Sundos was a little taken aback by Saul's request to not call him 'brother'. Saul was one of the races of light. All of the races of light were children of Lathander. It was the sun that gave them all life. How could they not be brothers under the Father Sun?

Clearly at a loss of words, Sundos replied to Saul,"I meant no offense. I believe we are all brothers and sisters under the Father Sun. However, I shall not refer to you as 'brother' again."

Sundos' stew and mug of water had barely arrived when Saul told him to follow. He quickly drank the water and ate a few rushed mouthfuls of stew. He was accustomed to having meals interrupted to carry out work for the temple. It happened more often than not.

He rushed out towards the tavern's door with everybody else and to catch up to Saul. His backpack was half on, he had his coin pouch in one hand and the other carried his stew bowl. He drank from the bowl as one would drink from a cup. He drank as much of the stew as he could. He carefully placed the bowl on a table as he ran out of the tavern.

Once his back was on and his other gear better situated, he jogged to catch up to Saul and asked, "Inside of the tavern you called me 'Father'. Does that mean I may address you as 'Son'?" Sundos chuckled a little. "I prefer you call me, 'Brother', but if you will not, you may call me by my title of 'Dawnbringer', or just Sundos will work too. How shall I address you, Br.. hmm... Saul?"

The streets were quieter now than they had been earlier. It was mostly just them and the flickering shadows from the oil lamps.

“If I ever end up meeting the Morninglord, I fear he is going to have some very harsh words on his tounge, and will likely disown me as a son!” Saul laughed. It was a fact he had come to terms with long ago, that he would never see heaven. He was content enough he had done right, and would do the same again – but that didn't help a man sleep at night. Unlike this rather excellent mushroom schnapps, which was doing a marvellous job of removing both the nagging doubts in the back of his mind and all feeling below his legs.

“My name will do just fine. If you want a title, I'm a knight in the Prince's Own Light Cavalry.” He answered as the walked down the street. The prince's cavalry were traditionally used as messengers, scouts and advisers. They did have a bit of a reputation as both meddler's and stormcrows so it was perhaps not too surprising to see one around given the building war. It was strange to see one without a good horse, sword and uniform. “So I suppose you could use 'Ser.'.”

“We are heading to a hastily organised meeting with the local constable and the local priest.” Assuming the constable was still awake, and the urchin had given the message to the priest. “I'm rather curious as to how they intend to use the window of opportunity they bought with todays battle.”

That wasn't the only thing he was curious about. The reason he wanted the local priest there is he wanted to find out if the orcs whose corpses he had smelled burning yesterday had been burned with weapons in their hands or not. If not, if they had been sent to the afterlife unarmed – then they probably wouldn't make it to the orc heaven. Which would piss off the remaining orcs, and generally only worsen the situation.

Thelin sat with Femnal, trading stories of homes they had left and spells they had cast on travelers in good fun. The two hit it off like brothers and the ale helped as well. That was until the smell hit. A glorious, heavenly trumpet ripped through the tavern, shaking the entire facility and silencing all patrons withing. Maybe the holy man who thought he was a woman was finally getting his prayers answered by an angry god, or an orcish war horn was blown right above all of their heads. It was a sound no human could naturally make for sure, Thelin wasn't even certain he could recreate it with magic with the help of his whole village back home. He looked to Femnal who in turned looked at him and the two then looked around as if in sync, with the same attitudes. Everyone was shocked but nobody was ready for the smell.

It became obvious what kind of horn had sounded above their heads quickly, as Thelin quickly rolled a constitution saving throw to see whether or not he'd puke, lucking the gods were smiling upon him and he held the ale he had just drank within his gut. "What in the name of... whatever god that cleric prays to did that man eat?" Thelin choked out, his hummingbirds all diving for his backpack to avoid the smell. Five distinct puff noises meant they were all safe within his pack, and Thelin ran out the door, or at least tried to. He got to a window, which wasn't blocked by the legs of elves and men over twice his height. The window wouldn't budge but Thelin wasn't a quitter. He hopped up on the windowsill, and using his entire body's strength opened it up and took a deep breath in as fresh air wafted in.

