Fiona makes no complaint about the food, working her way through the dishes in an efficient, methodical way that indicates neither approval nor distaste. When she's finished, she stacks her dishes carefully enough and reaches down to her belt pouch, producing a silver piece which she proceeds to rub between her gloved fingers thoughtfully.
Finally she gives a small shrug, sets it on the table, and stands up, glancing around at the others to see whether they're finished.
The man stops and his eyes narrow at the question. He doesn't answer right away, as if he's trying to figure out why Sahar asked it first, then finally growls, "Up looking for orcs all night. Thanks for that," before completing his trip to the kitchen.
Sahar narrowly watches Norfin's back until it disappears, then pushes her plate away and tugs on a chain around her neck to extract the angelic anhk from beneath her tunic. "I believe we need information. I will be some minutes. Leave me here if you must go; I will catch up." Holding her holy symbol in both hands, she closes her eyes and spends some minutes alternating between silent meditation and soft prayers in the lilting Qadiran of her homeland.
"I tried anyway," Costin says to Fiona, in reference to his attempt to sway the attitude of the landlady.
To Sahar, he adds, "The Harrow can tell me a great deal. If we have a question that needs answering, perhaps I could consult them."
Eloen is quiet as she works slowly on the un-appetizing breakfast. She listens closely to the comments of the rest of the team, though given her recent arrival she has little to add to the conversation.
To Sahar, he adds, "The Harrow can tell me a great deal. If we have a question that needs answering, perhaps I could consult them."
At this, Merlan pops his head back up.
"YOU do Harrow-readings? Well now, THAT is interesting!"
Merlan then proceeds to pepper Costin (between bites of breakfast) with what at first seems to be the usual inane questions the harrower gets when people find out his gifts. But it swiftly dawns on Costin that only the halfling's personality is inane. His questions regarding harrowing are actually slyly insightful.
About three-quarters the way through a decent, if cold, breakfast, the door opens with a party of tired-looking men, all of them carrying well-made hunting bows, and a mix of melee weapons - mostly forks and picks probably adapted from farming gear. They stop at the sight of you, and you hear whispers until a young voice you recognize, dripping with frustration, growls, "Don't be daft."
Byrn pushes forward, "They came here to help us. Unless you're suggesting Lastwall's thrown in with the orcs that they're fighting tooth and nail for survival. Even Norfin's smarter than that, and that's saying something. Sit. Eat. "
The expressions on faces change after that. The larger number - certainly more than half, start to look a little embarrassed, it's clear that Byrn's words have landed -- and a few of these even throw you small waves as they head to their tables. There is, however, a small core that doesn't react the same way, their faces bunching up - whether it's pride at being called out, anger, or something else is hard to tell, but they do not become at all welcoming, even if they do take their seats at tables - as far from you as possible.
Sandy eats the breakfast with some consternation upon his face; "We have to do something....something to try and get people on our side. That should also draw out the person bad mouthing us, if we can find who tries to subvert our activities..."
He pauses not knowing what the grand gesture should be; "I ain't good at speaking or befriending people, but we need to try - I think. Our actions can always be mischaracterised, especially by a cunning dingbat..... and more so if it's about violence."
" So I think we need to try something small or large to try and make friends - then use resources at our hand to see if someone bad mouths us."
"Perhaps there is something that the villagers need - some threat or something that we could address to gain some goodwill. Has anyone heard anything of that sort?" Costin asks, building on Sandy's suggestion.
Fiona just—barely—refrains from rolling her eyes. She does not lower her voice as she replies in an exaggeratedly "curious" tone, "A threat? You mean like the marauding orcs that've been killing their kin and burning down their farms? The ones we've been killing out there in the middle of the night while they're all warm and snug and clueless in their beds? That kind of threat?"
She pauses, shaking her head, then throws a glance at the rest of the villagers and finally lowers her voice to a soft yet businesslike rumble. "We're not here to make friends or get thanked. We've got a job to do, and if they don't like it, too bad."
Standing from the table, she nods once in a respectful farewell to Bryn and heads outside, stopping on the porch to look out at the town and breathe deeply.
