.

Mikealus slid off his steed and took her reins softly in hand.  Not the sun-dappled charge towards the horizon of his dreams, but at least they were on their way!

"A fine plan, best to get underway before the sun reaches its peak," Cael said as he encouraged his mule to join in with the rest of the formation. Al’Pacem simply nodded his agreement; he seemed relaxed and secure, leading his enormous warhorse jingling faintly with heavy barding.

Shrugging, Belsea led her pony into the group’s wake. She was far more accustomed to being on her feet than mounted.

Mikealus glanced over his shoulder--he already knows Khader, Ravi, and Borche well enough, from the practice field and the mess hall.  He gave the band a welcoming nod and smile, ever the young heartbreaker of Hel-Halmar.

As the party begins to move out, Cael turns to Captain al'Pacem. "Sir, a moment of your time. I was only given the briefest of introductions to your party, which said you may require some aid. What sort of trip is this going to be? We seem too well equipped for a mere scouting party and have little goods to speak of for trade."

"I'm afraid I have very little trading skill," al'Pacem replied. "We go to patrol the eastern region, a tenday out and back--we'll pass several settlements on the way. Our primary goal is to ensure that the king's law is kept on this highway, but our secondary goal is training--these are greenhorns." He chuckled to himself.  "At any rate... Bandits tend to emerge with the turn of spring--I expect we will have some engagements. Better one healer's hand than six bearing you off."

Mikeal casually turned his eyes back towards the road ahead, cheeks coloring a bit.  He gave a conspiratorial glance to Ravi.  Greenhorns.  Bah! The slightly older warrior rolled his eyes. Mikealus knew that Ravi had waited a long time to do more than guard duty. Unlike many of the other members of the order, Ravi had no holy calling, but was nonetheless devout.

Belsea remained quiet and content. If she survived and did well, she'd get paid.

"Belsea is our guide east. I hope the lot of you will take the time to learn something of woodcraft from her. She is well-recommended, and her skills are the type you need if you plan on not starving to death in the wild." Al'Pacem knew well that the promise of a full stomach motivated boys and men more than wisdom ever did.

Mikealus nodded attentively.  Though how willing the woman would be to teach remained to be seen.

Eh? She hadn't remembered agreeing to teaching, but that wasn't so bad. If they didn't listen, that was their problem.

Khader moseyed over to Cael's side. "Haven't seen you at the temple," he remarked. He was stocky and muscular and bore a hammer and a buckler.

"True enough, my friend. I have not been around for too long and spent many a month traveling with a companion. We take refuge at the Temple once and again, but never tarry long. This has been my longest stay, and I am anxious to stretch my legs once more," he replied to Khader. "It was recommended to me by Father Eltier to lend your party any assistance I can muster."

"You serve one of the Wanderers," Khader replied, as though it explained everything. The Wanderers was an epithet that covered, true enough, Cael's patron along with other powers, greater and lesser.

Cael gave a nod in assent, "You are correct. Nor I am ashamed of it. I find guidance under Zauriel to be... enlightening."

Khader nodded. "There is only shame where there is wrongdoing." He didn't seem the slightest put off by Cael's pronouncement.  Meanwhile, Borche had fallen back, along with his huge black gelding. The half-orc was not the tallest man in the group, but still had a huge presence. Where Khader was mild, Borche was laconic.

A hand after the group had passed the outskirts of the city and at last the sun had risen and burned away the lingering fog. Two of the group had murmured quick prayers at full dawn, showing their patron to be the Veiled Glory, Israfil, also known as Rasphodel. Al'Pacem's breastplate showed the device of the Hand of Glory, Mikaayil, but Khader and Ravi wore no obvious symbols. They were all stout, sturdy men, well-armed, bow-legged, and more comfortable on horseback than afoot.

Cael turned to Khader. "How long before we arrive at the first settlement? Will we be reaching it before dayfall?"

"Ah, we should pass through at about noon. We won't linger, though. I intend to set camp before dusk--it's best to make good time today, while the road is paved."

"Restful Stream isn't exactly the Capital, friend cleric.  We've got a few days under the stars as it is.  Nothing wrong with getting used to it early, right?"  Mikealus offers, optimistically.

Cael laughed, "Oh no, I have spent many nights beneath the stars. I was merely curious and it seems like such a long walk to make in silence."

"We've got quite a ways to get to know each other," al'Pacem said agreeably. "Some of these aren't the most talkative men."

Khader interjected. "I'm plenty talkable." Ravi simply laughed, raucous like a crow. The ascetic, Agniprava, had moved up and kept up a friendly patter of conversation with al'Pacem. Belsea didn't understand the need to fill all time with noise and merely kept her peace.

Mikealus slows down his pace to fall into step with the man.  "So let us break the silence.  I will make up for my bashful brothers.  Where do you hail from, under the stars?"

"Myself? I grew up in a small trading town, or rather on the outskirts. My father was a woodcutter, you see, so we stayed near the wilderness. I have not been back for a year or so, but receive word from them here and again," Cael said wistfully, "And you? how did you find yourself in such company?"

Mikealus was, luckily, practiced in playing himself down.  Introducing himself to dozens of other initiates has at least given him a modicum of technique.  "My family owns some land nearby.  I'm the youngest son... and I've answered the call."  He considers - he finally has something to add to that epitaph - "This is my first assignment."

"I see. This is my first time operating without the guidance of my mentor, so it shall be a new beginning for the both of us," Cael said with a smile, "And what of you, Belsea? Where do you hail from?"

"The woods." Belsea stated, and shrugged. "I've no family to speak of." Borche glanced at the half-elf but said nothing. Mikealus had a feeling that he'd heard something about the quiet paladin once. Something along the lines that Borche had had a run-in with the law when he first arrived in Ceteran, and had been given over to the custody of the Order around that time... At a very young age. Mikealus couldn't remember ever hearing anything about Borche's family.

"Fascinating, and you make your living as a guide? Would it be a stretch to say you are well versed in these parts?" Cael asked politely. 

"It is one of the ways. I am most familiar with the woods about Ceteran, but I have passed through others."

Mikealus buried the urge to drag his comrade into the conversation.  He obviously wouldn't appreciate it, and there were few ways easier to lose friends than to betray them in front of strangers.  Instead...  "How far have you traveled?  Have you ever reached the sea?"

Belsea shook her head, "No, I've never had a reason to do so."

"Now, forgive my ignorance but, do you live in Ceteran or elsewhere? And how does one contact you when your services are needed?" Cael continued.

After a while, the farmland began to be spotted with farmers working the fields. Women were casting rice in the fields, laid out like a patchwork over the long stretch of flat land this side of the mountains.

Finally, she responded, "...they leave a message at one of the shops I go to for supplies..." Belsea regarded Cael carefully. Could they leave no silence untouched? Was it time to grill the only woman in the party? Would they be trying to set her up with brothers, cousins, or gods forbid, one of themselves?

Mikealus had seen that expression before, he thought.  Rorge had earned it, in his cups, when he'd 'complimented' a barmaid who didn't appreciate it at all.  He decided to leave Cael to his siege, then, and instead busied himself with drawing his waterskin from a saddlebag for a pull, and picking up his pace to return to his brother-initates collective side.

The group passed a few huts. Off in the distance, they could see orchards and woods, dotted with pale buds not yet opened. They passed an intersecting dirt road that, Belsea knew, would take them to the local liege's keep.  The rich smell of mud from the rice paddies overwhelmed all other scents. Belsea looked to the captain but said nothing. He'd made his goal clear, and it hadn't included visiting dignitaries.

Cael was silent for a while, enjoying the company of the other patrol members, no matter how stoic. Having people to talk to was a nice change. Red Brother hardly spoke to him and when he did it was typically things related to his Order.

Mikealus smirked.  At least they aren't escorting minstrels.  They'd be listening to love songs all day.  And then his half-orc companion would have to beat the man to death with his own lute…  Eventually, the hamlet Mikealus had named before came into view. It wasn't much more than a handful of huts and simple houses centered around a meeting hall. Nonetheless, it was neatly kept. A trough and rail were just beyond, in a small clearing. There was also a well. Mikealus gripped his steed's reins the slightest bit tighter.  He always wanted to ride through towns.  The stares of people made him feel self-conscious, and walking instead of riding just made it worse, somehow.

"Let's water the horses... From here, we'll ride for a time. Take a moment to eat." The captain led his mount to the trough and let it drink, then separated from the others to go to the hall.  Borche followed suit, but after tying off his horse to the rail, walked a distance away to pray briefly.

"I take it this is Restful Stream? It seems quaint." Cael said with a smile as he watched the townspeople go about their morning work. "Shall we find an area to break fast, my friends?" The others broke into their kits, picking out flat, wide bars of trail ration to eat.

Ravi snickered. "Beat ya to it," he said through a mouthful of pemmican.

Belsea led Sage to the trough, and went to fetch some water for herself.

A silent spring in Mik's step was his only exultation.  Bless his cousin's intuition.  He tied Kohl to the post, and pet her for a moment, keeping an eye until Borche was done.  While he did not have devotions of his own, he rather liked to at least respect the silences his companions' kept.  A half-prayer was better than none, and all the gods had their merits, until one spoke to his heart directly.

Several minutes later, al'Pacem returned, and Borche finished his noon devotions. "Let's wrap up lunch and get back on the road, then." He gestured to Belsea and moved to his warhorse. Belsea nodded, and swiftly finished the last bit of her food as she went to where the captain waited. Mikealus mounted, and carefully devoured his own meal. 

Cael finished his rations and untied his mule as the rest of the group packed up. As he rejoined the other, he approached al'Pacem. "Is everything in order here?" he asked as he tugged on the mule’s reins.

"There are rumors about wild animals going amok. Wolves or boars, maybe." He methodically stripped down a ration bar of his own. "Some highwaymen, of course. But aggressive beasts are more cause for concern. There's been very little of that trouble here, but in the west, they have had a great deal of difficulty with the foaming sickness. I'm sure you've heard."

Belsea nodded. She'd rather take a highwayman than a razor back.

"I am unsure of this ailment. Is it common in these parts?" Cael asked with a bit of consternation. He was no fan of wild animals, especially those with a penchant for attacking humans.

Particularly any one maddened by that disease. "I shall keep an eye out for any signs of large animal life." Privately, she was pleased the captain was so mindful of more than the humanoid threats.

“No, it's not usual here. You can ask Belsea about it--but you know when an animal has it. You can tell."  Al'Pacem swung onto horseback. "Let's ride out." He waved to Agniprava, who by prearrangement rode a lazy mule with a simple saddle.

Belsea reclaimed Sage, and found her place within the line.  Cael carefully mounted his mule and fell in. Khon picked up her hooves, picking up on her rider's relief.  It was good to be in the saddle again. The remainder of the day's journey was uneventful. The paved road ended several hours out from the hamlet, leaving them all on a wide dirt road. It was still muddy from earlier rains. Fieldhands waved to the party as they passed. Briefly, a pack of excited dogs chased after the mules, until Agniprava's irritated mount nearly brained one with a kick. 

The shadows were beginning to stretch long from the few trees along the road when at last the captain called a halt. Ravi groaned with relief to be off horseback, and waddled around a while to return feeling to his tender places. The captain led his horse away from the road several paces to a small stand of trees. The ground here was raised and had been cleared; it was grassy and only a little damp. Just beyond the hillock was a clean steam.  Cael stretched as he dismounted. He had not ridden for a month or so and felt it as much as Ravi did. Belsea slide off Sage, and went to assist in setting up camp. Mikealus playfully ribbed Ravi a bit and took a brief circle around the perimeter to make sure none of the ravenous wild bearwolfboarbats Cael had been going on about were waiting in the wings.

"We camp here. Borche and Ravi, find some fallen wood for a fire. Khader, Agniprava, Mikealus, set tents, if you would."

 Belsea walked the perimeter of the small clearing, looking for signs of any unusual activity. In the nearby stream, she found a nest—five eggs—which she left, intending to pick them up in the morning. Mikealus paced around with Cael for a minute, but neither noticed anything remarkable. There seemed to be some rabbits in the stand of trees, but they wanted nothing to do with the men and bolted as soon as they were seen. Mikealus shrugged at Cael.  "At least the rabbits aren't trying to kill you Cael."  ...and went to set up tents. Belsea, however, noticed some hoofprints by the riverside. She deduced that they belonged to water buffalo. They probably came to water here on occasion. The prints were a little old, but that side of the bank was well-worn.

The two sent out on wood duty brought back a small pile of damp, fallen wood. Borche set about lighting tinder and carefully constructing a fire, nursing a tiny flame while the others busied themselves. The captain watered the mounts and took care to tie them off loosely to the trees so they would be comfortable, and not trample the grass into muck for the next traveler.

Mikealus was surprised to find that the unworldly monk was capable enough with his hands to sling together a very nice tent.  He certainly learned quick, though his pockets were empty even of dust. "Indeed.  Just like that.  Thank you for the assistance." The monk worked easily under Mikealus's eye, and soon there were three tents set up, to house 3 per.

The captain glanced at Belsea and raised an eyebrow.

"Waterbuffalo come here from time to time." Not surprising with the layout of the immediate area.

"Good to know. Shame we have no time to hunt."

"How will shifts be handled?" she asked.

“Ah.” He cleared his throat, and spoke the following loudly enough for the others to hear. "We'll pull lots. Cael can take choice of the midnight slot, since his prayers are then. As there are nine of us, we'll rotate four each evening, one person at a time, for two hands. Last watch can rouse any late sleepers." 

Mikealus and the captain lucked out on the draw.  Meanwhile, Khader took first watch, followed by Belsea, Cael, and after some quibbling with Borche, Ravi rounded the watch out with the last spot. Dusk had come at last. A light fog fell as the sun set, and grew heavier as twilight deepened. The chill in the air made a campfire an old friend, but supper did a good deal to ward the nip away from the patrol’s bones.

Cael had found a small piece of birch and began to idly carve away at it with one of his tools. Mikealus sat by the fire honing his new blade.  He makes a note to spar with Khader tomorrow.  As the sun sank, the eerie, distant howl of wolves causes a natural hush in the camp's nighttime activity. The captain took Belsea and Mikealus aside to discuss their route quickly while the others readied for sleep.


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## RedTonic (Sep 24, 2011)

I'm several sessions behind in making logs, but I nevertheless have a nice buffer again. Since I have a lot of catching up to do, I may as well update again and resume my Saturday-ish posts! Most of our sessions so far have been played with 3 out of 4 players available. As long as I have at least 3 people, I'm happy to run the game. When someone's missing, their PC is usually in the hands of another player or myself, and tends to stay in the background, following reasonable suggestions and not making major decisions.

*****​
Absent this session: Agniprava.

Night settled over the camp in a damp fog. It was Cael's watch. The moon was waxing. That night, it was a great, half-lidded eye looking over the mortals as they slept. Though it was night, all was not silent. Cael heard the brook behind the knoll, the shifting of his erstwhile companions in their sleep, and the breath of wind in the bare trees. He silently prayed to Zauriel and kept his own watchful eyes on the rest of the camp. He petitioned his god to watch over them and see the party makes a safe return. The power of his god's whim was as a cool caress as he was granted access to a sliver of Zauriel's might. For the moment, this part of the world is under his master's power.

A noise interrupted the initiate’s reverie. Lighting a nearby piece of wood from the fire, Cael rose and moved cautiously towards the sound, before making a sweeping motion before him with the torch. A loose rock had rolled down. As he moved closer, a few more small stones abruptly rolled down.  He didn’t see anything amiss in the dark, given the fog and his night-blindness from the campfire. Shrugging his shoulders, Cael returned to the fire. 

Everyone else seemed dead to the world after a long day of walking and riding. At least their first day on the road had been quiet, with no unpleasant surprises—so close to Ceteran and the keep, any real trouble would have been quashed by now. Cael resumed his prayers, hoping for the safety of Red Brother, and thanking Zauriel for his new, kind companions. He gazed up as he made his devotions, noting something odd after a while. The tree branches were swaying, but there was no wind. A log tumbled in the fire, causing a shower of sparks to burst out before the flames subsided again. Cael decided to throw a few more logs onto the fire; the flames reluctantly licked at the damp offering, and cooled. More sparks spring up. In the distance, Cael heard a chilling howl.

Dead asleep, the others heard nothing.

Cael then realized why the rocks rolled down, the fire shifted, and the trees were moving despite merely a weak breeze: hooves pounding towards camp from across the river. Worried, he recalled what al'Pacem had told him earlier in the day about the animals with the foaming disease. He quickly called out to the others: “Awaken! There may be trouble afoot!"

The captain and his men started rustling in their tents. "Where?" The captain was hardly bright-eyed, but comes out in his padded under-armor with sword in hand. Belsea rose stiffly, spending her time getting her bow in order.  The other three men were awake and armed though not armored. The horses were beginning to whicker nervously where they were tied.

"From across the river! I heard the cry of wolves and hooves heading this way!" Cael replied.

Mikealus looked at the perimeter of the camp at the mention of hooves.  "From where, priest?"  He clumsily buckled his own swordbelt on.

Cael pointed. Everyone could hear the pounding of hooves coming closer. With panic in his eyes, he pleaded, "Al'Pacem, what should we do?" No one could see what was coming. The fire was hurling sparks. The horses were unnerved and dancing around. Borche and Houshang headed towards the trees.

"Take cover!" the captain urged Cael. Khader had already disappeared into the copse and was trying to control of his horse. Following, Mikealus successfully calmed his warhorse; she was a little wild-eyed but accepted his commands easily.

Heeding the captain's advice, Cael hid behind a tree, on the side away from the sounds and water. Ravi  moved into the trees as well, and was just ahead of Cael, crouching in the brush.  Agniprava flanked Ravi along with Belsea. Thinking quickly, Cael took up a defensive stance. The fire collapsed suddenly and flung sparks into the canvas tents. The ground trembled. Khader did not move; he gripped his weapon. Mikealus mounted up. Of all of them, Ravi seemed the most relaxed, despite his bared sword. Belsea held herself ready for an order, anticipating that the captain would set a precedent for them all to follow. Should the captain need any martial assistance, Belsea would provide.

The roar of hoofbeats deafened them. The patrol could barely hear their own hearts. From across the stream tumbled a black wall of churning muscle. Belsea and Borche, with their keen vision, realized first what they witnessed: a stampede of water buffalo. The beasts exploded through the camp, breath and sweat steaming from their massive bodies. Still smoldering logs rolled before them and among them, tangling in the tents. The party's mounts panicked as they scented the herd's frenzy. Borche rolled out of the way of a kick from one of the horses. Houshang held back, biding his time. None of the water buffalo had broken for the trees--yet. He signaled for the others to wait. 

The stampede trundled past, leaving the camp a muddy pit in their wake. The stink of cattle excrement, singed hide, and smoking canvas assailed the group. The tents were a tangled, muddy mess, some lying beneath the scattered logs. The stampede seems to be heading away across the road at full tilt. An elderly specimen straggles behind.

Mikealus patted Khongordsol's neck, and looked over the rest of the camp.  He paused, glancing at the Huntress: would she want to take the old creature down?  He'd assist if she wished, but...  he was more stunned by the devastation than out for blood.

Belsea looked to the captain. Houshang seemed nonplussed. The rest began to calm their beasts and assess their supplies. Surprisingly, Cael's unpacked belongings were mostly intact, though muddy and battered. Since Agniprava owned nothing to speak of, he was less worried. The tents were in very bad shape, though. At best, they would require a great deal of repair, as would the bedrolls.

