Othoe enters comfortably. He's a little uneasy about the locked door sitting between him and freedom, but after all, what harm could Brickasnurd do? Othoe is finally coming into his own, with real power behind his magic and a certain trust in his own abilities.
He starts with a variety of small talk as much to ease himself as Brickasnurd.
"So how long have you been working out of this shop? You have quite the wide variety of items within it. Quite impressive in fact!"
**************
Othoe takes off his cloak and lays it on the chair next to him carefully. He adjusts his vest to fit just so and settles down to tea.
"What brought you here? It seems a fine place, but you seem, well, greater than the town."
"We are a rare breed here in Falcon's Hollow, aren't we Othoe? Until your visit, well, and one odd little beggar a few months ago, I've been the only one of our kind for...oh, years, I think." The middle aged gnome says with a twinkly grin.
"But the Hollow has its advantages for those like us. You were planning to stay to find out, weren't you?"
Othoe gets a little uncomfortable talking about his future. Is this where I want to stay?
He grins, "Hrm. I must say I don't know. I'd like to stay, and I certainly planned on it for a season or two when I first arrived. We shall see though. I'm still not certain that mold won't come back. Nasty stuff that, and nasty enough that if it does return, I might move on."
"Still, I try not to dwell on the negative. Assuming all else I suppose I shall stay!" Othoe says it like he hadn't really made up his mind until just then.
He glances at the fine cloak and frowns. "I need a proper home though. I've been sleeping rough I'm afraid, and this cloak will set me back again I should think. I need a proper little dwelling. Tidy. Then I shall say I'm a resident here." He grins at Brickasnurd widely.
"But that can wait. I've slept rough before."
"What I mean is, there are opportunities for someone of your...talents. And said opportunities should be able to provide for a cozy place to stay for a young man of your stature....and perhaps even more, if mutually agreeable terms can be negotiated."
One brow arches, Brickasnurd staring intently at Othoe, as if trying to gauge his answer before he says it. Finally, he sits back, slapping his hands down on his knees as he laughs, "But I've wandered far from your original need, haven't I, young Othoe? Now, show me your box, and let's get started, shall we?"
***********************
"The rapier? Oh yes, I have it. Let me get it for you." The rapier, slender and deadly, simple and elegant, is clearly the work of the work of a master. The blacksmith, like many in the town, has an accent from some other somewhere, though he doesn't encourage personal chit chat.
Why not? Many a young apprentice is sponsored after all. Perhaps that's what he has in mind.
He takes out the box and hands it over to Brickasnurd.
"Here it is. It doesn't seem to be too much, but for the life of me I cannot figure it out. I'm sure it's something obvious and I'm just missing it. Looking too deep in the well when all I really want a slight sip off the top!"
Simon bottles his first potion, and joins most of the companions for their evening's entertainments at The Sitting Duck.
Kast leans back in his chair and continues to tell his story about what happened at the blacksmith.
"...so guess what he did next?" Kast looks from one face to the next, awaiting but a short time before answering himself.
"He banged the metal again! It was awesome. Then...then...THEN HE BANGED it again! And I was helping him...you know working the bellows. And he was banging on my new armor!" Kast pauses to take a sip of his drink.
"So then, after he finished banging...guess what? GUESS!?" Kast waits a fraction of a second before answering. "He puts it in water!! And you should have seen the steam! WOW! It was hot!"
Kast looks around excited.
"Guess what he did next! Guess! He told me to get back to work working the bellows because he needed to heat the metal again! And...SO I DID!"
"Guess what happened next..."
* * *
After a few too many drinks (two), Kast will sit back in his chair wondering how Othoe's night is going.
"So what happens next? Do I need to find a real job now or what? We're done here, right?"
With several empty mugs before him, Sion weathers the storm of Kast's story about the trip to the armorer. As the conversation turns to the path ahead, a concerned look crosses the herbalist's face. "Wasn't there some pact we were suppose to restore? Didn't we promise Twisty Twig we would do something?"
"And, of course, we do still need to return Old Bones to the volcano..."
"As Simon says, we've at least two promises left to keep here Kast. Both the restoration of the pact and returning the dwarf to the volcano. And we should be prepared for that pack of werewolves while we're about it."
Dorial walks into the Sitting Duck shortly after sundown. Looking refreshed, she sits down with the rest of the group and half listens to Kasts story.
