"A message? What do you mean? Do you mean to tell me that the gods have weighed in on our side in this?"
Thad smiles and nods at Anwel's comment. "Aye, just the one. And I mean to tell you that we must make all haste to recover and protect the seed."
Thad doesn't take any particular precautions this close to the outpost, trusting the eagles to alert them to trouble. He presses the party to make good time where the riding is easy, since their progress will be greatly slowed once they cross the ford.
Stellan assents to the others comments but adds, "Don't forget the other side may have the favor of less pleasant Great Powers just as interested; I'm feeling a litte expendable. But we must stride on, the people behind us are counting on us. I'll set a good pace that will get us as far as we can go without exhausting ourselves."
Stelllan sets a swift but not forced pace, and rests the horses and men on the pace that will move everyone the fastest over the course of the day. He also scouts and guides everyone to avoid trouble. Vinur whines at meal time for lack of fresh meat but does dutifully eats the jerky Stellan brought along.
Perception What do I see?
Survival Avoid trouble, make camp. etc.
Andrei smiles to himself "You might be right Stellan. But still makes me feel good, all the truly great stories involve great people serving the gods dirrectly. If the God have choosen to speak to us then to me that is an excellent sign that we are the great people." The great people often don't survive the story but their name lives on and I don't think the others need to know that just now.
"We've always been expendable to someone or other," says Anwel, taking the sextant from his eye, blinking furiously, and writing down their latitude. The moon would not rise for a few hours, so they would be on their way before he could derive their longitude from its position relative to the sun, but the latitude would do for now. He feels a little smug, since he's been saying they were expendable all along, but does his best to sound reassuring to Stellan. "To our 'benefactors', to their political enemies, to our political enemies out here, to who knows? Even if an exalted outsider or two is involved, it changes very little as far as our value in the eyes of others is concerned."
From where he stands, Anwel can see the distinctive top of a tor and far in the distance the lone tree where he and his friends had made camp. On the off chance that both landmarks will be visible when they get further west, and that he can derive their longitude now from that later, he measures the angle between them. "You are right, of course, to focus on the fact that there are people to whom we are not expendable. It's a comfort.
"Speaking of 'we,'" he says, putting the instrument away turning to Andrei with a sardonic twist to his lip, "you might want to rethink both that plural and that test you laid out. By the test, Thad is the great one and the rest of us are, well, expendable schlubs to be ordered around at his whim, and to live and die at his command."
Andrei grins at Anwel refusing to have his mood dampened "Maybe he is, he is certainly important enough in this quest that a God not only told us to hurry but also for him to join us. In most storys Gods only speak to one person and use them to pass the message on, Thad might just be our prophet. Maybe if you ask nicely enough he'll appear to you and blind you with his light."
As Warren walks along, content that Tuney can do the scouting , he looks for a game trail or some edible forage to augment their food supplies.
He is careful to pay attention to his former bandit companion, and chimes in after a long silence. "So, what do you think of being on a divine mission. Maybe you are an important part of Erastil's plan."
When Warren tries to engage Tam in conversation, he seems a little shy at first, but then his former frontier nature comes out. "Well, your Lordship, sir. I don't reckon I know what to think o' it. I s'pose some god or another has a plan for all 'o us in some way, we jus' can't see it clear. For the most part, I'd rather they jus' looked right past me. Gettin' tangled up with gods and goddesses is sure enough a good way to die in some kind o' horrible fashion."
The bandit then points out a small patch of plants. Already they have several broad green spread out to soak in the spring sun. Kneeling down to scrape away a bit of the topsoil around one of the plants he says to Warren, "These'll make a good stew. I've always known them as Fingerroots. Kind o' like a potato only a bit sweeter." He pulls up a clump of a half dozen tubers, each about the diameter of a thumb and a good handspan long. He careful to only disturb a couple of the plants, leaving the others in the patch alone. "Should be enough in these two to add a bit o' flavor our supper."
After a long days ride, the sun slips beneath the horizon and the sound of crickets and other insects begin to fill the evening air only to be drowned out by the sound of rushing water. The horses suddenly quicken their pace at the scent of fresh running water.
