Kytes grabs forty winks through the end of the battle. When its over and he finally awakens, his is disappointed to have missed more action, and a bit embarrassed to be felled so easily. "I must pray to the Inheritor to make me more worthy in future engagements," he says. He spends an inordinate amount of time, even for him, the next day making atonement in prayer and practicing his forms with the longsword on the deck.
Iagon blinks away the wonderful dream, of a scantily clad elven woman hovering over him, concern for his comfort in her eyes. He blinks away confusion, sure that it had been a dream, but with his eyes open, he's now not so sure...
With a grunt, he realizes the situation into which he's awoken, and he rushes to his feet...then immediately regrets it as dizziness threatens to take over. He looks about, but finding no enemies, turns his gaze to Attai. Well, then...thanks for taking care of that. I was in no shape to do so myself, it seems.
He looks to Liamae, who seemed to be a font of knowledge concerning magic lore. Any idea why they dissappeared?
Liamae shrugs languidly. "Beats me. It's possible they were summoned, but then they wouldn't have left any items behind. It could just be they are tricksy fey, and they even die in a whimsical manner. I'm just glad nobody was seriously hurt!"
Hans chimes in, "Wot, ye 'aven't seen no fey b'fore? Strange bunch. The forest is filthy with 'em. They live in the mists b'tween worlds, they say, but they protect the forest somethin' fierce. They 'aven't taken too kindly to our Tradin Post, that's fer sure. The lot of ye will most likely be facin' plenty o' dem if yer ta protect our asses." He spits on the rags where one of the gremlins once was and rubs it in with the heel of his boot. "Good riddance, I say."
Chapter Two: Neighbors
Most vocal, and bossy, is Yaloni Steelrock, a dwarven woman who, as far as you can tell, is simply the cook and maid of the estate house, although with the Marquis and his Administrator out, she seems to think she owns the place. At her heels, and suffering most of her abuse is a young human boy, of no more than 12 years, whose name is Linus. He also resides in the estate house, and you get the feeling he is the Administrator’s son. On the other side of the compound is a squat little house in which resides an irritable gnome. His name is Banranurnildbur, but you’ve found it easier to call him by his sir name, which is Ashilia. He’s taken to you, and has used your ear to voice his many complaints. He insists that he does not work for the Marquis, that he was appointed here as a representative of the Wildwood Lodge, and that he’d much rather be at home. He’s a very handy gardener, though, and his green thumb has produced a surprising amount of crop from the two meager plots within the gates. Outside, in a hut by the river, lives the ferryman. You think. You saw him when you first arrived, a strange frog-like person, but you haven’t seen him since.
On your third day waiting, there is a shout from Linus, who has taken upon himself to patrol the watchtowers, spear in hand. He runs through the compound and out the front gate, shouting, “They’re here! They’re here!”
In the hours after the gremlin appearance, everyone seems to be tense. The boat driver and his men are constantly watching the tree line, on high alert. Hans grumbles and mutters to himself, occasionally he’ll curse and shout in a sudden outburst. But as the day passes, and the sun begins to set, you can see him begin to relax.
In the evening you finally reach your destination. There’s a bend in the river and the tree line recedes, forming a marshy field. About a hundred yards back, there is a low hill upon which is built a small wooden palisade, the Trading Post. As you near, you can make out two small figures running down the road from the Post to the dock at the river (maybe a third, taller figure follows behind?) The boat pilot deftly steers the boat against current and pulls up alongside the pier. There is a rope tied across the river here, and a small barge is also anchored along the pier, connected to the rope. There is a mud and grass hut built on the river bank, but no one seems to be home.
As the boatmen secure the boat to the dock, Hans is first to debarck, and he catches the young boy who ran all the way down the road to meet him in a full embrace. “Ah me boy! It sure be good ta see ye. Ye been keepin’ tha place safe I see.” You’ve probably never seen Hans grin so much in the past few days, and his eyes glisten a bit.
Trailing behind the boy is a dwarven woman with a bit of grey in her hair, wearing simple clothes and an apron. She pants heavily as she reaches the dock, “Master Marosa... welcome... home... I hope.... yer journey... was a.... success.” She bends over, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. She lifts her head and looks about, “Where is... m’Lord?”