"Do you think we're done with that cult? And I don't think we have to worry about those wolves. They had ample opportunity to take us out the other night, but perhaps they know who we are if they're members of this town."
Othoe takes each object out of the box, examines it, and replaces it again. He mentally catalogues the gold values and decides that his troubles, at least for a while, are over.
"The group will be very pleased with this find my dear Brickasnurd. Very pleased indeed."
He sips his tea.
"I'm sure with this find we'll be buying much more from you in the very near future. You are well positioned to make a pretty penny as well good sir."
Othoe sits back in his chair and contemplates, briefly, how far he's come from slave to wealth.
Yes, adventuring suits me. Perhaps I shall not stay here. Perhaps the open road, with its wealth and challenges shall be my lot. At least for a while. After all, how much more of this he glances at the jewelry box and at the sugar in his tea can there really be?
He settles down from the excitement of the find and finishes his tea.
Brickasnurd shares a very fine wine from his private stock with Othoe, and is happy to discuss possible customer's for those things that the group is likely to let go. The older man is more than happy to entertain Othoe long into the night, and it is clear that he is welcome to stay over in a bed that is in no way rough. When Othoe wakes, there is is a small note, a light breakfast, and a small book on the table beside the bed.
Dear Othoe,
Thank you for the best evening I've known in quite awhile. I hope you don't mind, but I've stepped out for the morning, to test a few likely customers for your new found goods.
I found one of my earliest spell books and thought you might like to spend some time with it while I am gone.
Brick
PS... there is a key to the back door beneath the larger plate. It will let you out that way, as the shops' locks are much more... finicky... about who works them. ~BH
"Oh, I don't think finding a job will be hard, at least, not once we start rebuilding the mill. We'll be needing a lot of extra help then, I imagine." says one of the workers, overhearing Kast's rambling. "Though I guess with that large weapon of yours, you could see if the Sheriff is looking for another man. I hear tell one of his ran off awhile back."
Eli proves too busy to add too much to the conversation, though Fleur often stops by, bringing fresh drinks and dinner. Catching the question about the cult and the discussion about werewolves, she shudders and asks, "Do you you really think the wolves will come into town? What should we do?"
A proper benefactor indeed!
Othoe takes out his own, smaller, spell tome and copies Endure Elements into it.
When he's done, he lets himself out the back, carefully locking the door behind him. He then rushes off through the mud and snow to find the group to tell them the good news...
Othoe bursts breathless into the Sitting Duck, "Hey everyone good news! With Brick's help, we've opened the mystery box, and guess what was within!"
Othoe, from memory, more quietly describes each item in the box and makes guesses as to their values.
1 ring of protection +1 2,000 gp
2 rings of platinum 50 gp
1 ring featherfall 2,200 gp
Stones
dusty rose prism, cracked 500 gp
vibrant purple prism, cracked 2,000 gp
one magical pearl 1,000 gp
Jewelry
a pearl and ruby necklace, 2,000 gp
with a small ruby devil pendant.
2 diamond earrings 2,000 gp
Weapons
+1 mithral dagger 2,802 gp
"Now some of these things we should not sell of course, That dagger will be effective against the Lycanthrops for example. And I need to research the stones a bit before we decide to keep them or sell them. Either way, it's a kings ransom!"
Dorial whistles quietly as Othoe describes the items.
"I don't think there's much to worry about Fluer. If they meant anyone harm then they would have already done something. And I haven't heard of anyone missing lately, though I suppose we could still look into it."
"As Simon says, we've at least two promises left to keep here Kast. Both the restoration of the pact and returning the dwarf to the volcano. And we should be prepared for that pack of werewolves while we're about it."
"Promises? Promise is a strong word, Nimeon. I'm happy to help in that, but I've never promised to carry dwarf bones up a dang mountain. I always thunk they'd be happier buried in the ground." Kast finishes the last of his drink and wipes away a bit of forge-soot from his forehead. "The other point, I'll concede, we should restore the pact. I forgot all about that."
* * *
"Mind if I see the box, Othoe!?" Kast extends an excited hand out.
Kast casts Detect Magic.
"I don't know a lot of magic, but I sure wish I knew more about this thing and the auras around it. It's just neat...not fitting a warrior like myself, but you might like it Othoe. Man...what a neat toy." Kast hands the box back and begins to look through the goods therein.