You've arrived at the Thorn River Ford in good time. Having just passed through here a short time ago, it's easy for Stellan to pick out a decent place to camp for evening. The easy trail you've been following continues south, while the less traveled trail leads west into the woods and Kressle's former camp.
Warren calls a halt at dark after they arrive at the ford. A pot of fingerroot stew is simmering by the fire as the provender is augmented with some wild vegetables. Warren says a quick prayer to Gozreh as he walks the perimeter before settling down.
"We can split the watches and integrate our groups. Thad and Anwel first, then Imon and Stellan, and finally I, Tam, and Andrei last. It is nice to be camping out again."
Warren gets his eagles hooded and ready for a quiet night.
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Anwel stands on the edge of the ford for a long while, looking at the sky. His eyes climb the Stair of Stars and come to rest on bright Cynosure. Slowly he brings the sextant up to his face, takes the angle of the pole star, and scratches it in the soft dirt with his foot. Keeping the star in his sights, he turns the sextant and takes the angle between it and the moon. Somal is waxing and high in the sky. Her angle to Cynosure gets scratched in the dirt as well, and Anwel lowers his instrument. He opens his pack, replaces it there, and pulls out his waterproof book sheathe. Nores tells him what Somal's and Cynosure's dance means, then retreats back into the bag.
Finally, Anwel takes out the copy of the map he had made, and makes two notations. Next to the minutely drawn building marked "Oleg's", he writes "(52°57' N, 8°46' E)", and next to the spot where the trail crosses the Thorn River he writes "(52°6' N, 7°48' E)". The other locations on the trail where they rested and took sightings have their latitudes marked, as well as their longitudes in the cases where Anwel was able to derive them from landmarks in the absence of the stars. When they return to the trading post, these locations can be mapped on a grid, and the map drawn around them instead of the other way around. Anwel's spirits have been fairly high all day, but the combination of doing real cartography instead of dead reckoning and the fall of night making the unfinished magical forces he has been storing stronger than they have been since he left the trading post's cellar have left him visibly at ease. When he turns away from the ford, the map packed away along with everything else, it is almost with a spring in his step.
"It is a good thought," says Anwel, referring to Warren's idea that the two groups of charterees share watches – though they really did need a better name! Maybe "lifesowers", assuming they could get their hands on the seed That was after. "But Warren, and Andrei, Tam, and Thad too," he says, not even worried at asking a favor, "would you mind if Thad and I took last watch and the others took first? It is just that I can store more magic for the day ahead if I do so before the sunrise, and that the sun tends to rise before the end of the watch, especially so close to the equinox." It is fairly easy to see, from the way he looks towards the forest, that Anwel would not mind continuing to travel through the night. But even if the others were up for it, the horses would need rest and Warren's eagles had already begun to roost.
Stellan rides steadily through the day, stopping only for the minimum rest breaks, Anwel's sightings, or Warren's foraging. As evening draws near they reach the Thorn River Ford. Stellan starts to comment on the merit of several different likely camping areas nearby he is bothered by the thoguht he overlooked something. As the party starts to begin planning its evening, Stellan notices that the many small tracks that seemed like frequent animal visitations to the river was mostly of small humaniods instead. The more he studied them the worst the picture he built seemed.
Stellan dismounts as Vinur's head pops out of his saddlebag. Stellan breaks in on the groups activities. "Be wary, gentlemen. I draw your attention to these tracks, those with forest skills should see the signs if you look close. Those random looking animal tracks I'm pointing to are anything but. They are tracks of small two-legged humanlike creatures. Worse, multiple groups, that are around the whole area. More worse they are recent, not over a day old. After much wandering about all tracks lead to that small trail on the south side of the ford. What I'm trying to determine is what kind of creature or creatures they are, if they are working together or not, and estimate the number of groups and the number in each group. And I will generously add to the creepyness by conjecturing that with all this wandering, they were looking for something or someone." Stellan stops to catch his breath. "I suggest we make our camp a bit further on than I would have preferred, camping anywhere to near this location is not one I would care for now, it's a little too crowded." Stellan finishes wryly before getting back to checking. Vinur climbs up on the saddle then jumps to the ground and runs to Stellan as Stellan unease grows.