“The Marquis still had some business ta take care of. He’ll be arrivin’ with the Marquess in ‘bout a weeks time,” answers Hans as he too looks around, “Oy, where’s Rilli off to?” Both the boy and the dwarven maid shrug.
Ambling along behind the other two is indeed a somewhat taller figure, a humanoid at first glance - upon closer inspection, an elf woman with the lithe build and quiet grace often attributed to her kind. She wears a green traveling cloak with the hood down, her long blonde hair braided back, a bow over her shoulder and a large wooden shield at her hip. Her boots are sturdy and well-made, clearly the kind an experienced traveler would have, and she also carries a slightly-curved elegant sword at her belt, though she appears to be unarmored.
She stops a short distance behind Yaloni and Linus and shields her eyes as she watches the boat come in.
According to the current information in the courts, she is not directly in line to rule Kyonin (probably the only reason she's allowed to go traipsing about in the woods), but if a handful of the wrong people died she might wind up as the new Queen someday. She is said to be serious-minded but flexible, a bit of a dilettante, and still an unbetrothed maiden.
Kytes disembarks, glad to be off the boat and back on solid ground. He mutters a short praryer to the Inheritor, thanking her his safe arrival, but also for the challenges yet to come where he could prove himself worthy.
The half-orc watches the welcome that Hans gets, hearing that the Marquis himself may be here in a week's time. He steps forward to the elven woman, clearly someone to be reckoned with, and introduces himself. "My name is Kytes." he says simply without ostentation or flourish. "I am part of the team sent here to secure the post. I hope you will be staying to aid us."
Iagon grins at Hans' obvious pleasure at the reunion. It makes him at once proud and more than a little concerned that he'd helped to get the father back safe, but also that he'd had the responsibility to do so. He had to get used to that now. He follows Kytes, easily getting last behind the half-orc's broad back as he watches the newcomers...err...the locals...he guessed he was the newcomer now.
The elven woman cranes her neck up at the half-orc, her green eyes uncanny in their forestlike color.
"Hello," she says at last. "I am Túrante. I've been sent to assist the Marquis... but I presume he is not here?" She glances past Kytes' shoulder at the ship. "Is there something amiss with the post? I only recently arrived, but thus far nothing has challenged the palisades."
Iagon looks out around Kytes, then steps around the imposing fellow. Iagon here, nice to meet you. Right, he had business to attend to and won't be along for a while. Hopefully not, sure would be a shame if something happened before we were even here to help defend it. He glances around, then no doubt realizes his words were in a bit of bad taste, and clears his throat.
That is, for the sake of everyone here of course. We hope to help however we can.
Kytes smirks at Iagon's faux pas. "We were sent by the Marquis to keep this place safe. If there is no threat, then this may be easy duty. It sounds like things may be amiss here. There is the threat of hobgoblins coalescing, and the boat was invaded by magical gremlins. So, I believe this may be a calm before the storm."
Kytes says hello to the youth and the dwarven woman, asking their names and sharing his own.
"Kytes," says the elf woman, looking intently into Kytes' eyes. Then she looks over to Iagon. "Iagon," she repeats with a nod.
"Well, I'm supposed to be here to assist. When the Marquis does arrive, I have a letter of introduction from my cousin. My blade and bow are at your service."
Unlike Liamae, with whom the party is already familiar, this woman is not garbed in silks, nor does she have the sultry and seductive mannerisms of the silksworn. Rather, she seems to be no-nonsense, carrying a tooled leather backpack with a leafy motif and sturdy traveler's garb. Her facial features are still fine and chiseled, and she has a... determined air about her. It's a combination of grace and competence that speaks to a traveler who isn't afraid to get dirty, but still has a certain poise.
Liamae's eyes widen when she sees the other elven woman, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. She bows low, billowing sleeves nearly scraping the ground. Her brief skirts raise up enough to incidentally give Iagon a spectacular view of her backside.
"Your Highness! This is... I wasn't expecting... It's an honor! A privilege! An honor and a privilege! I am Liamae Tesilikaria, and I am yours to command!"
Iagon seems completely flustered, though it could be either from Liamae's forgetful nature when it comes to modesty or the what the elf was going on about.
Highness...
He looks around the gathering, seeking out a crown or some bejeweled scepter or some such...nothing.