"Mind if I keep this ring? This one here?" Kast holds up the Ring of Protection +1. "Hey Otheo, what do those stones do?"
"Sure thing Kast." Othoe hands the box over and shows him how it works.
"The stones, let me see..."
Othoe too casts detect magic and gives the stones a once over.
Othoe holds up the Dusty Rose Prism, "This stone makes you more observant in combat . I don't yet know what these other stones do. Anybody else care to take a look?"
Chrystosm, despite his lovely new rapier, seems rather downcast, feeling that he's succeeded in doing nothing except embarrass himself over the last day or so. He starts visibly when one of the mill-hands mentions 'work' in his presence.
"W - ? Yikes! I mean, we've got too much to do, being heroes and all. By all means, let's bury the dwarf, and let's do the other thing you said. Twig pact, or whatever"
So long as we can get out of bed when we please, drink as much as we like and not have to do the old 9 to 5 under the great task-master's eye
He smiles at Fleur when she comes over and enquires about the wolves, chock-full of helpful advice as always.
"You grab 'em by the back legs and pull them apart, or stick a finger up their - Ooh, mutton stew! That'll calm them down. Not mutton stew, I mean... What? Oh. OK. Shutting up now."
Fleur listens intently, her mouth forming into a little 'O' as Chrystoms explains how to handle werewolves, "Oh! I uh, I can't see me ever I mean, wouldn't they bite you if you got that close to their uhh... YeS! Mutton stew, you should eat some!"
**************
The next day, as the group is gathered together to look at the box, a young woman sticks her head in the door, peeking around. Her dark auburn curls hang in her face, and her fair skin seems even more so without its usual rouge and gloss.
Picking Chrystosm out of the crowd, she approaches quickly, her dark red robe out of place in the Sitting Duck, "Master, Chrys, I'm so sorry to bother you but... have you seen Hollin, by any chance?"
"You seem to have some facility with the magic of this box Kast. You say you are a scholar and a soldier, and it seems you want to be a blacksmith as well. You don't want to walk up a volcano and you have a lot of questions about my past. But tell me, who are you? Now that nobody is trying to kill us and we've some time to waste it seems you've a story to tell."
Kast puts the ring on his finger.
"Neat. I've read stories about brave heroes who wear magic rings. Even if this one is just a trinket, seems nice to have. I'll pretend to be a hero for a time," Kast says as an entry to answering Nimeon's question.
"No, I've never called myself a soldier...I've failed at that twice. I'll call myself a scholar because that's what I am...by training. I used to teach back in a small town called Sandpoint. Ever heard of it? I taught for a while at the school there. Well, most men join the militia...usually we don't fight anything real. Goblins mostly. One year, we had a bad goblin attack...something like 7 tribes joined together to attack Sandpoint. I was on guard that day. I fought. Killed a few...and that's when I knew I wanted to be a soldier...a real one." Kast looks back at his life remembering.
"See? I used to read stories about battles and soldiers and I knew in my heart I always wanted to be a soldier. However, that was all foolishness, of course. For obvious reasons." Kast glances down at his leg, a reddish tinge of embarrassment showing on his face. "I was a fool for leaving Sandpoint to go to Lastwall. I tried to be a soldier...they wouldn't take me. They said I wouldn't last a day against the orcs. I'd be more work to bring back and bury than a help."
Kast pauses, clearly remembering a great pain.
"Yeah, they were right. I won't ever be a soldier. I can pretend now...playing with the bardiche and my fancy new armor, but I'll never be much. Much like I was pretending to be a blacksmith today. It's fun to learn...which is why I can be a good teacher. But I'm sure I'm destined to live a boring but contented life as a teacher once we get this town fixed up."
"I see, Kast. Obviously they were wrong, as you've proven yourself a capable fighter in many situations now. Just remember how you fought that undead creature outside the cabin. It didn't stand a chance against you."
Of course if it had been chasing him instead of running at him...
Kast blushes.
"I'll admit that I've gotten better than I'd ever thought I'd be...even lucky in some circumstances, but I'm unlikely to ever be much better than I am now. I have..." Kast looks again at his leg. "...limitations. I'll keep practicing and going for perfection as Irori would do...but there is reality."
Kast finishes his drink and asks for another.