Mikealus spoke up. "Captain?  Should we light some torches and sort through the camp?  Or wait for daybreak?"

"Better try to sort it out now... Bedrolls are covered in mud and  anyway," he sighed. He had managed to get his horse, a beast not unlike Mikealus', under control sooner than the others.

"Aye, sir."  Mikealus retied Khon, fetched a torch, and went to help the others.

Cael spoke a prayer to Zauriel as he sorted through the shambles of the tents. A faint glow emanated from his hands as he went. The poles were snapped and the canvases torn. The poles needed replaced; the dirty canvases seemed like they could be stitched and patched. It would take more time than overnight, though.  Cael looked at his companions with a sad smile and quipped, "Looks like we'll be sleeping under the stars after all..." He found the tent the captain, Ravi, and Khader shared. The men's armor was more or less fine. The burst contents of a wineskin seeped into the trampled blankets. A campfire log burned through part of the tent. Houshang joined Cael and sifted through the equipment to find what needs replaced or repaired. 

Luckily for Belsea, she didn't do anything so foolish as to leave her bow and quiver behind, or the wood would have been destroyed. Her equipment was extremely dirty and smells richly of buffalo. Her tent was wadded up, but not singed. The old buffalo is wandering nearby, eyeballing her, and she eyeballed the old buffalo in return. She shuffled to where a bit of grass wasn't quite so caked with dung, and offered it to the wizened creature. The old buffalo gave Belsea a wall-eyed look and wandered no closer. She tossed the grass towards it and began trying to straighten out her belongings. The buffalo sidled over to the grass and munched warily. Content to let the animal eat, Belsea did her best to get the majority of the crap off her bedroll. The smell of dirt didn't offend her, but why did the animals defecate all the way?

Mikealus gathered up his chain shirt and frowned.  "Well."

Cael began inspecting his tools and gear. Some things were jostled, but everything seemed intact. "That could have gone worse."

Borche sighs gustily. He has just kicked a log off of his bedroll. "Gonna take forever to get all the mud out of this, lest it rust." He shakes out the tent with a huge FLAP of snapping canvas.

Mikealus chuckles, holding up his own bedroll.  It is literally full of holes, and parts of it which aren't instead have buffalo-prints so clear they might have been painted on.  "...I think I'll just stick with a horse blanket, to be honest."

Sorting the camp out enough to sort out what was and wasn't worth keeping and organizing things enough to reasonably sleep took a few hours. Order reasserted itself nonetheless. At least, Khader reinforced, no one had been harmed--except Ravi's wine.  The rest of the night passed uneventfully, if somewhat uncomfortably.

The last watch awakens the patrol before sunrise to get an early start on their day. The old water buffalo was found on the other side of the stand of trees, asleep and probably dreaming

More than a little paranoid of wild beasts, Cael inspected the tracks and area around the river. Still remembering what al'Pacem had told him about the wild beasts attacking, he checked if there were any clues that may be left behind. Using his quarterstaff, he poked through the brush that had been trampled upon. Despite his meticulous survey, any signs which may have explained the stampede have been destroyed by the beasts' hooves. The banks of the stream have been practically destroyed, and the water here is still quite muddy. Giving up, the initiate broke down straight canes with his handaxe for repairing the tents.

Soon, Belsea also arrived at the stream. As she suspected, the eggs she had found yesterday evening had been destroyed in the stampede. With the birds nowhere in evidence, she gave up and went to tend Sage.

The smell of breakfast porridge wafts from the campfire, where Ravi, Khader, and Borche were quibbling over breaking out a string of preserved sausages or not. Meanwhile, Houshang cleaned his banded mail with a small kit. Mikealus also cleaned his chain shirt holding his tongue about the sausages for sanity's sake. After a while, breakfast was ready, without sausages (or eggs). It's filling nonetheless. The mounts and packmules were fed and watered. Even given the stampede, very little was unusual about the morning camp activities. Belsea spent a moment comforting Sage while waiting for the others to finish packing up.

On the way out, Cael noticed a glint in the mud. He stopped whittling for a moment and stooped to examine what was encased in the grime of last night’s stampede. It was a half-talent he’d seen. A corner of leather poked out of the ground to its side. Curious, he dug up both articles. The leather corner belonged to a smallish leather satchel which had obviously been buried under the sod before it was destroyed last night. Within, protected by hard-packed earth, were 10 freshwater pearls, a flask of clear liquid, 60 talents* (counting the one Cael found), and five fetishes carved from semi-precious stone. The satchel was partially rotted.

Cael motioned to the others. "Not to cause any alarm, but I believe I have stumbled upon something. It seems to me a small cache has been uncovered by last night’s foray. By the looks, this pouch has been here for some time, suggesting some on may have dropped it or it was hidden and forgotten."

"Perhaps the owner was not quick enough to get out of the way of a stampede," Belsea mused. 

Mikealus' eyes widened in surprise.  "Yet his goods were lucky enough to do just that, it seems."

To put things in perspective, 60 talents represented more wealth than the peasants in the party would ordinarily see in their entire lives.*

"A wealthy individual none-the-less," she agreed.

Cael was interested in the more immediate question of the potion. The flask was bubbly glass; the liquid didn't appear unusually viscous. There was a bird stamped into the wax seal on top. The bag is filthy and stained dark from being buried for a long time, but Cael made out what may have been a stylized black eagle burned or dyed into what was the top flap. It matched the bird stamped into the wax. Mikealus and Houshang recognized the crest: it belonged to Oungmei Clan, just a couple days north of the village at the end of the journey. They were a poor clan, but much larger than Hel-Halmar.

"Huh.  Do you know the seal, Captain?"  Mikealus squints at it.  It’s familiar...  Hm. He then realizes that the vial emits a certain… Purity. 

"Oungmei's falcon, I think..."

"Yes.  And that flask... is....  ...blessed. Agniprava?  Do you know what it is?"

"I believe it's holy water," he replied thoughtfully.

Mikealus cleared his throat.  Well.  That made sense.  He'd just been hoping for something a bit more specific.  Ahem.

Belsea felt it was unfortunate that no money was likely to be spared for repairs if the owners were identifiable.

Cael said to al'Pacem, "Sir, wouldn't it be best to see if we can find the rightful owners of this treasure? Perhaps if we inquire to some of the local villagers, we may get a clue as to who these belong to. You seem to be familiar with the crest that it bears."

"Holy water, gold, and freshwater pearls...."  Mikealus muses.

"Yes... It's not too far north of the village at the end of our patrol. The Oungmei clanhold, that is. It wouldn't be a long detour..."

Ravi and Khader were in apparant awe at the display of wealth. Borche already stopped paying attention and was picking at a patch of dried dirt crusting part of his strapped-on armor.  Cael handed the pouch to Houshang, "Well I suggest we make an attempt to find the rightful owners. Maybe they were scared away by a stampede and dropped their belongings."

As she figured would happen. Belsea shrugged and returned to her pony's side.

"I suppose it's possible." Houshang accepted the pouch and mulled it over for a bit. "Have to figure out a better way to store this, but for now..." He took it over to his mount and cautiously repacked the contents in his saddlebags. "At any rate, let's move out."

Belsea nodded, now eager to get on the road. The morning was foggy, but by the time the sun was high,   the mists had thinned. Midway through the day, al'Pacem signaled a stop at a watering hole not far from the road. Belsea went to check the surroundings for anything unusual… Or water buffalo tracks. She found a pair of horses tied up nearby in the trees. A low stone wall nearby enclosed a large area--by the old stone markers, she realized she had found a graveyard. Out in the midst, she spied a pair of figures standing among a few freshly dug graves, but the markers nearest those graves seem very aged...

She sidled up to the captain. "We may have a set of grave diggers," She gestured towards the graveyard.

Al'Pacem looked confused for a moment, then noticed the gravestones several paces away. "Grave diggers?" he frowned. He peered out there for a moment. 

Mikealus' face darkened.  "...Beneath and behind all things is eternity: serve the ever-lasting with pride, for you raise up the whole world with your devotion."  His hand was on his sword.  The unfortunate thing about being honor-bound to things.  Now he kind of really wanted to do something about this.

"I could be wrong, but fresh graves at old markers." Belsea looked at Mikealus.

The younger paladin agreed. "...I do not mean to sound over-zealous, Captain, but..."

Al'Pacem had realized a moment too late that the talk was about grave robbers. They could see comprehension dawn on him as his brow began to knit. "Indeed. You, Ravi, Khader, and Agniprava--take them from this side. Borche and I will circle around on mounts to keep them from escaping. If Akbar and Belsea will provide support..." 

She nodded her assent.

Mikealus considered.  "Will our mounts defile the holy ground, Captain?  Should we proceed on foot?"

The captain looked at them, each; "This is a grievous breech of the law; our duty is clear. Be wary of others." Regarding Mikealus, he shook his head. "Horses are not unclean; now, if we rode pigs into battle..."

Mikealus chuckled and readied his lance.  "As you say."  Khongordsol snorted, hoof pawing the turf....  Borche, Ravi, and Khader mounted up, though Agniprava abstained from attempting to make a warmule. Cael took position beside Belsea, and watched Borche circle to the left and al’Pacem to the right. The initiate turned to Belsea, and uttered a prayer of guidance to steer her through.

Lowering his lance, Mikealus charged. Khongordsol’s powerful hooves tore up turf as Khader and Ravi pounded along behind. Bemused, Belsea looked on: the three horsemen bore down on the two heretofore unsuspecting men. In a flash, the holy warriors are upon them. Mikealus's lance tore through its burly target; the man's crude hide armor isn't enough to protect him. He smashes into the stone behind him, shattering it. Mikealus rode past, arm throbbing from the impact, and noted he must repair the stone after they dispatched the grave robbers.

Ravi's blade sheered through muscle and bone as his horse carried him past, yet the man remains standing. Khader's follow up blow misses as his target reels from the previous strike.

Back by the wall, Belsea moved to the side, a bit surprised at the sudden brutality. She'd anticipated an attempt at civility at first, but apparently one did not look cross eyed at graveyards when paladins were about. Still, she would have thought the two dead with blows like that. Belsea let fly an arrow at the man at the base of the broken grave, hoping the priest's spell worked. The standing man jerked as an arrow pierced his breast, then he sagged back into the broken slate.

"I surrender!" The man Ravi had slashed open gasped.

Borche trotted up from behind, sword at the ready. “Mikealus?” The wounded man was a dirty peasant, rough and muscular, but now terribly wounded. His compatriot was completely covered in gore. His blood wetted the stones and holy ground of this old place.

Mikealus held his sword flat at his side, his shadow blotting out the sun above the fallen vagrant.  "...aye.  I hear you, man.  But know that you have profaned the Will of Thrones, and whatever fate is beset upon you, you will know little mercy, and less kindness.  You have committed a grave offense."  He dismounts.  "...yet I hear you."

Borche didn't roll his eyes… Quite. Watching from afar, Belsea shook her head. The captain, Khader, and Ravi trotted up, still on horseback themselves. 

Cael steps forward and says, "Lay down any weapons and I will try to close your wounds." The two men bear a cudgel and an axe; the axe is simply a woodsman's axe. Their shovels were knocked aside in the charge.  The still-conscious man hadn't even had time to put hand to his cudgel, and feebly lifted his empty hands.

"Thank you, priest."  Mikealus said, reaching into his saddlebags.  He withdrew a pair of manacles.

The fallen man was yet alive, but barely. Left untended, he would surely die; even if tended, he seemed likely to still slip this world. Mikealus dismounted as Cael struggled to bind the man’s gushing wounds—his grip on the bandages in his healer’s kit was fouled by the blood, and his hands were unsteady from nerves.

Belsea looked at the priest, "Troubles?"

"I-I, I've never seen such bloodshed. It makes me, uneasy...." 

Belsea looked at the man, "It tends to happen when gored by a lance and shot with an arrow." She knelt beside Cael and the wounded one to help.

Cael let her take over and went to the still conscious man. He attempted to close up his wounds, while asking, "Why were you digging up these graves?" The conscious man says nothing, merely shakes his head and grimaces in pain.

"Aye.  ...."  Mikealus closed the dying man's eyes, and looks unsure.  What gods did this man favor? What family did he have?

Belsea shrugged. "He's beyond my help. The wounds are severe."

Cael looks towards the other. "I may be able to save him, though it may put us at a greater risk. I will do as the group wishes, but I cast my vote to help this man. What say the rest of you?"

_Those who disgrace the Will of Bone will be broken into dust, without strength or support to find from anyone._ Mikealus swallowed hard, but kept silent. Al’Pacem said nothing.

"I will leave that decision to the captain," said Belsea.

Mikealus wanted very much to give the man back his life....  but the Will of Thrones...  Did it not refuse him that gift?  He looked to the Captain, uncertain - and obviously displeased.

Ravi spat into the dirt. Borche spoke up. "He should face the law, so others know his crimes. The lords," he motioned to the captain and Mikealus, "Have the right of it, but this place's town has claim, too."

Belsea smiled slightly. Mikealus nearly brightened at Borche's words.  But... Was Borche not also Sworn?

Al'Pacem doesn't smile, but he doesn't seem to disapprove of what Borche has said. "We can push to reach the nearest town by supper, if we leave shortly."

Khader dismounts and cleans his blade in the green grass. "Well, let's move on, then. That one hasn't much blood left to lose."

Cael concentrated and prayed to Zauriel. He placed his hands over the man's wounds and they shone with a brilliant radiance.  After, he could no longer see through the man to the ground.  Their prisoner did not regain consciousness, however.


Mikealus cleaned off his blade, and tried to piece together the name on the tombstone the man's fall broke. "Cheng-ji Suekh," it read.  "Is he whole, Cael?  Will he survive the ride?"

"I can't be sure. The wounds were deep. We better make haste, rather than wait. I fear the longer we tarry, the worse off he will be." Cael grimaced. 

Mikealus nodded.  "Then if we mean to save him, we should not tarry."

Khader gestured to Ravi. "Help me." 

Ravi shook his head. "...Of all the," he muttered under his breath. 

"We'll strap him to my horse," Khader spoke over Ravi. Mikealus helped Khader; the men lifted the unconscious grave robber. It took some fumbling and resulted in fresh bleeding, but they got him strapped into the military-style saddle.

Cael knelt before the three dug-up graves and prayed silently in hope that the spirits would remain at peace. There were two mouldering piles of remains, and no obvious valuables. The bones were very, very old and fragile. The third grave wasn't completely dug up; the duo were in the process of uncovering Suekh's grave when the party attacked.

 Mikealus, after helping saddle the man, turned to the disturbed graves and covered them once more with the same shovel used to exhume them.  Belsea switfly stacked the pieces of the shattered grave in a pile while the others worked. Borche helped rearrange the remains as respectfully as he could, but none of them were experienced in burials. "We'll have to see if the town has a priest or something." He glanced at Cael. "No offense. Their spirits will just be more at ease with family rites.”

"...aye.  And I will need to speak with someone about replacing Cheng-ji Suekh's marker." Mikealus gestures for the other graverobber to rise.  "You'll ride with me.  If you cause trouble, I will bind your wrists.  Do you understand?"

The man nodded faintly. With the graves righted as well could be and the prisoners sorted, the group set out again...

*60 talents = 14,400 gold pieces. In my game, 1 gold piece is approximately the equivalent to a year's worth of a peasant's labor. Silver alloy and copper are the most used currency materials, followed by gems. Most trade occurs as barter for goods or labor. There are no platinum pieces. Talents are made from steel (not stainless) and were introduced roughly half a century ago as a sign of the empire's technological and martial dominance over the continent.


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## RedTonic (Sep 29, 2011)

The next log is actually a combination of two sessions. This time, we  had some controversial events that the group is still getting mileage  from in terms of mocking the monk.

*****​
Missing during parts of this log: Agniprava, Belsea.

Despite the presence of the two wounded peasants, the patrol made good  time in reaching the next settlement towards sundown. This close to  Ceteran, there were many settlements roughly half a day apart from each  other. They tended to be extremely simple, but not necessarily  poverty-stricken. This settlement had the good fortune to have a  water-powered mill, which worked even this late in the day, pounding  rice into flour. The large patrol drew attention from the locals, who  paused in their daily work to appraise the group.

The captain indicated to Mikealus and Khader to halt and keep an eye on  their prisoners. He then asks the growing crowd, "Where is your  bailiff?"

Cael chimed in, "Also, this man needs treatment beyond what we can  provide him," and makes a motion the heavily injured man. "We request  your assistance."

The back of the small but growing crowd stirred. A stocky, full-bearded  man, only chest-high to the captain, pushed his way forward.  "I'm the  one you'll be wanting to speak to," he said, voice gruff. "We haven't  any healers in the village to speak of, but we have some extra beds.  What can I do for ye?" He bobbed slightly at the captain and Cael,  taking them to be the ones in charge of this group. Under his breath,  the man muttered at a few of the children. "Tell freeman Hojh and  goodwife Khali we have injured guests." Others eyed the shackled man and  the yet unconscious one with undeniable curiosity. This was probably as  interesting as things got in the settlement.

Al'Pacem nodded to your group, then took the bailiff by the shoulder and  spoke quietly to him. The two departed to speak privately.

Turning to their unconscious prisoner, Cael asked, "Khader, please help  me take this man to a bed. I can tend to him, but I need some clean  water to wash his wounds and some rags."

Ravi spat into the dust. "Don't see how there's any point--they're gonna hang."

Khader just shrugged. "Give me a hand, priest; he's a hefty fella."  The  ties and straps on the military saddle had done a decent enough job of  keeping their unconscious prisoner mounted, but the leather was going  stiff with blood and took a while to undo.

"He did not earn his death at my hand, Ravi,"  Mikealus pointed out,  still somewhat unpleased that he so completely maimed the man.  "If the  gods see fit to spare him, and men do the same..."  He did not have the  levity to shrug in dismissal, but he still gave Ravi a pointed look and  helped unbind the unconscious man in the process.

Cael took the man by legs and let Khader take the torso. "Please, show  me where we can lie him down," he asked of one of the townsfolk.  The  two children came bounding back just as Cael asked the question. A  hefty, sun-dark woman and matching man, of similar stocky build to the  bailiff, followed swiftly behind.

"You'll want to come this way, then," the goodwife said briskly. The man  helped Khader and Cael carry their burden down the dirt lane into a  small wood house. The goodwife fussed over her new guests and tried to  ply everyone with buckwheat cakes. She was especially curious about the  wounded man, but refrained from asking too many questions. Cael worked  feverishly and managed to pack the remaining wounds more cleanly. In the  interim, invigorated by the divine healing imparted earlier, the  prisoner regained consciousness.  

Inside the cottage, Cael was finishing up his work. "Khader, please help  me restrain him. If he moves about suddenly, I fear his wounds may  reopen," Cael said, wrapping a linen bandage tightly around the man’s  chest. "It doesn't look like it will grow infected, but he cannot be  moving around." The two made short work of restraining Cael’s patient.  Cael breathed a sigh of relief. The worst of it was over, now it relied  on this man's will to live.

The freeman left the cottage and headed back to where the rest of the party remained. 

The shackled prisoner coughed. "Er, lord..." He looked at Mikealus  uneasily. Mikealus looked up at the man. "What, er, you..." He seemed to  be at a loss for words, and in no inconsiderable pain besides.

Mikealus returned to his horse.  "What now?  I've not gagged you- speak."

"Well, uh, what will become of me?" The man asked it in a tone that  suggested he knew exactly what was coming next, but was still bewildered  that he hadn't already been executed.