Survival Identify tracks. Different groups? Different races? Working together, independent, or adversarial to each other? Anything else?
Perception Did any leave traps, markings, a scout behind, or anything else to notice?
Knowledge:Nature Anything out of the ordinary, maybe too many or few animals, odd or trampled or moved folage? Anything else?
Nodding at Stellan's warnings, Anwel leads the roan away from the ford and speaks a few soft words to her in Sylvan. They mean she should stand still and quiet, as far as that tongue can express concepts related to anything static, but he doesn't expect her to understand them. It is all about the tone.
That done, Anwel gingerly approaches one of the tracks Stellan pointed out, trying to keep as far away from the ford as possible to avoid obscuring any traces Stellan might find helpful. "Is it just bipeds walking around?" he asks. "Or are there traces of beasts of burden or wheeled vehicles among them as well?"
Andrei picks up his saddle bags again and puts back on his tired horse and pulls out his shield. "Are they goblins? Or could they be the fey creatures we were discussing? Either way let us know where to stop." Turning to everyone and straping on the shield. "Every get ready for combat, we might already have alerted goblin scouts and have Tartuk on as at any time. Stellan I think defendable is more important an comfortable for tonight."
Once people have got themselves ready "As for watches having an elf on each watch would be nice because of there good eyesight and as I understand it Stellan and Anwel need a solid sleep in order to concentrate on spell casting in the morning, so I would suggest: first, Stellan, Tad and Imon, middle Thad and myself and last Warren and Anwel. Stelland and Imon's sharp eyes should easily make up for a lack of an elf." And it will give Warren and Anwel a chance to get to know each other. How come I keep getting the worst watch...
"Hold on a moment," Imon said, dismounting and grabbing his pack. After rooting around in his pack, he quickly strung his bow and put the quiver over his shoulder. He did not want to be without his bow if they were attacked out here. He climbed back on his horse and said, "Before we go, we should investigate a little more. Find out where these tracks came from and where they are headed." He went on, describing different tasks to accomplish before they headed out again.
You don't see any evidence of traps or other scouts left behind.
Stellan continues studying the tracks, Vinur sniffing at them and then yapping. "I'm growing more sure that these are goblin tracks, all of them, still can't get a read on numbers. All come from that small forest trail and go back as well. There are clear signs of fishing along the river, so they did that. I don't think that was all unless they just move into the area. I guess it could be a tribal migration, they could be settlers also. On the other hand, having goblins for neighbors rarely ends well."
Stellan waves at Gorax, "Gorax, please take a look that way if you could I'd like to search further away from that point and see if I can locate a good campsite for us." Stellan points to where the tracks go and then he looks at the other trails searching for a defensible campsite that the goblins are less likely to find.
Survival Camp.
Perception What's out there?
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Gorax, glad to be on the ground once more, nods at Stellan, silently moves off following the tracks a short while. His chain heavyon his shoulders at the end of the day, he moves slowly, breathing deeply, his face with the odd grimace of pain. He looks back at the companions, quietly he speaks, "Fear not of these little children, my sword will teach them to behave, goblin or any other bad child." His sword, is unsheathed and he smiles one last time before continuing to follow the tracks, until after a few yards out of sight, his pulse quickens. The thought of being alone, whilst no troublesome normally, he feels his companions need him safe, if only to protect them with his strength. He hesitates to continue on, before returning to report, if anything was found.
Stellan manages to find an excellent campsite just a few hundred paces further south. A grove of small trees and a few large boulders provide shelter and cover from potential threats. A small side stream offers fresh water for the horses. Most of all it appears the goblin tracks don't wander this far south of the other trail.
As you hesitate to consider your options, you notice a flash of something hanging in one of the trees just a few paces further up the trail. It's impossible to tell what it is from here, you'll have to move closer to get a better look.
Stellan returns and says to the group present, "There is an ideal campsite three hundred paces down that trail." Stellan points to the trail he just emerged from. "Warren, why don't you check it out and if you agree to it's suitablity lead the others to it. I'm going to see what Gorax found out, I don't want him alone for too long." Stellan goes off to check on Gorax.