"But no matter. We'll get things fixed here and I'll go back to teaching, only taking down my armor and bardiche from the walls when the town is under attack. That's probably for the best."
"So Kast, what will you teach?"
Do I really care? I suppose I should get to know my companions better...
Othoe wants another tea with Brickasnurd, and another magical discovery like the box. He itches for adventure without even realizing it. Already the quietness of the town wears on him, and it's only been a day!!
Othoe fidgets in his chair and checks his pockets. Not yet young one. Learn patience.
The next day, as the group is gathered together to look at the box, a young woman sticks her head in the door, peeking around. Her dark auburn curls hang in her face, and her fair skin seems even more so without its usual rouge and gloss.Picking Chrystosm out of the crowd, she approaches quickly, her dark red robe out of place in the Sitting Duck, "Master, Chrys, I'm so sorry to bother you but... have you seen Hollin, by any chance?"
Chrystosm frowns and shakes his head. "No-o-o. Mind you, you know what lads that age are like - he's probably raising merry hell somewhere or other and he'll come in when he's hungry. Anything the matter?"
Chrystosm listens to Kast with interest.
"If you ask me, you are a soldier - you've been in action and you've got the scars to prove it, after all. Most of my family are military of one sort or another, and two thirds of them have never seen a blade raised in anger - they spent all their time stuck in barracks, shouting and painting things. Don't be so hard on yourself!"
Kast looks surprised that Othoe, the gnome, even cares but answers anyway.
"Well, my passion is religion. I can tell you a fair bit about the major gods and their tenets...that's important stuff for any young student. I know some history too. Especially some notable fights...like the one where the Whispering Tyrant was banished." Kast's eyes light up a bit.
"Most people know that Aroden killed the first incarnation of the Whispering Tyrant and how that battle unfolded. But what people don't know or forget is the sacrifices that many soldiers made to allow the Shield of Aroden to get to the Tyrant himself during his return. Let by a young knight named...." Kast launches into a impromptu history lesson discussing a fair amount of tactics and strategy, using the table plates and cups to help the re-enactment. "...so many soldiers died trying to draw out the Tyrant...so knights charged while the Priests rained fire...twin war wraiths returned...one knight lived...so yeah, that's how Arnisant was able to corner the Tyrant."
Kast looks up, confused.
"What were we talking about before this?"
Othoe, himself a student of history, is wrapped up in Kasts reenactment in spite of himself. He occasionally shifts a cup here or a plate there to keep them from falling off the table, but otherwise listens attentively.
Well, OK, he does get a little excited during the climax and rain a little 'fire' down on the opposition with Prestidigitation for color and some thrown salt.
As Kast's finishes his tale, the collective tavern takes a breath. People at nearby tables, having silenced their conversations to listen, start up again after a moment.
Fleur remains next to Kast's chair, her immediate work forgotten as she listens to the tale with rapt attention. "You are so good at all you do, Kast. The Hollow will be in good hands no matter which route you choose to take." Finally, she gives a soft shake of her head and murmurs something about cleaning up before heading back to work.
Dorial props her head on her hands as she listens to Kasts story.
I wish my teachers back home were this involved. I may have actually payed attention.
When he finishes with his story, "I believe we were talking about what to do next. Returning old bones and restoring the pact." She looks down at her cup, "And what jobs everyone was going to do after that."
"Don't be so hard on yourself!"
Kast smiles gratefully at Chrystosm.
"Thanks Chrysto. I know you know what you're talking about...because you've had proper training. Maybe someday I'll get there with a teacher who doesn't mind my limitations."
* * *
Kast looks around at the unexpected crowd that he hadn't noticed that had accumulated, then smiling at Fleur to conceal his embarrassment.
"Oh hi Fleur. That is probably the first time in my life where I didn't notice you nearby."
Kast shifts his attention to reorganizing cups and plate that he had moved around during his lecture.
"Oh yeah, Dorial. We should get on that. *yawn*" Kast yawns. "Maybe we should get to bed. Tomorrow, I need to finish my armor tomorrow and then we can get to work on the Pact."
Kast pays his bill and heads for his room.
On his way up, he'll thank Othoe for the color he added to the lecture.
That was pretty keen.
* * *
On the morrow, Kast will arise early and complete his usual morning routine. By mid morning, he can be found in the common room for breakfast.