"I do not doubt you are familiar with the law.  But I am neither your  baliff nor your justice.  If I were, you'd not have left that burial  ground.  It is these people's land you've desecrated, and their laws  you'll reap the fruit of."

The old freeman cleared his throat, interrupting Mikealus’s lecture.   "If'n you don't mind," he said, voice low and rumbly, "I'm freeman  Hojh.  Bailiff is a talker, so'n you're hungry, masters and mistress,  best we take to the mill." He eyed the prisoner, overhearing Mikealus's  words. "The children can take care of your horses."

"Off, then."  Mikealus instructed his shackled responsibility.  "You'll stay with me until the bailiff is ready."

Ravi grunted. Borche handed over his steed's reins to one of the  children. "Be very careful, and don't touch his hooves," he said  sternly.

As she dismounted, Belsea noticed Borche slip something to one of the  children. Assuming it is some measure of coin, Belsea paid it no mind.

Hojh nods. "This way, then." He gestured at the few remaining onlookers,  mostly children, "off with ye then!" The stragglers backtracked to the  mill, leaving Cael and Khader with their patient. On the way back,  Belsea saw down the road what she was certain was that old buffalo. She  was bemused by the sight of the old creature. Had it followed them at a  distance the entire time?

The mill was the largest structure in the village, serving multiple  purposes: a storage space, a meeting hall, a home, and a brewery. The  faint yeasty scent of beer and sweet rice lingered inside. A woman is  working over a stone stove, stirring a heavy pot of something which  smells delicious. She greeted them. "I'm Elhaym, the bailiff's wife.  He's back by the well with your captain." She curtsied awkwardly. A long  trestle table with benches that looked to have been hewn from truly  mammoth trees had been cleared and wooden cups set out.

Mikealus was distracted from the smells in part by the child who had taken his horse, and otherwise by his prisoner.

Cael cleaned up his hands and headed outside to let the others know the  man is stable; seeing them straggle back to the mill, he jogged to catch  up. A child ran in behind Cael, clattering with wooden bowls and  spoons. She set them down in a cacophany of spinning plates, dashed past  Elhaym, who swatted her on the behind, and shrieked gleefully outside.

"You're welcome to our food; it's humble, but we'd be honored to have  you," Elhaym said. The table was more than big enough to seat all of  them and more besides. This part of the mill was also where the town  meetings were held--and the miller was also the bailiff.

"Your generosity is much appreciated," Agniprava said, bowing to the hosts, and sat.

At last, al'Pacem and the bailiff return and take their places.  Agniprava rose as bailiff entered, bowed, and reseated himself. Cael  bowed to Elhaym. "Indeed." He sat close to Houshang and whispered to  him, "The man survived, and Khader is keeping watch."

Mikealus considered the warm table.  "Not to dampen the spirit of your  table, sir, but I would still commend our other charge to you.  I do not  know if you wish for him to share in your hospitality."

"You're right, milord," the bailiff said, casting a cool eye on the  shackled man. "Can't leave him out there to cause a fuss, though."

Mikealus nodded understandingly.  "He will cause no trouble.  I did not  want to impose him upon your table without your word, regardless. I will  remain without, with him, if that would be of better service to you?"

"No milord, don't worry yourself."

"Could we not tie him to the water wheel?  He can certainly cause no trouble there?” Agniprava suggested.

"Oh no, that would surely foul the water." The bailiff shook his head.  He pointed to the man. "You there. Go sit in the corner, where all can  see your shame."

Mikealus released his grip on the man's manacles, and joined his compatriots at table.

The ascetic sighed. "Such a travesty deserves worse." Meanwhile,  al'Pacem's men were seated at the table, and Elhaym had begun serving  everyone rice and vegetable potage. At this time of year, it was mainly  root vegetables, young bracken, and the newest greens and shoots. Belsea  thanked Elhaym as she received her share.

"He'll get his," the bailiff replied, confident. "But for now, please,  take your rest at my table. What is mine is yours. You have done us a  great good."

Mikealus bowed his head in silent thanks, observing his brothers' piety,  before beginning. The others bowed their heads over their hands  briefly, then began to eat, mixing the use of spoon and chopsticks. They  were by no means graceful folk, with the exception of the nobles in the  party.

As he eats, Cael turns to the bailiff. "Do incidents of grave robbery occur frequently?"

"Well," the bailiff replied, glancing at Elhaym.

"Not til just before the new year," she finished. "We'd not had any such thing in living memory."

"Why, the worst we'd had here since my great-great-grandfather was chicken thieves," the bailiff sighed.

"But since the new year.... there have been frequent incidents?"  Mikealus prompted, curious.

"More than none," the bailiff agreed. "But we didn't know it til just  before Thaw, when my cousin's uncle's daughter's bethrothed died n' we  buried him there." 

“So more incidents of the same?" Agniprava prompted.

"If just the one... would that it be the same two.  I'd be much at ease  to know no one else defiled your lands but these,” Mikealus added  gravely.

Belsea meditated on that while eating. Her eyes looked at their prisoner.

"Only that n' the other, but that one was only half dug, so I don't know that it counts."

"And these are suspected for both?" asked Agniprava.

"Well, I haven't seen 'em before... So I s'pose they could've done the  others. We're all gods-fearing folk here. We were going to send for a  priest from the city when the sowing was done." The bailiff sighed into  his bowl.

Elhaym rose abruptly from the table. "Oh, I'm so scattered," she  muttered to herself. She came back after a while bearing tankards of  beer. Not especially strong, but cool and refreshing enough, and  generously poured.

Agniprava looks into the tankard, "This is?..."

"My wife's," the bailiff replied proudly. "She brews our beer! It's what  the barley crop here goes toward. We sell it to the city." 

Mikealus thanked the woman, and turned back to the bailiff only once his  thirst was quenched a bit.  "There is another matter, actually."   Mikealus remembered to point out, as the group began.  "A tomb not only  raided, but, I am sad to say, defaced in our attack.  A.. Cheng-ji  Suekh's marker was sadly broken.  I would make reparations for it, to  those who survive him."

"Beer?..."  Agniprava senses the enthusiasm, and drinks, finding it to his liking more so then he imagined he would.

Hojh had settled at the table as well. "Oh, them folk's long dead.  Plague about when I was young," he said wistfully. "No survivors."

"...Then I'd compensate whoever you'll direct me to for the labor,  Goodman.  I've no desire to add to the graves' destruction," Mikealus  replied.

"Hmm, then why would they be a target? Were they particularly wealthy?" Cael asked the bailiff.

Belsea’s curious study of her mug ended at the bailiff's statement.  Belsea raised the mug to Elhaym slightly before taking a drink. To cook  and brewer.

Elhaym smiled beatifically at Belsea. "So," she asked, voice low as to  not distract the men, "Are you one of the Silver Horn? Or are you  betrothed?"

"I am hired on as a tracker and woodswoman."

Elhaym's smile diminished only slightly. "You travel alone, with all of these...? That's dangerous work for a young woman."

Belsea shrugged. "If I chose the wrong group. I imagine these gentlemen  would react quite severely to someone who would cause peril to a young  woman in such a way."

"I'm sure it's as you say." She eyed the captain and Mikealus. "They do seem like upright men."

Mikealus bit down on a smile as he finished his bowl.  The woman obviously intended to make him blush. Bah.

Hojh looked at the bailiff, who answered, "You don't have to, milord,  but that's right generous. We don't have a stonemason in this town, he's  the next village over. I'm sure just a stater will be fine."

"I believe he has every intention of paying the man for the work of  replacing the broken marker." Belsea stated by way of agreement.

"It is good for a man to be faithful," Elhaym remarked.

Agniprava took note of the women's talk, and of Mikealus' reaction,  which he found amusing. He didn't know that people could turn such an  interesting shade of pink. "You should not trouble yourself so anyway,  Mikaelus," Agniprava opined. "The cycle took its course when they were  laid to rest.  The markers are mere formality."

Al'Pacem cleared his throat slightly. "All this talk of death should  wait til after dinner, or we'll all digest poorly," he said.

Mikealus nodded and decided to be sure to find the man in the next  town.  "It is not for the man - least of all if he has no one to mourn  hi--…" And so cut off by his captain, instead peaceably bowed his head  -- and drank more beer.

Agniprava nodded slightly. "I am interested to hear the answer to Cael's  question though."  He turned to the bailiff. "Were they wealthy?"

"So the stories say," the bailiff replied. "They were wanderers from the  north, who hunted beasts for fame. Think they were actually third sons,  though."

"What sort of beasts?" the ascetic perked up.

"Mad beasts, feral hogs, bear--anything vicious enough for fools to wish to attack," the bailiff replied.

"And how long have they been dead?"  Agniprava asked.

Hodj coughed. "Oh, I say, bout a score years or so ago."

Elhaym dutifully filled bowls and plates throughout the evening break.  Outside, the sun was beginning to set. Before things could get much  further, the bailiff set his clay tankard down on the table with a  muffled thump. "Well," he said, looking down at his mostly empty bowl.  "No point dragging it out."

Agniprava blinks in a bit of a surprise.  "Forgive my ignorance of your  ways but,"  He glances to the men, "isn't the point of keeping them  alive to question, to drag it out?"

"Sir, what is to become of these men?" Cael asked, declining a refill on  his mug. "The penalty in this area, hard labor, imprisonment,  death...?"

The bailiff shook his head. "Why question? I believe your words--these  men are guilty. The Silver Horn are not liars; the clansmen do not speak  false. The scaffold is risen; they hang."

Agniprava looks a bit perturbed at this particular approach, "But I wish to understand..."

"I too would like some answers before the death knell, if possible. We  did not have sufficient time to inquiry their motivation." Cael looked  to the prisoner. "Well, what say you? Why were you robbing that grave?"

The prisoner just shook his head and said nothing.

Agniprava, looking around, and considering his company, walked to the  prisoner and kicked him hard in the gut, "once again?" The man grunted,  but didn't say anything. The pain of a blow could not possibly be worse  than the pain of the wound he'd been dealt that afternoon.

Belsea frowned. "Would you not foul the atmosphere in here?"

Agniprava!"  Mikealus stands.  "The man is no longer our  responsibility-- and certainly not to be struck.  He is already headed  for the gallows."

Cael stepped between Agniprava and the prisoner. "Please, let us not  come to blows quite yet. I understand these are hard times. I understand  you may feel you had no choice in this matter. I simply wish to know  why. Why commit such an act?"

The prisoner hacks for a moment. "We--we were--we were paid to do it," he stuttered.

Belsea glanced at Elhaym and her husband. Elhaym looks aghast. She has  not moved since Agniprava kicked the man. The bailiff is watching  stoically. The anger radiating from him is palpable. One can tell that  he wishes to beat the prisoner as well.

Agniprava strode to the opposite side of the room, sat cross-legged and listened to the prisoner speak

"He just wanted some bones; din't see no harm to it.... They're dead, what does it matter?" he said, half to himself.

"Paid? I see. Now, if someone was willing to pay you to do their work, I  assume there was either a need for anonymity or your employer was going  to get rid of you after the fact. How did he contact you?"

Mikealus' eyebrow twitched.  "He wanted...."  He looked at the captain, wondering if they're of one mind here:  human bones?!

Al'Pacem said nothing. He was intent on the unfolding scene.

"Well, he was just, you know, at a tavern, and we was at a tavern, and  so'n we were talkin, and he said he would pay us for bones if we came on  some..."

"So it wasn't really specific remains, any remains would do? Curious.  Now, was there a meeting place for when you found the bones?"

"We was just gonna go back to that tavern..."

Interrupting, Mikealus bit out, "Which.  Tavern?"

"Oh, er, Stone Walk Village..."

Cael continued smoothly. "I see. My good fellows, might I make a  suggestion. This man seems harmless enough, just a bit misguided. What  say we use him to lure out the real culprit?"

"What motivation has he to cooperate?" Belsea asked.

"If his neck is truly set for the gallows, he has little other  recourse," Cael replied. "Perhaps a lightened sentence. If we kill him,  this mystery man will surely find others to do his deeds. If we can  catch the man behind the act..."

"Killing a man who only meant to feed himself does little to stop the  issue.  There are other desperate men who will find coin just as  promising," Mikealus pointed out to the ranger, rather surprised she  wouldn't find that a given.

Cael agreed. "My thoughts exactly."

Al'Pacem shook his head. "One look at this one and our rabbit would  bolt. The law says death; it is better for his soul than clinging to  life."

Belsea glanced at the young paladin, but did not say anything. Meanwhile, the bailiff was just barely keeping his temper.

Mikealus frowned at Al'Pacem, but restrained himself.  He was not  pleased to have this man's life on his hands. The horror of his crime  paled in comparison to the one who willed him to perform it.

"I suppose, but then we lose or best lead to catching a greater threat," Cael said reluctantly.

Al'Pacem rose and stood over the man. "Whether you live or die, you are a  defiled one. You are unclean. You will be outcaste wherever you walk.  None will recognize you as man. Your soul will wander and no one will  light a sacrifice by your grave. So; you have the means by which to  avenge your foolishness--and die with some measure of honor. Co-operate,  and you will not wander eternally." The wounded man recoiled.

Cael turns to the prisoner. "What say you? Lend us your aid and your  transgressions may be forgiven, my—hmm, funny, I had not caught your  name yet. You are?"

"Shuj," he replied meekly, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Belsea looked to the bailif. Did he find this an acceptable arrangement? The bailiff looked oddly satisfied...

"Well, Shuj, will you help us? If not for clearing your own name, then  to strike back against the man who sent you to your fate?"

Shuj bowed his head. "I--I will do what you say, lord."

"Sir, if it is agreeable with the rest of my company, could we take this  man under our charge? I understand the law permits his death, but in  these circumstances a second chance may serve us all for the better."

Belsea shifted. She found the captain's ideas more satisfying for all then confusing with the talk of a 'second chance'.

"He'll go with you and yours," the bailiff said, "But you must swear to  me that once this is discharged, he dies--that is my condition. The law  is the law. He gets his chance; but the dead deserve their due. How many  graves has he sacked?"  The last was obviously a rhetorical question.

"Where is this tavern from here?" Agniprava asked the room at large.

"East several days," al'Pacem replies. "Which means for several days, we will have to maintain a watch on this one."

"He will be watched."  Mikealus assured softly.

"What about the other?" Belsea asked.

"He hangs," the bailiff replied curtly.

Agniprava disagreed. “It may seem suspicious if they do not arrive together, no?"

"There is no honor among thieves," the bailiff disagreed.

"His only crime is that I hit him harder,"  Mikealus pointed out, in  agreement with Agniprava.  "...But it will be equally suspicious for a  man so gravely wounded to show up at all."

"There is also difficulty in moving him,” Belsea replied.

"Although..." Mikealus' expression soured. "We will have trouble finding our buyer if we have no goods."

Al'Pacem shook his head. "I don't think that's necessary." Mikealus looks extrordinarily relieved.

"Honor among thieves has little to do with it it seems to me," Agniprava  began. "If we are worried about honor, I wonder how we expect a man  willing to forsake his soul for a bit of coin to follow through at all  when he knows death awaits him anyway."  

Cael pipes up. "In several days’ time I can have the other man well off  enough to sit in a chair. All we need is to make the man think they are  making an exchange."

"There will be marching and travel before he gets to the chair to sit in." Belsea shakes her head.

"A bag filled with sticks will have a similar effect. An, when the trap is sprung, we will dispatch the ringleader," added Cael.

The bailiff cleared his throat. "I think you misunderstand; that is, I  doubt their... Buyer would be surprised if only one showed up to take  both shares of pay." He glanced at Shuj. "This one looking battered,  having murdered the other--natural enough to think, I say."

Belsea nodded at the bailiff. Sometimes she found the interactions of people fascinating, if draining.

Seeing there would be no convincing the bailiff, Cael sighed and said a  silent prayer for the injured man. With his wounds, it would be  remarkable for him to last much longer without proper treatment anyways.  Perhaps a swift death would be better than an agonizing one.

"Does not my second point still bear considering?" Agniprava asked of  the room at large. "After all, what are we to threaten him with should  he betray us?  Death?  He will already die."

"I'd rather hang him now and be done with it," the bailiff growled.

Agniprava ignored the bailiff in favor of hearing the opinion of his fellow travelers.

"I believe we were not threatening him into cooperation, but offering a  chance to redeem a part of his soul or memory," Belsea stated mildly.

Al'Pacem replied, "No rest for the doomed soul is not a light sentence." Ravi and Khader nodded. Borche said nothing.

"I have already stated my opinion. If he sees this through, I would prefer to think of it as his atonement,” Cael said.

"And what of the soul of the one who kills the messanger?"  Agniprava  retorted, with a slight bite.  He shakes his head.  "Nevermind..."  He  bowed from his seat, "As you will it, captain."

"...Those who defile the sacred, their elders... They are not given  mercy, Agniprava.  It is not an easy truth, but it is the way we are  sworn to."  He's not happy either.

"Well. If you are all settled...?" The captain looked at each in turn,  excepting the prisoner at his feet. Daylight had already faded to dusk.  Torches were being lit beyond the shuttered windows.

"Why don't we rest for the night and talk about his punishment on the  road tomorrow. Even if we head to this tavern, we still have the rest of  our duty to complete as well. We have all had a long day," Cael said,  stalling for some more time to work out the problem. 

Belsea idly wondered how watch would proceed.

The bailiff interjected, "I would have done with the other tonight."

"What say you to that, lord captain?" asked Agniprava. These proceedings had been of great interest to him… If a bit irritating.

"Let it be done, then. Borche, take this one. Bailiff, please set us up  for the night; I hate to take advantage of your hospitality, but there  is no sense in traveling at night under these conditions."

Cael acquiesced. "As you would. I believe he is not long for this world  anyhow. His wounds were deep, and it would take constant care to give  him the hope of a normal life. As much as I hate to see a man I worked  hard to save to have his life ended, this is your town and your rules."

"Captain, I would check the horses while the bailiff makes preparations?" Mikealus suggested.

Al'Pacem nodded. "As you wish."

Mikealus bowed his head, and went for some much-needed air, and a moment  to center himself before the trying task of watching a man die.

Cael excuses himself. "I would prefer not to watch such a spectacle. I will be in my lodgings, praying for this man's soul."

The bailiff seemed tired suddenly. He is much older than anyone  currently in your company, except Hojh. "I will fetch the other, then."  He stands and departs, Elhaym watching him worriedly. 

Agniprava rose to his feet, noticing the look Elhaym gave the bailiff.  "I will assist the bailiff."
He and the bailiff arrive at the freeman's house; the goodwife is  stitching by the fire. Khader rose when he saw his companion. "Hasn't  moved. What's the decision?"

Agniprava studied the prisoner. He was asleep and bound carefully and  precisely. His face was pale from blood loss; the bandages around his  chest were stained with seeping blood and fluid; his breath rattled.

"You may be out of luck Bailiff," Agniprava began, "He may not survive the walk to the rope..."

"It would be easier for everyone," the bailiff agreed. "Well, lads... Let's get him up."

Agniprava helped get the man to his feet with the others. Khader looks  concerned, but not surprised. "Hanging, huh." The goodwife looks up,  startled, while the men hoist the wounded one out of the cottage.
Back at the mill, Elhaym busies herself with cleaning up after the meal,  avoiding everyone's gaze. She is deeply uncomfortable with what has  transpired. Belsea observes her, saying nothing. She hesitated briefly  before going out to see the hanging. 

After making sure the horses are properly settled, Mikealus joined his brethren at the gallows.