Sandy watches her sadly go; "That's where she's wrong. We are here to make friends and get thanked...to be a symbol. We are no better than any of these villagers and that's what we have to make them see. That they can be heroes, be proud, defend their families and be happy."
Eloen swallows part of her bland soup and says, "In my experience, local problems that aren't solved tend to become... bigger problems."
Merlan strokes his chin thoughtfully. He addresses his companions in a soft voice. (Also more thoughtful than his usual blustery banter)
"We have 'bigger fish to fry' I believe is the correct euphemism?" The halflings says pointedly.
"Although I feel fairly confident that they are all related. The, clue, we found told us that much."
The halfling gapes like a fish for a moment, clearly wanting to say more, but well aware of Sahar's earlier warning about being careful what they said til the talked to the town leaders.
"ANYway. No reason we can't work on both problems at once, right? Since they are related." He adds cheerfully, taking a bite of only slightly stale bread and chewing it enthusiastically.
Taran emerges from the rear to start serving the others, catching only the last bit of Fiona's comment, and rolls her eyes as the room begins to grumble ... a grumbling that seems to spread from table to table, save the one where Byrn seems to be suddenly caught up in a passionate discussion.
--in the Abyss does she think she is? Been up all night looking for orcs while Her Ladyship and the other Wallers were asleep in their soft beds--
--what farms? Trust a Waller to be making herself sound all important while we're stuck here dealing with the crap they leave behind--
--loaded down with Orc gear -- sure, maybe, not in league, but the 'talons are going to be looking for blood--
--upsetting the balance, been three sightings in the two days they been here---
---fake outrage, to cast off suspicion--- And now, one of them's missing, maybe they did her, too, like that cat --
--I heard Partel and his boys found the gnome's entrails in some sort of circle--
Taran stops and shakes her head, discomfort on her face as she says, "Folks, folks, be reasonable. Surely the Waller Paladins wouldn't be sending us folks who dabble in the dark arts. I'm sure their friend will be down shortly. There's no need to mess about with these ugly rumours."
She takes a breath and adds, "Sure, these were asleep in their rooms while you were out looking for the orcs, but, let's be fair. We didn't ask them to join the patrols... They were off doing whatever it is they're here for, instead. I'm sure Rickan had an excellent reason for whatever that was."
She turns and smiles at you, walking toward your table, "And, so, did you need anything else this morning?"
"Well, I'm new here, just arrived; I'd like to know what it is that has people circulating these kinds of ugly rumors about someone they've never met, namely me," says Eloen. "I spent the balance of yesterday disarming a series of harrowing traps that had been left at a cabin in the woods, which would've taken the legs off of any unfortunate person who wandered nearby."
The dwarf shrugs, "I'm thinking, friend, it's likely a bit of guilt by association. Can't imagine it's directed at you, just that you're being splashed. Like standing too close when someone gets hit by a rotten tomato.... or a flask of alchemist's fire, to put it in adventurer's terms."
"Well," says Eloen to the dwarf, "what do folks around here want? What are they expecting? What's bothering them and why do they think that these travelers are at fault? Something isn't being communicated."
Sahar ceases her prayer, touches the ankh reverently to her forehead, then straightens up, tucking the holy symbol away. She looks around the table at her breakfast companions."Did I miss anything?"
Scanning the room, she listens to the grumbles for a moment, then rises from her seat. "If you will excuse me for a minute," she tells her remaining companions, then walks calmly to the table where Bryn is in discussion.
"Good morning," she bids the stablemaster and smith, extending the greeting to the rest of the table with a glance and nod. "It sounds like you folk had a busy night. What happened to raise the alarm? Was anyone attacked?"
Taran shrugs, "They want to live their lives in peace, as they have for generations since the Wallers abandoned 'em. This lot are agents of those same Lordlings that did that - and they think they're upsetting the balance that keeps 'em all alive."
She shrugs again, "And, honestly, I've not been here as long as them, so I can't say they're wrong... Just something to keep in mind."