I feel like I'm missing something
Attai smiles upon sighting the the settlement, a beautiful setting beyond the forestedge marsh and up on a rise giving it a commanding view of the river. The sylph watches with wistful remembrance as the family scene plays out, and lets Iagon and Kytes do the introductions and passing on of news.
"Attai Kah at your service milady" he offers the apparent elven royal, seeming to find her something of a person of note in the absence of any other.
"While it may be safe here now, we did encounter a boat wrecked and raided by goblins - we followed them to their lair but were unable to rescue those taken prisoner. There are more details, but perhaps they are better left for later." Attai finishes.
Túrante gestures quickly for Liamae to straighten and says, "Please, no need for that. We're far from home and out here we must survive by our skills. I am here to help, just like you."
She steps up and stretches out both of her hands to take Liamae's hands in her own and continues, "Truthfully, I am delighted to see a kinswoman. We must take this opportunity to become good friends."
She finally releases Liamae's hands and turns to Attai. "Attai? Yes, Attai. Goblins, you say? A frequent nuisance. I would be delighted to assist as I can."
"Friends! Yes, yes, of course!" Liamae says, the princess's sturdy gloves gripping her own silky ones. "It will be a delight getting to know you, Your Highness."
She stares down at her hands in wonder when the other elf turns to Attai. Friends with a princess! It's every little elven girl's dream come true!
Túrante looks back to Liamae and smiles broadly. "I'm glad to hear it! So, if you've just returned from abroad, perhaps you are in need of food? A refreshing drink? I would enjoy hearing more details if time permits. Since the Marquis is not present, I suppose we shall have to make the best opportunity that we can to develop this situation, especially given what Attai mentioned about captives."
Liamae nods enthusiastically. "Yes, dinner and drinks sound wonderful! I don't suppose you brought any wine with you from Kyonin? I haven't tasted our homeland's spirits in years!"
Hans takes the new elf in with a brow raised in surprise and suspicion. At talk of dangers and the lack thereof, he turns to his son, “Is that right Linus? Has Uuhurn returned at all?”
The boy straightens into a youthful mimicry of a soldier’s stance, “Uh no papa, all’s been quiet since ye left. Sometimes I swear I hear the sound of hooves in the mornin’ mist, and Mr. Ashilia keeps bickerin’ ‘bout someone breakin’ all his tools, but I haven’t seen nothin’.”
The boy happily shakes Kyte’s hand and peers up at his armor, weapons and hawk with wide eyed wonderment. He introduces himself proudly, “My names Linus!” The dwarven woman instead looks Kytes up and down with a look of judgement and barely offers her hand, “The name’s Steelrock, Yaloni Steelrock, and it’s good ta have ye folk here safe an’ sound. It’s been quiet yes, but not always so. Aye, I just wish m’Lord was here...” she finishes with a deep sigh.
When it comes out that Turante is elven royalty, Hans and Yaloni change their posture and stand a bit more upright, each dusting off their clothes almost unknowingly. “Hoo boy, a real princess, don’t no one tell the Marquess,” mutters Hans under his breath before stepping forward and offering Turante his hand with a slight bow, “Aye, uh, apologies yer Highness, but the Marquis will be here in due time. The name’s Hans Marosa, I’m the Marquis’ administrator. I hope we’ve been proper accomadatin’ ye,” he glances over at Yaloni with a questioning brow.
“Uh yes Master Marosa, she’s been put up in one o’ the merchent’s stalls...”
“No no no, that won’t do, we’ll see to ye gettin’ a proper bed, yer Highness.”
At talk of food and drink Yaloni pipes up, “Right, I got supper stewin’ on the stove. Ye folk just follow me and I’ll ‘ave ye set up in no time.”
Yaloni leads the way with Linus in tow, although the young boy keeps peering back in awe at you all, and eventually takes his place at Kytes’ side. Hans stays back to help unload cargo and tells Linus to hurry up and fetch a cart.
"The accommodations have been quite adequate," says Túrante to her hosts. "Obviously in the deep wild like this, one cannot expect elegant bedsheets and exotic entertainments. I have no complaints - I chose to take up the wilderness life when I pursued my people's traditional ways of woodcraft."
She smirks slightly and says, "Not that I wouldn't don a ballgown and cut a turn in a dance if the circumstance arose. But I have no such expectations! We are here to do work, and that is what I mean to do."