Agniprava helped the bailiff walk the prisoner to the gallows, but then  departed for the tree line to meditate.  As he left the scene, Agniprava  walked by Mikealus. The monk recalled the paladin’s similar discomfort  with what was taking place and whispered, "Always remember what happens  to those who seek blood, Mikealus."

Mikealus remained behind, left with unhelpful words from the monk, and  the dull throb of frustration he is unsure of how to put at ease.  He  puts distance between himself and the ascetic - and then between himself  and the gallows.  He is almost loathe to leave it.  And he is angry.   It will be a long and trying watch, tonight, he has no doubt.

One way or another, as the goodwife followed Agniprava, Khader, and the  bailiff from the cottage, word has spread that the hastily erected  scaffold--barely a wooden platform under a tall tree on the outskirts of  the village  is about to be put to use. A small crowd has assembled.  With the doomed man lolling against Khader, the bailiff pronounces the  graverobber's crimes and his sentence. After some awkwardness, the man  dangles from the rope. The event is not terribly good spectacle; there  is no fight in the man. The crowd mostly departs, except for a pair of  burly fellows who wait by the scaffold, talking about the planting  season.

As the party sort through their thoughts, the bailiff and the two serfs  cut down the body and take it away.  Elhaym calmed herself through  mundane tasks until the goodwife comes to the millhouse, and sorted  everyone out into homes for the night. The village had a hard winter,  and this spring there was extra space.

Agniprava, not wanting to impose upon the people any more, decided to  take his rest outside among nature as was his custom at home.

The night watch passed without incident. In the morning, the patrol ate a  hot, hearty porridge made from last night's dinner and rice. Thus full,  the captain hustled everyone out on the road.

Shuj was still in bad shape, but stronger than the day before. He was  tethered to Borche's thick wrist. Everyone rode, excepting the prisoner.  Despite being cold and damp, the morning is a pretty one. As they  passed the river bend, Khader discussed a rumor he heard about bandits  nearby.

Cael sidled up to Khader. "Is there any chance this might be related to  the parcel we found the other night?" He said, not mentioning the value  of the find.

Mikealus rode along beside them.  Their shared attempts to break the ice  on the first day of their meeting, he reflected, must have gone well -  the strained silence no longer exists, to his imagination.

"Hm." Khader thought about it for a moment. "I don't think so. Sounded  like the bandits would be further west of here--a day or so out. If  they're still around. That village hadn't been hit. Just cousins of  cousins, you know how it is."

Cael nodded understandingly. He then turns to Shuj, "And do you have any dealings with these miscreants?"

Shuj shook his head painfully. "Dunno 'em. We weren't part o' no band," he replied dully.

"How did the two of you meet?"  Mikealus tilted his head.  "Come to  think of it, no one ever asked, did they?  The name of your partner?"

"...Ursas was my sister's husband."

Belsea was silently keeping a watchful eye out for rabid animals. There  were other folks on the road today, but they were mainly farmhands on  their way to and from various fields. No one stood out in particular.  Al'Pacem rode at the head of the patrol. Ravi scouted, riding ahead and  back with nothing of note to report. He was pleased to put distance  between himself and the prisoner.

Cael bowed his head. "We are sorry for your loss, but what made you  accept this man's offer? How much was he going to pay you for this ...  deed?"

"Enough for us to maybe move to the city..." He plodded along, not really looking at anyone.

"And what would you do there? Do you have a trade or skill suited for city work?" asked Cael.

"What d'you care."

"Just making conversation, friend. The road is long and these gentlemen are not very talkative." He motioned to the rest.

Shuj turned his face away from Cael, which pretty much means he's  staring down Borche's foot. Borche raised a thick eyebrow at Cael.  "Don't think he wants t'be your friend, friend."

"Hardly a kindness to have the man dwell on what he's lost, Cael,"  Mikealus reminded the initiate. 

Borche grunted in agreement. "Let him think on what he's done. We need  to think on what's yet to be doing. Stone Water is a couple days out at  best, 'n I haven't been there in a while."

"The rest of the road won't be this good," Khader added grimly. Given  that the stone paving disappeared less than a day out of Ceteran, that  was bad news in a wet spring.

Cael replied amiably, “True enough. What course of action shall we take?  I assume if we are all sitting in a tavern, weapons drawn, the mystery  man is apt to run off."

"Is it a place worth thinking on, Borche?  I've never been out at it."   Mikealus frowned in agreement with Khader, though.  It would hardly be  good traveling - more like swimming than riding, at least calf-high in  some places.

Of course, the lack of a trail was no hindrance to Belsea. 

"Any place is equally worth thinking on." Borche shrugged.

Al'Pacem's voice carried back to them. "Our mystery buyer won't miss a  group as large as ours coming in; take that under advisement." He  seemed, however, content to let the younger bunch figure out what to do.  

Mikealus frowned, thinking. "Any authority would be a point to make the  man skittish.  Our being there at all might make him hesitate to seek  out his supplier."

“Hmm, I see your point. Though if we just let Shuj go to meet with the  man, we would need to unshackle him, which presents its own problems,"  Cael said.

"I've no doubt Shuj will do his duty.  In the very worst case, he will  cause trouble for the entire town - if we do not find hide nor hair of  his employer, we will need to search ourselves.  Which will be a great  trouble to everyone - cause a witchhunt amongst the people, besides… And  then we will hunt him down anyway."

Khader scratched at his beard. "I dunno. May be better just to... Let  him hang himself, as it were, than to panic the people if we can't find  him."

"To hang himself how, do you mean?  We cannot be complacent.  What do you expect him to do?"
Cael interjected.  "Perhaps a trap then? I have, on my journey learned a  way to change my appearance. Shuj and I could lure the man to a place  outside of town, where an ambush would lie in wait."

"Someone who gets that stuff's gonna use it somehow--try and sell it.  It'll come up if we don't get him this time, is what I'm sayin."

Belsea turned to the group. "It seems such a waste of effort to have  brought him all this way, just to kill him." Her piece said, she trotted  ahead.

No doubt if Ravi were with the patrol right now, he'd say that was his  point all along. But the grumbler is off in the distance somewhere.

"I don't think we want to allow this man to continue, Khader.  To doom  more villagers to such treasonous acts?  To harm anyone else?  How long  -could- we wait before we are given a better opportunity than this?"  Mikealus agonized.

Khader shook his head. "I'm just sayin, if he gets away, he won't get  away forever. I'd rather catch him another day than start, like you  said, a witch hunt."

"True words, both of you, but were we not sent to protect this route?  Would not this fall under our direct duty to uphold?" asked Cael.

"A great deal of that unpleasantry can be avoided if Shuj agrees to  cooperate."  Mikealus pointed out.  "Is it not better we be forthright  with our options, whichever we choose?"

Belsea returned to the group, unable to avoid speaking her own mind. "I  was under the assumption he had agreed to aid us, so that his soul will  not wander the earth until the end of times."

"Yes, but men sometimes choose unwise paths.  I do not blame him for his doubt, or his fear,” said Mikealus.

"I just don't think it's in the interest of protectin anybody if we work  up the villagers until they start pointin fingers at each other,"  Khader muttered. 

The group had ridden a long way. During their discussion, the sun had  reached its apex. Ahead, al'Pacem was already into his saddlebags and  gnawing on a trail bar. Borche dismounted carefully, trying not to jerk  the prisoner around unduly. Khader followed suit, walking awkwardly as  he stretched his legs. None of them showed any intent of stopping,  however--midday meal was on the move.

"That is why we should attempt to lure him outside of town. Our troop  will go unnoticed and keep the villagers calm. Plus, less likely to  involve innocents. Perhaps one or two of you could arrive first, and  scatter around town. Shuj and I would meet with this man, and attempt to  lure him to where we had hidden his goods. After which, we could setup  an advantageous position for the rest of you to capture this man," Cael  suggested.

"Probably good," Borche allowed.

"Three paladins on horseback won't be unnoticed by anyone.  Even if we  wait on the outskirts, someone will see us, and someone might bring word  into town.  ....though it does make sense that you wouldn't cart a  corpse into the middle of town for the man to inspect his wares...”  Mikealus was ambivalent.

"I could walk in unnoticed I'm sure," Agniprava volunteered.

"What was your arrangement, Shuj?  How were you to deliver?" Mikealus asked. 

Khader snorted at Agniprava. "You're a stranger. Ain't nobody NOT gonna notice you.

"I was just gonna come inta the inn and he'd get it from our horses."

"Fair I suppose, but I don't look like much....perhaps no one will think twice about it?"
"Yes, Shuj, how was the arrangement made to meet with this man? At a certain hour or was there a signal?" Cael pressed.

"Naw... Was just gonna go in and wait. We was gonna be there in about four days."

“He said he'd come for them himself?" asked Agniprava, seeking clarification.

"Well, I guess..."

Mikealus looked impatient.  "Well what did he say?  As best you can remember?"

"We just agreed on meeting and paying. Nobody said nothin else about not  comin or not comin hisself." The prisoner sounded annoyed and tired.

"So we best be prepared in case he is springing a trap for us," Cael finished.

"How would he know what happened to his thief for hire?" Agniprav asked.

"I was more thinking if he no longer had use for his thief he may just kill him to avoid having to pay him."

"Ahhh... Yes, yes, I see..."

"Less witnesses and more money for himself."

"I don't know if money is what this person treasures....  But  nevertheless I see your point. But what remains is the question of how  we watch the horses without watching the horses...." Agniprava mused.  “Horses with the corpses that is..."

“That’s what is missing!” Khader sighed gustily. “We didn’t take the horses! Damn…”

_If he simply wanted corpses, he could make them.  Either he doubts  his abiliity to  kill, or he has some other reason for profaning the  dead._  Mikealus shook his head again.  "Perhaps the best course of  action would be for us to simply ride through town?  If we don't stay  for the night, but instead go right through, and wait for the buyer to  leave?  He might very well come right to us."

The ascetic asked the prisoner, "How many ways out of town are there?"

"...It ain't got walls."

"Well then flushing him out won't work unless we know where he might go....the buyer, that is," Agniprava concluded.

"The better question would be if there's more than one road going through it,” Mikealus said.

"There's just the one," Shuj volunteered.

Agniprava observed, "But with no walls, he needs to road no leave..."

“True, though revealing his identity will be an undeniable boon in our  favor," said Cael. "Even if he escapes, we can track him easier."

"Perhaps we can get him to try to take what he needs as he tries to  escape..." Agniprava was trying to flesh out a plan. "Give him a chance  at them after causing some confusion." The shadows of lonely stands of  trees stretched across the highway. "Maybe we're thinking about this the  wrong way entirely."
The fieldhands were still hard at work planting as the patrol passed,  but even the monk was becoming sore from a long day of riding. "If he  was only supposed to return to the town in four days, a man such as this  may not risk being there longer than he needs."

After a while, al'Pacem presided over an orderly dismount at another  smoothed out patch by the side of the road. This time, there was no  helpful stream nearby; instead, the patrol would sleep near the rice  paddies, with a treebreak for shelter. Some wood had been left near the  treebreak in a neat pile. "Alright, time to set camp. You can pick up  the discussion after."

"Certainly, captain." Agniprava eased himself off the mule and went to work setting up the campfire. 

Mikealus is quick to dismount, and ease Khongordsol in for the night while the group set up camp.

Everyone quickly set to their tasks, with Ravi returning and helping  Agniprava stack wood, Cael resuming his work on the tents, and Ravi and  Khader jury-rigging a tent between two trees. In no time, there was a  cozy enough looking camp on the small green. They had just enough  of a  border between the tents and the rice paddies to avoid an unpleasantly  muddy night, but things would no doubt be damp anyway. 

After finishing his work, Cael asked, "I suppose we'll take lots again  for shifts? I once again volunteer myself for the midnight watch."

Al’Pacem was pacing around the small clearing, looking at the nearby  plantings. There was a long, wide corridor of land running perpendicular  to the road, and the fields are crisscrossed with narrow levies.  "Yes--let's," the captain replied, turning toward Cael after a few  beats.

"Does something trouble you, captain?" the monk asked.

"...Nothing particular."

"Something in general, then?"  Mikealus asked the captain, with a sheepish smile.

Al'Pacem chuckled. "You could say that."

Lots drawn, the patrol all set to making dinner, arguing over plans and criminal minds, and eventually settled in for the night.


----------



## RedTonic (Sep 30, 2011)

This is a pretty sleepy campaign & storyhour, huh?  A short update, dealing with tactics.

_edit_: I originally posted this update slightly out of order. The new update for this Saturday has been edited into the previous post.

*****​
As the night settled in, Cael sat on his bedroll, beside the fire. The  past two days were still swirling around his head as he poked the flames  with a long stick. The others were milling about, some eating, others  setting up their bedding. He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his  stomach. The shadow of Shuj’s bother-in-law’s death hung over him as he  watched the embers swirl. He was not sure what felt worse, being  powerless to save a man from his wounds, or being powerless from saving a  man from his death. With his free hand, he took a swig from his flask. 

He looked across the fire to Houshang al'Pacem. He had been oddly quiet  during the day’s ride, not chiming in during their discussion. Maybe he  was upset about allowing the thief to live, or maybe this was a test for  Mikealus. The young paladin seemed new to this group and a bit shaken  after the past few days’ events as well. He thought back to the day’s  discussion on how best to catch this mysterious figure. A few ideas had  been posited, but none agreed to. Perhaps with food in their stomachs  and legs out of the saddle they could all come to an accord.

“Well,” Cael spoke, breaking the silence of the night, “Shall we finally  come to an agreement on how to best catch our ringleader? Now we have  each given plausible ideas and each has been refuted by one person or  another. At the very least, I find the general consensus to be we will  somehow try to use Shuj to lure the man into a meeting, if at all  possible.”

“As far as capturing the man, it is a difficult affair. Now, the use of  human remains suggests he may be dealing in some dark art, possibly  necromancy. If we attempt to capture him in the town, he may injure  townsfolk as well as damage their livelihood. Attempting to lead him  away from town or capture him en route seems like the best option, but  we do not know which direction he will come from, or whether he will  flee if we try to get him to follow us. Either of these options will  mean we will need to spread our forces to be effective.”

“The final and less appealing option,” he said as he glanced sharply at  Khader, “Would be to hang Shuj for his crimes and try to find this man  on our own, but as we discussed earlier this would squander the chance  given to us by the gods to catch this miscreant. Now that we have this  laid out, let us choose one course of action and refine it to a point.  It is better to go in with one fully thought out plan, then two sloppily  made, unfinished ones.”

"Are you just being slow on purpose?" Khader retorted. "If we _fail_,  is what I said! I'm not sayin we let a bone-thief run around free if we  can catch him--gods help me, that's not what I said." Borche chuckled.  It was rare to see Khader so worked up. But after a day of being  misunderstood, the warrior was a bit riled.

Ravi snorted. As Cael framed it, the last idea was the most appealing to  him, personally. Al'Pacem watched them all evenly over the crackling  fire. Some fog was beginning to settle, as it did every night. A few  clouds scudded over the moon. The captain was repairing tears in his  bedroll while the others discussed plans. Shuj was staked nearby through  an ankle binding, hobbled so he couldn't flee. He wasn't healthy enough  at the moment to tear free.

"Did you say _necromancy_?" Mikealus blinked at Cael from across  the fire. He looked at Khader, apparently unwilling after such a long  two days to even consider such a thing. He'd trade words with his fellow  Order member instead - the one that was the most irate at the moment  would at least be first to think up an idea.

"I don't like the idea of our friend priest hinging our success on his  deceptions. It is too much to gamble on a single thing. I say we let him  come to us."

Nothing more fanciful than a young priest and nothing more idealistic  than a new paladin it seemed. Belsea made small efficient motions as she  ate her share of dinner. She preferred when Khader cooked but her face  didn’t register the preference. Between two spoonfuls, Belsea spoke but  her face remained pointed downward. “What do you have that the man will  come looking for? A hobbled tool?”

Agniprava sat quietly, listening to the exchange, not eating much, as  was his way. He was more focused on conducting a breathing exercise to  bring him some measure of focus. 

The silence of their leader was deafening, and the absence of his  seasoned opinion was felt. Agni was not quite clear yet on why he so  willingly withheld himself from a discussion such as this, but the way  he often seemed to examine Mikealus gave some clue.

That was a distraction at best though. Agniprava brought himself back to  center, and heard Belsea's comment. It was one he sympathized with,  especially given how well this man had protected his anonymity - there  was no reason for him to show himself if he even smelled a trap. But  then...

"This man we are searching for," Agni began, "Even Shuj doesn't have a  tremendously clear recollection of him. And given his instructions, he  had arranged it so that Shuj wouldn't have a chance to see him again. So  I think we are making this too complicated. We need the bodies - the  bones. It is those we must track. There must be a way we can do that  even if we never set foot in the town, no? If we can, then our quarry  will make a target of himself for our benefit."

Cael nodded as he poked the fire. Now they were getting somewhere.  "Listen, my friends, I think the day's travel has made us all weary.  Upon reflection, I think a trap is the best option. We allow Shuj to  enter the town and make contact with the buyer. He will tell them man he  has hidden the bones and will take him to the bones. Once Shuj leads  the man to us, we will attempt to capture him, and if need be... dispose  of him..." Cael said the last word with a contemplative tone. He had  been on his own for less than a week’s time and already had one death on  his conscience. Shuj would most certainly be put to the sword after he  aided them and now this man, as detestable as his character seemed. "As  insurance, to watch over both Shuj and this man, I say we send a small  group into town to watch over them. I think Mikealus has the best chance  of riding this fellow down if he flees, and Belsea would be the best  tracker if on foot. Agniprava and I can pose as simple holy men, and no  one should give us a second glance. I would leave the setting of the  trap to you, al'Pacem." As he finished he took a swig from his flask.  "What say you all?" 

Mikealus folded his hands together. "I think it has some of the best  options. We have a back-up plan if we fail... and less of a chance to  make our prey suspicious. Which leaves those who go into town under  Belsea's care. I am still worried about any of us riding into town -  armor and all we will be a bit too obvious, and easy to notice. We will  follow your plan - we just need to decide how to remain unnoticed in  town. I would leave that to you, I think,” he suggested to the tracker.


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## RedTonic (Oct 13, 2011)

Wow, I'm very late. A combination of sickness and our copy of Dark Souls arriving has kept me rather busy! Unfortunately for the last few weeks we've had no sessions, since the PC holding my maps went  up the same night I made the maps, sometime overnight after that session. For those who are like OMG WHERE IS THE COMBAT?! (ahaha) well, that's where it would have been. We're continuing the exploration via pbp until I can get the last new part for the desktop. At minimum, our motherboard and GPU were fried. I'm hoping that our CPU managed to escape. Our apartment's outlets are 3 prong, but for whatever reason, haven't actually been wired for grounding.

Anyway, enough unrelated grumbling on my part.

This next session had some poor teamwork and hilarity resulted. I was generous and maybe shouldn't have been.

*****​
The night crept coldly and quietly but for the occasional  mournful howl of wolves, the same midnight serenade which followed the  patrol since setting out days ago. Agniprava held the last watch in the  waning hours of night. The fog laid heavily on the restless land.  Despite spring's coming, the air was still sharply cold; the dampness  made it particularly bitter.

Agniprava walked slow circles around  the perimeter of the camp, passing the time by reciting the mantras he  learned during his training, helping to focus his mind and keep his  attention sharp. The small, level clearing provided very little for him  to train his attention on. Visibility out over the fields was extremely  limited--he could see no further than a stone's throw away. Even his own  noises were muffled by the fog... He realized that he no longer heard  the wolves' howling. A tingle of intuition warned him that he was being  watched, and that the watcher was unfriendly. He tried to espy the  watcher, intensifying his gaze. He did not raise the alarm yet, hoping  to catch a glimpse.