She sighs, then heads back to the kitchen, shouting, "Norfin, let's go. There's a room full of hungries who've been up all night."
Bryn nods, shaking his head a little like he was punch-drunk, "I think Daven let you know about the sighting of a patrol? Well, we spent a few hours wandering to try to confirm -- and caught a second sighting just before nightfall. Not sure it was the same one, though, we found tracks for at least four different groups..." He holds up a hand to stifle a yawn, "Sorry. One of 'em had a large wolf or warg. Anyhow, about an hour after dark we found a group of dead, stripped and partially eaten orcs... And we were just getting the beginning of the light when we caught their trail... managed to catch them just as the sun came up, and between the light and skilled hunters, we were able to take them down... though the wolf fled."
He shrugs, "There were no other sightings, so we're assuming the others were just crossing through... and, what's more, we need to sleep."
Sahar nods. "Was anyone hurt? And where did you find them?"
Bryn shakes his head, "Yacor was grazed by a javelin, nothing serious. Took them from range when the sun was affecting them. Only one of them had a bow, so we shot him first, then the others as they rushed forward to engage. The one that got close enough to throw at Yacor was less affected by the sun, thought he might have mixed blood."
He shrugs, "We took Yacor to old Endzela just in case... wasn't much of a detour, we were less than a half a mile away from her boy's farm when we jumped them."
Sahar frowns. "Do you think the wound is clean? We ran into a poisoner. It was nasty. And we lost one... well, I should let her replacement tell it. We have a couple of new folks. Would you like to meet them, or should it wait for when you've gotten some sleep?"
Bryn shrugs, "Didn't seem poisoned, but orcish javelins aren't necessarily clean. Plus, good to make sure it's not actually worse than it looks, might have chipped a bone or something."
He says, "Stop by the livery this afternoon after I've had a few hours, I'll meet your new friends then."
Eloen watches Sahar's discussion from some distance as she finishes her breakfast, her large eyes occasionally wandering to the other villagers.
The villagers seem pleased to eat, many of them are obviously slumped in their seats. At one point, Norfin emerges from the kitchen, a smug grin on his face, but a sharp shout in Dwarven in the kitchen stops him, causing the grin to slip as he returns to the back.
The rest of breakfast passes uneventfully.
Sahar rises from her seat near Bryn, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Sleep well. We'll see you later."
She stops by the party table but doesn't sit. "I'm going to the stable to check on our animals... and Fiona. See you all there when you are finished." Fixing Merlan with a stern gaze, she mimics twisting a key over her lips, as if to lock her mouth. "That goes for you, too, Mister," she warns Squeaky, then, with a wink at Costin and Eloen, she leaves the dining room.
Instead of leaving the building, though, she seeks out Taran. "I'd like to pay for the orc hunters' breakfasts today. They did good work last night. I have coin now, or add it to my tab... whatever suits you, Mistress Taran."
Taran blinks at the offer, genuinely surprised, then shakes her head, and says softly, "No, no need. We all chip in when these things happen, and I've not lifted a blade in 30 years, save to cut an onion. This... this is how I help."
She sighs, then adds, "..all the more reason you lot need to go before you make things worse." She holds up a hand and says, "I'm not blaming you for being here, it's just... nobody's thinking about the longer term. Which is exactly what they'll say about me, I've no doubt, but...", she shrugs again, then shakes her head, "It's not your debate...and, ultimately, not your home. We'll manage, whatever comes. I just hope we find a way to do it that doesn't end up with everyone coming from a ruined farmstead that was burned to the ground, like Rickan's wife.... or orphaned, like his half-elven foundling."
She stops by the party table but doesn't sit. "I'm going to the stable to check on our animals... and Fiona. See you all there when you are finished." Fixing Merlan with a stern gaze, she mimics twisting a key over her lips, as if to lock her mouth. "That goes for you, too, Mister," she warns Squeaky, then, with a wink at Costin and Eloen, she leaves the dining room.
It's hard to tell whose eyes are wider in surprise, Merlan or his little friend on top of his hat.
