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[Kelewen]

Adela unstuck a few strands of her tangled brown hair from a blood crusted cut on her cheek, pushing the hair from her face. "Isn't that old Gavin's place?" she observed as a field of barley came into view, summoning the energy for a smile to her companion as they finally re-entered familiar territory. "Almost home." Although she had started to grow accustomed to sleeping on the hard ground, it would be heaven to slip into her bed tonight, snuggled warmly under the worn old quilt her grandmother had made when Adela was just a little girl.

Her thoughts drifted back to the events of the past week and the two of them venturing off after a trio of goblins rumored to have stolen all the goods they could carry from the last merchant to make a stop in their little village, but the adventure had not yielded the untold riches she had imagined. In fact, the sack she had thought to fill with gold coins now held only a few coppers, a silver candlestick, and a bolt of delicate silk. Looking back, she realized she was lucky to be coming back at all. Somehow, she'd expected fighting goblins to be some easy task, as if they'd just drop their plunder and run for the hills as soon the two adventurers drew their swords.

Once they found the goblin's trail, they had plunged after the creatures, practically walking right into their well hidden camp. But instead of three scared little goblins just waiting to hand the adventurers their treasure, there were 5 of them, all armed and vicious. Luckily, the goblins were more surprised than the adventurers. The next few minutes of desperate struggle were a confused blur in Adela's mind, but somehow they had come out on top: bruised, bloodied, tired, but alive.

[Huscarl]

Ron snapped to attention and looked up, a somewhat confused look on his face. He had been walking with his head down, lost in thought. Had been thinking about the goblins, about how he'd killed them. The fight, the danger, the blood and the death; he didn't know how to feel about it. Now he was just numb. When he was young he'd alway dreamt of being a warrior, a hero. Dreamt of killing bandits and other scum, of fighting the good fight. Now he wasn't so sure it was a good fight, or if any fight could be considered good at all. He'd run a goblin through the stomach with his sword, but hadn't been too pleased when he saw its face. Hadn't it looked just as scared as he was? And in just as much pain as he would've been if he'd been the one run through? It wascertainly a long way from what he'd imagined. In his imagination, the foes never had any faces. They weren't people at all, had no personalities or history. Just enemies waiting to die in the name of his glory. It was all very confusing.

In front of them was. indeed, old Gavins place, just as Adela had pointed out. Ron looked at her, at her smile, and gave a weak one in reply. She hardly appeared any different at all since the fight, just seemed tired. Ron wasn't sure if he admird her or if he was afraid of her. Perhaps it was a little of both. She was his best friend, the closest thing to family he got, but that only made what he felt now seem even worse; like they'd grown apart, if only a little. He shrugged, trying to rid himself of the notion, and concentrated on home instead. On his cottage, and his bed, and the warm, dry fire he'd build once he got there. Maybe that would calm him down.

They reached the farmhouse, and immedietly something felt wrong. All the windowboards were shut, but the door gaped open, the foreboding darkness inside warning the pair of them to enter. Ron stopped walking and inspected the place. No sounds, no movement. Strange, he muttered, and raised his hand to his mouth. Oi! he shouted towards the house, You in there, Gavin you old bastard?

[Kelewen]

Adela couldn't help but notice that Ron's smile was half hearted and she felt her own fade away. He'd been mostly quiet on their trek back and she hadn't pushed him to talk, hoping that he wasn't hiding some injury that was worse than it had first appeared to spare her from worrying about him.

She stopped next to him, listening for any response to his call. But when no response came, she bit her lower lip, resting her hand on the hilt of the sword that hung on her belt. It had taken her all summer to earn enough coin to buy the simple blade and had only acquired it shortly before their goblin hunting adventure, but already it made her feel... stronger, more in control of her surroundings. Not that she had delusions of being some great swordmaster, but felt as if she could hold her own if she had to use it. And at the moment just putting her hand on it gave her some small comfort.