He turned around and sat in the window and looked around the room. A few individuals stood out. These would be the people who could take him to see the orc wars. A ranger, that cleric, the man who could release hellish fury from his backside, the woman who offered to buy him a drink, and a few others all made the list. He would have to slip them a note to meet him before the next battle to escort him. He could always sneak in but most battles were not surrounded by a lot of cover which was ideal for a rogue such as himself. He stared at all of these people, not hiding it. A little prestidigitation made him glow a bit to draw attention, but not too much of it. He had to test their perception. Those who looked would probably get a note handed to them, those who did not would simply find it in their pockets.

"I doubt the Morninglord would disown you. I am sure you have done good work for the Church in your service with Prince's Cavalry. Scouts from the Prince's Own Light Cavalry often work with the Paladins and Soldiers of Faith. They are good people." Sundos was naive enough to believe that anything that helped the kingdom also helped the Church.

"We are meeting a priest? I was told that there was not a Church in the hamlet.... Oh... You mean that 'Rose Temple'. Alright. Let us meet with them. We will need to work with them for the defense of the hamlet."

Sundos was excited to meet important people of the hamlet and to see how he could in the war effort. As they walked, he kept his eyes opened for a good place for a shrine.

"Ser, Lathander is a fair, just father. But He also loves and care for his children. Why do you believe Lathander would reject your service?"

After several rounds of gagging and desperately trying to escape the inn, Persephone made it outside with the others, and gulped in the fresh air. She was not unaccustomed to foul smells; growing up on city streets among the poor tended to strengthen one against that, but that smell had been in another league. She felt poorly for Femnal. Surely that had just ended the night in the tavern, and probably lost him a few customers. Sadly, there was nothing to be done, for her part. She found Cremwise, and aimed to continue their conversation, despite the horrid interruption.

"As I was about to say, before that awful..." she shuddered, closing her eyes for a few seconds, "well, you know. If you need my qualifications, Cremwise, I was trained at a monastery not far from Ravens Bluff. Hand-to-hand, melee combat, as well as honing my gift for healing. Several of the fighters here can attest to my ability, as they wouldn't still be breathing without my help." She wasn't sure what he was looking for when he wanted more information about them. Surely he didn't intend to delve into personal details for a simple escort job? In any case, much of her business was her own, but her training and skills at least were not private.

"And I would be interested to hear more of the job, of course. Venturing through hostile territory uninvited can't be taken lightly."

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: Venua, Thelin, and a Very Confused Fly

It kept flying around his head. Irritating. Threatening to land in his drink. He had noticed it earlier, as he neared the bar, but discussion of finances with Femnal drove the matter from his brain. Nonetheless, it was back again. Keystone noticed, and waved it away again.

He regarded the drink plopped down before him; a good sized tankard of ale replacing his silver coin. The solid brawler took a sip, giving thought to the quality. Not bad, granted, but if that gnome was chiseler enough to think that it was worth an entire argent coin, he was soon for a lesson in percussive etiquette. He took a deep drink, letting the flavor linger for a second before allowing the tangy liquid access to his internals, proper. As he set the tankard back down, that damnedable fly zipped between his face and the beverage.

He growled, with a very quiet rumble, "...little bugger must pay..."

From the corner of his eye, he gave note to another gnome in the common room, next to an open window. This one glowing faintly in the softer light of the tavern. Keystone squinted his eyes and looked back to his tankard. Satisfied that he was, in fact, not addled by drink, he gave a sideways glare at the diminutive cantrip-maker until the gnome took notice. Keystone arched an eyebrow and nodded slowly.

Wizards. Never could tell with those types.

Attention back to his ale gave Keystone another bout of irritation. That same fly, or another that the original fly delivered a dare to, was crawling on the edge of his mug. He sighed and waved it away, AGAIN, and took another sip, this time looking down the bar at the patrons nearby.