"I think we should pursue the pact first. Yes burying the old dwarf is important, but he's been dead for a while, so he can wait. The pact is a clear and present problem and I don't see a clear solution to it."
"As I recall, we need someone who's willing to spend some time, maybe forever, with the fey - is that correct? I'm afraid that I'm not very good with poetry, it tends to addle my mind more than anything. I get lost in the imagery."
"Oh hi Fleur. That is probably the first time in my life where I didn't notice you nearby."
Fleur blushes, but can't resist teasing the soldier/scholar just a little.
"I can see why, Kast. T'was a fantastic tale that held you captive." She nods seriously, but her eyes twinkle with merriment, thrilled as she is to hear he notices.
"Still, let's not let it happen too often, shall we?" Flashing a grin, she gathers the plates from his hands then steals a kiss before taking off for the kitchen. "Fortune Favors the Bold", isn't that what they say?
****************
As the evening dies down, The Sitting Duck grows quiet and the fire dims; sleep claims Falcon's Hollow. The morning brings tea and porridge for those that eat in the common room and eventually, the companions return to hear Othoe's information regarding the box.
Dorial nibbles on some bread as she listens to Othoe's suggestion. "Perhaps it won't be as difficult to find someone that is willing to go with the fey. If the Fey are offering someone the chance at a longer life, then what if we asked someone that was already close to the end of theirs?"
She lets the question sink in for a few seconds, "I mean think about it. Who wouldn't want to have a renewed life?"
hp: 21/21
status: feeling fine
Equipped: n/a
Available: club, dart x3, light shield
Wind Blast (Su): 7/7
Spells:
0) Detect Magic, Create Water, Light, Purify Food and Drink
1) Obscuring Mist, Entangle, Cure Light Wounds, Whispering Wind (Domain)
2) Burning Gaze, Chill Metal, Wind Wall (Domain)
Othoe thinks of Brickasnurd and shakes his head.
"It's a thought, but who to ask? Simon, do you have any suggestions? I was thinking of that squirrely kid who seemed a bit fey touched already. He might relish the opportunity."
After breakfast, Kast will make his way to the blacksmith, eager to help out or go away and come back, whichever will get the armor done quicker.
"We never discussed a final price for the work on the armor, did we?"
Looking up as you enter, the blacksmith grins. "No, I don't think we did. Come, let me show it to you, then we can talk sums." Past the bellows, and into the finishing room, he stops before a mannikin draped with canvas.
"I had Brickasnurd by this morning to help with the color. The black just seemed to scream Cheliax, and not fittin' for a hero of the Hollow, if ye know what I mean." Pulling the canvas back, the shining breast plate is nearly mirror smooth, a reflection of Kast visible even in the light in the back of the room.
"Here, let me help you try it on. I want to make sure everything fits like we planned yesterday."
Wow.
Kast practically rips off his studded leather armor in his haste to don the rebuilt Hellknight Armor.
"It's amazing. I can't believe it's the same armor," Kast says as he tries to help buckle and align the straps.
Kast resists the urge to do some martial posing while the blacksmith works.
This armor needs a name. A proper name. A name that I'll have to work to live up to.
"It fits you well, soldier. Like a glove, only better. Stronger." And it does. It fits easily, as if made for Kast originally instead of a retrofit.
"It wasn't easy, of course. And there's Brickasnurd's work as well. What do you say to...hmmm... 90 gold pieces for all the work on it. That'll include the tax for the Consortium, of course." He claps Kast on the shoulder, the very image of a reasonable man.
Kast blanches at the price, but nods his head slowly.
That's almost all I got. But I *need* this armor, don't I?
Kast fights back the doubt that suddenly enters his mind.
I'm going to spend the last of my monies on this?
Kast looks down at his old armor then quickly back to the shining steel that now protects his body.
No. I need this. Remember the fetches. Kast shivers at the memory of their cold claws in his flesh.
"Say, will you take trade-in on my old armor? Some credit?"
Diplomacy
Please. I need to walk out of here with some coin.
"Let me look at it." He goes over the studded leather with a practiced hand. There are marks here and there, and leather is not his first choice to work on. But he is one of the 'Heroes of the Hollow'. It doesn't hurt to have a man like that wearing my work.
"I tell you what I'll do for you, Kast. Since you 'helped' so much yesterday, and with this beat up armor thrown in... I'll let you have it for 78 gold pieces, but if anyone asks about it, you talk up my work to them, alright? Is it a deal?"