Warren nods and smiles. He brings Tuney the larger of the two eagles.
"There are many small bipeds in this part of the world," says Anwel, straightening up from his stooping crouch. "Goblins, yes, but also kobolds, and the kinds of small fey that go about on two legs are outnumbered only by the kinds of fey that are neither small nor bipedal." He smiles warmly. "But if you say these are goblin tracks, Stellan, I believe you."
His friend's examinations of, and deductions from, the ground complete, Anwel returns to the roan's side and takes her bridle. He leads her after Gorax when Stellan orders the warrior to follow the tracks to the tree line. His robe swishes against the long grass that grows by the riverbank. If he was not tired, he might as well be useful, and besides, the forest seems to be teasing him. Twice now he had got close without being able to go in. "Let us not underestimate them, Gorax," he says quietly. "Neither in their prowess nor in their capacity to be helpful to us. Though it is possible, even probable, we have no indication that these goblins are affiliated with Tartuk. It might be worthwhile investigating ways to keep them out from under his sway if they are not already so. It would weaken Tartuk at least."
Anwel sees Gorax looking into the forest, and follows his gaze. He could not make light for the humans, but maybe that was for the best. Light would give away their position if there were any of Akiros' or Tartuk's agents about. And maybe he would see something his friend had missed.
Stellan and Anwel catch up with Gorax near the edge of the forest where the tracks and trail lead further into the dense, dark wood. You each catch a glimpse of something hanging a few paces further up the trail. A flash of white or possibly something metallic twisting in one of the lower limbs of a tree.
Stellan hurries toward Gorax and sees Anwel going that way as well. "Good Anwel, it's best if no one is alone until some security is in this land. Gorax is that something flashy in that tree, wonder if it's a trap?" Stellan cautiously approaches the area, looking for ambush or a trap.
Perception
"Well, we did not see it here when we came here last," says Anwel. He smiles a little at Stellan's compliment, but his words are quiet and clipped short, as if he doesn't want to be overheard. "Nor, I would wager, was it here when Thad's group left. The simplest explanation is that it is a marker or signal left by the goblin party, but it is far from the only one." Anwel advances into the forest abreast of Stellan and Gorax. As he does so, he wonders why. Whatever it was they were seeing, it would be there in the morning, and it was hardly out of their way. They would be able to investigate it with Thad's and Andrei's special sights before approaching it, and the humans would be able to see. Against that, they might learn something now that might help them prepare for the next day, and they would be doing so in the forest. Still, this was not a smart move.
"Are you sure we cannot wait til morning to examine it?" he says, even more quietly than before. A twig snags on his heavy wool sleeve, and he pulls it gently off before it snaps. "I know we have something to prove, but whatever this thing is, it is not going anywhere. I hope."
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Unsure of what to do, Gorax dithers before he makes up his mind, seeing something shiny Gorax slowly moves forward to get a better look. He stops as he hears the sounds of footsteps, he is relieved to know his friends have come after him. As they join, his finger crosses his lips, commanding them to silence, or at least to be very quiet. As they join level he points towards where he saw the object, saying under his breath, "There, over there I saw something, something shiny, up that tree there."
Approaching closer, Stellan, Gorax, and Anwel see that the object is an odd collection of small, polished white bones knitted together with string to form a rudimentary figure about six inches tall. Additional bits of moss and two black raven feathers dangle from the little fetish.
There doesn't appear to be anything else in the nearby area, although by now it is nearly pitch dark within the forest canopy.
Andrei stands ready looking into the darkness. "Warren, do you think that our trail could be hidden? If the creatures return it would nice if they couldn't follow us... Or even better know we were here."
"Possibly," says Anwel at Gorax's question, though he sounds far from convinced. "But bone is also more durable than wood, and, though more brittle, more easy to work than stone." He looks like he's prepared to go on, but the warrior is clearly more ill at ease than Anwel in the dark and closed-in wood, and definitely not in the mood for a discourse.