Keystone's attention was caught by a rather interesting looking lady sitting alone at the bar. Covered in untanned hides and blue paint, she seemed the wilderness equivalent to his urban slum upbringing. Engaging her with a clumsy pickup line, after the evening's prior events, was far from his intent just then; he merely wished to take stock of the people around him. Before she caught his gaze lingering longer than was polite, the massive pugilist raised his tankard slightly, and began, "Cheer..."

And that's when it happened. The final straw. That little bastard fly landed right on the stubble around his upper lip, hoping to sample a fleck of hoppy ale-foam still clinging there. Keystone had taken enough guff from that miserable, bescombering pest.

Flatly, he set down his drink and closed off one nostril with a thumb. His powerful lungs drew a sharp inhale, sucking the offending insect into his nose with a sound not unlike pulling free a boot held fast in deep mud. A growling, lung-buttery hack later, the fly found itself propelled through the air in a gob of spittle and rage, splatting heavily on the wall nearby.

In a flash, Keystone had freed his great, bone-handled knife from his belt and hurled it after the bug-loogie. It struck heavily, sinking into the wood with a vibrating thunk.

The fly, guilty of nothing except for being a fly, felt somewhat violated by the whole ordeal. The big knife came very near to ending its tiny life, but didn't quite catch its intended target. Carefully, the traumatized bug unstuck itself from its expectorant binding, landing gracelessly on the knife blade below. It drunkenly flew off as Keystone moved to recover his blade, content to leave the man alone.

With some satisfaction, Keystone returned to his ale, raised the tankard to the Woaded Warrior Woman again, this time completing his polite(ish) intonation of, "Cheers, Miss."

It's the little, everyday victories you have to embrace.

---

---

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Early Evening
Weather: The air is cool outside but the stench from the Kraken being released from the caves known as Keystones Arse still lingers in the air.
General Ambiance: Most of the townsfolk are utterly disgusted and gagging while a few are searching for the one who caused the stench; wishing for him to teach them how to drive away the hoards of Orcs with such an arseblast.
Location: Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Within and Outsite the Crossed Swords Tavern – depending on if you chose to make your “constitution check” :P

---

---

“Then you waltz your volatile rear-end into my kitchen and get to work if you wish to stay here another evening,” Femnal chirped before letting out a rather dry cough that sounded a bit like a dog trying to hack up a bone or a cat horking up a hair ball with no success. Either way, he was trying not to lose his dinner and ale all over his bar top; aerosoled butt sewage was bad enough, he didn’t want to mix it with the remnants of goat stew and hard cheese.

“After that, if you wish work, speak with Cremwise…. I think he ran outside with the rest of me patrons!” Femnal added before he went to work on opening every window in the place and prayed that rain would not come that evening. Cremwise had wandered outside with the rest and was listening to what the two had to say, nodding occasionally.

“No, it’s not but I think if I could gather five or six of you people to come with me they would at least think twice. I have supplies that need to be moved but with the attacks recently, I can’t risk just taking my merchandise alone through the territory and there are no militia left to spare,” Cremwise said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Stepping over towards Thelin, Femnal gagged again before shoving his face outside of the window and breathing deeply. Big mistake. Big, huge! The air just outside the tavern was not much better than the air within and with such a deep breath the poor man finally failed to hold onto what ever constitution he had left within him. It started in low and then it started to grow. The rumbling in his tummy; the burning churning bubbling brew within his gullet finally could no longer be held back and the dam of will power gave up.

Femnal lost it all. It started with this contorted look on his features, as if he was pondering the vastness of what the answer to life the universe and everything was and couldn’t understand the conclusion that it was indeed forty-two. Then he began grousing, which quickly turned into a scream; not just any scream, the scream of a man who was in the middle of death thralls. His face turned beet red, crimson and bulging. ”Don’t let it go man,’ he told himself but it was of no use. He tried beating on his chest like a deranged beast, Crewise rushing over to his old friend and from the other side of the window, grabbed his shoulders; trying to shake some sense into him. He didn’t know what was wrong with Femnal but he learned quickly that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Being in front of Femnal right then was the worst place to be.