The fog over the rice paddies drew itself  into lazy whorls and eddies, but didn't submit to his gaze. He heard a  susurration from the north, or at least, what he thinks is north. The  camp itself seemed empty of any wakeful creature but himself. Quartered,  the camp had tents in each secondary direction, with the banked  campfire in the center. The stand of trees to the northeast had a tent  stretched between the strongest two. South was the highway, running east  to west. The rest was rice paddies and fog.

Agniprava edged  towards the noise, nearing Belsea’s tent as he did so. He, as subtly as  possible, kicked Belsea to rouse her. She turned slowly in her roll, her  eyes angry slits. Not wishing to scare away the watcher, he didn’t  seriously attempt again to wake Belsea or anyone else. He didn’t notice  the glare he received. Whatever was out there hadn't chosen to reveal  itself yet. After glaring a second more at the monk, Belsea returned her  original position. Sleep was ruined, but she could pretend and hope the  monk moved on.

He continued moving in the direction of the  sound, focusing his gaze even more, straining against the fog. The  presence taunted him, just on the edge of his perception—he knew it was  there, but couldn’t find it. It was mocking him. He hesitated, but was  concerned the man watching them might be involved with the one the  patrol hunted. Agniprava didn’t want to scare him away if he was simply  watching. He edged ever closer, drawing low to reduce his profile. At  the edge of the clearing was the half-orc’s tent. Agniprava cast around  for a moment, then pitched a few small stones against the canvas. They  plopped softly to the ground. No one stirred. 

Giving in to the  inevitable, the monk passed the tent and stepped into the rice paddy. He  sank immediately in muck halfway to his knees. He paused, regaining his  bearings. The source of the sound was ahead of him, but he was unable  to judge how far. With a renewed sense of urgency, Agniprava pushed on  through the mud and water. He was nearly two dozen paces from dry  ground, which was only distinguishable to him by the weak glow of the  dying campfire. The fog had closed around him. If he had had hackles,  they would have been standing straight to the heavens. He stopped and  sank down, listening intently.

At the last minute, he heard  something in the muck behind him. A heavy body slammed into him from  behind, where he heard the voice, but his swift reflexes allowed him to  throw his attacker over his shoulder, preventing any harm.

In  camp, Belsea had at last arisen. The strange sounds of shuffling through  the camp and the soft splash had triggered her hunter’s instincts. The  thick fog concealed Agniprava from her, but the darkness itself was only  a thin barrier to her eyes. She heard something in the rice paddies  north of the camp. She hissed, “Agniprava?”

The monk found  himself being circled by two stocky, low shapes, barely more than  silhouettes of deeper darkness. He stumbled and drew back, alarmed to  find the second shape. One was bad enough; two meant… He drew himself up  and centered his body and mind as best he could.

Belsea, hearing  no response from the monk, narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the noises  coming from the paddies. She went to wake the others.

The shape  before Agniprava resolved itself into a barrel-chested wolf. It lunged  at him, growling. A splash warned Agniprava of a simultaneous assault  from behind. He twisted and tore himself out of the way, barely avoiding  being hamstrung.

Another wolf hurtled out of the fog and smashed  into Belsea, tearing at her arm with its wicked fangs. It tried to bear  her to the ground, but she managed to pull away, ripping open oozing  wounds along her forearm. The feral reek of the thing was almost  overpowering. 

A surprised holler rose from Borche and Ravi’s  tent. Rancid breath awoke Mikealus as jaws clamped down on the tender  join of his shoulder and neck. He screamed, thrashing in his bedroll for  a weapon.

Hearing the ruckus back in camp, Agniprava realized  they had been ambushed. Alone in the darkness, he was fueled only by his  resolve: his fists pounded into his enemy, sending the wolf yelping  back into the cover of the fog. He nimbly dodged another coordinated  counter-attack. The beasts growled at him, frustrated, flitting through  the darkness and keeping him off balance.

In case any soul was  not yet awake, Belsea screamed bloody murder as she fetched her sword.  Her rage bubbled from her throat, powered by the will to survive. Her  voice was quickly overpowered by the heart-rending shriek of a horse  under assault. The sounds of panicked mounts burst from the copse behind  Borche and Ravi’s tent.

The wolf tore at Mikealus, spewing hot  blood over the bedding. The captain was struggling to his feet, but Shuj  had already gotten up. The shackled man could have tried to escape, but  didn’t. He bellowed and hurled himself at the wolf savaging Mikealus.  His weight broke the wolf’s vise-like grip on the young paladin, but his  momentum tumbled him to the ground between the beast and the captain.

Cael  stumbled out of his tent, wide-eyed, aware of nothing but the screams  of his companions and the chaos roiling through the camp. He set his  eyes on the first injured person in the camp and ran to aid her in  fighting off the beasts. Calling out to his god, Cael channeled the  divine spark and managed to close the wounds Belsea had sustained.   Khader was hot on his heels, brandishing his hammer at the wolf.

Mikealus  scrambled and kicked away from the beast, distracted as it was. His  fumbling hands found his sword—he was not going to die unarmed! The wolf  tripped in its haste to snap at him. Growling, it went for an easier  target: Shuj, still off balance from trying to rescue his captor. Unable  to get aside in the small tent, the man howled as the wolf clamped down  on his thigh. Despite his best efforts, Shuj is born down, too weak  from his previous wounds to resist. Al’Pacem’s flail slams into the  beast, but it is not dissuaded.

A flurry of fists and fur  thrashed in the rice paddy. Agniprava felt his fists pound into the  beast as often as not. The wolves’ fetid breath was ever at his neck,  their teeth snapping before his eyes and their claws tearing at his  clothes as he managed, time and again, to thwart them. He remained  untouched, but they were almost as fast and nimble as he. The one he  focused his assault on was slowing, in obvious pain; its snarls were  punctuated with whimpers and it favored one side where he had cracked  ribs. Suddenly, its partner pulled away, easily evading Agniprava’s  attempt to keep it from escaping to camp. Taking advantage of the monk’s  distraction, the wounded wolf retreated into the fog. The monk abandons  the fleeing wolf and chases the other into camp, flailing through the  muck that the wolf seemed to move almost effortlessly through.

Ravi  tore out of his tent, panting; his shirt was rent from an attack.  Belsea swung her sword at the wolf attacking her, stepping between it  and the priest. The blade cleaved into the wolf’s shoulder, ripping a  pained yelp from the beast. It snapped at her again, jaws closing only  on air. Khader stepped up to flank the wolf and swung his hammer at  Belsea's attacker; the wolf hopped aside, panting. Belsea’s slash  snicked past her harrier, biting only open air but redoubling her need  to avenge herself against the beast.

Seeing Agniprava enter the  camp, Cael called out, “Are you injured, friend monk? Come on! We have  to help the others!” He sprinted to Ravi’s tent to see if the man was  hurt as well, leaving Belsea and Khader to finish off their prey. Borche  was there, bleeding profusely from his side. The horses were frenzied,  with at least three wounded. Almost half a dozen wolves had concentrated  on this side of the camp, choosing the easy pickings of picketed  mounts. The horses and mules, with nowhere to flee, were kicking and  biting to no small effect.

In the thicket, Sage laid about itself  with its hooves, sending wolves yelping back. Al’Pacem’s warhorse and  Khader’s heavy horse snapped their tethers. The latter bolted, blood  dripping from its flanks; a wolf snapped down on a hind leg, but the  horse’s momentum carried it clear. Khongordsol was a blur of hooves,  foam, and enormous teeth. The wolves could barely close with her, and  kept out of range of her attacks. Dismayed by the mounts’ enthusiasm for  blood, one of the wolves broke and ran. Two of the mules were also  beating back at the pack, sustaining a berserk rage which would have  made the most bloodthirsty raider proud. Cael’s mule was paying for its  relentless attacks: bit by bit, it was weakening under the determined  assault of the predators. Ravi’s horse had fallen, leaving the wolves  with one less hazard.

Mikealus' blade did not have time to  glitter in the dim light of the tent before, with a frustrated roar, the  man brought it down upon the beast.  His prisoner had just tried to  save his life - he was half-asleep for it, but he knew that Shuj had  intervened.  He would not ignore that gesture. The wolf collapsed as the  heavy sword sheared through its spine, spraying blood into the tent  walls. “PRIEST!” Mikealus bellowed. The prisoner  needed—deserved—attention. 

Another wolf leapt at Belsea, barely  missing as she turned aside. Nearby, Borche was pulled down by his  tormentor in a tangle of canvas and rope. Almost simultaneously, Belsea  found herself being yanked to the ground by her original attacker. She  tumbled into the grass with two wolves jockeying for her throat. Cael  reached out to Borche, stretching past the ravenous wolf and managing to  avoid its foaming jaws. He got a hand on the paladin’s foot and let the  strength of his god surge through him, restoring some of Borche’s  strength. Ravi cut at the beast harrying his friend, grimly hacking at  its unprotected back. Khader smashed one of the wolves atop Belsea,  crushing bones. It dropped limply.  She struggled to her feet, defending  herself as best she could.

Agniprava charged into the fray of  beast, flanking one of the wolves along with his borrowed mount. The two  pummeled the beast between them. The stink of sweat, blood, and fear  was thick here. Even in the dark he could see white flash of terrified  eyes. The warhorses were doing their best to throw off the pack, but  they could only do so much alone. The wolves were relentless and  determined. A wolf launched itself onto the back of Cael’s mount,  bearing it down just as another one of its pack howled and fled. As  though that howl had been a signal, the wolves seemed to change stance  as one; yet another fled, howling urgently into the night. Another  turned to flee, but was slammed simultaneously by three different mounts  and collapsed.

As Khader and Belsea fought to chase off the  attacker on their side of camp, the wolf struck, tearing into her thigh.  Bright red blood gouted and she collapsed, dragged down into a deeper  darkness. Borche, fending off his own dark night, barely rolled away in  time to avoid a strike for his throat. With Cael and Ravi distracting  the beast, Borche rose through an enormous effort. He staggered under  another rending bite, but kept his feet. Khader concentrated on  defeating the wolf worrying at Belsea until it staggered and dropped.  Opposed now by four men, Borche’s attacker flees with a final blow to  its hindquarters.

All wolves then fled or lying in the dirt, the  camp goes quiet but for the sounds of gasping breaths and wounded  mounts. Two horses laid in the trees, one mule was down, another horse  had fled. Belsea laid where she fell, under the wolf which laid her low.  Shuj laid in the tent. In total, five wolves were bleeding out on the  ground. Cael darted to Belsea’s aid, thinking nothing of the prisoner.  He stretched himself, receiving one last blessing from his god. That  faintest kiss of life kept her spirit from fleing, but was unable to  rouse her to consciousness.

Mikealus turned to the other members  of his Order, trying to assess their condition. Only the captain and  Khader had escaped without harm. Agniprava moved among the beasts,  trying to bind their wounds and see which could be saved. One of the  horses was dead, and one of the mules was dying. The latter he managed  to bind with pieces of a shredded tent. Having done what he could for  their mounts, the monk went to see what he could do for the men.

Ravi  helped Borche sit. “I am sorry,” Ravi said miserably. “I hit nothing…”  The camp was, yet again, a shambles. Khader dragged the wolf off Belsea  and finished it with a stroke to the neck from his dagger. To be  certain, he treated the other wolf to the same.

The captain  sighed heavily. "Is she okay?" he asked Cael, coming over. He squatted  beside Belsea and looked her over as she returned to consciousness. She  said nothing, letting her condition speak for itself. She seemed  remarkably calm., though the energy required to concentrate on anything  before her left her with little energy for much else.

“Will she recover, Cael?” Agniprava asked, standing behind them.

Mikealus  hurried over to Shuj, checking to see if his condition has worsened. He  rolled the man over. The man’s pallid flesh and still features told the  paladin all he needed to know. Shuj had finally died of his wounds.

The  captain cleared his throat. "Excuse me." Al'Pacem intoned a quiet  prayer and laid his hands on the gaping wound in Belsea's thigh. The  worst of her wounds closed, leaving angry red scarring.

The monk answered himself. "I suppose she will…"

Al'Pacem left Belsea and joined Mikealus in the tent. "Well?"

"Ah."  Belsea opened her mouth and then closed it. At last, she thanked Cael  for his assistance, for surely she would have perished without it. He  assured her that the thanks must go to al'Pacem - he merely happened to  be in the right place at the right time, but she disagreed—the captain  had not been the only one to help her, she was certain.

Pain hung  thick in the air before Mikealus spoke. "He may have saved my life.   Chained down, he attacked the beast.  ...and it turned on him."

The captain shouldered past Mikealus and stooped by their prisoner. "...I see."

"I…"

"Don't blame yourself."

"Then  what -do- I do?  The man died - my prisoner died - to save me." Unable  to speak for a moment, Mikealus struggled for composure. "How is that  right?"

Al'Pacem sighed. "Death comes for everyone. He was  already doomed; he did the right thing with his last moments. It is  through no fault of yours--did you summon the wolves? Direct them to  attack?" He asked pointedly.

"...I would not have wolves take his body again.  A traitor or not, would it be wrong to bury him?"

Agniprava  went back to the copse, seeking wolves. Ravi joined him, slashing  another wolf throat open. He dragged the corpse away from the spooked  mounts. Agni tended the remaining beast.

Belsea joined Ravi in  retrieving and putting aside the rest of the wolves’ bodies, getting  them as far from the mounts as possible. “What should we do with them?”  Ravi asked her uncertainly.

The monk pitched in. "We should use  the bodies as completely as we can…leaving them would be wasteful…" He  looked back. "wolf is a fine meal"

"Well, shall we eat the horse, too?" Khader asked scornfully.

Belsea offered a more measured response. "If they are diseased, you invite it into your body."

"Do  you want my answer?" Agni said, noting the tone as he examined the last  survivor of the pack for any signs of infection. It was thin, with ribs  that shone like slats of a fence through its dirty fur. After binding  the beast’s wounds, he moved it away from the beasts of burden and  closer to where he slept.

Khader snorted. "No, not really."

"We abound with men who can easily purify flesh," Agniprava added.

"...Pretty sure none of them could purify my heart if I ate the poor beast," Khader replied quietly.

Borche coughed. "That's a bit..."

Belsea  performed her own examination of the corpses. As far as she could tell,  there was nothing very odd, though the wolves that attacked her were  underweight. That was probably more due to the harsh winter than  anything else.

Cael looked at Borche.  "...are you alright?"  ---that had been a rather violent time in the tent.

"I'll live," he replied.

Khader  and al'Pacem emerged from the tent with Shuj's body between them,  wrapped in a blanket from one of the bedrolls. Mikealus approached them  as Belsea watched with interest. The duo placed the body in the grass.  Al'Pacem went to the still-tethered mounts and worked to calm their  nerves. The stink of wolf and blood are heavy here and some of the  mounts are wounded. Agniprava strode back to the animals, particularly  to check on the mule he helped. It took some time, but the captain was  able to soothe his and Khader’s horses and re-tether them. Cael’s mule  was still unconscious, but no longer dying thanks to the monk. Al’Pacem  moved over to them after he had ensured that the surviving horses were  securely tied. “Just a moment,” he murmured, and uttered another prayer.  The mule lurched awake and got to its knees, but didn’t rise. "It's a  valiant enough beast."

"That's quite a talent," the monk observed.

"A gift," al'Pacem replied.

"A precious one at that, considering what you've done."

"Ah," al'Pacem replied. "I suppose it is at that. The goddess may be merciful."

Mikealus  turned away from Shuj's corpse and joined the others in soothing the  mounts.  Khader’s horse came to Mikealus's call and greedily nosed him  for possible bribes. Khongordsol looked on jealously. He petted the  animal's nose, giving it only a token bit of notice, before walking away  to Khon, and stroked her absentmindedly.  "...And you?  A valiant  battle, I'm sure..." Khon nickered at him and sought treats with  interest.

The fire had died and the sun was breaking over the distant horizon. Al'Pacem excused himself to offer his morning prayers.

"How do find we the wounded?"  Agniprava asked, walking back to the camp after watching Al'Pacem walk off on his own.

"Miss  Belsea has been recovered by the Captain.  As are our fellow Order  members.  The prisoner has succumbed to his wounds....  and the day is  only beginning." Mikealus headed to the cleared middle of the camp, and  starts a morning fire.

"And so death finds him after all… A shame… For us especially I suppose...."

"...More so for him, I think.  What little life he had left was taken from him."


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## RedTonic (Oct 13, 2011)

A double update so I don't get too far behind. This little interlude happens the same night as the prisoner's hanging. I'll edit later to put things in chronological order. This one hasn't been heavily proofed and is taken from our pbp section, so it may read a bit oddly.

*****​
The gallows' weight hung on Mikealus's heart. There was no ease on hand, and he doubted there would be any taste of relief if he kept his own council. Doubting there was very much time before the others began to get their rest, he quickly set out to find Captain al’Pacem. His cousin had far more experience with these matters, and while the Order of the Silver Horn was not a particularly warlike Order, he had faith that at least a few souls had found their rest under his superior's blade. Perhaps he had some words of wisdom - or at least understanding - to offer.

Al'Pacem was resting near the mill, on a huge granite slab beside the curve of the river. The wheel creaked rhythmically, an echo of the frogs which would soon repopulate the farmlands here. The captain was methodically cleaning his armor once again, picking out tiny bits of dried up dirt from the articulated splints. He looked up at Mikealus's approach, expression unreadable in the lowering gloom.

"Yes, cousin?" He asked, breaking the quiet. He scooted over, though there was plenty of room on the stone--it didn't seem to have been washed up by the river, but rather perhaps a stone carted out from a ruin or some such. It was well enough for sitting on, at any rate. Al'Pacem went back to working on the armor. There were several other pieces nearby, things the older man was repairing, or intended to. The horses were bedded down some several paces off, asleep under and around an open-walled shed.

The smell of horse was a comfort, at least. "I was hoping to speak with you a moment." Pulling up some stone himself, Mikealus decided he was finally allowed to do the same as his superior, and took off his chain shirt. It was not so heavy, and it was certainly something he was getting used to, but there was an amazing sense of relief when you finally realized, after an entire day, that you had not properly taken a full, deep breath, because of the weight of steel covering you.

He began methodically undoing the stays, and working the cumbersome piece of armor off of his shoulders.

"The man who died. I am... frustrated. As I said before - if I had not struck true with my lance, there is a chance we would be dragging two prisoners along as our bait, not just one. To take his life seems such a waste, when it was by the order of another that the graves were being defiled." He considered pulling the metal up, which would obscure his mouth and voice. He finished his thought before doing so. "I am restless. Though his actions may have earned him his fate... I have never killed a man before."

The lower half of Mikealus's face disappeared underneath the rim of his armor.

"It is good not to relish killing," al'Pacem replied, voice low. "Yes, we may easily have had two hooks to fish with; it is also just as likely that we would have never discovered they were not acting alone.

"Still, of their own wills, they did this thing--disturbing the graves and risking the anger of the dead. Knowing what the sentence would be, were they caught, no less. Even ignorance wouldn't excuse their crime, however. What they did was unnatural and to the detriment of this community. In defiling the dead, those two men risked the well-being of the souls in this village. We have not had any incursions of wrathful dead since the crusade. I would not have that change now." Al'Pacem sighed and rubbed oil into the crannies of his armor. 

