Kingmakers of the Everflame (Inactive)

Game Master McBugman

Gnome kick of healing!

Grabbles then slams his tiny fist on the table and snatches up the scrap of paper. Waving the paper a few feet in front of Alfent's face, but clear enough that those who can read Undercommon can see it too.

Then Grabbles puts the scrap back down and slams the statue back onto it. The ruckus is making the other mites agitated and you hear several waking up in the packed room you passed through. The Giant tick is scuffling around now but the mites near it are able to calm it down.
Handle Vermin: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

Grabbles points his finger at Alfentinius and speaks.

I got nothing. Let's offer the bear-trap? If you talk it up well enough they may go for it...or it might anger them more.

Aleksara helps to hand over the goods, then slowly moves to grab the kobold, dragging Jerrik along to help with the creatures weight in the cramped quarters.

Arim follows the group as they advance deeper and deeper into the mite nest, his unease growing with every step

This feels like a scouting mission, something tells me we'll be back here with blood and fire...

"Fenti, ask them what it would take to have that statue away. I can't see the 'bolds giving up the ring without it. I have one idea, though it's a little convoluted. you offer them the trap then we have an argument, we all claim your crazy to offer it, that its worth far more than the statue to the kobolds, that its a more potent relic that is super deadly to them etc... what do you think?"

Arim keeps his voice low and the smile he had been showing the whole day fixed, hoping that none of the mites here had linguistic training.

I'll make one more attempt to get the Ivory statue... but Lets complete the trade for the Kobold first.

Alfentinius will personally hand Grabbles the bottle of Alcohol so that he might have a hushed conversation with him.

bluff: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29../this is to convince Grabbles to part with the statue... willingly!

Alfentinius pulls out the bear trap and presents it to Grabbles.

Alfentinius makes a point of taking a look at the ivory statue to remind Grabbles of Arim's desire for it as he hands the bear trap to Grabbles.

The exchange for the kobold is made. When Alfent pulls out the bear trap and speaks of it's history a few mite coo in awe. Grabbles takes it and smiles, handing over the ivory statue. He makes a big show of the transaction and you all notice that mites are pouring in to witness.
sense motive: 1d20 ⇒ 19

As all the mites cheer enthusiasticly, Grabbles leans over for an aside with one of his men. Gesturing to the trap in hand. With all the noise no one can overhear their words though.

Well played everyone! Good job Al! Although it seems we need to keep an eye out for Mite Treachery(TM) in the near future!

I'm interested in seeing how our good aligned characters handle being accessory to the beating of a unconscious bound prisoner, forming an allegiance with evil mites, and aiding evil kobolds in retrieval of their demonic idol..

Easy! What's the greater good here? Do we slaughter them all just to get a wedding ring, that can technically can be replaced easily enough? Or do we show these various evil creatures that deals and compromises can be made that benefit all involved? I say we are TEACHING them that, if even they are evil, it does not necessarily mean that we automatically have to be enemies if we are good. Having alliances and friends (strained relationships though that they may be) will almost always prove more beneficial in the long run. We just may have to prove that over time. Will it all work out in the end...who knows? We can but try and hope. UNLESS they are bandits, then I just say we kill them all. =)

Good reasoning for the aligning with them part! We'll just have to wait and see ..

If no one wants to make any actions I can pick up outside again by the wagon.

As the party leaves and regroups outside...

Well that was a dirty bit of business. Better than goin in and slaying their whole community in my opinion, but still it will take a while to get this brown off of my nose. How is our captive. Poor guys prolly been through allot and he'll be scared when he wakes up.

Ah.... For the Greater Good! Battle cry of the chaotic good character for generations. I'm curious to see how our Paladin will react to how things played out. Lawful characters should have a harder time doing the mental gymnastics necessary to invoke the for the greater good argument. That whole personal code of conduct and such. It's always interesting to see how different people play paladins. Will he be the benevolent sort that sees at his role to be the role model to influence those around him. Or will he be the justice bent sort. The guy who seeks out and purges evil where ever he goes. Both are defendable positions in my opinion, depending on the God the paladin reveres.