"Wha? But, You, I, We,..." At Sahar's look the halfling clamps his mouth shut reminiscent of the traps at the farmhouse the previous day.
(Your pretty sure you can see his tongue moving behind his lips. And you can almost hear him. Almost.)
Taran blinks at the offer, genuinely surprised, then shakes her head, and says softly, "No, no need. We all chip in when these things happen, and I've not lifted a blade in 30 years, save to cut an onion. This... this is how I help."
She sighs, then adds, "..all the more reason you lot need to go before you make things worse." She holds up a hand and says, "I'm not blaming you for being here, it's just... nobody's thinking about the longer term. Which is exactly what they'll say about me, I've no doubt, but...", she shrugs again, then shakes her head, "It's not your debate...and, ultimately, not your home. We'll manage, whatever comes. I just hope we find a way to do it that doesn't end up with everyone coming from a ruined farmstead that was burned to the ground, like Rickan's wife.... or orphaned, like his half-elven foundling."
So Daven is Rickan's protégé? Sahar nods her understanding and appreciation of the woman's efforts. "That is well done, Taran. We will do likewise and wrap up our tasks here as quickly as we can. In the meantime, may I take a bowl of food up to Xia? She was badly injured yesterday and should stay abed to heal, but she needs to eat." She smiles suddenly. "I suppose I should tell Daven so he can pick her wildflowers."
As Sahar goes about her business, Costin looks back to the others. "Perhaps, if we've all finished here, we should see to our gear, rather than darken this common room any longer." He looks warily at the other patrons, and it is clear "seeing to our gear" is just a pretext for not sitting in this room any longer.
Merlan nods absentmindedly as he chews his food. His hand reaching for yet another tidbit to stuff in his mouth.
Taran says, softly, "All I have at the moment is the egg stew. Let me ladle you a bowl... and I think I've got a half-loaf I can give you, too."
Norfin comes into the room, clearly surprised to see Sahar - and even more to see Taran giving her a warm bowl of food, "What are--", he starts to ask before Taran says sharply, "Drž hubu. Musíme hrát hezky, pamatuješ? Přiveďte solené vepřové maso a držte se stranou.", and he shuts his mouth with a snap, even as his cheeks flush. A moment later, she repeats herself, "Solené vepřové maso. Z cesty. Nyní!"[b], and he sighs loudly before turning on his heel and heading back to the cellar.
[b]"Shut up. We have to play nice, remember? Go fetch a salt pork and stay out of the way."
"Salt pork. Out of the way. Now!"
"Shut up. We have to play nicely, remember? Go fetch a side of salt pork and get out of the way."
"Salt pork. Out of the way. Now!"
"My thanks. I'm sure Xia will be grateful, too," Sahar focuses on picking up the bowl and bread and bearing them carefully from the kitchen.
She does, in fact, take the food to Xia and lets the invalid know that they will be around the village that day.
Then it's off to the stables to see Sharisa and check their mounts, as well as find Fiona. "We have much to discuss, later, with Rickan and Hamish."
Fiona nods. "And among ourselves, as well... seems like Costin wants to join us, which isn't a decision any one of us should make."
Sahar thinks for a moment as she feeds Sharisa an apple and strokes her nose. "What conversation do you think is more important or urgent to keep confidential - the one with just us, or the one with Rickan and Hamish?"
"Rickan and Hamish know more about what's going on here. And are best able to advise us as the situation,... develops." Merlan pipes up from the other side of his fuzzy riding friend. The tip of hit purple hat and the head of Squeaks can be seen bobbing around as the wizard takes care of his ride and equipment.
The other woman shrugs. "I'm not sure why it matters, but probably the one with Rickan and Hamish. If we don't think we can trust Costin not to eavesdrop, there shouldn't even be any talk of his joining us."
"I'm not worried about Costin. It's somebody who has been in the village that is the problem, whether large and visible or tiny, fast, and invisible." Sahar nods primly.