"Your first thought has more merit," Anwel says. "Til we know more, we should not touch or handle it. It is likely rigged to a trap or signal, neither of which we want to spring." Somewhat reluctantly, he starts back towards the edge of the forest. "I agree, we should leave for now. But we should return, to examine it in the morning."
Stellan listens to the discussion but has nothing to add to it. He sees no reason to deal with the fetish at this time. He does consider the possiblity that it's a focus for an alarm though and wracks his brain to see if it resembles anything he has heard of.
K:Arcana:
Spellcraft:
"Best if we head back to the others; I've found a good campsite, Warren should be checking it out soon." Stelllan heads back to the main group.
It doesn't appear to be magical, although nobody has checked for certain. It's also not likely fae in nature, being a bit too crude for the talents of most fae.
"Then let us join the others," says Anwel, taking a few steps before looking back to make sure the humans are following, "and tell them what we have found." He turns again to continue forward, but a large, gray moth appears in front of his face. Anwel gasps, surprised, and backpedals a bit, then smiles. He stretches out his hand, but the insect flutters away on whatever business he had interrupted.
As they arrive at the camp site Stellan found, Thad settles into the familiar routine of a night spent on the road. He attends to his horse first, making sure the mare is groomed and fed and otherwise well taken care of before finding a place to set up his hammock for the night. The goblin tracks were disconcerting- filthy beasts. At least Stellan seemed satisfied that they had continued down the trail. He idly rubs a scar on his leg from when goblins had raided one of his camp sites after he and the boys had celebrated a good haul... he wouldn't be letting down his guard tonight.
Stellan mulls over the fetish then shrugs, "Nothing special come to mind over the thing, see about in the morn' then." Stellan goes with the others to the camp. As others set up the camp he builds the campfire very carefully, with rocks to shield the light and a stake and several section of wood piles around it to minimize smoke. This leads to an unfortunate resemblence to a stake and logs used for less pleasant purposes. Stellan waits till after his campmates settle down and eat their dinner.
As the meal finishes Stellan opens the conversation. "Sometimes good people have reasons not to be completely forthcoming right away. That is not what I like to do but I was warned not to be to open, especially around guards or the most ordinary folk of the land. It is unfortunate that some words or names scare people but they do. All I ask is to be judged by what I choose to do, not what other people may or may not have done." Stellan stops for a moment looking at the people most recently met. "I need to protect my friend," Stellan holds up Vinur who licks the fingers around him then wiggles free. Continuing, "and myself as I not a fan of fires. But I told the others when we were on the road, away from ears both ignorant or prying. You see, Imon, Thad, and Warren, I practice Witchcraft, I'm a witch, and not just any kind of witch, I'm a winter witch, a witch of Winter's Breath, for full detail. I've heard the tales of how awful such witches can be but I've known only one other, my mother, who taught me. She could be a bit, ahem, chilly, at times, but I never saw her be cruel. And my Da, the man who raised me and is the only father I ever knew, was a good and kind man. So that is the big secret of my powers, my full story can be yours if you wish. I'll also note that Vinur is a Winter Wolf cub and my familar, (or me his), many deserve their repuation for being evil, he has done no wrong."
Stellan turns to Warren, "So Warren, now that you know my dark secret, are you going to build a bigger fire than this one and toss me and Vinur in?" Stellan is deadly serious at this point and four pairs of eyes, wild and dangerous, look at Warren as man and wolf stare uncannily at Warren.
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"I can vouch for Stellan, we have traveled and fought together." Gorax takes a position by Stellan's side, though he scarcely understands what all this witch stuff and winter witches is all about. It's not winter now, so maybe Stellan's powers only really flourish in the cold, when the nights are long. Yet, Gorax is comfortable with Stellan and Vinur, they have done nothing to threaten, so he protects him now.
Warren looks at Stellan with an open expression tinged with surprise.
"Why would I want to do that? Talking to animals and practicing witchcraft is nothing to be ashamed of. Especially when you choose to use your powers to heal as you do. As for Vinur, I would trust his nature over most civilized men."
Warren looks awkwardly around before continuing. "I have little trust for those who do not speak plainly and honestly. Especially those that hide behind the words of law and documents. Secrets when kept, can keep a son from his mother or a crucial ability from being used fully in battle."