Jerrik is silent through most of the proceedings. He doesn't like the ordeal but is not yet willing to risk his friends' lives standing in the middle of the den of dozens of mites. They had, so far, not been agressive and had upheld their side of the agreement. He gritted his teeth and held his pole arm tightly as Alfentinius went about the negotiations.

Jerrik isn't happy about dealing with evil beings, but they have shown the group no real hostility. So far they have followed the agreement, as far as he call tell. He doesn't like the way they are treating the prisoner, but the prisoner is guilty by his own words. He doesn't know how many the prisoner killed when he and the other kobolds invaded the mites base. Granted they had reason, but the mites had reason to defend their base.

To me, there is no greater good. There are no black and white situations. If it boils down to something like killing one innocent to save the rest, then I've already failed. I should have acted before it got to that point.

At Alfentinius' request, Wendell moves to the Mite and does a heal check on him to see if he's still alive, and if he will survive long enough to leave the cave and revive him.

Heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Wendell can feel the Kobold's pulse, and can tell there is no external wound grievous enough to kill him in the immediate future.

"He's fine. Tough sonofab&*#%."

It's all he can do to keep from smirking when Alfentinius takes everything he wants from the Mites and more.

Chett rushes up and leaps at Wendell, throwing his weight and big paws on the Dwarf's shoulders. "Chett, ol' boy. That was no place for you. Anything happen while we were gone, or did you sleep the whole time?"

Once they are out of sight and earshot of the Mites, Wendell turns to his new friends. "Hell of a job you did back there, Alfentinius. You 'em much more and Aleksara might have thought you a bandit." He smiles, this time visibly through his beard. "Tell you what, I could use a wash. Might have s~%% myself seein' those centipedes. Nasty things, they are." His skin crawls.

"So, what's next? Back to Oleg's, get him healed up, or try and find the Kobolds straight away?"

Wendell would have initially preferred to kill the Mites, and still thinks their Diplomacy will come back to bite them, but that's only because he's never been able to talk his way into (or out of) a situation. He has a new respect for his Gnome friend, and for the power of words. That is not a common trait among those who call the wilderness their home.

Getting on her horse Aleksara points to the trail ahead.

"Let's get out of these fey's immediate territory and see if we can revive the Kobold enough to get some straight answers. Hide the statue before we do it however. My guess is they REALLY want it back, and if he sees it he might just try a grab-and-go before we can talk it all out."

Arim is smiling as they leave the tree.

"Cracking work your lordship. Though you do owe me a good fight now."

The later is added in definite good humour.

"let's get out'a here and see what the great dragon man has to say for himself"

As you emerge from the mite hole you find that evening has passed into night. Moving away from the mites until you feel sufficiently out of their trickery radius, you decide whether to set camp, heal the kobold, or press on to somewhere else during the night.

As Arim returns to his horse and begins to ride off he senses isomething in the grass. His voice is a whisper...

"Wendell, there is something here, something stalking us..."

Arim stays on his horse and slips the flail he carries as a backup into his right hand.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13 - did she catch the Whisper or Arim's flail coming out?

A whisper amongst friends..sure!
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Aleksara will subtlety put her hand on her sword and will whisper her detect magic cantrip to aid her search for an unseen foe.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Aleksra whispers back.

"I hope those mites didn't send someone to shadow us."

Completely Oblivious to the unknown presence....

Your lordship? I hope you don't mean me. I grew up serving nobles so I've learned a little diplomacy, and how to not show disdain for those who consider themselves your betters. But the truth is I've really just always craved the adventure's of the frontiers... and I must admit that it has been exciting to say the least. I'm pretty sure that there will be no shortage of fights Arim. No shortage at all.

Seeing Chett, Roscoe and the horses Alfentinius waves and smiles...

So Roscoe... did you miss us? Did you and Chett get into any trouble? We had a crazy time with the Mites. We negotiated a pretty good trade with them for the prisoner. So now we can go get the ring too. Didn't have to hurt anyone either. So that was a bonus.

Wendell walks alongside the cart, his horse tied to the front and pulling. He is enjoying their victory and the smell of fresh air when Arim's whisper draws his attention.

When the shadow man motions towards the general direction from which he heard the disturbance, Wendell makes eye contact with Arim and Aleksara, nods, then responds in a hushed voice. "Keep everyone moving. Alert the others. Act normal."