She says to Liamae, "I do... in fact... have one bottle with me. I can only carry so much while on the road, after all. But it is a taste of home."
Liamae returns Turante's mischievous smirk. "Let's not drink it all at once then. Half now, and save the rest for a special occasion?"
Liamae returns Turante's mischievous smirk. "Let's not drink it all at once then. Half now, and save the rest for a special occasion?"
"That seems a fine plan."
Kytes kneels down to shake hands with the boy, Linus. He nods in greeting to Yaloni Steelrock, knowing her kind have no love lost for orcish offspring. He would work on her pre-concieved notion, but there would be time enough for that.
He is surprised that the new elven woman turns out to be royalty of some kind, but she seems to downplay that, and he goes along, a bit unsure how to properly address her now.
He steps in line with the others as they head for the outpost and a meal. "Hans, you mentioned a few other names. How many others are here at the Trading Post? What is the situation here?"
As they walk up from the river's edge, Kytes takes a long look around the settlement, looking for any signs of trouble, or any defenses that have been established. There will be more time for a thorough survey, but this is just a quick perusal.
Iagon follows Yaloni and Linus, his stomach suddenly grumbling at the mention of food. He pitches in where he can - being that he was largely independent in you youth he knew his way around a good stew. When he has Linus's attention, he leans down and speaks softly to the little fellow. So, this Uuhurn, he a friend of yours? Has he been out exploring longer than you'd expected?
“Aye sir,” Yaloni addresses Kytes as the group walks up the road toward the palisade, “Ye’ll meet Master Ashilia soon enough, I’m sure. Right miserable little gnome. I’m sure ye’ll get an earful from him, ha!” She pauses for a moment, still out of breath from running after Linus, “Rilli is the ferryman. Some sort o’ frog person or other. Doesn’t say much, not even sure he can speak at all! But m’Lord seems taken wit him. Tends ta go off on ‘is own once an’ a while.”
You walk in through the front gates, the only gates, and take in your surroundings. Immediately to your right is a small dirt lot with three stone walled, hatch covered stalls. Yaloni explains these are for visiting merchants, and you see that one of the stalls is set up with Turante’s camp. Immediately past this is the estate house, a three storied, if not modest structure. “Supper’ll be served in there,” mentions Yaloni, “but first let’s get ye folks situated.”
She directs you instead to the left to a long and low bunk house, “This here’s the guard house. This’ll be where ye stay, if’n ye want ta drop yer gear off first.” She addresses Turante, “Should be an extra bunk fer ya, if’n ye want ta join yer, uh, friends.” She looks between you and Liamae curiously.
She jerks her thumb toward the other building adjacent to yours, a small little cottage with a low door and two garden plots, “Thas Master Ashilia’s abode. Best not be botherin’ him none.”
She leaves you to your new bunkhouse and walks back toward the estate house, “Supper’s ready when you are!” She calls back over her shoulder.
When Iagon asks Linus about Uuhurn, the boy tenses at first, his eyes water up and he lowers his head with a sniffle. When he looks back up at Iagon, his face is set with anger. “No! Uuhurn is a bad guy! He kills people. But Papa an’ Lord Lambert drove ‘im off. But sometimes I still hear ‘im out there.” The young boy sniffles again, “I gotta go help Papa.” He runs off without much more explanation.
"Thank you," says Turante genuinely to Yaloni. "I'll move my things to the bunkhouse."
She heads to the merchant stalls and diligently packs up her bedroll, then moves it to a bed in the bunkhouse.
As the group assembles for dinner she takes out an unopened bottle of Kyonin wine. "So," she says as she works on the top, "what can you tell me about what to expect out here so far?"
Attai looks wistfully at Türante's campsite, then dutifully follows along to the bunkhouse, stowing his gear simply. It feels good to divest himself of his belingings and have a space to rest in.
Still, this is a Trading Post in nominally hostile territory, so Attai keeps his armor on for dinner. The sylph, though fairly comfortable with social ettiquette, and to a fairly high level, has little to say and much to learn in the Marquis' service. He eats moderately and will taste wine if offered, but takes no especial delight in either.
Liamae eyes the wine bottle longingly. "Thus far we've tangled with goblins and gremlins. The former are the more worrisome, since they appear to be organizing a large force under the command of one or more hobgoblins."