After working for a few more minutes in silence, wherein Mikealus squirmed out of his armor, al'Pacem added, "Take heart, Mikealus--we are a land at peace. You are unlikely to be called to kill many men in your life. It is good to have a gentle hand. Still, don't let others use that against you. Many believe that mercy is a weakness; that to strike one lower than yourself is just; that ends justify means. But these are illusions." 

"Power is measured twice." Mikealus agreed, almost dismissively. While a valuable tool, he often tired of the words he'd sworn himself to. The Will of Thrones felt, at times, oppressive - yet always, it seemed, it was a valuable reference, a clear guide, if one was humble enough to trust and follow it.

"...but still. If Mercy is not a weakness - yet if the harm those men could have done to the village is greater than the harm I caused them - and yet, and yet, and yet - still, for all of that... it did not feel right. Maybe I would feel better if I had challenged them. Why did I not call for them to yield? Even if I had simply run them down and delivered them, squirming, to be hung... I would not feel so responsible. I feel rather like a thief, to have stolen their lives, than a paladin, to have protected others." Maybe that was what it boiled down to: it simply did not feel as though the part he had played was a righteous one.

"I simply wish I had a way to quiet my soul. It will be a long night ahead."

"All are delivered to the ends they deserve," al'Pacem reminded Mikealus gently. "If you do not feel sound in your decision, I recommend you take a vigil--but later. For now, we all need rest, even if you youth don't remember that we were chased out of our sleep by buffalo. Not all things in life are glory. Some are just... necessary."

The advice was sound, and some of the weight relieved, to have voiced his feelings. Mikealus bowed his head to the captain and smiled in gratitude, gathering his armor up under his arm. It was a relief to stand straight, without its familiar burden - for at least a little while. "Thank you cousin. I will leave you to your sleep, and will look forward to mine as well." He'd never been able to decide if first or second watch was the worse - did sleep, interrupted, make up for the agony of delaying your need to rest those extra hours?

As al'Pacem had said, in either case, it was necessary. The young paladin headed into the night, to do his duty, and look forward to another sunrise.


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## RedTonic (Oct 17, 2011)

I had an interview! Yay!

*****​
Mikealus tended the fire while Agniprava worked on the  wolf. The others ignored the monk’s inexplicable activities, instead  working through their own shock by cleaning the campsite and favoring  wounds. Cael prayed over Shuj’s body, asking safe passage for his soul  despite the earlier words of al’Pacem promising that the man’s soul  would wander Arcturus forever. Despite his sincerity, Cael heard no  response from his lord.

Two of the tents had been befouled from  death and combat. There was no fresh water at the camp, only the murky,  standing water of the rice paddies. Belsea packed and sorted the mess  left of her belongings, thankful that most of her possessions had  escaped yet again unscathed. 

Mikealus, haunted by the prisoner’s  last actions, quietly suggested that Shuj’s corpse be buried. No one  had said anything. In fact, Khader and al’Pacem had wrapped the body in  what could have been termed a burial shroud. The young paladin resigned  himself for the time being, and rooted around in the packs for a fair  breakfast. They all deserve some relief after what they’d gone through.  He began heating a small rasher of bacon in addition to the morning’s  rice porridge.

Pulling himself back into the land of the living,  Cael asked the others, “Are you all okay? Any injuries requiring my  immediate assistance?”

Ravi demurred. “Just wonderin’ what to do  with these… Don’t want them to bring other animals, but eating them what  eats others is unclean.”

Belsea shook her head and pointed to  the others now more wounded than she. Borche grunted. He was still badly  wounded, but mobile.

Al'Pacem left Khader with the horses and  body and went to Belsea's side.  "If you're feeling up to it," he  solicited, "I need you to scout around at first light. I can borrow the  strength to heal you somewhat more as well, if necessary. I want to know  what direction the pack came from, and if you note any others nearby.  Two hands after dawn, we'll continue east. The next village has our  supplies.

Belsea nodded, "Thanks to your intervention, I am  almost as if the wolves had not attacked. I will have my things ready."  She checked her bow and arrows, confirming that her gear was up to a  scouting trip.

He thanked her, then went to Mikealus’s side.

Cael  wrapped up the wounded and then turned to the young paladin. "My  friend, you spoke true when you said this man deserves burial. If we are  close to his village, we may wish to take him there. He did mention a  sister. If it is far, it may be best just to inter him here and give her  word once we reach town." Most of the party are at the end of their  personal rations, if not already relying on the patrol's supplies,  which, Mikealus realizes, will soon be quite lean.

He nodded  appreciatively at the priest.  "You speak true.  I appreciate the  suggestion.  If the Captain is willing... then I would think that is a  fair decision.  I do not want to merely lay some stones over Shuj, and  be on our way. Captain,” he said, noticing al’Pacem’s arrival,  "Cael  and I would like to bring Shuj to the next town for burial.  Would you  prefer us to inter him here?"

"We will bury him, then," al'Pacem  replied. "But we will not delay the patrol to search relatives. Burying  him here would be... Unwise--we have no means of burying him deeply  enough, nor is there enough stone for a cairn."

As the buffalo  did no worse than dirty most of her gear, and the wolves had been more  concerned with eating her than destroying her things, Belsea was content  and began suiting up before continuing sorting.

Belsea began at  the north edge, where she heard the noises before the attack. The edge  of the clearing going down into the paddy had been trampled from where  the monk raced back into camp. The muck there had been churned and the  layer of water seen elsewhere was still grey with sediment. Tracking in  water was difficult, so Belsea moved along the edge of the game to see  the entrance points of the other wolves.  She found three main points of  entry into the camp: the first from the north, where at least one wolf  emerged from the rice paddies in a hurry, for the tracks left by its  rear paws dug in deep as it headed into camp. The second point is by the  mounts.

Several wolves had been there--the mud and blood made  that clear, even if she hadn't seen the carnage during battle. There  were several tracks departing this area to the southeast. The last point  was south; muddy tracks along the road left no doubt where that wolf  must have come from.

Over the course of the morning, Belsea  foraged enough food to feed herself and two others for a day. Despite  the early spring, there were still roots waiting to be dug; the first  cattails had sprouted, and she knew their roots are edible. A few  mudcrabs were foolish enough not to hide from her when she came to the  paddies. She was also able to refill her water skin at a small spring  she found.

The wounded party went about their morning routine as  best as possible. Ravi gave the monk and his charge a wide berth. Borche  and Khader secured Shuj's body to a stolid pack-mule and then rested by  the fire with the other men. Mikealus just wanted to keep his hands  busy.  He even far as divided the group's breakfast up and brought it to  those ranging away from the cookfire.  Agniprava seemed to be keeping  his own counsel this morning, and as their tracker was preparing to  strike out already, so Mikealus instead commiserated with Borche and  Khader. The watery light of false dawn was being driven away by true  sunlight and the fog was at last thinning.

Borche piped up as Mikealus doled food out to them. "Should we skin 'em?" he asks, jerking a thumb at the wolf corpses.

He shrugged.  "Do we have the time?  Captain wants to keep the patrol moving."

"I've sent Belsea to look around," al'Pacem replied. "If any of you know how it's done, I suppose there might be time."

"That's not my craft," Khader said. Ravi shakes his head, too.

Mikealus frowned.  "Nor mine."

"Monk?" Borche prompted. 

The  monk, who had been feeding the disconsolate - and rather enraged - wolf  a share of his breakfast, glanced up.  He approached the group calmly.   "Yes?"

Mikealus asked, "Do you know how to skin a beast?  We've  no desire to -eat- the animal.. but we agree that they shouldn't be  wasted."

Agniprava was not -entirely- sure, but it didn't sound  too difficult. The party wound up with three roughly cut but usable wolf  pelts. Ravi requested their canine fangs as well. "Orcs like 'em," he  shrugged. Borche snorted.

Belsea returned briefly, placing a few  mudcrabs and roots next to the current food storage. She kept enough of  the roots for herself for half a day. Saying nothing, she headed back  south. Mikealus left the monk to skin, and prepared to decamp, snuffing  the fire and gathering the foodstuffs. The others followed suit. The  place still reeked of wolf and death.

Cael sighed. "And here we had just aired out the tents to make them stop reeking of our last wildlife encounter."

Ravi mourned over his dead horse and put together his equipment.

"...it  stinks in here," Mikealus grumbled to the captain as he dragged out his  bedroll to examine it.  He was pretty sure the only blood on it is his  own, from that damned wolf.

"You're telling me," al'Pacem  muttered. "May as well buy a new set of bedrolls at the village--we're  going to a shop there, anyway." Al'Pacem's bedding was ruined and had  been partially salvaged for Shuj. After a time, everyone has mostly  sorted out their tents and packed up. Ravi has convinced Borche to haul  his equipment as well. The now-horseless man paused to say a prayer over  his dead beast, commending its spirit and sacrifice. Some of the other  beasts were still wounded, but hale enough to continue at a modest pace.

"Shall we be leaving without our guide or wait for her return?" Cael asked the captain.

"We'll start east; none of us are in shape for speed, and she knows where we go."

"Something tells me she'll find us."  Mikealus admitted, petting Khon's ears.

"Then I suggest we move out. The sooner we arrive, the sooner Shuj can be laid to rest," said Cael.

Al'Pacem  showed his agreement by dousing the coals of the campfire with muddy  water. "On we go, then." He and the rest of the Silver Horns led their  mounts out by the reins, with the exception of Borche, who rode to give  his wounded legs some rest. Farmers were already out on the road and  filtering into the fields. They greeted to the party. A few were  standing around the skinned wolf corpses and the dead horse, discussing  what to do with the bodies. Khader led his horse back and entered quiet  discussion with one of the men.

Cael hung back to listen. Khader  was arranging for the beasts to be disposed of. To Cael, it was clear  that this wasn't something he needed to pay for, but he had given the  men some coin to dispose of the corpses to avoid more predators and  scavengers coming to the fields. After clasping forearms with two of  them, Khader rejoined the group. Cael caught up to Mikealus and asked,  "Any idea how far it is to town?"

Borche hummed something out of key as his mount ambled along behind the captain's. Ravi was uncommonly quiet. 

Mikealus shook his head.  "A few hours at most, I think."

"A  ways longer than that, I expect,” Khader sighed. "But certainly before  night. I haven't been there since I was a boy. The only thing I remember  is that they make sweets in that village."

"We have shopping and  such to do in town.  If the Captain expects that, then I doubt we'll be  arriving at nightfall, or such. Bigger than the last one?"  Mikealus  asked.  Not that it'd be very hard.  His family's stable was more  exciting than that little village they'd passed through.

"Yup," he confirmed.

Mikealus nodded.  "Alright then."

"No mill, but it has a shrine and the shop, plus a proper tavern," Khader added.

Al'Pacem  spoke up. "I hadn't intended to do this, but given events, we'll stop  there, take care of our business, and continue on in the morning."

Relieved,  Cael said, "An agreeable plan. Plus it would allow some time to track  down Shuj's next of kin. And we are all a bit road weary at this point,  proper lodgings might do us good."

"At least a little time for  Borche to get back on his feet.  So to speak.  What -happened- to him?  I  was too busy being trampled by that flea-bitten monster in our tent,"  groused Mikealus.

“Got chewed on," he grumbled. "Lots."

"I know the feeling."  Mikealus frowned.

"Cael," Borche said suddenly. "What's your family name?"

“Akbar, sir, my father is Treben. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Borche replied. "Didn't recognize you from town. How'd you come to the all-seeing one's service?"

I  was spared a gruesome death when my god, Zauriel, showed pity on me. I  have decided to take up his mantle in order to," he cleared his throat,  "Um, improve his reputation. For a while I had another that taught me my  duties, but he left suddenly with no word."

"How odd." Mikealus regarded him.

"Indeed,  I thought so myself, though we were never particularly close. He had an  air of mystery about him, but he was more or less trustworthy. He saved  my neck on numerous occasions."

Borche laughed, but not scornfully. "Quite the task, that! Are you going to take up duties back at the temple?”

"Hm."  Khader was following close behind them. "I'm sure your mentor is just  using it as a test. Priests are just odd like that--er." He coughed.

Borche  just laughed at the faux pas. "You're both going to kill me at this  rate." He had bandaged himself earlier, but it hadn't been the most  graceful process. A little red was showing through. He didn't seem  terribly pained, though.

Cael pondered for a moment," I had not  given much thought. I truly am at a loss with out my Brother. I suppose I  will set out on my own after this and see what good I can do. There are  townsfolk that need care, just as much as knights do."

"How are your legs, brother?" Mikealus inquired.

"Still hanging in there," Borche said. "N' thank you. I'll be well pleased if I'm never a wolf's soup bone again."

"Be  careful in town," Khader said seriously. "Not all like the one you  serve, and some don't understand that he too walks in the light."

"Soup bones," Ravi repeats mournfully, obviously thinking of his horse.

"I  have found that to be the case in most places, but point well taken.  Better to err on the side of caution." He turned to Borche, "Do you need  some fresh bandages? If we stop for rest, I will clean the wound out  for you."

"Maybe later," Borche replied. "Fine for now--I guess  they could use a swap at town. I'm just glad the wolves weren't actually  mad."

"There'll be soup soon enough."  Mikealus encouraged Ravi,  missing the point. "Said there's a real tavern where we're heading -  we'll get us a horn of ale, and curse the howling menaces until the moon  rises."

Cael regaled them with tales of his travels and training  to learn under Red Brother, until everyone is sufficiently tired of  hearing his voice. Meanwhile, Ravi whispered about soup to himself. 

Back  in the rice paddies, Belsea calculated their location based on her  previous travels, considering what Cael had asked days before. She knew  that the highway continued east for quite a ways--practically to the  sea, though she had not been that far, and that it continued west,  beyond Ceteran, through a mountain pass; and that Ceteran was the  crossroads for a north-south highway as well. At this point, the patrol  was nowhere near the sea. Even at the very end of their patrol, they  wouldn’t have made it even halfway to the coast.

She refocused on  tracking. She was initially able to follow the bulk of the wolves  south-east and then south a ways as they criss-crossed the paddies and  their earthen barriers, but lost the trail within half an hour. Far, far  off in the distance, Belsea thought she saw something humanoid moving  at the edge of the distant woods. She also noticed people coming up the  road--humble farmers emerging to begin their daily labors. She looked  down at her muddied clothing. She wiped at the worst of it and called to  the farmers, "Good marrow."

"Miss!" One replied, waving. She was  an older woman. All of the farmers, male and female, were dressed in  breeches and mainly barefoot. Further off, a few individuals were coming  along with hand-drawn carts--probably bearing more for planting.

Belsea hesitantly returned the wave and asks, "Would you mind if I asked a few questions?"

"Heh," the elder woman chuckled. "Naw. What may I do for you?" She was polite, and addresses Belsea as a serf would a freeman.

"I was wondering if you knew of trouble with wolves about these parts."

"There've  been some troubles... They got one of the freemen's cows, and the  Blackfeets been buyin up the chickens cause of 'em raidin coops. Heard a  shepard an a child were recently killt. Some're sayin it's sickness,  but most folk think it's just hunger. Most the time they're shy n' don't  bother us types; can't say I've seen any myself since I was a girl."  She scratched her neck. "Nope, not since. Are you huntin, miss?" She  gestured to Belsea's bow.

Belsea nodded and thought for a moment,  " 'N tracking. Got a rude awakening this morning because of those  wolves. Not sure what all of you do as a precaution, but I'd be careful.  They've gotten mean in their hunger."

The old woman's eyes  widened. "Ah, thank you for the warnin! I'll let the others know." She  darted a glance around. "You should know," she murmured quickly, "that  out east there've been some banditry, so be careful. It's no place for  someone alone. Jus keep your eyes about ye."

"Thank you, I'll keep it close at hand." Belsea nodded and then waved as she departed, "Good luck with planting and keep safe!"

"'N you n' yers!" The woman called back.

Belsea  backtracked to the last place there was a certain trail, keeping in  mind the hunger of wolves and men.  From there she attempted once again  to follow their trail. After searching among reeds in the fallow paddy,  she was able to find a trace of print, then more tracks. She followed  them further south as it became obvious they were trending toward the  trees where she had previously seen someone. She could easily reach the  woods if she wished, but that would take some time, especially with mud  making the going slow. She glanced to the sky; the sun was still rising.  After peering about the surroundings, she resigned herself to a bit of  trudging.

Birdsong colored the morning more cheerfully than it  had originally begun. The woods, though distant, included an old grove  of strong hardwood, along with a stretch of young pine. She didn't see  another human shape as she approached, though she was sure she spied the  silhouette of a deer. At the edge of the woods was at least one stone  cairn; it was not large like a burial mound, but rather a stack of  stones--probably a shrine to a small god or spirit of the woods, given  the apparent age of the grove. A good place for wolves, unless there  were too many. She walked up to the cairn, and placed a couple of the  roots upon it and ponder the forest before continuing her work.

She  felt a sense of well-being descend upon her as she contemplated the  shrine. There was a small, crude idol there that she suspected was  supposed to be a stag. A few tiny purple and yellow flowers had bloomed  at the shrine's base; the stones were old enough to be covered in  lichen. She returned to her task, searching for rabbit tracks as well.  As she investigated the border of the woods, she was unable to find any  tracks suggesting that someone had actually been here. She did find a  narrow run that was likely a deer trail, plus small rabbit tracks  leading to a warren.

She crouched on the balls of her feet. Hmph.  She trusted her eyes, had to in her line, but no tracks. She looked  about for the wolf tracks as well. They petered into the woods; she  could clearly see that this was the way the pack fled much earlier this  morning. Hm. No traces of another pack, and she'd found at least rabbit  readily enough. Perhaps it was different further in the woods. Belsea  shrugged. Before departing, she gave a loose salute to the cairn.

Afterwards,  Belsea began to work towards reuniting with the rest of her party. The  sun inched higher as she angled back toward the road, cutting through  the fields. Farmers greeted her as she passed; many were female, young  and old, and they were diligently planting and replanting the rice crop.   Around these parts, rice made up the backbone of the diet and was the  principal way of measuring something's cost; the local lords also traded  on the basis of sacks of rice. Even the laws had a great deal to say  about the grain, and the boxes used to measure it out were also used to  drink alcohol fermented from it. 

As she passed the peasants, she  repeated her message about the wolves several times by the time she got  back to the road. It was not quite noon when Belsea rejoined the group.  She raised a hand in greeting on the approach, and headed for the  Captain.

"Hello!" Cael greeted her with a wave and smile, already  beginning to forget last night’s encounter. "Are we clear of the  wolves?"

"Anything?"  the captain asks. He was munching absently on a ration bar.

"No  signs of any other pack than the one. I broke off when their tracks led  into an old wood towards the south. The locals have had some trouble  with them, the worst being shepard and son being eaten. One lady says  there's possible banditry to the east."

"Thank you," the captain replied, thinking over the information. He handed over Sage's reins to her. "He's quite well-behaved."

"Thank  you," Belsea responded as she took them. Hopefully the report to the  Captain would also answer any questions the others had.

As Cael  told his strories, the group traveled on down the road. The day was warm  and the wind redolent with the sweet-mud smell of the farms. Some  clouds gathered much further east, but the patrol outpaced the rain and  arrived to town dry. The village was significantly larger than the last  settlement. The horse trough was located on the front of a long  two-story building, the largest in town. It had a faded shingle hanging  out front with a mug and bed painted on it. There was a porch as well,  and an old man and a dog sitting there, both asleep. A dirt road led  north, lined by almost a dozen thatched houses, and the sound of a  smithy rang clearly through the mostly-empty village.