The little man went silent for all of a second, locking eyes with the merchant; a look passing through them as if to say, ”I’m sorry for what is about to happen,” Femnals mouth opened and he horfed right into Cremwises face. The entire scene seemed to happen in slow motion. Cremwises grip on Femnals shoulders tightened uncontrollably and completely against his will. This was no small amout of spittle, this was a full emptying of stomach contents in one angry rush, Hurlacane Femnal hit category five. Remember being at the beach and seeing the waves crashing in to the cliffs and pushing through a small cave opening only to erupt on the other side? It was like that, only chunky.

Cremwise couldn’t move, he just held on for dear life as Femnals head began to whip around like a psychotic cobra. Cremwise tried to jerk his head to the side to keep the contents from going into his mouth. Femnal had never horfed like this and his eyes widened, as if trying to look away and study it at the same time as it continued to pour from his face portal. He had turned into Pukezilla, possessed by the continuous flow, his head nearly spinning off. The vomit volcano in which he had turned into needed a priest, an exorcism seemed to be needed as his head continued to whip this way and that.

Cremwise finally managed to spin his old friend around and away from him but it was too late. He was covered in alabaster chum, trails of it over the front of the tavern, the window sill and now within. As quickly as it started, it stopped and Femnal collapsed on the floor. Drenched in sweat and other body fluids as he leaned back against the wall, trying desperately not to take in another deep breath. Had he, it wouldn’t have mattered. He had horfed so completely anything he had eaten as a toddler was now on the floor and him and Cremwise and anyone else within ten feet.

“So that’s what it feels like to die,” Femnal said in a weakened state, Cremwise just standing there outside of the window and peering down at him, drips of vomit falling onto the tavern owns head.

“I think I would prefer battling Orcs….” Cremwise muttered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief; trying desperately to whip away the half disgested stew and cheese from his face.

---

---

Kyra reached into her bag and pulled out some dried flowers, crushing them in the palm of her hand before cupping them and placing them under her nose; inhaling deeply. The mix of lavender and rose was not enough to get rid of the smell that lingered in the air but it was enough to let her regain her composure. Keeping one hand cupped before her face she rose and slung her pack over her shoulder. She would much rather sleep in a tree this evening than here and she was cursing herself for eating now. An empty stomach was easier to deal with than a full one dealing with ass fog.

Her head cocked to the side and her eyes widened as Femnal screamed, where they under attack? She hoped so, a battle outdoors was much more pleasant than the current situation but her hopes were quickly dashed as Femnal vomited. She wasn’t sure what to think but she had a good clue to what the cause was and quickly stepped back and over towards Keystone, slapping him hard against the shoulder and pointing towards Femnal.

”See what you have caused with that disastrous release of yours? Be glad this place is magically illuminated by heatless candles or you may have started a chain reaction that could have sent this entire building sky high,” she snapped as she continued to hold the crushed flowers against her nose.

Lucan listened to Cremwise further, the mild interest he held before having developed into more of a genuine intrigue. He opened his mouth to give the man a fairly dull lie when... What was that? Lucan had smelled his fair share of horrid smells, from rotting corpses to an Orcish mating festival, he'd known some of the most horrifying, disgusting and godawful scents the world had to offer, but this smell, this abhorrent smell, blew them all out of the water. Lucan had no desire to stick around it, and he could see he was not the only one with that idea, moving to follow close behind Persephone, he made sure to nick anything left behind by patrons in too much of a hurry to grab some of their valuables left out, nothing particularly fancy, apart from a few coins left over by gamblers and generally unintelligent barfolk.

Finally outside, Lucan let out a long sigh and breathed in the fresh air as if he'd been locked in a stale prison cell for the past ten years, the pungent nature of that smell had been so powerful it could've easily made time speed up that far. Following along with Persephone to find Cremwise, he nodded intently as he listened to her explain herself further. He was pleased to see she wasn't really sharing any personal detail, he had no intent of doing so himself and for the most part that had been what concerned him, however he didn't even have to share anything as timing seemed on his side. Femnal had gone berserk.