After fingering his locket, Warren stands and holds out his hand to Stellan, "Shake warlock, and do not be ashamed of what you are. Our path ahead is more important than our backtrail."
Stellan takes Warren's hand and gives a firm shake, "I certainly agree about the path ahead, Warren,and I'm glad I can assure you of my good will." Stellan gives a wry smile, "And I'm not ashamed of my path or powers, it's just I have been warned to be wary of the ignorant. I grew up in a very small, isolated, holding. People there knew me and I them. Elsewhere not so much. As for trouble understanding the strength or limits of my power, well that is why I told those that I was with earlier what I was as soon as we left Oleg's."
Stellan then laughs, "And sorry, in some traditions calling a mage a warlock is a good description but in my craft, a warlock is an incompetent, though there is an implication of maleness. Mother made it clear I was a witch-born witch, for reasons she kept secret, it was important."
Now Stellan looks a little crestfallen. "It's odd you should mention secrets keeping a son from his mother, because that is happening a bit to me; Mother keeps many secrets and I cannot be sure she is even alive now. I can only hope that her past, whatever it is, doesn't bring trouble to anyone here."
Andrei seems relieved at how well Warren took the news. "Stellan I know this may be impossible in the dark but is it possible to hide our trial to this camp site? I would prefer to surprise the Goblins tomorrow rather than be surprised by them tonight. If you think you can take Gorax and Thad to help you. Just remember Stellan, Tad and Imon are first watch don't forget to wake Thad, Gorax and myself an hour or so after midnight for our watch." "
Settling down more comfortably next the fire. "Have I told you the story of how Baron Sirian defeated the lion bear handed?" Andrei waves his hands saying "Scirehpsomta" casting prestidigitation and a part of the fire changes colour to show a man and a lion, much in the same way as clouds sometimes look like an elephant, if you look for a man and lion you would see them. "Well it is a story of when Sirian was young and in love..." Andrei continues to tell the story but keeping eye on the others and is ready to wrap the story quickly if anyone seems to have something important to say.
Imon was pleasantly surprised when Andrei told his story. He'd always enjoyed a good story, and the extra bit of showmanship helped matters. Imon figured that if things had gone differently, he might have become a storyteller himself. The demonstration wasn't the best, but then, he didn't exactly have the best to work with either.
"A fine story, and the presentation was good as well." Imon said, offering his applause. "And Stellan, in my time as a lawman I have met a few Kellids who told stories of witches. You seem to be about as far from any of those stories as, well, as I am. I have no problems working with you, or fighting at your side."
"Even if her past does come to weigh on us, no one could blame you," says Anwel at Stellan's last words, staring moodily into the fire. His knees are drawn up close to his body and his arms are wrapped around them. Even so, his hands are lost in the depths of his sleeves. Lairochal, the roan, nickers softly and shakes her drooping head, but does not lie down like he had expected her to. Then again, Anwel does not know much about horses. "Not justly, anyway. If you do bring her troubles to us, it would be by your existence and not your actions. The only way to be sure you would spare us pain would be to kill yourselves," he says, making sure to include Vinur, "and no one wants that." Anyone looking for Anwel's familiar sarcasm will not find it. His pale face and white hair seem oddly like soapstone sanded too smooth as they reflect the orange firelight. His voice is flat too, both in pitch and timbre.
After that, Anwel lapses into silence. His eyes are beginning to hurt and water at the firelight, and he blinks a few times but does not look away. It is not that Andrei's story is particularly engrossing. In structure and tone it is much like the one he had told in the boneyard, and this time the magic he used to make it interesting was familiar to Anwel. Even Stellan's story Anwel had heard before. Looking at him, one would think Anwel was waiting for something, and indeed he is. His argument, coupled with this subsequent silence, should be enough for the others to deduce the essential difference between his story and Stellan's, and why he does not want to tell it.
Warren looks at Stellan with an appraising eye, and seems to have come to a quick but important decision.
"We live in dangerous times! Stellan, I would be honored if you would agree to take care of my eagles if something happens to me. It will take some time, but I will show you how to care for them and the tricks I have taught them."
