PBEM Orlantia

The Story So Far
Chapter 014

PBEM Orlantia: First Watch.

The discussions went on into the night, each who had something to say making their mind known to their newly acquired comrades. Some details were left for the nonce since it was getting late - they could be filled in later, assuming they still had time.

The morning would bring them to Hooktar and the Toreador River, which in turn would bring them closer to the parish of Wrath. For now, it grew late, and another good night's sleep would be helpful to those whose muscles were still unaccustomed to hiking a couple dozen miles a day.

Watches were set - one could never be too careful, and with the fire inside the pavilion it was good idea, anyway - not just to make sure the canvas didn't accidentally set alight, but also the fact the fire illuminated the pavilion and made it stand out in the night.

From outside the tent it looked like a glowing wall from a distance. This wasn't bad, mind you, for a fire in the open reached even further into the darkness than one behind a thick, waterproof canvas, so they were perhaps drawing less unwanted attention that way. Nevertheless, it wasn't exactly inconspicuous either; even blocked and partially shielded as it was, the fire might draw unwanted visitors. But they needed a campfire, so this price was paid.

Cosher and Valin paired up for the first watch.

Conventional wisdom decreed pairs on each of the three watches - and no one disagreed when Cosher suggested it. Keeping watch aboard ship was a regular duty, and on land out in the open like that, it seemed just as good an idea as on ship, if not an even better one.

Should one sentry be taken out, the other could still act, though their first duty wasn't to their brother guard. Instead, it would always be to warn the sleeping party members before engaging in any combat. To do otherwise might unexpectedly take out the second sentry, as well, leaving the slumbering others to the mercy of any intruders - not that most intruders were particularly known for their mercy, of course, but it could happen - sometimes.

The sea dwarf sat on a nearby rock, looking at the pavilion, watching the silhouettes play against the canvas as the others moved inside the tent. It reminded him of the shadow dancers he had seen in Alodar during a layover a couple years back.

White linen sheets were stretched across a frame where a bright light - magic, they said - was set behind it. In between, young girls danced for the fascination of the tavern's patrons - and you could tell they weren't wearing much, those dancers. Though you couldn't actually see them, the detail relayed by a mere shadow was quite remarkable, even mesmerizing, while the bards sang and played, and the drinks, oh yes, the drinks, never stopped, as long as you had coins in your pocket.

Cosh and his mates hadn't been there for more than a few hours before they discovered how short of cash they were becoming, so they had to retire early. Yes, they complained a bit about the high prices on the way back to their ship, but truth be told, they got their money's worth for memories more often thought back on than many others.

The dwarf smiled to himself whenever he thought back on it. Oh, he had seen more explicit, cruder places - the Alodarian Empire was a rather sexually open and permissive culture - but none of them had pleased him as much as the shadow dancers as they pranced about and twirled to the music behind the sheet. He had even written a song inspired by them - sort of - about how the imagination and dreams were often better than the real thing - or so one who paid attention to his lyrics might glean. He began softly humming it, letting his mind drift, though his eyes remained open and alert.

The penalty aboard ship for falling asleep on watch wasn't pretty. Half a dozen licks of the cat usually gave the crew - always ordered to watch such punishment - more than enough incentive to stay awake when it came their turn to stand watch. Thankfully, there was always some younker who soon paid the price early each voyage, thus giving the remaining crew that badly needed lesson or reminder, thereby saving many a back from the cat.

That's when Cosher learned many such punishments were done not to actually punish the offender, but to smarten the crew up for the good of everybody. What's a few lashes laid to one bare back compared to a dagger 'cross the throats of many, or a whole ship set ablaze before a fire could be quelled, after all?

'They'll scratch his back for sure, come morning, certain they have enough room to swing a cat. Make an example of 'im, they will,' they'd say, should an officer ever catch a sleeping guard.

Cosh didn't think he'd ever fall asleep on watch duty after the first time he'd seen that, and so far, he never had. And so he watched over the camp, for the dwarf knew the good of it, and he knew it well. It surprised him, just then, to realize how well he knew it when he thought to himself if he ever caught a guard dozing away, he'd want to whip them, too. He knew the importance of it, and finally, yes, how doing it could save more pain and suffering than not doing it, or sparing the foolish guard his just due. Not many below an officer's rank fully grasped that, but Cosher knew that he understood it now. Perhaps being a responsible part of the group finally crystallized the thoughts for him. He wasn't sure. He just knew when he was on watch, that the others could rest assured he was at his post - or dead.

Nearly three hours later, just before second watch, Cosher was wondering which two to wake. Valin was near, so he asked, "Who should take the next watch?"

The roguish cleric of Hermes pondered the question for a moment and was about to answer, when a snarling sound broke the silence of the camp.

"Grrrrrreeeeeow Rrrrrooooooouuughh Wooooofff," came the guttural snarling from behind the pavilion. Paired up, each temporarily on the same side of the tent, neither could see the source of the commotion.

"Get'em oop, man!" Cosh bellowed to Valin while drawing his sliobhann. Quickly, the dwarf ran around the pavilion, ready to meet the challenge he had been waiting for.

Valin disappeared into the tent, shouting, "Get Up! Everybody, Up! There's something out there!" he told everyone excitedly. He was a bit mystified at how quickly his comrades were not only to their feet, but were holding weapons and moving toward the entrance. In fact, he had to follow 'them' out!

Sef was in the lead, just ahead of Afyanna, the others close behind this pair, all of them rounding the corner and making ready their weapons and spells before a full 30 seconds had passed. Those in the rear didn't look ahead, but wisely peered into the night at their flanks and even behind them first. They would have to do that before the vanguard needed their consideration. Mystir held aloft the brand he had snatched from the fire on the way out, but he could see nothing out there. Sef and Afy, however, at point, looked forward, ready to meet the danger.

Before them, some distance into the darkness, a couple animals appeared to be struggling, locked in some life or death mortal combat. Sef nocked an arrow and drew back, though he wasn't sure what the target was, so he waited - ready to let it fly.