Chett rests atop the cart, unaware and content.

With those his words of parting, Wendell slows up so the group moves around and past him without noticing, then casts Guidance on himself, the verbal incantation a whisper, activates his Animal Focus: Tiger, then peels off in the direction of the noise. This is his element. He can feel his heartbeat speed up - hear it in his ears. He does his best to be silent and to pick up on the tracks, the tall grass parting, the expectation of his prey as it tries to sneak past. He swings his glaive off his back and into hand.

Stealth: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 6 + 2 = 17
Survival: 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 8 + 1 = 19

Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (15) + 0 = 15

Wendell disappears into the night with the grace expected of a man who taught a tiger how to hunt.

Meanwhile
Roscoe yawns and stretches, "You guys sure like to work at night, huh? Like I was saying earlier, Chett is one hell of a nap buddy, it was pretttty quiet up here. Don't they say that cats sleep 20 hours a day?"

Wendell stands in the clearing for a moment, watching his old acquaintance. He restores his glaive and takes the waterskin from his belt pouch. For a moment he considers dousing him with a Create Water spell, but decides it unwise.

Lowell had been a good drinking partner in the past, and they had gotten each other out of tight spots (the rampaging mother dire bear comes to mind), but spend long enough with Lowell and you'll start to lose your marbles. Besides that, Lowell loved to tell secrets and his breath reeked worse than the Mite den.

"I'd have a tougher time trackin' a stuck pig with six legs and the s%!~s." He smiles. Acquaintances in the wilderness held a certain kinship. "You're lucky it wasn't a group of bandits back there, or marchin' Mites and their centipedes. Good to see you, Lowell." Wendell takes a long drink from his waterskin, empties it.

"What do you know, 'ol boy?"

Wendell will try and Sense Motive while he speaks with Lowell.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Wendell's mouth has been running a mile a minute. He stops to enjoy the evening air and listen to what Lowell has to say.

At seeing that Roscoe was still hanging around, Jerrik was somewhat relieved. He was half expecting the man to have wandered off and made a fool of him. Not only was it relieving, it was encouraging. Maybe this man would help build his faith in people. Maybe this would be the foundation in which they would build their kingdom. Or maybe it was just because a tiger named Chett was sitting nearby. At the end of the day it really didn't matter. He was still here and they had a kobold to talk to and a wedding ring to find.

With Wendell
"Wha da? Show yerself, cowardly.. Wendell? Grassy-ass is that you? I'll be! Man what are you doin in these parts?! Bet you're on to this beaut too eh?"

Lowell spits at the Stag Lords name, "That sonofab#&&& is some upstart Kingpin, some damn fey-loved evil man beast. I don't go near the South no more. They got this Fort I hear, never saw it meself. Say, I'm caput, you drivin the night back as some Sword-Monkey now or do you and your folk got time?"

"You got that Goblin Green? I can trade ya this fur and 9 yellas for half one tonight a another to ride off with in the morn. Whadasay?"

"Big one, by the look of it." Wendell looks at the scrape, the grassy ground ripped away by large hooves, nearby plants chewed and sprayed. "You spotted him first, he'said yours by rights."

"No particular rush, but we do have a...guest. Kobold. Going to take him to Oleg's, heal him up, but I'm sure we could stop for the night. Don't need the fur, got a whole crate of those, but some yellows and a few stories'll buy you a bottle. The beast'll wait, it's probably bedded down by now anyway. We can catch up with the gang if we move quick."

Everyone sees Wendell emerge from the tall dark grasses roughly ten minutes after heading out. Close behind him is a unkempt human, unhealthily skinny with brown hair cropped short by hand and knife and clothes that look to be rotting off his body. Despite his lovely appearance and aroma, he is definitely not undead. Just a mangy man living out in the wilderness alone.

This man introduces himself to everyone as he approaches the wagon. "Howdy, Lowell Lichenson. Pleasure, Mrs. " He puts a hand through his hair when he sees Aleksara. Setting his pack and bow down, he glances over the wagon from a moderate distance.

Smirking at the man's awkward gesture, Aleksara slides off her horse to go shake the man's hand.