"Captain, while you requisition some supplies, I am going to inquire about Shuj's family," Cael said to al'Pacem.

Mikealus  sighed in relief.  Before unhorsing, though, he waited to see if  al'Pacem wanted them to ride out and help resupply. "As you wish,"  al'Pacem granted.

"I'll water the mounts," Khader added. "Don't want 'em getting too greedy."

"If anyone needs to make purchases, I'll be heading there before arranging rooms," said al'Pacem. "Otherwise, take your ease."

Ravi  disappeared inside the tavern, presumably to drink away his sorrows.  Borche hobbled in after him. Belsea patted Sage's neck before  reliquishing him so she could work mud out of the crevices of her boots.  Khader took care of the rest. Mikealus made his way into the market  square as well - buying some extra supplies for the road might not be  the worst idea. The center of town was arranged around the smithy, a  small stone-walled compound, a bakery, and a general supplies store. A  cart had stopped near the center here, on a patch of green with an old,  bare tree.

Cael inquired around, but was unable to learn about  their deceased prisoner. Mikealus went into the general supplies store a  bit after Cael, and inquires the prices of some replacement stock. Once  her leather was in order, Belsea went to take care of her own shopping.   Belsea found the captain in the general store, sorting out the details  of resupply with the young woman. She ably assisted the ranger as well.  Al'Pacem was also acquiring some new bedding and tents. As Belsea wraps  up her purchase, the woman slipped her a small leather pouch along with  the leaf-wrapped rations. "It's our town's specialty," she beamed.

Belsea  blinked and said, "Thank you." She wondered if the Captain had been so  favored as well. Inside the pouch was another leaf-wrapped bar. It  smelled somewhat sweet and faintly like pine.

After a while, Cael  returned to the tavern. Borche and Ravi were sharing a table. The  mounts had been tied, but Khader was not in the tavern. The old man on  the porch didn't awaken at Cael's approach. There was another man  inside, behind a long bar; he was polishing the top. Cael silently  greeted his companions and approached the barkeep. "Evening, sir. My  name is Cael Akbar. Might I trouble you for a drink? Whatever the house  specialty is or what you recommend."

The man regarded Cael  silently for a few moments, then smiled. He wa missing some teeth, but  appeared pretty hearty. "We've got rice wine, blackberry wine, I got a  plum brandy from the far north, a light ale, and a beer so dark it'll  put the hair on your chest," he said proudly.

"He's not jokin bout that last part," Borche quipped. His leg was propped up on one of the long benches.

"Well  then, I have but little choice but to take a draft of the dark beer,"  he smiled and placed some coin on the bar. "We have just arrived in town  and are trying to track down the family of a man. I thought you may be  able to help me, um, I'm afraid I didn't get your name?"

"I'm  Partha al'Mirra, stranger," he says. "Light's blessing on you and  yours." He turns to pour Cael a draft out of a keg against the back  wall. "Who'n might you be lookin for?'

"The sister of a young man  named Shuj. We believe she may live in this town or the next.  Unfortunately, not much else is known about the poor boy. We found him,  attacked by wolves out in the woods. We got into a bit of a scrape  ourselves," he said, motioning towards Borche. "In his dying breath, he  told us of a sister nearby. We were hoping to get his body to her for  proper burial."

"Shuj, eh?" The tavernkeeper slides the beer  across the bar. Borche chokes on his beer. "Y'alright, master?" The man  regards the half-orc with concern, but the latter waves him off. "Shame  about the wolves. Blessings on him. Did you get his family name?"

"Alas, no. I can give a rough description of the boy though." Cael briefly described Shuj's appearance.

The  tavernkeep leans against the bar, listening. He's a big man and  obviously well fond of gossip. He thinks about what Cael's said. "Well,  saw 'im not long ago--stopped in some nights ago from out east. Said  he's one of the Tamahsbi's, from out there--you'll find 'em all over the  place, they come out here time to time. If we see one stop by, we'll  spread the word."

"My thanks, friend," he says taking another  polite sip. At burns on the way down and he turns away to blink out the  tears. "Have you been having trouble with the local wildlife as well?  There have been reports of attacks recently."

"Been some  troubles--heard a couple been killed, some attacks on livestock. After  dark though, so anyone home on time is more or less safe."

"I  see. Troubling times when one cannot even go for a late night stroll. So  if everyone is in during the night, I suppose this place gets pretty  lively? Any unusual folk traveling through, present company excluded,"  he smiled.

The captain joined Cael at the bar, coming in with two  sacks of supplies. "Hail, freeman," he greeted the barkeep heartily.  "We'll need some rooms for the night--this is quite the place! I'd say 3  rooms will do us, if you'll give us your hospitality."  

He  chuckled at Cael's comment. "Lively, by gods--this is the only watering  hole to speak of for miles around!" The barkeep looked pleased.  "Al'Partha at your service, lord. Are you the patrol?" 

Mikealus came back to the tavern, Khon's saddlebags a bit heavier, and joined the crew in the tavern.

"Your  man was here, and we've a tinker in town--you might've seen him on the  green. Selling some fripperies and sugar and salt; he's staying here for  a while. Had some holy folks out on a pilgrimage, even a lord's retinue  a few tendays past, though the roads weren't to good on 'em."

The  captain agreed. "All our party, yes; all these young bucks and a  huntress--she'll have the third room," he added, and slid more coin  across the bar. At about that time, Belsea returned from her shopping.

The innkeep makes the coinage disappear. "I'll have your rooms ready while you prepare."

 "I saw the temple in town; have you a consecrated land? We have an unfortunate," the captain asked.

"Seems  like a fairly good trade for you." Cael relayed to the captain the  information about Shuj's family. "If you will excuse me, I must purchase  my supplies before the shops close. I shall return in a bit." He bowed  and left.

"Your Tamahsbi," the innkeeper replies sympathetically.  "Your man told me." He gestured to Cael as the man left. "We have--you  can arrange with the old priest. He's one of the Gardener's."

Al'Pacem tendered his thanks and leaves once more. "Can I get you anything, miss?" 

"Tambshi..."  Mikealus glances at Borche and Ravi to confirm:  _That's his name?  Huh._  "Oh, sir."  Remembering the broken marker stone, he caught the  barkeep’s eye.  "You have a stoneworker in town?  The village over has  need for a grave to be carved."

Belsea looked up but returned to her business as Mikealus took the man's attention.

"That we do; the smith does it--his apprentice'll make the rounds next tenday," he replied.

Mikealus acknowledged the barkeep with a nod.  "I'll take it up with him on the morn, then.  My thanks."

"The  two of you are mighty dry." He grabbed two wooden tankards. "A soju for  the huntress and a beer for the warrior?" At the paladin’s agreement,  the barkeep set about his work. A fresh poured beer with a foamy head  found its way to Mikealus. How'd it get there? Who knew!

Belsea asked if the soju was from local rice.

"Of course-only the best!" he replied.

Belsea grinned slightly, "Then, yes please."

"I know a good woman when I see one," he said knowingly, and poured a draft from another keg into a masu.

Mikealus lifted his tankard to the room, and sipped.

A  dark-haired woman came down the stairs of the tavern and slipped behind  the bar, patting the innkeeper on one broad shoulder. "Guests, dear,"  the innkeeper told her. "Three rooms." She kissed him and disappeared  back upstairs. The innkeeper seemed very pleased.

Belsea sipped  the sujo. The sujo had a clear, strong taste that was almost flowery;  Belsea knew that the stuff could get anyone drunk in a hurry. In no  hurry to get drunk, Belsea took her time savoring the drink.

Cael  returned with supplies packed under his arms. He stowed them by his  stool while the rooms were prepared. He unwrapped his little package the  nice woman gave him, folding back the dried leaves to reveal a yellow,  rectangular bar of puffed rice, bound together by a sweet pine-scented  resin. He broke off a corner and ate it; it was chewy, crispy, and  strongly sweet, with a slightly antiseptic evergreen flavor. It was  certainly interesting.

"I 'spect you'll all want the common board  for dinner--the lord already gave enough to cover that." The innkeeper  was pouring a drink for another newcomer; the sound of conversation was  starting to fill the inn, and someone had begun a fire in the wide  hearth in the common area.

Mikealus nursed his beer, succeeding  in his goal of not brooding too hard.  He kept an eye on Agniprava, who  had been suspiciously quiet today - and who seemed quite entertained by  the tides of people going about the tavern.

Cael moved to sit  next to Mikealus. "Did you get a little treat as well?" he asked,  showing the paladin his treat. Belsea peered at what Cael was showing  off.

"I'm afraid not."  The young man frowned.  "What is it?"

Cael  broke off a piece and handed it to him. "A local sweet. Have a piece."  Cael offered it to whoever else is around if they want any, until it was  gone. 

The captain returned around dusk, looking a little tired.

"Ah,  lord," the innkeeper greeted him. "Your rooms should be ready. I told  your men I'd have the common board out for them tonight. Would you like a  beer?" The shop girl arrived with two children, hauling in the rest of  the supplies. She waved to the innkeeper and al'Pacem and headed  upstairs after some brief discussion.

Dinner is passed around in  short order after the innkeeper's wife returns downstairs. The girl from  the shop waves to the party and chivvies her helpers out of the inn.

"Al'Partha,  a glass of your blackberry wine, if you would. I'm afraid your beer put  too much hair on my chest the last time," Cael said with a smirk.  "Besides, I always enjoy wine with my meal, and beer for my stories."

Soon  thereafter, Khader arrived and sat at the bar as well. Mikealus, who  yet chewed on the sweet, and was quite puzzled by it, lifted his glass  to Khader.  "Hail, brother."

"Good taste!" The innkeeper  retrieved a bottle from the back shelf and a dull metal goblet, poured  it, and passed it over to Cael. "My brother makes it." Cael accepted  graciously and set to his meal.

"Hail," Khader replied. "A beer,  good man, and what they're having." Everyone was settled with food and  drink soon enough, and their belongings sorted out upstairs. Al'Pacem  arranged proper stabling for the mounts, which made Ravi briefly sulk.  Mikealus joined the others at the table, and took it upon himself to  regale the others with a few horse stories - which were rather like fish  tales, except they involved hooves.

Cael turned to Borche and  the others who were wounded. "How are you all feeling? Do your bandages  need to be changed or wounds cleaned out?" All in all, it was a nice  night, despite the rain which started after sunset. The meal was  filling, the beer flowed freely, and the villagers were happy to swap  tales.

"I could use a change," Borche said. "I was gonna head up  anyway; tired." Cael followed him to cleanse the wounds and redress the  bandages. Ravi finished his supper and last beer and went after the  others, weaving slightly.


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## RedTonic (Oct 22, 2011)

Everyone was able to sleep well and refreshed themselves as necessary. With the combination of healing skills available to the party, everyone quickly returned to full health, including the mounts. The patrol overheard a lot of talk about the various misfortunes befalling travelers and farmers since the Thaw.  Excepting the monk, who was unable to suss out the relevance of any particular bit of gossip, each heard that, besides the troubles with wolves, there had been a fair deal of trouble with bandits east of the village. They had been charging a toll to travelers in small groups and generally making a nuisance of themselves. More even headed folk thought that the bandits had set up a base in a ruined fort northeast of the highway.

That morning it raining heavily, but the captain was ready to set out regardless. He indicated that anyone wanting to pursue business should do so now. Mikealus departed to take care of the headstone. Agniprava went out to do his morning meditation in the rain in the village green. Cael made sure his belongings were packed and ready to leave. Then he headed to meet al'Mirra, the barkeep to see if he could tell him about this tinkerer he mentioned last night. Belsea simply waited for the group to be ready to leave.

Very few people were out on the green that morning. Agni saw the tinkerer at his wagon, but otherwise no one was interested in staying out in the weather. He greeting to the tinkerer as he found a spot to sit and meditate.

Al'Mirra hailed Cael cheerfully. "What can I do for you, freeman?" Khader, Ravi, and Borche joined Belsea in waiting after they completed their varying morning rituals.

"Ah, lovely morning, eh? Is rain plentiful this time of year?" Cael said as he sat on a stool. "What word do you have on this tinkerer you mentioned last night? You mentioned he was a curious fellow." Belsea nodded a greeting to the others but remained silent.

"Rains like love crying," al'Mirra agreed. "As for him--yes, curious like any tinker. Seen him years past; he's an old-timer, sells mainly fripperies here since we have our own smithy."

"I see. Perhaps I will meet him before we part. I shall be back to gather my things. You have been most helpful for our stay." Cael bowed to the man and headed to the tinkerer's wagon. The tinkerer was puttering about his wagon; he had opened the shutters on the side facing the inn, and had a covered lantern lit. "Greetings!" Cael bid the man as he approached the wagon. "I was told you have various wares for sale by the barkeep. Mind if I take a look, or are you closing down due to the weather?"

"Nay, son, I be open every day, any day," the old man said. His face wa as wrinkly as a dried fig. "I have many fine wares from which to choose--things sweet, things for your sweet, blessings, luck, and joy."

"Cael Akbar, sir. Allow me to peruse your wares," Cael said as he extends his hand for a hearty shake. The tinkerer clasped Cael's forearm. He had a surprisingly strong grip for an old man. 

"Sugar, salt, and spices; beautiful ribbons, brilliant cloth, bits and bobs, northern wool and southern linen! Nails, glue, and what-have-you." Inside the old man's wagon, Cael saw very fine bolts of fabric, a chest of valuable make with a complex locking mechanism, and among other things a stand bearing what he was fairly certain were valuable alchemical ingredients. Some were almost certain to be useful potions and unguents. The wagon is redolent of spices which Cael knew to be rather valuable trade goods.

"What manner of potions are those?" Cael asked the man.

"This and that!" He beamed. "They can make you strong like an ox, sly as a fox, or as silver-tongued as the serpent. And, of course, if you've been," he coughed, "Indiscreet... Well, I have salves for that, too!"

Cael nodded. "And how did a fellow like yourself end up here? Just passing through?"

The tinker hemmed. "Yea; came from the east, after payin' the highwaymen off, and plan to go inland a ways--my daughter's family lives south of Ceteran by the river'n it's time I see her."

"I see. Well, I pray your journey be safe, my friend. I hear news of bandits on the roads and we were accosted by a pack of wild animals," Cael said with a grimace of remembrance. "How much are you willing to part with these potions for?"

"Depends!" he chuckles. "Which're you thinkin of?"

The two haggled, but Cael quickly realized he was too broke to buy any of the interesting potions. Instead, he made a few small purchases. He pocketed his goods and said, "It was great to meet your acquaintance, if we meet again, I shall remember your service today."

"And you, young'un. Be careful on the roads.” Cael returned to the inn and met with the others.

Mikealus returned from the smithy wet but pleased that he'd been able to take care of his business quickly.  He saluted his brethren of the Order with a genial raised-hand, and joined them all in the dry.
 "Captain?"  Mikealus took a seat by the man.  He glanced up at the ceiling, wondering how long the rain would continue. The remains of the earlier breakfast had already been carted off for washing. The innkeep was puttering around with his wife and young son at various morning chores.

"Mikealus," he responded. "I believe we'll head out soon. I have no doubt that the bandits will avoid an eight-man mounted troop. What are your thoughts?" He looked to Belsea and the others to solicit their opinions as well.

"I suppose that depends on the number of bandits and the ambitions of their leaders," Belsea reflected.

"That's rather what I'd thought to ask, Captain. Are we intending to pursue the rumors of an encampment?" Mikealus asked.

"Do you intend to?" al'Pacem replied, watching him and the others.

"Do I?"  Mikealus was puzzled.  "It’s not my patrol to command.  The rumors seemed rather constant, though - and it’s not the first place we've heard these complaints."  Indeed, what point is the patrol for if not to have the Order keep an eye on such issues?

"It is very much your control--all of yours. I'm interested to know what you think we should do," the captain replied amiably. "It is indeed the purpose of patrols to discourage banditry, among other goals."

"Cael," Khader greeted the cleric. "We're thinking on the bandits. The captain asked our thoughts."

Agniprava finished his mantras and returned to the inn. "Good morning, all."

Mikealus nodded to the monk, but kept his attention on Cael.  This would be an interesting answer.

"Morning," Khader said. Ravi grunted. Borche was busy polishing something. Belsea looked over and then back to the group as a whole.

"Our job is keep these parts safe, is it not? From what I gather, these men are actively engaging in unlawful activity. Right now it is just collecting tolls, but later...? Better to stop a problem before it gets out of hand, is my opinion," said Cael.

"But we don't know where, or how many.  Is it worth stopping our current pursuit?  Shuj said we'd have a few days...  and we are at present... a day's ride to our destination? A day and a half?"  Mikealus looked at Al'Pacem to confirm.

"A worthy goal," the captain replied. "With this weather, a day and a half at best, I would say. We can easily reach the next village before evening, rain notwithstanding." He scratched his dark beard. "Not certain if they'll be up to their usual with this weather, unless a caravan will be along that they'd know about. At any rate, this can be discussed while mounted."

"True, I had not considered that. I suppose it must be determined which is the more heinous crime. Plus, bandits tend to remain until rooted out. This man my slip into shadows out of our grasp entirely. I agree with the paladin," Cael said as he went to grab his belongings.

Mikealus smirked as Cael left.  "Funny.  I was not disagreeing with the notion.  I'm the one that brought it up... I was just weighing the options out loud."  He looked at the monk.  "What do you think?"

"I think he meant he was agreeing with you," Khader laughed.

Al'Pacem departed to the stables, seemingly in a good mood. Borche followed. Ravi and Khader lingered; they had already loaded most of the beasts this morning. Cael returned with his bags and thanked the barkeep with a small tip for the hospitality.

Agniprava looked up to Mikealus, having been listening to what little of the conversation he was present for.  "Not to be repetitive but I do believe that the pursuit of this man who would pursue the dead for whatever reason is somehow of greater significance I feel."  He paused then, "You should fear by far the bear as it strikes, then the grip of old age."  A saying he had always liked that the ascetics repeated with reliable consistency.

Belsea noted how the priest who wa short of money handed it out freely.

Mikealus nodded.  "Well.  We'll see what the road brings."  --and went to don his armor. With that, everyone finished their preparations. Agniprava also checked on the tied up wolf. The wounded and bound wolf was not exactly thrilled to see Agni, but as it remained disabled, it could do little but growl weakly.

At the stable, Cael saw Khader. "Hello my friend, " Cael said as he secured the last of his goods. "You were away for some time yesterday. Did you do anything interesting?"

Khader smiled. "Nothing worth singing about, I'd say."  He led his horse out of the stable. Ravi was grumbling. That day, he would ride the last spare pack mule. It didn't care for him.

"I see. Are you from around these parts? You had mentioned this town having sweets you liked as well as talked to those villagers about the wolves."

"Just north of here," he says over his shoulder. "Haven't been here in a while."

"Ravi,"  Agniprava asked, "Why do you grumble so?"

Belsea watched Ravi for a moment.

"Because," he gritted, "This hells-beast wants to kill me."

"Do you think you might get on better with my mule here? If so, you may ride him today....I'm not so put out by angry beasts." Agniprava gestured to his mule, which was standing stock still, awkwardly burdened by one of the wolves which had attacked it.

"All mules are hells-beasts," Ravi replied sagely.

Belsea gave Mikealus a questioning look as he rode up beside her. "You didn't tell us what you thought.  

"Everything I'd thought to mention was. I don't hold any part much more valuable than any other."

The troop started east through the pouring rain. The road swiftly turned into muck. The farmers were, nevertheless, out in the fields. Al'Pacem hung back to join Mikealus and Belsea. "With the weather what it is, I've decided it's likely not worth asking you to scout. I don't believe we should expect trouble today, but, as always, be on your guard."