"Noooooooooo!" Bebe screamed, the gnomish voice shrilly piercing the night. The high-pitched wail alone almost made Sef loose the arrow, but he managed to hang on to it.

Just in time, too, for Sef finally saw one of the animals was Brambles when Mystir held up the firebrand.

The she wolf was tearing the other beast to pieces, Bebe's friend seemingly getting the best of the other creature. In fact, she might have already won - for whatever it was, it appeared lifeless, maybe dead, or at least unconscious. Still, the wolf continued to tear away at the poor thing, growling, almost with a hatred unleashed upon a long forgotten enemy.

"Brambles! Stop that!" shouted Bebe. "Come here," she said. Brambles leapt up and back about six feet before happily bounding over to her mistress, quite pleased at her victory.

Sef looked at her; she seemed uninjured for there was no trace of blood on her coat. He would have expected some - if not hers, then her opponent's. Her fur was clean. Curious, he ventured forward, dropping his bow and drawing Alonwë as he approached the downed creature, closing the distance and coming within a sword's reach.

Kneeling beside the poor thing, the ranger quickly examined it with some caution. It was only a moment before he at last realized what he was looking at, and that he might now have to share credit with Brambles. Apparently, during the night, the she wolf had taken it upon herself to kill Lefty, too. True, she had a distinct advantage Sefarlain hadn't had awhile back, but she had done considerable damage to his pelt, having torn it in three separate pieces. She must have hated it.

Sef frowned a bit, but resigned himself to the loss of the pelt. It had been pretty smelly, anyway, and it looked like winter had broken for good. It was bound to only get riper as time went on.

"Rest in pieces, Lefty. You were a worthy opponent for us both," he smirked. Looking up, he saw the others had joined him.

"What? Your stinky bear pelt?" Tyrulf said in disgust. "We were woken for this?"

"Aye, but nae matta, for et were time tae change watches anywee," Cosher told him. "And yer next," he added, picking Tyrulf just then since he seemed the most angry.

*If he has tae take a watch now, he'll be less likely to complain aboot bein' roused, so,* Cosher figured. He couldn't say he was needlessly wakened then, could he?

"And you, too, Bebe," Valin said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Since Brambles is up, you might as well join her," he told her with a smile.

That was enough for Mystir to hear before heading back to his bedroll. The others followed suit.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: A Broken Dream.

In his dreams within a storm tossed ship, Tyrulf saw a door open and a silhouette of someone coming through it, but before he could see who it was, he woke abruptly when the shouting started.

Looking up, he saw that it was Valin calling as he came into the tent. Bothvar had said many times that one should always be ready for a fight seconds after a warning call. He had even spent some time making Tyrulf practice and had awakened him in the middle of the night shouting they were under attack for practice. When Tyrulf came out of his room 20 seconds later, ready for battle, he found Bothvar standing there with a big smile on his face.

'Well Tyrulf, I am glad that you have been paying attention. I am sure one day it will save your life, if not someone you are traveling with as well.'

Tyrulf smiled grimly as he hefted his axe. Looking around, he saw that the rest of the group was right with him - as a matter of fact, Afyanna and Sef were both ahead of him.

*Bothvar would be impressed with this group.*

Moving out of the tent, everyone saw two animals fighting, and as he raised his crossbow, Bebe shouted out saying that Brambles was one of the combatants. Things quickly calmed down after that.

Seconds after the fighting stopped, Sef moved forward just to find that it was the smelly bear pelt that had been wearing. Tyrulf thought back to the silhouette of the person on the boat. This was the first time that he remembered seeing another person on the boat in his dreams; usually all he saw was flames and only heard someone screaming his name. Tyrulf felt robbed. Perhaps he was just about to learn something about his past if it weren't for this ridicules 'fight.' He had been searching for so many years and this renegade memory was just taken away from him.

"What? Your stinky bear pelt?" Tyrulf said in disgust. "We were woken for this?"

Tyrulf realized he was being harsh, but couldn't help himself. The dream was a new one. At least he never remembered it before.

*I shouldn't think of only myself. It could have been something dangerous. They were right in waking us.*

Just then, Cosher piped up saying that it was Tyrulf's turn for watch anyway. Tyrulf relaxed a bit.

*I probably couldn't get back to sleep anyway.*

Later, during their watch, Bebe kept to herself, as did Tyrulf. He kept going over the dream that was interrupted as the night went on. The watch had no more incidents. Laying down for the rest of the night, his sleep was restless.

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: The Funny Wolf.

Bramble's nighttime adventure made Alana giggle. She had to forcefully suppress the urge, especially when it became clear Tyrulf was not at all pleased to be awoken like that. His grumbles only made matters worse, and for some time one could hear soft noises coming from Alana's direction as she choked back her laughter while most of them went back to sleep again.

Soon, Alan fell into a deep slumber with Lucian curled up beside her.

- Wilma (Alana)

PBEM Orlantia: On To Hooktar.

The remainder of the night passed uneventfully. Breakfast was quick, but packing up the pavilion proved to take longer than expected. With practice, they'd shave time off that later, though. Packing Bopper down with gear, they hit the trail for Hooktar and soon were there.

----------------------------------------

Hooktar was smaller than Fecklar. It was a sleepy village just then, long before the spring trade had begun. Once the rivers thawed, things would be different, but for now things were quiet. Few were on the street, but one or two who were greeted them with some curiosity.

"You all come from Fecklar a'ready?" the stranger asked, scratching his head. Afy nodded in the affirmative. "A might early, ain't it? You ahead of your wagons?" Afy shook her head this time.

"No wagons. We aren't here to trade - we're just travelers heading southwest," she explained.

The man seemed to take this for a good explanation, quite complete and requiring no further investigation - it was too early for trade on the rivers to start, after all - so he answered a few questions about nothing much before directing them to The Yellow Trout, the best tavern in town.

But it was still before noon - though just - and while they might get something to eat, it was hardly time to call it a day. More people began wandering the streets then, now quite muddy since the snow and ice had recently all melted into the earthen roads.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Introspection.

In the morning, Tyrulf was a little introspective as he did his morning rituals. Once again he couldn't feel any new abilities, but he had to keep trying.