"Miss. The name's Miss Aleksara Darkeye. I don't bite...Much. Be at ease sir. Any friend of Wendell's is welcome at our fire,
once we actually have one."

As soon as they reunite with the others and start to set up camp, Wendell sets about making a fire. He neglects to introduce Lowell to the others, the social courtesy is lost on him.

Survival (Fire): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

The darkness does not hinder Wendell in his quest for fire, and the tall grasses and twigs for kindling that are scattered about the camp make it simple enough to get one started. Once they have light and warmth, Wendell begins to take care of the animals.

"Anyone need water?" Wendell casts Create Water for the horses, for Chett, over his waterskin, and another over his head to rinse the Mite den filth and sweat off himself.

While he works on brushing Jerrik's horse, he speaks up. "I'd like to outfit Lowell with some leather armor, maybe a short sword or dagger if he wants one. Arrows? We could use all the friends we can find out here. Anyone object?" If no one objects, Wendell will offer Lowell a suit of armor that fits him well. "Oh, and he's offered to buy a bottle of green. Anyone care for a drink?"

Wendell opens one of the bottles, casts Purify Food and Drink to make sure it's safe, then hands it to Lowell. He sits by his old acquaintance and takes three field rations from his backpack, gives one to Lowell and throws the other to Chett.

"What's new? Any run-ins or hunting stories?...Seen any sign of The Poacher lately? If you hadn't been with me, seen that headless beauty all rotten and chewed up by wolves, I would've started to think I was goin' crazy." He takes the bottle from Lowell's hands, takes a swig, then gives it back.

When the salted and dried meat lands near his head, Chett wakes. He leans over and takes the tough ration in his teeth, not so much chewing as swallowing it whole.

As hefinishes the meal a familiar scent finds his nostrils. Chett jumps off the cart and rushes towards Lowell, pouncing playfully through the air. The act would be terrifying to anyone not acquainted with Chett, but Lowell has known him since he was a cub.

He was never so close as Wendell, and used to pull Chett's tail or rough his fur against the growth, but the big cat was no less excited to see him.

Chett puts his teeth on Lowell's arm while he eats, begging the man for a wrestle, but knowing he could tear it off in a second if he chose.

Lowell has a heartly laugh at Aleksara. He gives her a wink as he shakes her hand. "Well well, my apologies, there is a world of unlucky men then, miss. Say, that, that's a fine weapon you have there. Yeah, I think I like your new friends Wendell." After seeing her sword, Lowell tenses up a bit and gives Aleksara a more serious bow.
Knowledge(Local): 1d20 ⇒ 20

Lowell thoroughly enjoys the food, drink, and shadow boxing with Chett.
"Man, Poacher went up a bit West of Oleg's last I heard, into the Narlmarches. Something about 'layin it on thick,' bragging pretty fierce about some plan. I don't ever know what that bastard's talking about. Thanks for the offer of gear though, I'll just take some arrows if you don't mind, no real need for armor. Got knives already. Not living the fighting life anymore Wendell, just following game now." He breathes in deep and exhales slowly. "Much more peaceful, for a time, after bandits robbed me and left me for dead AGAIN. I just woke up feeling different, in a rage. But, then I saw this Megalocer' a month or so back and track'n has been damn near religion for me. I'll probably just keep following it, never take the shot."

Wendell sits in silence with Lowell for a time, and once the vagabond hunter is asleep he lets the others know "I'll take first watch. Better bind up the Kobold or he'll run off at the first chance." If no one objects, Wendell takes the rope from his backpack and ties the Kobold with his back to the cart wheel.

Survival (Knot): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

When Wendell is finished the 50' of hemp rope is enough to immobilize a giant, let alone this injured little Kobold.

Once the Kobold is restrained, Wendell casts Cure Light Wounds on their captive to restore some life to him. The wounds he took from the Mites are cruel, and he wishes no creature to suffer.

Finally, he perches atop the cart to give himself an elevated vantage point. His bow rests in his lap with an arrow notched. Wendell peers into the darkness like an owl.

Aleksara will begin to bed down for the night, and smile at the lonely forester.

"So Roscoe? You want to be like that...live on the edge of society and find religion? Can you do it? Really?
For I've seen my share of sorry bandits. Never seen one take up religion. Or at least one that was in any
way benevolent."