This night was truly becoming one to remember Lucan, he had certainly not expected to have his nostrils so ruthlessly and unnecessarily assaulted by an eldritch, unnatural horror of a smell - but he had perhaps expected even less to see a gnome essentially possessed by that very smell. Lucan stared at the Gnome as Cremwise ran to his assistance, a sort of dazed awe and wonder on his face as he began to rethink all the decisions he'd made in his life up to that point - it was turning into one of those nights - and begin asking himself the big questions, the biggest of which he voiced aloud during the silence which followed the end of Femnal's miraculous 'episode'. "What in the name of all that is holy just happened?"

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: Femnal, Kyra, Scullery Crew

Keystone acquired a look of concession as the Gnomish proprietor demanded that he adjourn to the kitchen to enact his plan for making the Inn habitable once again. "FINE. I'm on it, gimmie a minute."

He noticed an element of distress in Femnal's face; one he had seen many times from bar patrons overwhelmed by more booze than their stomachs could handle in one sitting. Part pity, part curiosity kept him at the bar, despite the nonverbal cues he gave indicating that he would jump on it directly after chugging his drink.

Despite the fact that Femnal's predicament was Keystone's fault, more or less, the stalwart pugilist did not appreciate anyone yelling at him and barking orders. Humiliation (an emotion he was aware of by reputation only) associated with losing control of one's innards in public would put a quick mend on any negative feelings he had at the situation. He needed but to stall, but for how long was anyone's guess. Keystone took an exaggerated drink from his ale, slowly gulping back the bubbly fermentation in one long pull, waiting. Biding his time.

Luckily, it was short seconds before showtime.

Keystone could see the face of the portly merchant outside the window, just as Femnal turned into a Screaming Fountain of Used Stew. Taking the brunt of Femnal's cone of wretch-induced stomach chum, the older man at least had the wit to keep from opening his mouth to call out in alarm. This feat earned him Keystone's respect, at least in part.

The shock of an unexpected consequence at someone else's expense, especially when the expected result was already disastrously funny, froze Keystone mid-swallow. His brain was processing what was happening before him, but his body was held rigid by surprise, keeping him from exploding into laughter and falling on the floor like a sack of yowling cats.

By the time the gurgling roar of Femnal's gut splattage rained heavily upon the walls and flooring of the establishment, oscillating his head as the torrent of vomit took control of his neck away from his cervical vertebrae, Keystone broke free of his initial shock. A wordless scream of unbridled glee escaped Keystone's throat, along with a misting of house ale. This was the event for which he had waited.

Keystone's knees buckled. One hand caught the edge of the bar, keeping him more or less upright. He stopped laughing, or tried to, hoping to complete his swallow and catch a breath. The resulting failure sprayed ale foam from his nose. Keystone gave up, and let himself laugh for another second or two before regaining composure.

He had a sulphur compound to administer, you see.

It was then that the boisterous fighter was approached by a petite woman with whitish hair and a bow. He'd caught a glimpse or two of her since coming downstairs after "The Incident", but did not know her. The sense of familiarity with which she smacked the hardened hide of his coat (and admonished him for an act not fully his fault) rankled him somewhat. Keystone looked down at her, curious as to whether she was trying to start a fight or had mistaken him for a bigger brother.

An archer woman presenting an attitude of mild superiority. He'd seen this before. Another archer, presumably a world away. Thinking about it amused him slightly. He was about to make mention of it when the ale he power-chugged a moment ago began churning in his stomach. A quiet murmuring at first, it built into a rumbling, bubbly backdraft as it expanded into his throat.

Keystone's eyes widened in momentary alarm, turning his head at the last second to avoid expressing himself directly into the face of the bowmaiden. The resulting expulsion of stomach vapor and carbonic gas rolled out low and violent. Keystone's head rocked back slightly. His eyes watered and brows arched as the powerful, constant sound of a dozen lumbersaws cutting through a live, ball-gagged cow echoed partially in his sinus cavity. The blast, diverted to the bar beside him, opened a crack in a nearby wine glass. Its contents dripped slowly from within, very slowly pooling in a semicircle below.