Soon the tent and other supplies were packed up and the group headed out. They seemed a little more comfortable with each other, or if not really comfortable, at least more confident. Tyrulf could see it in everyone's eyes.

*I think that last night's little 'fight' showed everybody that when it comes to possible danger, we are all capable of getting ready fast. Seeing everyone ready so fast and working somewhat together gave a little boost to moral. After all, it wasn't like we were bumping into each other.*

Tyrulf plodded along, still thinking about the dream from last night, but resigned himself to wait for it to happen again.

*If I had the dream once, I am sure it will happen again. I wonder why it has taken so long to come to me. Maybe something in our travels has jogged a memory.*

The dwarf continued to ponder this for most of the morning. As the group traveled closer to Hooktar, Tyrulf started to think about the situation that happened the night before more closely.

*What would we have done, exactly?* Tyrulf knew how he, himself, fought, but did not know about the others. *Perhaps we should discuss this. Actually, I am surprised our military minded leader did not discuss this before talking about the spoils of battles yet unseen.*

For the rest of the morning, Tyrulf looked at the various members of the group, trying to think what tactics each would prefer.

At just about noon, the group finally walked into Hooktar. The Yellow Trout Tavern seemed to be about the only choice to get something to eat. After the group ordered, Tyrulf spoke up so that the whole group could hear.

"Afyanna, last night's battle got me thinking, although in this particular instance there was no actual fighting. I'm wondering about future encounters. The other night you spoke of the spoils of battle. While this is certainly a subject to address, perhaps we should also speak of how such battles will be won. Although I certainly do not have the extensive training in battle as you, I would think that it would be better to have some sort of general plan in place. There are several spell casters in the group, as well as a variety of weapons and different skills represented. We may get in each other's way if we don't have some sort of plan ahead of time. Do you have any ideas?"

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: The Yellow Trout

The roads were beginning to fill with people as Sefarlain and the others walked into town, but even so, Hooktar had a lazy quiet feel to it. Each of the group picked their way cautiously through the rutted main street towards the Yellow Trout Tavern. Despite their best efforts to avoid getting dirty, almost all were kicking off clods of mud by the time they reached the steps leading up to the main entrance. A large metal rung sunk into the stone step had been placed for that very purpose, and by the time they entered the inn, Sefarlain's boots at least were mostly free of the sticky earth.

The innkeeper glanced anxiously at the feet of his new guests. The day had been filled by sweeping and washing the stone floor free of endless waves of mud and at least one of his best carpets lay ruined upstairs. At times he wondered if those farmers even knew what a doormat was for. However, by the look of the new guest's footwear they were certainly not farmers. And they had even wiped their feet. He smiled his best innkeeper smile.

"May I help you at all?"

Food was quickly ordered. Beds were arranged. With a few locals occupying their usual seats, the main room of the inn was now comfortably filled and the innkeeper happily bustled behind the bar. He was rapidly forgetting about his carpet.

Afyanna stretched out behind the large wooden table. They had occupied an entire corner of the room with bags, equipment, and bodies. How rapidly and easily this small quest had grown! The group took this opportunity to discuss what Tyrulf had raised while their food was being prepared.

"I think Tyrulf has made an important point," noted Afyanna. "Perhaps we should take a closer look at what we can all offer this cause."

Sefarlain edged his chair nearer to the table and leaned forward. He looked animated now that he could bring his skills to the fore.

"I have been giving this matter some careful thought over the last days. It is going to be difficult to plan very precisely because we have little or no idea what we are up against. However, Tyrulf is right. We should have some form of plan."

He continued, "Those of us with the most experience with weapons seem to be Afyanna, Jahar, Cosher, and myself. We have magical support from Mystir and Tyrulf, and more natural power from Bebe and Alana. I have some experience with druidic circles, so their service to Corellon will be invaluable and not forgotten."

"Perhaps the front line should be Afyanna, Jahar, and myself? I think we have some long-range support from Tyrulf, and I also have a bow, so we have some other options. If Tyrulf is behind the front line, he can offer support before we close for combat. I can do the same, even if one of us is fighting."

Afyanna shot him a worried look.

"Don't worry Afyanna. I won't hit you!" he answered.

"Behind Tyrulf could be Mystir and either Alana or Bebe, with Cosher and Valin covering the rear. Of course, if different skills are needed we will have to change any plans, but at least it's a start. Maybe we can find out a bit more about our foe here as well. What do you think?"

The drinks arrived before anyone could reply, and Cosher grabbed his glass with what looked like considerable relief.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Just The Cider, Please.

When the waitress arrived to take their orders, Afyanna noted her companions' mild surprise when she just ordered a cup of honey cider. They, of course, ordered hearty meals from the kitchen and salivated until the girl eventually returned with them.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Battle Plans

While the group waited for the food to arrive, Sef talked about a battle plan that seemed to make sense. *Obviously, I am not the only one who has been thinking about this,* noted Tyrulf, as he listened intently to Sef explain his plan. Tyrulf looked at each of them as Sef continued. *I am glad I brought this up.* The group seemed to nod almost in unison as Sef finished. The meal, which turned out to be very good, came shortly after and the group stopped to eat.

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: Positions.

The party sat at a table in the corner of the main room, as was becoming their habit. Whether they each felt as she did about being able to see the room or not, the outcome was the same. Usually it was Sef or Afyanna who went through the doors first, but no matter who did, they always found a table in the back.

"That certainly seems like a sound beginning," Afyanna said to Sefarlain as their meals were placed before them. The halfelf reached for her cider while she spoke.

"Truthfully, I'm not nearly as familiar with magic as perhaps I should be." She took a sip from her cup, then continued. "I can't offer any personal insight as to the best position for magic users to take, but what you say seems good to me."

"Fighters and the like meeting the enemy at the front - magic and support behind them. Makes sense as far as I can see." She nodded to Sef, "Good thinking."

"And as for me," Afyanna said, flashing a broad smile, "up front is where I will to be!"