Iagon looks surprised and opens his mouth to question the boy further, only to find that the little fellow had run off. Interesting...I think we'll need more information on this Uuhurn fellow then.
His gear neatly stowed in the bunkhouse, Iagon follows Attai to the estate house and their waiting meal. There was something about it - a meal cooked in an house on the frontier of civilization; and he enjoyed every bit of it. He listens mostly, and takes a bit of wine if offered it, but tries to be responsible, given the fact that they're officially in their roles as employees.
Those hobgoblins...mean ones they are, and bigger than I'd thought. First time I'd seen one I guess. He finishes with a sheepish shrug. I sure don't think we've seen the last of them.
Attai's eddies, normally contained with his calm, blow faster as his eyes twinkle, remembering something.
"The hobgoblin that seemed to play leader under the cabin - he shouted something about the "Crimson Bow" - his own was stained a crimson color - I have it among my effects if you wish to see it. Does that term mean anything?"
"Actually, I might be able to learn more information from the bow now that I've had time to hone my abilities. If I may?" Liamae reaches for the hobgoblin's bow.
She studies it for some time, opening her mind to the object's psychic impressions.
Kytes also stows his gear in the bunkhouse, and makes for dinner with the others. He listens as the others fill in Turante on the activities so far on the trip out, the trouble with the hobgoblin and the Crimson Bow.
The story about Uuhurn troubles Kytes. A "bad guy who kills people" sounds like the something that needs to be dealt with, and promptly. He chooses not to change the subject to this right now, but files it away for future discussion with Yaloni or one of the other grown ups when the time is right.
He does ask Yaloni for any raw meat - trimmings or fat is fine -- to feed to Eir once dinner is done.
"Hm. Goblins are a common nuisance, but when organized... that's a problem. Good on you for dealing with that hobgoblin, but I wonder who else he has in that little 'crimson bow' group?" says Túrante.
After unloading your gear, you follow your collective noses and grumbling tummies to the estate house. Through the large wooden gates you enter into a small courtyard of trampled grass. Immediately to your left is a stable with two light riding horses nibbling on some hay. The welcome aroma of supper being served waft from an open door on the wall to your right. Passed that door, a stairway leads to the upper stories.
Yaloni has got a hearty root vegetable stew served up in wooden bowls for you. A basic wooden table with benches seats the five of you with a little elbow room. Yaloni shakes her head overhearing talk of hobgoblins, "Rotten garbage" she spits.
As you finish your supper, you hear what sounds like angry shouting coming from outside.
Túrante carefully lifts the vegetable stew slightly and sniffs at it. "This smells quite hearty!" she says enthusiastically as she puts the bowl back down. "Thank you, Yaloni."
She carefully pours a small sample of the elven vintage for each of the companions around the table. It seems at first like a sweet, fruity wine, but it has subtleties that come out over time.
When the shouting breaks out, her ears twitch and she turns her head toward the doorway and says, "Is that common here?"
Liamae frowns and returns the bow to Kytes. "I saw the faces of several of the hobgoblin's victims. Most were humans, but there lots of werid spider-things, too. I think they and the hobgoblins had a big battle recently."
She savors the flavors of the stew and the wine, enjoying both quite thoroughly.
When the shouting starts, the elf clucks her tongue. "Whoever it is, they don't sound happy. We probably should investigate!"
Iagon keeps to himself mostly, lost in his thoughts. At the sound of commotion, he perks up, and remembering his role now as great and noble protector...he follows out the undoubtedly more capable ladies.
That name...it sounds inhuman. Could it be...
*****************************
Attai frowns as he listens to Liamae's reading. He takes the bow back, thanking the elf for her trouble.
Just as the Sylph was about to surreptitiously call on the Harrow he notices the others react to the outbreak of noise from outside. Cursing that he has no weapon other than the bow to hand he rises, unsure of how or when to act.
Yaloni grumbles a response to Turante as she gathers empty bowls from the table, "Aye, that be Master Ashilia."
As you step outside the estate house gates, you see that Hans has arrived with the goods from the boat. The boatmen and Linus are with him at the palisade gates, and they've got the donkey you rescued hitched up to a small cart loaded with crates, barrels, and bags.
It seems they've been accosted at the moment by a brown haired gnome, who is shouting furiously at Hans and pointing fingers at Linus.