Warren reflects, and a disturbing idea comes to him.
Everyone I do this for leaves me--leaves THEM.
"Thank you, Imon, I've heard such tales also, sad to say, some must be true. Mother taught me about some horrible abilities, not how to do it, but the ways it could be done. Curses are a large part of what a witch can do, I even know one hex that is technically a curse though it can be beneficial as well as harmful."
Stellan replies to Anwel, "No, I don't consider that an option but I am an excellent woodsman, I don't need civilzation for more than a few tools. It may be unjust to blame me for other's unwarrented deeds against me but I would be remiss if I didn't disclose there is some risk in being near me, and I can't even say how much."
Stellan is not expecting Warren's request and can only stare speechless for a moment. "Warren, that's a remarkable level of trust. I have some idea how close you must be to them, my familiar bond is something like it. I know little of caring for animals, Vinur isn't one, even if he wasn't bonded. I'd be happy to try to learn though. I'll do whatever I can for them, I promise." Vinur yaps excitedly, "Oh yes, we need to introduce Vinur and Tuney and ... I'm sorry I don't remember the other one's name. Well Vinur's innate nature would be to hunt them or drive them from scavenging his kills but he doesn't do that to friends. I know that will take time to train and get everyone to like each other."
You see, Imon, Thad, and Warren, I practice Witchcraft
Thad's eyebrows raise as Stellan tells of his family and his past, and he ponders the implications of the man's admission. He knew little of witches beyond the stories to frighten children. He'd known men of grim faiths who had done good works in the name of those like the Lady of Graves, but by the same token he'd heard of those who worked healings and other miracles through pacts with dark powers. His instincts told him that Stellan was a good man and trustworthy, but luckily his instincts weren't all he had to rely on.
"Thank you for your candor. I confess that I wasn't paying close attention to your magic when you attended to Kressle's injuries. Would you show me one of these 'hexes' that I might satisfy myself that these magics don't bear any taint about them?"
If Stellan agrees, Thad will watch the witch (and his familiar for good measure) intently for any sign of malignant influences while the spell is performed.
Stellan considers what Thad said. Coming to a decision Stellan says, "The most disturbing mystic event I can now do is the one that looks bad but can benefit as well. It is a curse but not in itself all that harmful. If you are willing Thad I could place it on you or if someone else would volunteer. It won't hurt and I can withdraw the effect at any time. If it is to benefit anyone though I would need to apply it before we had need of it. Not be be mysterious it marks the person affected in a visible and unpleasant way. I can use that mark in some divinations I have yet to learn or if the mark is within about a thousand paces I can use any of my hexes on them. Any hex helpful or harmful. Any care to try it?" Stellan looks around expectantly.
"You mean that you could heal from across a battlefield? That would have to be a pretty unpleasant mark if you are saying that it is a trade off. Try it on me," Imon said, wondering if he was going to regret it. He exposed his arm to the others, so that Stellan could mark him there.
Stellan is surprised when Imon is the one who steps forward. "Thank you for the trust, Imon, yes it is useful but also very disfiguring until I take it away." Stellan touches Imon's arm, making sure Thad is ready. After a second cold, wavy lines, looking like frostbite, flow across the arm and up to Imon's neck and a bit of his face, twisting flesh in a most unsightly manner. "Now you are marked and as such a bit more vulnerable in some ways to my talents. On the other hand, you are right, I could heal you, once a day, from a long way, saving time and exposure in battle. I can take it away from you at any time and from any distance but should I be incapacitated ... not so much, and if I were killed it could go either way, fading or needing a curse breaker to rid you of it. So there is a little risk to doing this, but it's not forever if you can get help."
Stellan turns to Thad awaiting his pronouncement.
Andrei smiles Seems like the worst is over everyone is getting comfortable with each other. Warren is a odd sort with trust which reminds me I has to get him alone sometime to talk about the locket. He might well be happy with everyone knowing but I can't decide that for him.
Andrei sits up when as Stellan touches Imon's arm his expression shifts from curiousity to concern "Ouch. That looks bad. Does it hurt?