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: A Little Chat

While the others finished their food, the innkeeper cleared up a few of the remaining plates and carried them towards the kitchen. The food had been filling and there were a few groans around the table as people loosened notches on their belts. There was a quiet air of satisfaction inside the room with the warm fire and full stomachs. Taking this opportunity, Sefarlain stood up from the table and followed the innkeeper over to the bar. He leaned on the thick wooden counter and waited for the man to finish with the plates.

The bar itself seemed comfortable and well run. From the wide array of drinks on offer, and the varied menu, Sefarlain guessed that The Yellow Trout dealt with a large portion of the traffic through the village. There was even a dusty bottle of that whiskey Cosher was always talking about. But firstly he had a few inquiries to make. The innkeeper was bound to have heard news from Wrath over the past few months.

The innkeeper was pleased that trade had picked up so briskly that day. It had been a long winter and trade had been very thin on the ground, but hopefully, now the thaw had started, things would be picking up. But this new group of visitors puzzled him. Why was such a strange collection of people sitting together? They didn't look like the usual traders or merchants transporting goods through Hooktar. And they didn't really look like some of those 'mercenaries' they hired to guard the freight, either. No, he might have to do a little questioning there. And the elf looked like a good place to start.

He was more than a little taken aback by the elf's first question.

"I was hoping you might be able to help us. We are tracking a murderer."

The innkeeper had barely finished pouring a cider and this elf was talking about murder! In his bar. Not some slop house, mind. The innkeeper frowned slightly and motioned Sefarlain towards him. The last thing he needed was outlaw types in his tavern.

"Do you mind, sir? This is a nice, respectable establishment. No talk of murder here."

To his credit, the elf looked abashed at his mistake. Perhaps he wasn't as uncouth as the innkeeper had thought.

"I didn't mean any offense, sir," Sefarlain replied, "but it is a matter of great urgency. Forgive me if I have caused offense. Do you know who I should speak to regarding such matters?"

The innkeeper glanced around the bar. At least no one seemed to have heard the conversation so far. Not even some of the farmers, with ears bigger than their purses. They remained hunched over their beers, complaining about the recent weather. The innkeeper placed the drink on the bar and looked hard at Sefarlain before answering.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Bessermen

Bessermen breathed a sigh of relief when the elf didn't get all up in his face at his 'request' to back off the subject of murder. Such talk coming from well-armed strangers might unnerve anyone, and it was hardly conducive to good business and a happy atmosphere. There were even children there, which was not uncommon for a noon time rush, though considerably less so for an evening crowd when parents knew enough to keep their young'ens home or in bed.

For now, the best course of action would be to steer the group out and toward the sheriff. They had, after all, already paid for their meals, their drinks, and even secured a couple rooms for later that evening. While his girls quickly prepared rooms for later that evening, Bessermen mentally recounted the windfall from the travelers who had been ahead of schedule for the opening of that year's trade.

*Forty silver each for two rooms, and an average of ten silver for each person there in drinks and food and minor provisions they are stuffing in their packs. That's 1 GP, and 7, gross,* he calculated.

The Common tongue, a trade language, worked well with money or barter. For 1 GP and 7, or any other handy numbers, the next coin was not explicitly named since the next in value was implied. In this case, the 7 meant 7 EP since the first coin was in gold, and electrum followed gold in value. Normally, however, most people lived in the realm of silver and copper, and no mention of any names at all then implied silver, then copper, such a 3 and 6 would mean 3 SP and 6 CP. Bessermen smiled slightly when a sale came up to gold's level.

Thanks to the strangers, 1 GP and 7 might work out to nearly 7 EP clear profit he hadn't been expecting this soon, and they were yet to pay for the evening meal, if they returned for that. They obviously looked rich enough to afford whatever they needed. Bessermen liked those kinds of travelers. He might be able to buy those boots sooner than he had planned.

"Yes sir," he told the elf. "You'll be wanting to speak to Sheriff Ackermann, just up the street. You can't miss it, sir. It's the only building there made of red brick," he cheerfully told the elf, knowing the questions of murder and foul deeds would follow them out of the Trout and to where they belonged.

Just then the girls came downstairs and nodded to Bessermen.

"Your rooms are ready, sir," he said, handing two brass keys to Sefarlain. Each was scratched with a number - one with 3, the other with 5. "Adjoining rooms on the left of the hall just up the stairs," he informed the ranger. Sef took them and returned to the table where his companions were finishing up. He tossed one key to Afyanna, who caught it effortlessly.

"For the girls. We guys will take room 3. Let's drop off our gear and head over to Sheriff Ackermann and see what he can tell us, if anything."

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: The Group Fund.

"Who paid for the rooms?" Afyanna asked.

Cosher eyed the party when the subject of money came up again. He wasn't a rich dwarf, but he began to suspect he had more cash on hand than many of his new friends, some of whom had either already borrowed money, or had apparently been living off the land. He had, after all, recently been paid for several seasons' work, and paid well. Well, well enough.

The fact they had not yet, as a group, earned or discovered or captured anything of immediate value meant their plan to draw expenses from a party fund could not yet been initiated. Or could it? And when expenses reared up, it was becoming awkward for some of them - or so it seemed to the young sea dwarf.

An idea occurred to him; an idea that would perhaps incur favor from his friends. Every little bit helped. Besides, what good was money if not to use it?

"Aye, me friends, let me propose somthin' to ye. Since we dinnae yet have a wee party fund, why not make one?" he said, looking at his comrades.

"Make one?" several asked simultaneously.

"Oh, Aye, yeah, we kin make one. I mean I can jes lend the party fund, oh, say . . . 10 gold pieces for now. If, or rather when," he smiled, looking confidently at each in turn. "I say 'when' we get somethin', well, the first 10 gold comes right off the top to pay me back. Simple, really. In the meantime we didnae hafta worry 'boot wee expenses. Ah'm willin' to take the risk should we neva find anythin', but Ah'm pretty sure we will."

Each of them looked around the table and silently agreed it was probably a good idea.

"We should keep records," Mystir said. "Proper records. Someone should be the treasurer for us all. Now I'm not saying it should be me, but I'm pretty good with numbers and figures. I propose I take on the job for now, and we can more formally decide who should have the job later. How about that?" he finished.