The belch ended as abruptly as it began. Completely ignoring the event, Keystone snapped his head back at Kyra and mentioned lightly, "You remind me of this Gypsy lady, y'know. Cheers."

Without dramatic pause, Keystone returned his tankard to the bartop, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and strode purposefully to the kitchen door.

From out in the common room, one could hear various yells and proclamations of the determined fisticuffy culinarian, things like, "You! Eggs! Now!" and "Bloody 'ell, did Kobolds teach you to cook?". He yelled, he swore; mostly to keep from explaining his presence in a kitchen to which he was not attached, though he did mention that he had the owner's approval. Femnal was a bit busy at the moment, but Keystone was certain that he'd confirm later.

He hoped, anyway. Considering the look of Femnal's condition, it would be a little bit before he could confirm much of anything.

Location: Jail
Interacting With: Anyone, Ash

*From the edge of the walls came a long low howl, one that was joined by all other dogs and wolves for a full mile before dying down again.*
"SHADDAP!"

His nose itched. He was bored. Bored, bored, bored. bored-bored-bored-bored-bored.

The six-foot-plus behemoth was crouched down and stripped to his loincloth with head and ands in wooden stocks. All his stuff was in the magistrate's office while they checked out his story. His 'pet' That was last sun and this sun had set as well... His nose itched.

He looked this way and that way, he didn't mean to break their toy, but it was an accident. Very carefully he lifted the stock where the two inch bolts were splintered out of the haft of the hinge and he clawed at his face for a good long minute, groaning in releif. He put his hand back and set the stock back down when his nose twitched at a scent, flowers and wood..and wolf.

Ash stalked around from what should be shadows, but Lob's vision pierced the darkness. It was a wolf, but its posture was not sick wounded or elder. This was no 'lone wolf' but one with a small pack, a pack of two. This wolf had a human companion.

@Why and how do you speak our tongue?@
$I am one of the wilds, I run with the bigdogs of smallmen$
@Why do you call me?@
$I call to all who can hear it. I am here but asked to stay for many suns, one who would be my brother is inside and away. I call but he does not answer. You smell him on me, do you smell him elsewhere?$
The wolf came closer with a powerful air and sniffed over the orcblood with a curled lip.
@You stink. what did you roll in?@
$Giant Skunk.$
@...Yes, yours is safe, I smell him in the stonewall when the sun was up, he sleeps and smells of herbs.@
Lob visibly relaxed, knowing the mastiff was alright. Sniffing again he asked of the wolf again.
$Your Packmate's scent is familiar, Do you travel with Saaanaa? She smells of flowers and wood.$
THe wolf shook out himself, sending floofs of fur into the air. He spoke with a sharp yawn, for all animals have names, some are easier and harder to pronounce.
@No. She is Kyyrraa... I go now.@
"I said SHADDAP! Damn dogs..."
With that, ash turned and loped off to the shadows again, coming bac a few minutes later with a bone to put at lobs feet.
@Sit, stay...Good boy.@

---

---

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Early Evening
Weather: The air is cool outside but the stench from the Kraken being released from the caves known as Keystones Arse still lingers in the air.
General Ambiance: Most of the townsfolk are utterly disgusted and gagging while a few are searching for the one who caused the stench; wishing for him to teach them how to drive away the hoards of Orcs with such an arseblast.
Location: Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Within and Outsite the Crossed Swords Tavern – depending on if you chose to make your “constitution check” :P

---

---

"That my good sir is what happens when you mix too much ale and stew with a deep breath of sewage," Femnal groaned slightly as he leaned against the wall of the tavern; still trying to catch his breath.

He would have shot Keystone an eat-shit-and-die look after his laughing but he was far too tired to do much of anything at that moment. He actually hurt from the expulsion and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed himself and get a good nights rest. That would have to wait though, he needed to clean up first and even that would have to wait for now he needed to regain at least a little bit of strength before he began the trudge to his private quarters within the tavern.

Cremwise on the other hand was not going to stand there a moment longer than he needed to and wished to clean up as quickly as he could. This night had turned out to be a bit more adventurous than he had anticipated and part of him wished that he had just set out alone and let the orcs come in they may. It probably would have been a much more pleasant experience in the end than what had just happened to him. Turning he looked over at Persephone and her compatriot.