Kast offers his fist in expectation of a Lastwall fist bump to consummate the deal.
"Deal."
* * *
Kast *STRUTS* out of the blacksmith, much lighter of purse, but feeling much more like a soldier than he ever has. The armor he wore wasn't a hand-me-down or borrowed, but *his* and so Kast struts proudly...well, he could if his left leg didn't give his strut a jagged, stilted flow.
Kast goes to find Simon.
"Yo Simon! What are the plans today?" Kast asks while proudly posing in his armor.
Othoe thinks of Brickasnurd and shakes his head.
"It's a thought, but who to ask? Simon, do you have any suggestions? I was thinking of that squirrely kid who seemed a bit fey touched already. He might relish the opportunity."
Chrystosm looks melancholy for a moment. "Well", he begins hesitantly, "Like Dorial says, we're in a town that is (or was) full of pretty sick people, so there's probably someone who'd like a smooth and easy way out. Failing that, try asking Eli. He seemed pretty happy with the last spell of time he spent with the fey"
"I can have a look about for Hollin, if you'd like me to - where are his usual haunts?"
Nimeon listens carefully as the others rush to list their chosen victims.
If they go willingly is it a crime? Would I do it? As Dorial says, someone who feels their life is over anyway might agree. Or would it be better to have lots? What was the custom before?
The half-elf visibly flinches when Kast shows up.
"You should cover that armor during the day Kast, you're liable to blind someone. Where did you find armor with such a shine anyway?"
I wonder if we made enough from the items we didn't want to buy that bow I had my eye on?
Dorial covers her eyes as Kast walks back inside The Sitting Duck. "I agree with Nimeon here. That's likely to blind someone. Though on the plus side, you'll definitely draw more attention to yourself and away from us." She smiles when she says the last part.
Lost to inner contemplation, or turmoil, or maybe just fuzzy from the ale the night before, Simon sits quietly eating his breakfast fare at the Sitting Duck. At the urging of Othoe and Kast, he expresses his concern for the path ahead. "The pact with the Fey requires a willing participant, we can't push anyone into that sacrifice or it may compromise the pact. If someone must go then it should be a person that truly wants to go. If no one can be found, then I will go to honor the pact, to save Falcon's Hollow." Simon reaches for a drink from his mug, but his hands shake too badly to grip the vessel. Slipping them out of sight beneath the table, Simon gulps nervously, "Maybe we could ask Yerstyl? Maybe he wants to spend some time with his Fey relatives?"
TWIG:
'Breathe not the dust
of an old black tree
or it will root
inside of thee'
Rising up on his hind legs, he continues:
"Sink it beneath it's aged foe
the wat'ry waves or feel the woe
Shun the waste, or it will too
grow and grow inside of you."
Finally, he stops his dancing and his playing, saying simply
"Return it to your forest friends
and say the prayer to make amends
And once a life, bring also too
The pact, the bargain, one of you."
SIMON:
"Little Twig, what is the prayer
that we must sing into the air?
And the bargained life to follow
will they return to Falcon's Hollow?
Do we bring these things to you
or do the Fey have another venue?"
TWIG:
"Not to me, nor even near,
but into the Darkest Forest Dear.
The goddess queen could tell you more
if you bow on the forest floor"
Twigzystril grows more and more somber, and the music picks up again, a deep slow pull that seems too full for one so small.
"To the Hollow, return again
and warn them of their likely sin
hopefully the folk will hear
and pay heed to their future seer."
"But should they not, in word or deed
harken to the proffered seed
then trouble more than dust they'll find
we'll take the fruit and leave the rind."
This last thing seems to make the little grig more sad than he can stand. The stars dim, the music fades, and he grows nearly transparent, until only his voice can be heard.
"The gift must come of his own accord
not trussed and bundled like a wooden cord.
Returned the first, we did this time
but heed the warning, heed the rhyme.
to err again, you can ill afford."
"Oh I agree, the participant must be willing. And excuse me Simon, but your mind may be willing - and honor to you for the desire! - but your flesh seems to tell another story. I think we need to find someone who is truly ready to join the fey for maybe a lifetime!"
Othoe sips his drink with steady hand. I'd not sacrifice myself for this village so easily, but then Simon has lived here all his life...