Again, nobody objected.

"Aye, that's settled then," Cosher said. He then produced 10 golden coins - tiny, thin, circular discs of lustrous metal that were worth so very much for their size. "Here ya go," he laughed, handing them over to the pro tem treasurer, and Mystir accepted their weighty burden, for the nonce.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but shall these rooms and this meal be the first expense we shoulder?" he wondered out loud.

All nodded.

"There's a stable fee of 2 EP, too," Bebe said, since she had led Bopper to his stall for the others and had personally dealt with the stable boy. "I have to be reimbursed for that."

Mystir began working at his new job and made the entries:

'+10 GP in (on loan from Cosher)' it began.
'Dinner, rooms and provisions at Yellow Trout, -1 GP and 7.
Stable, -2 EP.'

Settling up with Bessermen and paying Bebe back her two EP, the party fund was left with 8 GP and 1. He made careful note of it. Then he safely stashed the remaining nine coins in a secure place on his person, knowing he was responsible for them all.

Maybe he'd want that job permanently - maybe not. He'd have to think about it. It was an extra responsibility and risk, and they weren't paying him extra for it.

Yet, maybe though, it would be too hard to accurately weigh and value each person's risks and rewards in relation to their individual skills, and this was just another thing he'd do since most spell casters were good at math. It wasn't like they could conceivable be paid for each skill as they used it. Everyone would do their all - it would be expected. To do less might get somebody killed. Then how would they feel?

Besides, wizards had to be good at math - it was not only expected, but required. Many magical theories were extensions of mathematical applications, and doing simple math in one's head became second nature to a wizard. Mystir doubted any there would be as competent as he would be with numbers. He just wasn't sure he wanted the responsibility.

Alas, even this concern was minor compared to the other things on the wizard's mind - like what lay ahead of them - so he quickly pushed it to the back of this thoughts until a more suitable time of quiet reflection afforded a better analysis. Right now, who would snag the last roll was of greater concern to Mystir, for he had been eyeing it for some time. But when he looked back for it, he saw that it was gone.

Looking about, Mystir saw Afyanna was quietly enjoying the soft bread with her honey cider.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Stowing Gear.

After Sef was done eating, he got up, approached the bar, and addressed the man behind it. Tyrulf couldn't really make out what he was saying, but when the bartender replied, Sef seemed to bow his head a bit as if a little embarrassed by what he had said. Shortly after, Sef returned and told everyone where they could find the sheriff. Everyone had finished by then, so they stowed any unnecessary gear in the rented rooms before leaving.

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: The Road To The Sheriff

A short time after, the group headed to the sheriff's office, and as they left the Yellow Trout, Tyrulf moved up to Afyanna and Sef who were walking in front.

Tyrulf smiled as he looked up at the two warriors. "I would think that entering a building or entrance of some sort would be something that we should plan. Even if there is no door, what would be the best way to approach such a situation?"

Afyanna and Sef stopped and looked at each other. The rest of the group huddled around as Afyanna started to explain.

*Tyrulf certainly asks a lot of questions,* mused Afyanna, as she started to give her opinion.

"Well, take the sheriff's door for instance. If it were up to me, Sef and I would go first. Sef would look to the right moving into position right away; meanwhile I would look left while moving that way. Behind us would be Tyrulf and Jahar looking forward as they enter. Mystir and Alana would enter behind Jahar and Tyrulf, giving them a chance to have a look around and cast any spells they deem necessary. Bebe, Valin, and Cosher take up the rear, making sure there are no enemies coming behind the group to take us unawares." Afyanna nodded her head as she finished, as if to confirm that her idea was a sound one.

The rest of the group listened carefully as Afyanna explained her theory. Everyone seemed to agree with her. While the group looked at each other, Valin cleared his throat and they looked at him when he spoke up.

"Perhaps we should try this theory out as we enter the sheriff's office." A slight smile crossed Valin's face as he said this to the group.

*Perhaps such an entrance will keep the sheriff off guard, and he will be more likely to give us information he wouldn't normally give us,* he thought, before he continued.

"Now I am not saying anyone should have their weapons drawn, but it might be a good way to practice such a maneuver."

"Well I think you are right, Valin. It can't hurt to practice things before it really counts," Afyanna agreed. She scanned the group and thought that everyone else seemed to concur.

"All right then, the 'Practice' door waits." And with that, she started to move toward the sheriff's office.

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: The Sheriff of Hooktar.

Minutes later, after dropping off all but the essentials well seasoned adventurers always felt they needed at their side, they were meandering up the muddy marl looking for a red brick building. It stood out like a sore thumb amid the wooden structures around it, and Sef was surprised it was two stories tall.

*What in the world do they need all that space for?* he wondered.

Sef entered, quickly followed by Afyanna, then the others filed in.

The sheriff looked up when the bell above the door chimed, and Ackermann watched the strangers enter. He did, in fact, marvel at it, even worry, and he found his hand had automatically gone down to the hilt on his scabbard and had undone the clasp that normally held his sword in place. He was justified, of course, considering what he saw.

Sef had entered first and deftly looked not ahead, but to the right as he entered, moving right, clearing the doorway and allowing others to follow him, and completely checking out the right side of the room in the first seconds of his entrance. Afyanna had done the same, though to the left, securing any surprises from that quarter. Only after they were assured nothing to the left or right threatened them would they look forward.

Next to follow that pair, immediately on their heels, and without anyone foolishly blocking the entrance by taking a stand at what lay ahead, was Jahar and Tyrulf, staring directly ahead, confident their flanks were secure, ready to deal with any forward threat now that they didn't need to worry about what was at their sides.

The entrance of those four was smooth and quick, and if their weapons had been drawn, the sheriff would have been hard pressed to do anything. Luckily, they weren't drawn. Still, the way they entered had unnerved him a bit. These people had some military training, it was clear. The last thing he wanted to do was give them an excuse to draw down on him. Leaving the clasp undone, he moved his hand away from the pommel of his sword and stood up.

"Warriors," he greeted them. "And what brings you to Hooktar?" he asked, short and simple.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: The Sheriff's Office.