"Should we go inside?" she wondered aloud. "Make sure he's okay?" At least they could poke their heads in the door and make sure the old farmer hadn't fallen and was in need of help. "Gavin!" she called again as she reached out to rap her knuckles on the open wooden door, but stopped short as her eyes adjusted to the darker interior. "Oh!" It looked ransacked. The table had been flipped over, one leg broken off, various tools lay strewn about the floor, and the trunk full of blankets looked to have been smashed to pieces. And from what she could see of the bedroom beyond, it looked the same.

[Huscarl]

He was up beside her only a moment after he'd heard the surprised tone in her voice. Looking down, he realized he'd drawn his sword somewhere along the few short strides from where he'd stood to where he was now. It struck him as odd, since he couldn't remember going for it. He put it down to reflex but wasn't particulary happy about it anyway. Standing beside her, he could see what had upset Adela; old Gavins place was a mess. There was no blood, but the rest of it could have been the sign of a fight, or a break-in, or both. Of the old man himself, there was no trace. A cold feeling crep up along Rons spine, making him shiver. He'd hoped for peace and quiet. He hadn't expected this.

What should we do? He asked, but continued immedietly with the obvious answer. We should continue to the village, shouldn't we? Tell them about what's happened here. Get some help. But considering who they probably had become in the eyes of the other villagers, it was very likely that most of them would look to Ron and Adela for help rather than the opposite. That realization caught Ron off-guard, making him frown. As if owning a sword and killing a few verminous goblins would make him more reliable than he'd been before. But he guessed that was the truth of it; he'd probably think so himself if somebody else had been the one doing what he'd done. It still felt strange though; he didn't feel any different at all. At least not in that way.

What do you think we should do? He said and turned to face his companion. She looked thoughtful, but calm. He definitely admired her, there was no question about it.

[Kelewen]

"I think you're right," Adela said after a few moments of indecision. "We should let everyone know what happened. Or maybe they already know."

She found herself grasping the hilt of her sword harder, ready for whatever intruder had ransacked old Gavin's house to come rushing at them. But it remained quiet. "Oh, I hope he's alright," she said, worriedly as they started of toward Southfork.

In her mind, old Gavin had been old, well... forever. And he had always been loved by the children of Southfork. She remembered him carving little figures from wood to give away, simply because he liked to make the kids smile. She still had the wooden horse he had given her when she was 7, now minus one leg that her little brother broke off a few years ago. She just couldn't imagine why anyone would want to steal from him or cause him any harm.

"Who do you think we should go to first?" she asked, walking with a renewed energy, her weariness from the journey forgotten for the moment.

[Huscarl]

Well, Ron said, unceirtanly, I guess we could head to the village center and tell the elders. They'll know what to do.

It took the two adventurers about half an hour to reach the center of their little home village. It looked fine from afar; the mess hall, the blacksmith, all familliar sights. But up close, the feeling wasn't as pleasant - something was wrong. Ron felt it as soon as they'd come close enough to see the well. There were no people there. It was early still, sure, but the villagers were all early birds. The smith should've been busy with work by now, the sound of his hammer and anvil ringing out across the surrounding fields. But she wasn't, and all was silent. Ron hadn't let go of his sword since they'd left Gavins house, and now he started squeezing it harder.

Adela, he whispered, I've got a bad feeling about this.

[Kelewen]

(I like the orange text, so I'm swiping the idea! )


The same realization was slowly sinking into Adela and for a few moments she tried to convince herself that everything was, indeed, fine. But at Ron's words, she stopped her stride, eyes searching desperately for any sign of movement or life among the houses. "Where are they?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

She did not wait for an answer as the fear that was building inside her took a stronger hold and she broke into a run, shedding her backpack along the road and not noticing or caring that the measly treasures won from the goblins spilled to the dirt. "MOTHER! FATHER! JERALD!" she yelled, though no cry answered her calls.