Belsea nodded. Before she had heard the rain on the inn's roof, she'd hoped to scout, or at least go hunting. Tracking in this mess, however, would not be very productive. Though uncomfortable, the morning was otherwise easy. The cold rain lessened to a constant drizzle by noon. Borche was riding point and Al'Pacem  drifted to the rear. Agniprava was also near the back, to avoid people feeling uncomfortable with the wolf... Or at least to soften the blow.  Mikealus rode in silence, wondering who was most uncomfortable right then: the monk carrying a wet wolf, the wolf being held up in the rain by a wet monk, or the wet mule carrying both of them.

At noon, the highway wound out of the farmlands and entered the woodlands. Cael noticed that the area they were coming upon opened to a small clearing; to the north, he saw a very narrow dirt track leading deeper into the woods. He pointed out the path to the captain as well as Belsea. The clearing looked regularly used; there were patches of bare, packed earth, and even a half-rotten barrel. Another  stream cut through here as well, and a crumbling stone bridge that the team had to pass over. Khader noted that the bridge was really only barely wide enough for a wagon... So it was probably the choke point.

“Which means, you'd think, we'd have been spotted before now...  or they simply aren't home," Mikealus observed.

"We can pause for a look," said al'Pacem. "But I'm sure Mikealus is right."

"Perhaps the rain drove them to shelter. But now that it is letting up, we best be on guard." Cael gazed around.

Belsea dismounted to look about, but could find neither tracks nor anything terribly interesting to eat beyond lichen... She resisted the urge to point it out to the monk, and returned to Sage. They saw a small pit full of muddy ashes in the clearing, with some fallen logs rolled by it for seating. Nothing indicated that it had been used very recently. By all appearances, the site had been abandoned; if anyone  had been there earlier that day, they had left no sign, and if they were still here, they were very, very quiet.

"Anything?" al'Pacem inquired, still astride his horse.

The monk shook his head. "Nothing it seems..."

"Not a very large camp either, for there to be constant reports of bandits in three different towns," said Mikealus.

“Just an old campfire. We should be safe to proceed. The sooner we get out of here, the better. I do not wish to be here when the owners return." Cael’s gaze lingered on the narrow trail.

"Well, let's press on for now. At the least, we have information for a report," al'Pacem encouraged them.

"I agree with Cael," decided the monk.

Mikealus shook his head, displeased.  At least they had not lost the whole day on an empty chase. The party pressed on, variously disappointed and relieved to not encounter highwaymen. The rain picked back up in a few hours. The rest of the ride was spent under a dark and often grumbling sky.

At the next village, al'Pacem solicited opinions on whether to continue to the next town, where Shuj's buyer should be, or to stop for the night.

"If we continue on now, we can arrive in advance of his buyer," Agniprava suggested hopefully. Ravi preferred to stop, but Borche agreed with Agniprava.

Mikealus pointed out the biggest trouble seemed to no longer be how to lure him out, but how to catch him without raising a ruckus.  The patrol was not accustomed to skulking around in the dark and kidnapping a man...  But at least getting there earlier gave them more time to scout out the area - even if just a quick glance at night.

Cael concurred, “I agree, getting there first will allow us time to setup and gather information."

"It will certainly benefit us if we have to cut off his escape," said Agniprava.

"So," al'Pacem announced, "Agniprava, Cael, Borche, Mikealus--you say yes? Yes, Ravi, we know you're sore. And Belsea?" Khader had been ambivalent.

Cael turns to Belsea and asked, "How dangerous are these paths at night?"

"With wolves and bandits?" Belsea shrugged, "It is raining."

"The main benefit of staying is that our mounts can rest and dry out overnight," al'Pacem added. "Hoof rot is a problem in this season."

Agniprava conceded the point, having heard of the condition from his parents.

Belsea said, "I would prefer to stay."

Mikealus nodded.  "We aren't all riding the strongest animals anymore."  The wolf-carrying mule came immediately to mind.  "Shall we rest then?"

This was smaller village than the last, but there was a main gathering hall; usually travelers could rest and stable mounts there. Al'Pacem said as much.

"Fine, but an early start tomorrow,” Cael allowed.

“Very,” droned Agniprava. 

After some discussion with the headman within the wooden longhouse, everyone had the opportunity to care for mounts and stable them under a dry shed. Straw pads were provided to rest on and though dinner is simple, no one went hungry. Al'Pacem awoke everyone before dawn. The rain had ended, but the road was still obscured by fog when the patrol set out.  The muddy highway made for some slow going out of the woods.

They emerged without incident late in the afternoon. They had reached hill country, where more of the land was devoted to pasture and orchards. Off in the distance, the hills were dotted with settlements. The nearest one and closest to the highway looked reachable before dark. During the trip, Belsea kept an eye out for food that did not come out of a farmer's hard work. Soon enough, she had found sufficient forage to feed herself and 5 others for a day; plenty of mushrooms had sprung up after the rain, and there were many edible tubers and buds around.

While they road, Agniprava doted on the wolf on the mule behind him. The wolf was bored and hostile, but helpless; the mule was touchy, but bore the burden with amazing patience. Utilizing some strips of cloth, Agniprava muzzled the wolf in case it decided to get antsy, and removed some of its other bonds, fashioning a leash out of cloth. The wolf wasn’t yet in shape to walk. As the patrol went on, the monk inspected the wolf’s wounds. They were slowly knitting, but still hobbled the beast.

After a brief break, the party continued on its way east. They reach the village before dusk.  This village was busier than the last, at least partially because the weather had let up since yesterday. Near the center of the village was a longhouse, many thatched huts and cottages, a wooden watchtower, a tavern, and a small shrine near a small graveyard. There was also a well in the town, and on the outskirts, a large enclosure where some sheep and a pair of lowing cows were kept. A few village dogs bounded up to you all, sparking a growling contest with the wounded wolf.

"Well," al'Pacem said. "Here we are."

"Here we are indeed."  Mikealus looked at his companions.  "So now we decide."

"How soon until the man of the hour is to arrive?" asked Agniprava.

"I don't think we know," Khader answered.

"Not anymore.  I say we keep an eye out - quietly - and take our rooms for the night.  We'll discuss what we're doing once we're settled in."

“Agreed.” 

"Onward, then." Al'Pacem dismounted and led his horse into the village, shooing away some of the mongrels. After tying off his horse in front of the inn, he paused. "I'll get us rooms--Ravi, watch the mounts." He then went in. The other three also tied off their mounts. Ravi leaned against the post and surveyed the scene. Borche and Khader discussed a dice game. Cael wandered in to inn and started chatting up the locals.

At one table was a knot of orcish folk, and a mixed group of humans, half-elves, and dark kobolds elsewhere. They seemed friendly enough.  Cael asked about the weather, local people of importance, any bandit or animal attacks, and anything that came to mind. The innkeeper was a half-orc woman with long, black braids and light green skin. She was currently passing a large number of ales to a young human woman. The initiate heard more gossip about bandits and the usual depredation on stock, but nothing particularly new or useful. He excused himself after a while and went to the barkeep. "Hello, my name is Cael. My companions and I just arrived in town. I was wondering if you could help me locate a person?"

She glanced at him. "It's kinda busy--if you need me to get ya something, let me know, but talk must wait."

Cael could see that she wa definitely very busy, and the inn's patrons were very thirsty. "Fair enough. Can I lend a hand?"

At that, she barked out a laugh. "I ain't hirin, kid, so order or get offa the bar."

Belsea stared at the wolf. Agniprava tied off his mule, then, without taking the wolf of the mule, examined its wound a bit more thoroughly. As Belsea stared at the wolf, the wolf also stared into her.
Was the wolf eating the monk worth that unknowable but all too possible risk that it would devour others? She didn’t break eye contact with the beast. The wolf growled softly at her.

Mikealus stabled Khon, paying a few coppers, then walked the length of the to observe the village’s layout. The place wasn’t rich, but it was orderly. He saw a communal baker, a potter, and what he thought was a thatcher. The houses often shared walls, so there were only a few side alleys. The whole place barely put a dent on east Ceteran, for all that. He sighed.  This whole mess of looking for someone who might not be there, but if he was, they needed to find without him finding them first....  It was not adventurous and exciting, it was all becoming rather frustrating.  He gave up - time for a beer.

Cael put down a few coppers. "A drink then. Beer or wine is fine." He took his drink to the most populated table and tried to work the name Tamahsbi into the conversation. Khader and Borche joined him at the bar, ordering beers and the evening’s supper.

"The Tamahsbi are my cousins," one thick farmer said. "Bit wester here though. Say, are we related?" he asked Cael.

Mikealus bellied up to the bar and ordered a few ales for himself and his companions.

"I believe not. If you are truly, cousins, I'm afraid I have bad news. We had a run in where we met your kin, Shuj. While traveling, he was killed by wolves in the night. We took his body to be tended to to the next town over," Cael said as he sipped his beer. "I tried my best to save him, but..." His voice trailed off a bit. After a long pause, he continued. "Before he died, I was told of a sister. I would like to inform her as well." The barkeep passes a round of dark beers to Mikealus and company. She seemed friendlier now that more money was going across the bar.

Mikealus thanked the woman with only a nod, and sat himself in a corner with the Silver Horn members, passing out the drinks.

"Eh," the farmer said, "Don't know too much about that side of the family--spot of bad luck for him, though." He made a sign to ward off bad luck himself. "Good luck that he had someone there to give him proper rites, anyway. If'n you want to find more of them, you'd have to head norther a ways."

Agniprava found that the wolf had become somewhat dehydrated. Belsea wasn't sure how long the wound would take to heal on its own enough for the wolf to become truly dangerous to the settlements; perhaps a week, perhaps never. She bared her teeth for the wolf and walked forward, then grabbed the animal around the muzzle and twisted the animal's head so it was forced to break eye contact.

Agniprava roared at Belsea, "What do you think you're doing!?" The wolf struggled weakly and its growls became whimpers.

She released the animal once the whimpers completely replaced the growls. "I would ask the same of you monk. Caring for a man eater."

"Touch him again in that fashion and we will have words. Is he not wounded enough, you must treat him that way?"  After hearing her words, "If hunger is a crime I am guilty many times over.  Now leave him be."

"You truly have no idea how wolves work." The wolf eyed them both balefully but was now quiet. A few mongrels were slinking around several paces away, not-looking-but-looking. A few children gathered to toss sticks at them.

"I do understand that pack animals hunt to eat.  And hunger is powerful motivation...that I know."

"Aye, and if they'd won, I would not begrudge them the meat on our bones." Belsea stared at him. "But will you feel the responsibility for letting the man eater go so it can devour such people as them?"  She gestured to the children.

Al'Pacem joined Mikealus and the others at the table, squeezing in beside a kobold whose feet didn't reach the floor. "Busy," he commented.

"I thank you." Cael said. "He also spoke of a job he had lined up. He was feverish, and most of it was jumbled, but he mentioned some kind of delivery and a man. Have any strangers been to town in the past few weeks seeking people for work?"

"Very.  Do all of these look like locals?"  Mikealus was used to this kind of variety in Ceteran, but a small village with such a varied populace was different.  More to the point that they'd all be in the tavern tonight...  He shrugged and then tested the beer.

"We've had some travelers lately," the man agreed. "A few been staying here until something's done about the bandits. We sent word to Shushtar but they ain't got here yet, if the messenger made it."

"There is a kobold clan around here somewhere," al'Pacem mused.

"Blackfoot!" the one beside him piped up. "We are a mighty people! Our herds more than the stars!" 

Mikealus raised his horn to the kobold. "How far do yours range, you of the Blackfoot?” 

"We keep them on both sides of the river! Miles and miles," he bragged. "Biggest herds in five villages! Even humans don't have so many nor so fat."

Mikealus grinned.  "I don't know about fat.  You should see my brother.  He lives in the Capital - I've no doubt he's bloated as a hog by now."

"Nature takes its course,  whether they eat me or them, or each other."  Agniprava paused then, taking a measured breath, "The cycle continues as it does, on and on.  But no creature deserves to die for being what it is...a hunter or otherwise."

Belsea grinned sharply.  "You say 'nature takes its course’ as you stay it. How typical."

"Have you no respect for the cycle of nature?  Have you, a ranger, no respect for the cycle of life and death?  For as surely as they could kill us or the children, we may do the same to them could we not?  Is there nothing of this in your training, as it was taught to me by my parents, druids, devotees to the cycle?"

Belsea laughed, "You pervert the cycle and call me the disrespectful? Tell me, monk, oh child of druids, which hunters won that night? Or does nature have the elk care for the wolf that night killed it?

"Does the rabbit that struck the hawk ask for apologies?

"Take it into its home and at the risk of its kittens?

"Does nature burden another animal to carry its natural predator?" Her questions shot out straight and true, penetrating the monk’s rationale. 

"Pervert the cycle?  Life is to be respected in all its forms - mine, yours, the wolf's, the children - you seek to use the cycle to justify death - because death happens does not mean we should deal it out without remorse.  Speak not to me of perversion Belsea - if you seek to kill do it elsewhere."

"Bah!" the kobold replied, waving off Mikealus. "Bloated with bloodflies! Our sheep have wool so fine that the shahbanu wipes her baby's tears with it!" Some of the other inn patrons were starting to listen in on this budding bragging contest. Even Borche was actually grinning.

Mikealus nodded.  "Sheep I cannot speak to.  But my clan raise horses which dance better than your most nimble - which fight as desperately as your hardiest - and which breed like wild hares!"

"A dancing horse!" the kobold was overcome with laughter. "I cannot say that ours dance!"

"We've two rooms for the evening," al'Pacem cut in quietly. "Sounds like a full house tonight."

Mikealus nodded to al'Pacem.  If it was a full house would it be better to stay in the common to keep an eye on who left?  Or to assume that one of the rooms upstairs may already shelter the occupant they were hunting for?  "At least none of us are sleeping in the stables,"  he said to the Captain, optimistically.  He glanced back at the kobold.  "Our horses dance - but they snore, too."

Cael finished his drink and nodded to the man. He then joined al'Pacem and Mikealus. "No news of any mystery man so far," he whispered, "A few people are staying, but it seems like our mystery man is not staying here at the very least. I'll keep my eyes and ears open."

"You seek to stop a death that would have happened. Again, which hunters won? What animal in nature would preserve its attacker? Or force another animal to carry its predator?"

"To care for the wounded is the natural impulse of all creatures.  Should we have let you die, Belsea, rent as you were by wolves that assailed you?  Or any of our other fellows who had suffered so?  No, we should not - and it was right to do so.  Or perhaps you would prefer that we let you bleed to death in the field.  Would that be the natural way for you, Belsea?"

"In all my time living in the woods, I've yet to seen animals care for each other in such a way as you for the wolf. Even for their own, which they extend much more courtesy, or even the parents to their offspring," Belsea stated, "As for my own bleeding, us 'intelligent beings are the only ones with such a developed sense of empathy."

Ravi interrupted the tense discussion. "That thing and its pack killed my horse," he pointed out, "So while you two decide who eats it, I'm going in to drink." He ditched Belsea and Agniprava.

"Too right, Belsea - Because it is natural for me, as an intelligent being, to do so.  And I would like to get back to it."  Agniprava paused, fuming, but rapidly running through a mantra to calm him. "Not of all of life and nature is what kills what, and what deserves to die.  Much of life is living - and not exacting the hand of death upon creatures that offend you or attack you.  There is more to life than you see Belsea....I pity you."

She made an amused sound, "For seeing only what you see, I know why you didn't take on your parents' calling." She shook her head and headed into the inn. What a human.

The kobold seemed taken by this notion of snoring, dancing horses. "Alas, no horses in our warrens," it sighed wistfully... Despite being much too small to ride a horse.

"Aye, but you've your sheep to keep you warm at night,"  Mikealus opined, almost completely serious.

"But they kick," the kobold rebutted. "They kick hard enough to put any of the people through a wall!"

"Friend of the Blackfoot,"  Mikealus shook his head mournfully.  "Have you ever been kicked by a horse?"

"Naaay," it replied.

Mikealus chuckled.  "Neigh indeed!  It is a good thing.  My clan raises horses which kick so hard, if one struck you, your neighbors would be complaining about the bruises!"

The kobold snorted. "If one of our rams headbutted you, your mother's mother would know it!

Mikealus winked.  "If one of our -mothers- headbutted you, every kobold in the kingdom would have a headache for months!"

"Is that a challenge?" the kobold asked. "You may not be a female, but I'm no hatchling!" It seemed high-spirited.

"That depends, friend.  Do you want me to ride back home and find my mother?  It will be late at night, and she will be bothered by the discourtesy, but I promise she'd be happy to ram-heads, sheep-kick, or horse-dance her way into your legends!"

"Ha! If she looks like a horse, has a head like a ram's, and feet like a sheep's, then I am surprised she is not already in yours!" This little impromptu contest had sparked a good deal of interest.

Mikealus started laughing!  He signaled for another beer - it appeared his mirth had already emptied his first horn.

Outside, the monk still wrestled with his irritation at the ranger’s impertinence. "You know even less than you think, Belsea..."  Agniprava said under his breath, pondering the fact that she was more wrong than she knew... He continued tending to the wolf.

Cael was scanning the crowd for anyone who stuck out or behave oddly. He noted a few, but couldn't decide which, if any, was their man. One was a tall, fair man in clothes just nice enough to be noticeable by contrast. The second was a somewhat grimy man who looked to have a touch of orc about him. He was paying more attention to the table than to the argument. The last was a weedy fellow who had been watching the door intently. Cael had seen the first at the bar earlier; the  third entered a while ago, after Cael. As Belsea neared the bar, he rose to greet her, approaching her as if greeting an old friend. "Belsea! Come, sit with me. I will buy you a drink!" As he gets closer he said in a close whisper, "Play along. I think our man may be mixed in this crowd."

"Is it Soju?"

The young serving woman came around and poured Mikealus a fresh beer. It was so hearty that it was practically liquid bread. He smiled charmingly at the woman, and resolved to drink this one more slowly. "So, friend of the Blackfoot.  I've insulted your clan, you my mother, and yet I've still not had your name.  I am Mikealus."

"I am Nikud the Shearer of the Wide Waters Blackfoot," the kobold says proudly. "It has been good to trade words with you!"

Mikealus bowed his head deeply.  "And with you Nikud of the Blackfoot.  You have made a dark night into a cheery one."

The barkeep overheard, since the crowd had settled. "We've soju."

"It can be for you!" he said as he led them to the corner of the bar with the best vantage point. He quickly asked for two pours and sat down. "You have the best eyes among us. Watch these three people," he said quietly. Cael discreetly pointed out the three men. The barkeep quickly passed over two masu of soju. 

"Keep an eye on them. I want to alert our monk companion," Cael whispers as he sips his glass. He throws down a few more coppers on the table to cover the tab.

"The monk is outside caring for the man-eater." Belsea's mouth quirked oddly. "Thank you for the drink."

Cael bowed to the barkeep and heads outside to find Agniprava. He just outside. "Friend, I may have found our culprit. There are three men that are a bit suspicious in the inn. I was hoping you would assist me." Cael said as he came closer. He described the men and roughly where they were sitting when he left the inn.

Agniprava listened intently.  Deciding the wolf was safe for now, he shifted his attention to the matter of the graverobbers. "Of course friend, lead on."

"Plus our young paladin friend is getting rowdy inside. Makes for a good distraction, nonetheless." 

"Fair enough."


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