Following on Sef's heels, Afyanna swept past the heavy wooden door and into the main office in several quick, fluid strides. Her eyes swept left, then right, as she entered, and immediately set to work looking for threats.

The kin-der noted a tall female in light, leather armor standing near some file cabinets to the left front. Her head whipped around at their entry when her work was interrupted. The woman immediately let the papers fall back to the top of the cabinet and turned to ready herself for the apparent intruders. The only other person in the room was a steely-eyed man who was seated behind a large wooden desk to the right of Afy's current position. The man had a look of authority about him and Afy assumed that he was the sheriff. If not the sheriff, then he at least seemed senior to the woman doing the filing.

Once the party was fully in the room, the tension of the opening few seconds subsided. No one had a weapon drawn, and the woman relaxed just a hair. She did not, however, return to her work.

The main office was quite large. On the left were two small holding cells set flush against the brick wall, both empty. An open space of wall about six feet long separated the last cell from a short, wide hall that went out of Afy's sight to the left.

Against the far wall were a few file cabinets.

Paperwork was the bane of many societies, and processing prisoners was more paperwork-intensive than most. Captures, releases, transfers, bounties, sentences, and more all had to be filed away in case . . . well, no one was ever quite sure what became of paperwork other than to get filed away someplace.

Between two such file cabinets another wide hall exited the main room. Afy could see at least two doors from where she stood, and the hall extended past those.

To the right, in the corner of the room, was a large heavy door, looking as sturdy if not more so than the door they had just entered. It was closed.

*Probably the armory,* she figured.

The floor was tiled with tightly-spaced stone squares and everyone in the room could easily hear their footfalls even if no one had been looking. Within the room itself, waist-high wooden railings funneled visitors from a small open area about the entrance around to the right toward the sheriff's desk. The walls held many unrelated items - pictures, maps, reward posters, awards, etc.

The holy warrior's trained eye marveled at the design of the building. Brick and heavy wooden doors would resist anyone who wished to expedite a comrade's release. The halls were wide enough to allow the sheriff's people to rush into the room without being crowded. The railing, while decorative in nature, drastically slowed an attacker's progress from the main room toward the cells. The building had been built with a purpose in mind and not converted into a jail after the fact. The design was beautiful!

Afyanna had more time to examine the female deputy once they had stopped. From her steady gaze, she was examining them as well. It was obvious even from across the room that she was taller than the holy warrior by at least a few inches, if not more. The deputy's sandy hair was cropped short, and Afyanna could discern no points to her ears. Clad in light, leather armor and wearing a short sword at her hip, the woman thus appeared to be human, albeit a large one. She looked as formidable as her superior.

The man seated behind the heavy wooden desk had apparently been working or reading, as a few papers lay scattered in the center of the desktop. Other than those few, the remainder of the desk was as tidy as the office itself. Small stacks of paper sat neatly on the right of the desktop, and another taller stack on the left. He sat very alertly in his chair, but he had eased it back slightly from the desk as they entered. He could be out of that chair and around the desk in only a few seconds.

The sheriff regarded them with a look that said he was used to being in charge. Although some in his position might have jumped up at the approach of so many armed strangers and made an already tense situation worse, this man remained seated - confident in his abilities and those of his people who he knew could be in the room in only a few moments should an alarm be sounded. He had the tough look of a seasoned fighter, and skin that had seen the passage of many seasons out in the field. This man was not a bureaucrat. Though outwardly he was dressed in a blue tunic, by the bulges and the way it moved as he breathed, Afyanna suspected his armor was underneath.

"Warriors," he greeted them. "And what brings you to Hooktar?" he asked, almost casually.

The party navigated the railings and approached his desk.

"Would you be the sheriff of Hooktar?" asked Afyanna, pleasantly.

His eyes rolled over each one of them before he answered. "I am indeed," he replied when his eyes had returned to Afy's own. "And might I ask who YOU are?" His tone, while casual, expected an answer.

"My name is Afyanna d'Enthril, Holy Warrior of Corellon Larethian." She proceeded to introduce each of them, who in turn nodded, bowed, smiled, or otherwise made the acquaintance of the sheriff.

"We come on a matter of great importance," she continued, once the introductions were complete. "As sheriff, it's probably of importance to you as well."

His eyes narrowed as she included him. *This is where they try to flatter me,* he thought.

"We are investigating a series of strange killings that have taken place in the region." Afy noted Alana stiffening when the memories of her friends' deaths flooded back to her. No doubt it was something that she was trying hard to forget.

"From what we have been able to gather, these occurrences are focused on Wrath and the areas leading into the parish."

At the mention of killings and strange goings-on, the deputy had moved closer to the desk in order to hear more. Whether she knew something herself or was just nosy was unclear. *The tile's echoes work both ways, don't they?* a military corner of Afy's mind noted as she spoke.

"As sheriff in the area, we naturally assumed that you would be in a position to have noticed some odd things of late, yourself. Perhaps you are even investigating a few things that are related to all this?"

Afyanna paused a moment as she noticed his expression had slipped a little. It seemed that whatever he had expected her to say, this was not it.

"Would you have any information that might be of help to us as we pursue the evil that is plaguing these parts?"

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Guards, Guards!

The place was huge - far larger than one would expect for a mere sheriff's office of a simple village. In fact, it rivaled the facilities of many larger cities. Either this village was particularly lawless and plagued with many troubles, or something else was going on. And however recent troubles might factor in, that building had been there for some time. Years, in fact. And all they could see was just some of the downstairs. What was upstairs?

The fact both sheriff and deputy were armored up didn't bode well, either. Few people, while at home or indoors or anywhere they weren't expecting immediate action, would be wearing armor, however light. Armor was for impending combat, imminent threats, or for areas where one couldn't risk the unexpected, like the open roads and trails between most settlements - certainly not in the middle of town where nothing was brewing. Sitting behind a desk and reading papers while in armor was . . . well, odd.

True, in larger cities the unexpected could well be behind every corner at any moment, and anyone outside a barracks and on patrol did well to be ready, but Hooktar was what, a thousand people? And from all accounts, the 'season' hadn't even started yet. Was trouble brewing?

