"I agree", Joreld nods. "And I'm certain owning a golem does differentiate you from your neighbors."
Having a sense of the direction of the two travelers, at least-- all he feels he can afford to gather right now, anyway-- Pick-the-eagle flicks a wing and starts to circle back. He commits to memory the faces and descriptions of the men, at any rate. This will also go in another letter to Dagger Falls. He hopes they are arriving safely there.
The dwarf-bird does not know if the bat will keep pursuing, but at any rate, he cannot afford to get too far from the others. This group business is... complicated, he thinks.
By the time he wings his way back to the farmhouse, the only person visible outside is Veil. The eagle swoops down to land near to Samara after a visual scan to be sure there are no new observers. Settling onto a rooftop or similar surface near to Samara, the bird lets out a soft small cry to apprise her of its presence, though Pick does not resume his own shape just yet. He likes wings. He always hates the moment of giving them up.
Sensing the conversation has run its course, and not having the tact to prod further, Ialia finishes her coffee and thanks Korwen for breakfast.
"Perhaps we'll meet again, friend."
She's far more interested in catching up with Basil and learning where the cloaked visitors have gone.
"So what is the golem's duties, exactly?" Joreld counters.
"The pleasure's mine, Ialia," Korwen replies, starting to clear away the dirty plates. "You're welcome back any time." He glances out of the window as the sun crests a nearby hillock. "As it is the younglings will be here to start work soon enough."
The farmer turns to face Joreld, standing radiant with his flowing red hair. "Fairly straightforward ones, Lord Huntsilver: to protect me and to guard my property and valuables. I have a weapon too, of course, but I daresay I'd be no match for your skill with that sword of yours, for example."
Thanking the farmer for his hospitality, you head back out and follow the path a little way north, away from the village and in the direction of Korwen's earlier visitors. Samara waves the trio over from behind an empty animal shelter. The closest creatures, sheep, are all away grazing in the early morning light on the far side of the field. Which is just as well given a magnificent eagle is sat perched atop it, surveying the land.
I wonder what Basil has learned, muses Ialia.
Basil continues to tail the two riders as they head northeast. His link with his mistress is getting faint as he reaches the limits of their special bond of communication and asks her whether he should continue to pursue them and report back later or to return to the farm.
Ialia emotes for Basil to stay on task, a simple instruction understood through years of familiarity.
"Well", the paladin says as he stands up. "We must be off. Much to do before sunset. Thank you, Korwen for you hospitality."
Ialia emotes for Basil to stay on task, a simple instruction understood through years of familiarity.
To the group that soke with the farmer, her question is simple. "What learn from him?"
Calen lets out a low breath through his nose, scratches at his stubble, and shrugs.
"Not much to speak of, truth be told. Kor’s a friendly sort, full of hot tea and not much else. Claims he don’t know a Glanwyn, says those two fellas were just passin’ through, chattin’ about spring plantin’ and the like. Nothin’ stuck to the ribs, if you catch my meanin’."
He casts a glance toward the direction Basil flew off and where Pick last wandered.
"Reckon we’re hopin’ Pick or Basil got more outta those cloaked strangers than we did outta Kor. Man might be honest, might just be real practiced at soundin’ like he is."
He crosses his arms and leans back on one heel, still watchin’ the house.
"Either way, I ain't sold on the idea this patch of land is as plain as it looks."
"He lies. Heard talk at window. No speak of plantings, just gibber. Who visit at dawn?" Samara wrinkles her nose. This carcass stinks from the head down. "You get no names?"
The "magnificent eagle" on the roof of the animal shed watches the conversation between the others for a moment or two, wishing not for the first time that he had the gift of talking without having to become a humanoid again for the doing of it. Ah well. With a hop and a flutter, the bird drops down to the earth with the rest of the group, and then there is a blurring and twisting until the familiar form of Pick is back again. He staggers a bit, his sense of balance always taking a bit of a hit with the readjustment, and uses the wall to steady himself until muscle memory resumes.
"The two heading for the river Tesh. A ford. East of White Chalk Hollow," he grunts. "Unless they changed paths later."
The dwarf rolls his neck and flexes his fingers, trying to shake the phantom sensation of feathers.
"The magic to make him like you. How long does it last?"
"Tuhrell and Marn," Ialia answers. Then to Pick: "A few more hours."
His instructions from his mistress clear, Basil continues to shadow the two horsemen as the wind their way north. After a few miles they approach a river of not insubstantial size flowing west to east. The two men clearly know the lay of the land as they make for a ford and the horses are able to wade across to the opposite bank. After navigating some gently sloping low hills, the undulating landscape for which the Dales are both famed and named, for a few more miles they cross a trail.
By the time the sun is at its zenith they are in the shadow of an enormous forest, stretching in all directions as far as the bat can see. With nowhere obvious to go other than into the wood, he assumes their destination must be within. This is confirmed as, after they break in a lightly logged area on the outskirts of the forest, they head inside. The wood quickly looks to grow thick, a mix of pines and deciduous trees and choked with vines and shrubs. The light that breaks through the tree cover is sporadic and does little to lift the gloom, adding to the feeling that this is not a welcoming place.
Basil gets the strong sense that to venture further after this pair would be unwise. Despite its mistress's desires, the bat turns back. It's very tired anyhow, and the sun is hot and blinding.
Maintaining a bat’s eye view of them from above becomes rapidly impossible in the dense forest so Basil would have to drop down lower to fly beneath the treetops. Erring on the side of caution, and having tracked the riders as far as he safely can, Basil decides to call it a day and return to Ialia.
Unfortunately it's much easier to follow riders than it is to retrace his path. A creature of the night, the bat struggles with the bright daylight and the hours of flight. There aren't a lot of villages or other landmarks and the river in the distance stretches as far as he can see. He sets off in what he thinks is the right direction but when it comes to crossing the River Tesh he's no longer convinced. It takes a couple of hours longer than it should have done but, exhausted, he finally nears Goldfields and reaches out to his mistress to locate her. When they are reunited he relays his trip and where the two travellers went. Given the direction Basil travelled and the time he was gone, there’s only one forest that the riders could possibly have travelled to: the Border Forest.
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"This ain’t no common wood, I’ll tell you that much." He glances over his shoulder at the others. "Forest here’s old… got that heavy kind of hush to it. Ground’s too soft in places, like it don’t get full sun. Moss growin’ on the wrong side of some trees, and I’m seein’ three kinds o’ mushrooms that shouldn’t be sproutin’ this close together unless the soil’s been disturbed, or somethin’s leakin’ out here it shouldn’t."
He stands, eyes narrowing as he scans deeper into the woods.
"Strangers headed this way, and they weren’t strollin’—they picked up the pace once they hit cover. I’m gonna see if I can follow their trail. Maybe they didn’t count on someone with a bit of a nose for the wild."
With that, Calen adjusts his gear, gives Lunaris a sharp whistle, and slips into the trees, eyes to the ground and hand near his weapon.
Happy for Calen's keen eye for the trail, Ialia follows him into the wood, staying alert to danger as best she can.
Joreld keeps pace with the others as they seek Basil and his quarry
After hearing the essence of the discussion, Pick's brow furrows and he lowers his chin to his chest a moment.
"Few hours," he echoes Ialia, scratching at his beard. "He maybe problem, then? Maybe he goes.... report, afterwards. Or do something else. Maybe chance to follow him too. But then, cannot follow Tuhrell and Marn, maybe..."
He squints up at the sky. "They are on horse. I know part of where they are going. Some could go now, others catch up? I can send bird to you, with message, maybe."
”Send message to Morn: Names, describings. They go Border Forest, maybe Dagger Falls.”