With that she'll lay down and place her sword next to herself in an easy to draw location.

"Wake me for last watch."

Arim sets his camp bed early in the evening with practiced efficiency. The day has been something of a whirlwind. Their party had grown by three, the injured kobold, the remorseful bandit and the disheveled trapper.

Arim was not sire what he thought of Lowell the man was so... Untidy in himself. But Wendell seemed to trust him of a fashion, and you couldn't be fussy for friends out here.

"say, Lowell, you must know this land pretty well by now. You seen any bandit patrols about? Three or so men? We're mission couple and I do hate loose strings, tend to get you strung up." Arim calls across the fire.

As the evening draws to an end and people are drifting off he calls to Wendell.

"wake me for second watch. Fenti? You with me?"

As Wendell reemerges from the the underbrush Alfentinius does a little jump.

Woah... Wendell you sure do have soft feet. I hadn't even noticed that you had slipped away... Alfentinius stops midsentence noticing Lowell and waits for Wendell to introduce him proper.

When instead of introducing Lowell Wendell goes to take get him some arrows and Wendell has to introduces himself and Aleksara follows suit Alfentiniud shakes his head... and walks upto Lowell giving a small bow.

Allow me to second Lady Darkeye's welcome to our camp Mr. Lichenson. Please allow me to make Proper introductions. I am Alfentinius Lentinels Ferington at your service sir. Of course you already know Wendell, and I assume you know Chett as well. Over by Chett is Mr. Rocsoe Oscarshire, and Mr Jerrik Hagen. The final gentleman is Corporal Arim Jubar.

After proper introductions are made Alfentinius maintains a low profile getting himself fed, cleaned and ready to sleep.

As Wendell ties up the Kobold Alfentinius shows little interest. When Wendell casts a heal spell on the kobold however... the gnome rushes over anxious to see if the kobold wakes up. Then Alfentinius prods the kobold a little. When Arim asks him about watch he calls over his shoulder not taking his eyes off the kobold.

Second watch is fine by me... come on... wake up little guy.

It had been a hard couple of days. The traveling, the bandits, the mites, the rescued kobold, it had all been rather draining. By the time they stopped to make camp, Jerrik was almost asleep on his feet. He didn't flinch much when Wendell emerged from the brush with company. His hand went instinctively to his sword despite not detecting any immediate threats. He imagined that Chett would have pounced on the new comer with a bit more ferocity if Wendell really was in danger. That fact that the two were carrying on a conversation also served to put his mind at ease.

As Alfentinius introduced him by name, Jerrik nodded his head and raised his arm, giving a slow wave. He was simply too tired to make any kind of formal greeting. It was times like these that he was really grateful for the gnome and his gifted way with words.

He slipped his breastplate off and laid down in the dirt beside it. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the ground. Moments later, he began snoring.

"Well, ahem, no disrespect to our guest.. but I don't think I could live like that. Cleanliness is by no means part of being in the wilderness, but I do feel an affinity with the streams leading into the River Lands.. it's been a decade since I've had a roof over me and I feel I have been able to keep myself presentable." Roscoe then lets out a sigh and tries to level with Aleksara. These questions have been persistent, with good reason, and he feels like they deserve his attempt at the truth. "I've never been religious until that, experience, a day ago. What I have always had is a love for the land. That's really my motivation here. Nature has always taken care of me and I feel that through it is my only chance at a clean start. I know Erastil's path can be quite lawful and strict, and, I know I can be a good man, but the biggest effort will be the adherence to a code. I don't believe that condemns me, maybe there's a different path that I should take. I have a lot of soul searching to do still I guess."

Lowell shakes his head to Arim's question, "I haven't noticed any groups around here. Tracks in this area have been too littered with mites and Kobolds anyways. I'd assume they're be towards the Narlmarshes though, they seem to like stick'n to the streams and ambushing from cover. These hills offer to fair a fight for those cowards." Lowell gives Roscoe a long dirty glare, causing the other man to look at the ground in shame.

As Alfent anxiously awaits, the Kobold slowly opens its eyes and the two seem to have a moment as the creature drifts back into reality from its peaceful dream.

The kobold tries to hug Alfent but is stopped by the restraints.