While Afyanna explained their quest, the sheriff's demeanor went from one of 'I'm sure I couldn't care less what you strangers have to say about your petty concerns,' to one of 'Can it be true?' Whatever the expression, Ackermann now seemed anxious to hear more and less concerned about getting back to whatever he had been reading. Yet all he said, in almost a whisper, was:

"Holy Warrior of Wrath," almost like it was a common utterance.

"Excuse me?" Afyanna asked.

The sheriff looked taken aback. Then he looked to his deputy, whose demeanor had also changed.

Just then, a man, sword drawn, stepped into the room, ready for action, his eyes darting about as they played over the new comers, and he appeared ready to cut into Valin's side. Simultaneously, the outer door flung itself open and another man burst in - also with sword in hand, also ready for action. They held their position, assessing the situation. It was but a momentary pause - a second, maybe two - and they no doubt would have fallen into open melee if the sheriff, in that time, hadn't said anything.

"STAND DOWN!" he roared.

The newly arrived warriors did not, however, lower their weapons, as expected, but held their ground, waiting. The surprise and tension in the air softened as nobody moved an inch after that. Slowly, ever so slowly, the tension eased up, and twenty more seconds passed before anyone said anything.

"Sheriff, we saw these people enter in what looked like an assault on the premises. We reacted immediately, sir," the one from outside explained.

Nodding his head, the sheriff uttered, "Very well. Stand down, stand down. There is no threat. Well done. Very observant, sergeant, by the way. Good job. But both of you should get back on patrol. Go on," he ordered them.

The sergeant waited for the other man, who had remained silent and had said nothing, and both departed together. Meanwhile, the party looked a bit flustered themselves.

Planned moves were good, maneuvers and contingencies ever handy, but apparently counter moves were pretty good, too. If they had let their guard down like that in combat, those two new boys could have done some serious hacking before any in the party could have responded. Surprise, counter surprise, move, counter move, it all seemed a game, almost, if the stakes were not so deadly and permanent. Their 'practice lesson' had taught them more than they had bargained for. Luckily, the lesson came cheap - this time.

"What makes you think these murders hail from Wrath?"

*These murders?* Afy thought. She was certain from the timbre in his voice he was talking about more than those deaths with which she was personally acquainted. *How many deaths has this creature caused?* she wondered.

What's more, she got the distinct impression the sheriff did not disbelieve her when she claimed Wrath was central to the plight.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: What Have You Seen?

*He does know something.*

"It would seem that our assumptions are true," Afyanna said, to no one in particular.

She then focused again on the sheriff. "You speak as though you know of what we seek. More than mere rumor, I'd dare say."

The sheriff, for his part, made no reply. He had asked her a question, and her response was not yet satisfactory. Afy let out a short breath and explained.

"Two scepters ago, Corellon Larethian came to me in a vision and bid me go to Wrath to put an end to the evil there." She looked to her colleagues, who were no doubt growing weary of hearing the story.

"Throughout the villages and towns we have traveled, we have heard many tales of people disappearing." She paused and held Sheriff Ackermann's gaze with her own. "Worse yet, we have seen the bodies of those killed by the passage of some foul beast. Their condition was . . . the most horrific thing I have ever seen."

As she spoke, the others in the group couldn't help but nod when reminded of the scene at Lovejoy's cabin. Sef, unfortunately, had the terrible distinction of having two visions to relive. The sheriff, too, seemed to wear a pained expression.

"We set out for Wrath thinking that it was our sole destination. But it would seem that whatever this evil is, it is not contained within that parish. We do not believe these events are unrelated."

"Please sheriff," Afyanna asked, "if you have any information that may help us track and destroy this creature . . . or of Wrath itself, I ask you to tell us so that we may hurry on our way."

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Red Pins Aplenty.

A myriad of expressions crossed Sheriff Ackermann's visage - surprise, pain, frustration, shock and awe - fear? - and at last, perhaps even a glimmer of hope found its final purchase there. A half crooked smile at last settled on his thin lips as he ran his meaty hand through his dark, curly hair.

"We've been swamped with dozens of reports from far and wide. Some people have gone missing, while most others have been out right brutally killed - all rather horribly," he said.

"The King of Tarren - his representatives, rather, for I'm not sure this has reached the king yet - has even sent word the murders extend into their realm. For our part," he said, casting a look around the room as if to represent his province - "we are outside their royal concern, as you probably know. Besides us, there is hardly any government here this far south and west of Tarren - just a lot of small, scattered villages and hamlets."

Ackermann stood up and stretched his legs, then bade the party members follow him, saying, "I wish to show you something." They followed him to the back hall and into a room where paper strewn tables and map covered walls greeted them.

The largest, most interesting, and centrally positioned map was labeled 'Endlemire's Duchy' at the top.

"Who is Endlemire?" Valin asked, slightly confused about who controlled what around there.

The deputy, who had followed them in and was standing behind the Rogue of Hermes, spoke up.

"Duke Endlemire and his sons were the last vestiges of the fallen kingdom of Meikenstrap in this region. The old duke is dead, and so are all his sons, I think. Well, no one's heard from his youngest son in over ten years, and he was pushing 70 back then, but for a halfelf, maybe that's not all that old. Yet without power, without wealth, there was no way for the duke to hold the land from outside force on his own, should anyone try to annex us. So far, only an old treaty keeps the King of Tarren at bay, and by its terms, that treaty expires in 730. Just two more years from now and who knows what'll happen? We suspect Tarren will try to bloodlessly annex us, but they may not if they feel it isn't worth their time or profitable enough to do so. Anyway, Endlemire established this office some 90 years ago to oversee trade between Fecklar and here, and unlike Fecklar, which is under King Tarren's rule, Hooktar wasn't, so this office has been growing in size and power since. Yet despite everything, this new threat, this . . . I don't know what it is, it's . . . ,"

The sheriff, who had taken that opportunity to fill his coffee cup, interrupted her then.

"Thank you, deputy," he cut her off. "No one needs a history lesson just now."