"Before the meeting, we could make some goodwill gestures. A couple of us could spell Daven for the morning so he can rest. Another person and I could ride out to the farm to be sure the injured man is not poisoned or ill. We also have Xia to worry about. I took her breakfast, but she is not well. How can we be sure she is not attacked in her very bed while the rest of us are gone?"
Sahar turns to her two companions, who have remained silent, hands on her hips.
"Part of our mission is to win goodwill for Firrine, remember? Taran refused my offer to buy the orc fighters breakfast. We can at least be of obvious service to the town, since they can't see what we actually have been doing for them."
After seeing to his gear, Costin goes in search of the others. He is uneasy and uncertain in this place - tasked with a promise to a dying man, following a party with its own mission, and uncertain what is going to happen next.
He leaves the inn and looks for the others, checking the stables first based on what they said as they were departing. He looks about a bit awkwardly. "I thought I might find you all here. Will we be around the village today? Is there anything I can do to help?"
Fiona sighs, one gloved hand reaching up to rub her brow. Costin enters as she opens her mouth to respond; she shifts on her hay bale seat and glances over at him with the barest hint of a frown, then turns back to Sahar. "You're right, of course. I'm not used to that being part of my orders, but by the gods you're right. The silver I left should pay for their breakfast and some, but for all the orcs we've killed, we aren't making a lick of progress on this part of the mission."
Her tone carries some frustration, as though she's not used to such 'diplomatic' missions. Of course that's our goal here... how could I forget that? Have I been too distracted mourning the Hands? Disgraceful. I'd put myself on jacks duty if we had them...
She frowns and gives a small shake of her head. "Let's talk to Rickan about it. Maybe we should camp outside town, and we should probably be volunteering for watch duty... and any other duties the townsfolk are sharing. It's likely to be a rough time with little sleep for any of us. We should probably also send Xia back to Firrine — if we can spare someone to accompany her."
Standing, the tall warrior stretches and brushes hay from her clothing. Looking up, she adds, "Maybe the townsfolk need weaponry and training in using it; we've got almost more orc-weapons than we can carry, anyway."
"I was thinking that today, with the orc hunters needing sleep, we could take watch around the village, let them rest peacefully. Bryn said the farm where they left their wounded man was close to the battle site. We could ride out there, check on the wounded, and try to get information from the signs left there." She bites her lip a moment. "For us to be seen helping around town, it would be best if we split up into two or three groups. That's dangerous if we run into trouble. But if we're sticking near town, how dangerous could it be?"
But if we're sticking near town, how dangerous could it be?
Fiona nods. "Alright then; Sahar, why don't you and Costin go check on the wounded man. Eloen, could you and Lysander find out what else we can help with around town this morning? I'll meet up with you shortly; I have... something that needs doing."
Awaiting only the others' assent, Fiona hefts her gear and departs the stable.
Sahar nods, and begins saddling Sharisa. "As soon as you get your horse..." she begins saying to Costin, before stopping in bafflement.
"You don't have a horse, that's right. I guess we could... walk? Or maybe use Sandy's, if he and Eloen are going to stay in town." She looks quizzically at Lysander for permission to use his mount.
The idea of walking to the farm seems as unappealing to the warpriest as walking back to Qadira.
"I suppose if all else fails, you can ride one of our oxen."
Fiona pauses at the door. "You can ride mine," she offers. "Just bring him back, that's an expensive piece of horseflesh."
Sahar beams at Fiona. "Thank you! What is his name?"
She wrangles both horses into their tack if Costin doesn't step up to saddle Fiona's mount, not wanting to make the man uncomfortable.
"We will meet with Rickan and Hamish at lunch, then we can ask if they know where Freedom City is, and how long a trip it might be. If it is near Firrine, perhaps we can return Xia to Lastwall and make a detour to the druid."
She continues chatting with Costin as they ask directions for Enzelda's boy's farm and head out.
"Hasn't earned a name yet," replies the warrior off-handedly. "If you aren't back, want us to delay the meeting with Rickan, or go ahead without you?"
"I need to be there." Sahar gives Fiona a significant look. "We will be back in time unless we are in trouble. Do not say anything critical aloud until I get there."