"... and just YESTERDAY I find my RAKE broken in two! Ever since I've arrived here it's been NOTHING but trouble! EVERY DAY I find something new! First my wheelbarrow, my shovel, my hoe, and NOW my RAKE! You all want me to grow vegetables for you all to EAT, but you SABOTAGE my efforts by BREAKING my tools! I spend half of everyday fixing things! How am I supposed to GROW anything!?"
"Oy... and ye think it be my boy who done it?"
"Yes of course I do! Who else would be doing it!? The good-for-nothing lazy FROG!?! The dwarf who can't even make a decent SALAD!?! Of course it's the boy! He follows your every order without even THINKING!"
"Oy... Master Ashilia, you be speakin' harsh words now. Boy, did you break this here gnomes tools?"
Linus looks up to his father and answers meekly, "Uh... no sir."
"Right. Thas good enough fer me. Yer tools, yer problem, Master Ashilia."
"YAAAGGGGHHH!" the young gnome throws his hands in the air in a fit. He turns to storm off and sees you all standing there.
"What are YOU staring at?"
"It seems," says Kytes calmly, bristling a bit at the display of temper towards the young boy, "That we are staring at a fool who's mouth doesn't know it's proper place. I would suggest, sir, that you calm your temper and speak reasonably to these people, or you'll have more troubles than some broken tools."
The implication in his message is clear, but it is delivered without a raised voice.
The message from Kytes may come across a little more forcefully than he intended. He obviously didn't want the gnome to continue to accuse the boy, but he didn't want to appear a bully either.
"Yeah, why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" Liamae says with her hands on her hips, the tall elf glowering down at the smaller gnome.
Banranurnildbur Ashilia stands mouth agape, stuttering in an effort to find the right words, any words really. The brown haired gnome, dressed in the simplest of clothes, is struck silent by Kytes and Liamae's joint reproach.
In shock, he turns back to Hans, "I see you've hired yourself some new muscle. Very well then, my tools, my problem it is. But when I catch the culprit, I expect YOU to handle it justly. Hmph."
Currently satisfied with his retort, the gnome begins to stomp off towards his little house.
"A moment, Mr. Ashilia," says Túrante as the gnome is preparing to stomp off.
"If you would be so kind as to bring the broken tool tomorrow, perhaps the implement can be repaired," she says more softly. "At the very least I can give an eye to the possibility. There is no harm in that."
Looking a bit more stern, she finishes, "But there was no call to heap such abuse on a young lad like this. You can do better, Mr. Ashilia."
Master Ashilia stops and looks up at Túrante, his face twitching under his eye. After a moment of letting her words reach him, his expression relaxes. Having had a few conversations with this elf before, he is able to let his guard down. With the slightest of bows, he replies, “Aye, I’ll bring what’s broken to you and see if you can help mend it.”
He looks towards Hans and Linus and seems just about to apologize before walking off for real.
After a moment of silence, Hans turns to you, “My thanks, the lot of ye. That gnome has been a thorn in our side since he’s been posted here. Has a knack wit’ plants and things... but I’m sure he hasn’t been to happy wit’ us either.”
He motions the boatmen to continue with the cart towards the estate house and turns to Attai, “Lemme inventory this stock here and I’ll get ye yer share in the mornin’. Ye folks claimed all ye want ta keep, right? How ‘bout the donkey? A draft animal can be useful ‘round here, but he’s yers ta claim. Why doncha folks get settled in, get some rest, this is yer new home after all. I ask that ye set up watch fer the night, and I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”
Kytes nods as the gnome, properly chastened, stomps off. "Forgive my rashness my friends." he says quietly after the gnome has gone. "I expect we will need the gnome's aid at some point while posted here, and I fear I have made that aid harder to come by in the future. But, no one should berate an innocent child that way, and I would do it again if the situation arose."
As for the donkey, Kytes speaks for himself. "Hans, you and your fellows here are welcome to use the donkey as much as needed. It may be, if we foray into the hinterlands, we will take her as a pack animal, but on the days we don't need her, please make your work lighter by using the animal as you see fit."
Kytes will walk the perimeter of the trading post, looking at any potential places for ambush or likely avenues of attack. He is not a trained military man, but will use his best judgement to determine places that need shoring up or special attention.