Maybe the sheriff didn't appreciate it, but Valin had been learning a great deal and was somewhat miffed, but even he had to admit other issues were more pressing.

"As you can see from the map, we have a serious problem." The party looked at the map, which was dotted with one, two, three, almost four dozen red and blue pins.

"The red ones are where one or more people have been beaten to death."

The majority of the pins were red.

"The blue ones are where people have gone missing."

There were less than twelve of those.

Alana, sadly, moved forward, taking a red pin out of the box at the base of the map, and place it where the Lovejoy's cabin had been.

"The Lovejoys, Ben and Harriet, beaten to death, and their cabin burned to the ground two days ago," she said rather tearfully before stepping back. Bebe rubbed Alana's arm to comfort her.

Sefarlain then stepped forward, placing a red pin of his own where he guessed to be about right.

"Jason Brixley, a hunter and trapper," he said. "Also brutally killed. I found him a pholar back, but I'm not sure how long he had lain there," he added. "And we have heard of others, but can't personally confirm them," he confessed.

Both Alana and Sef's pin fell outside the gray shaded duchy, and the sheriff frowned at this, like it didn't help matters.

"I wasn't sure it had gone that far, and this worries me. From the dates and distances, we can see either more than one of these things is doing this, or it moves at an impossible speed. In either case, that's bad, but I hope it is just one creature, however much harder it'll be to catch something so fleet of foot."

Afyanna stepped closer to the map to inspect it. The horseshoe shaped lake amid the Toreador River stood out. She knew the parish of Wrath bordered its northern edge, but it was not labeled. She recalled Nick Shereef had said Purplish, Valentee, and Wrath had been old parishes of a time long gone by, so this did not surprise her those names were not on a newer map. Nevertheless, she commented on it.

"Wrath isn't listed," she said.

"No, Wrath is an old, religiously defined region - not a political one - and it wouldn't be shown on that map," the sheriff explained. "I'm lucky I even know the name, but I grew up in that region, and many of the older folk and halfelves there still call it Wrath. The folk of Joad live there, now. I've been there," he said, turning and then eyeing Afyanna somewhat suspiciously.

He quickly turned back to the map, however, before the holy warrior could ask about that.

"There aren't any pins near Joad," he pointed out.

In truth, there weren't, but the pattern of pins seemed to represent a vague semicircle surrounding Horseshoe Lake. It looked clearer if one had a preconceived notion that Wrath was central to the pattern, somehow. A hundred more seemingly random murders might have made it clearer to everybody who had no cause to look harder at Wrath.

"I fear, from what you've told me, there may be many more murders here," he indicated the other half of the circle, sweeping his hand over the map. "They are just too far away for us to have heard yet, that's all." Then he frowned all the more deeply since that meant he may have just doubled the number of murders. "Maybe it's even worse in Wrath - Joad, rather. No pins doesn't mean no murders - just no reports. And come to think on it, I haven't seen anyone from Joad in scepters. I didn't think that odd, though, considering the winter. People have yet to get on the road this spring."

The holy warrior was worried, too. What would they find in Wrath? Could they handle such a creature? She didn't know.

"How many men can you lend us?" she asked.

"None. Sorry. But well patrolled areas, it seems, keeps the creature away. If I lend you some men, that means areas I'm responsible for are left unguarded. However much sense it might make to go with you, the people wouldn't like it much if I left them unguarded. And, sadly, you have no proof the answer lay in Wrath. For all we know, your lord's concerns may lie there, but are they the solution to this problem? Even you don't know for sure, do you?" he asked her.

Afy admitted she did not have all the answers, and she full well knew that though her lord's word meant the world to her and those who believed, it meant next to nothing to those who did not share in her faith, or know her personally.

Gods were hard to understand, and their true motives often hidden. It would have been nice if one could assure the people a god always had their best interests at heart, but one couldn't do that - truthfully. Some gods were wicked. Many didn't care about mortal concerns. Even many of the allegedly 'good' gods had their own interests to look after, and woe unto you if they didn't luckily coincide with your own.

No, Afyanna and her companions were on their own. They would receive no manpower from the sheriff of Hooktar.

"That's all I can tell you. I'm sorry it isn't more, and I regret not being able to spare any men. I wish you all luck, though," the sheriff told her. "And I'd appreciate hearing from you again, however it turns out. Maybe if the answer doesn't lay in Wrath, you'll come back and help us?" he wondered out loud.

The kin-der smiled and nodded. Truth was, on the off chance that creature wasn't what concerned her lord, it still concerned her. She would return, if circumstances permitted it.

The deputy then led them out of the back room and into the front office, finally opening the door for the party members.

Something else bothered Afy, though, and before she stepped outside, she turned to the sheriff and asked one more question.

"What is it about me, personally, that you're not telling me?"

The cold, stark accusation hung in the air, demanding he deny it, or admit it. The fact she represented a god unnerved him. Where he might have lied to another, he feared to lie to a holy woman.

The sheriff looked shocked, like he had hidden his doubts well, only to discovered she was reading him like a book. Priests and priestesses, women more than men, and the very wise could often 'see' more than most. It was sometimes quite unnerving.

"The Holy Warrior of Wrath," he answered her, again saying it like it was a common expression.

"What?"

"In Joad, there is a statue of a holy warrior. Somewhat of a local legend, she was. It is said she guarded the temple of Wrath more than a century ago. I find it . . . unsettling, to see . . . the similarities . . . ," he tried to express his misgivings. "Oh, I'm not sure, that's all. It's creepy. Not that you look much like the statue or anything, but one female holy warrior in the wake of another. . . ," he trailed off. "And in Wrath?" He shook his head.

"I just don't like it much when the gods play loose and free with so many mortal lives. I don't . . . I don't trust them," he finally managed to say it. "Sorry, but that's the way I feel."

And with that, the sheriff returned to the back room, whether Afy wanted to speak further with him, or not. He was done explaining his fears to anyone there.

Once again, the party found themselves on the muddy, marl streets of Hooktar, mid-afternoon, and ready for a rest at the Yellow Trout before setting out on the morrow.

- JimGM.