Her arms cradling her sword almost like a lover, Aleksara will close her eyes as she gives Roscoe her best, worst, and final blessing.

"Soul-searching...yes...you should do that: I will leave you with this and speak no more of it: May you live in interesting times Roscoe. For you certainly deserve it."

Hey guys he's awake!

diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28... prolly not necessary but... NICE!

Alfentius reaches out and puts a hand on the kobolds shoulder to stop him from freaking out when he realizes that he's bound.

Alfentius quickly grabs some supplies from the cart and carefully feeds the kobold by hand.

At this point Alfentinius would enter into a hushed conversation with the Kobold plying him with questions about why the Kobolds were fighting the mites, do they have any other enemies, where do the kobolds live, about how many of them there are, what their organization is like (i.e. what tribes are there), and prolly eventually ask about who they worship.

Groaning with tired muscles, Aleksara will get back up and approach the wagon and the prisoner, now carrying her sheathed sword in her hand rather than putting it back in her belt.

"Is he saying anything useful yet?"

The kobold is passionate as it talks to Alfentinius without filter."We fight them because they breathe! Those scheme-loving rodents, they are best to be sacrificed to Tartuk!!" There's the occasional run in with a bandit scout group or trappers, but for the most part only the Mites challenge our dominance. We live south of here about 12 miles, in an old silver mine just north of the Shrike River. It is the best river for swimming in the land! So many little fishes, they taste so good in your teeth. I can bring you there, we can swim together." Getting off task, Alfent brings him bakc in, "We are the Sootscales! Twenty proud! Chief Sootscale is mighty! He has lead us to victory and has givin us the blessing of a powerful shaman. We are nearly invincible now that we have our idol back, we will destroy the mites for all time!"

Smiling gently at the held Kobold, Aleksara will prod the creture from the sidelines.

(In Draconic):"Hold on: Tartuk? Is that what the idol represents little one? Can we get YOUR name too? We would like to call you by your proper Sootscale moniker of course."

Err yes, my last post was in Draconic too.

The little alligator-man looks at Aleksara expectantly.

Smiling, again at the kobold's politeness, Aleksara will give a little bow which might be hard notice when you are tied up in the back of a wagon.

(In Draconic)"Greetings Hange. I am always honored to meet one who speaks the language of the old ones. You said you live nearby...
what do your people call it? Are there any dangers you know of between here and there?"

Aleksara Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

The Kobold smirks,

Wendell listens to the exchange with the Kobold, but has claimed first watch and takes that responsibility seriously.

"What's he sayin'?" he asks, unable to understand the draconic language.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

The discussion hardly distracts Wendell, and his darkvision allows him to keep close watch around the camp.

Oh sorry Wendell, I forget sometimes... He's being very helpful... They live about twelve miles south of here in an abandoned silver mine just north of the shrike river. Apparently he really like swimming in the Shrike and it has good fishing... There are about 20 Kobolds ibn his tribe, The Sootscale tribe. Their leader is called Sootscale. He believes the Idol we got is of the being that is worshipped by someone named Tartuk. I just asked him who Tartuk is.

Alfentinius will translate for anyone as needed here on out in this conversation.

The kobold answers Alfent very energetically, "No no, my father's generation killed them off long ago. We rule this land. Tartuk is the Shaman our Chieftan found." Hange then glances around a bit unsettled, "He his protecting us from a curse. Our tribe has been falling dead with scales turning yellow. With ritual sacrifices, Tartuk is keeping the curse at bay.. though we're only twenty now, half of us have been killed by the curse or sacrificed to this idol. We need it so Tartuk can finish freeing us. I'll bring you back to our home right away in the morning, you can join us in a ritual!"

Tartuk stays up through most of the night, having slept so much during the past day.

When Aleksara takes over the final watch, Lowell rouses as well and heads off with an amicable nod. "Tell Redgrass that I'll be seeing him around. Hopefully you too Miss, keep up the good work." The mangy hunter disappears into the tall dark grasses, stumbling with a half full bottle of green booze sloshing in his pack. As he left you could hear him singing a jingle to himself faintly, "Give me my, give me my Megalo, Megalo.."

The morning rises peacefully, bringing a bit of dew covering everyone and the wagon.