"You will have to excuse me, I need to clean up. I will be leaving in the morning, I hope you two will join me. If you can, please see if you can recruit some others to come along with us. That archer from earlier would do well I think and perhaps even that fellow who caused all this in the first place. If he can do that without trying, I wonder just what all he can accomplish if he put his mind to it. should at least make for a good show," he added with a huff before walking off.

The stench in the tavern was still great but it would just have to be dealt with for now. With it airing out slowly, it was becoming slightly less insulting to the senses than the smell of the vomit that covered his features; only in the slightest. He just hoped that what ever the man, known as Keystone, was up to in the kitchen would help to take this smell out of the tavern. He liked the place and it was the only decent watering hole within the town. Would be shame if his old friend Femnal had to burn it to the ground.

---

---

The dire wold had wasted no time after telling the half-orc to sit and stay to run off, eventually coming to the opening of the tavern and whining slightly as the full brunt of the stench his hit senses. He had smelt it from the stockades but he still hadn't imagined that it was going to be this bad. Scratching at the floor, Kyra perked a brow as her eyes fell onto her pet; it was unlike him to come near such places and it worried her.

Slinging her things over her shoulder she wandered over to him and became even more perplexed as Ash nipped at her clothing and began to tug her out of the tavern. She had thought it was just to get her away from the stench but apparently that was not the case. Ash kept pulling her towards the jail she had been at earlier and then around to the back. Several guards following, wondering what the woman was up to but they had seen her earlier speaking to the constable so they did not stop her as of yet.

Kyra was quickly made painfully aware to why Ash had brought her back here, the man in the stockade itself. Sighing she knelt down and looked at the half-orc sitting there. She had dealt with them in the past, some were kind, some horrid; if Ash was pulling her to him then she had a feeling he was anything but a threat to the people of this village.

"I'm Kyra, who are you?" she asked as she looked at the creature. Kyra looked nothing like someone that Lob had spoken about earlier but there were undeniable similarities. The scent alone of Kyra was very similar to another; her clothign seemed to be woven in the same manner even though Kyras covered much more flesh. Even the rangers bow, thought painted differently was obviously of the same craftsmanship as anothers.

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: Femnal, Scullery Crew

The alteration of sulphurous yolks into a burnable form was a very simple process, if one knew how. Carefully, Keystone cracked the eggs and strained the yolks away from the whites. Proper applications of heat and agitation combined with a couple kitchen staples yielded a pale yellow, chalky paste in very short order. Another moment of preparation had a half dozen ceramic ramekins loaded with one good-sized oven coal each and a spoonful of yolk paste, evenly arrayed on a large serving platter with a covered plate in the center. As he exited the kitchen, he called back to the scullions still inside, "Many thanks, you. You might want to throw a bit of sage and some winter mint in with that roast, but very nice, anyways."

Deftly, Keystone walked around the common room, placing the smoking ramekins evenly about the area. The smell of vinegar and burning egg yolk cut through the air, quickly overtaking the more pungent (and vorpal) odor of The Asspocalypse. The odor, while not the most pleasant in the world, was without doubt preferable to the environment of five minutes prior.

The last ramekin was reserved for the upstairs, or more appropriately put, The Source. Keystone deposited it in a safe spot and returned downstairs, only the covered plate remaining on the serving tray. This was reserved for the proprietor, still recovering from a vomitous heave almost as epic as the arseblast which caused it.

"Right then, Squire. Problem seen to, per request." began Keystone, his underclass accent prominent in his speech, "If'n you'll pardon my assumin', sir, you're going to get proper hungry in a minute or three. I've got you set up here with somethin' that'll sit heavy and gentle."

For just a second or two, Keystone removed the plate cover. Still venting savory steam, therein waited thick slices of toast with butter and clotted cream, a cheesy egg white omelette garnished with young celery leaves, and syrupy, sliced peaches. It was an amount suitable to a man of Keystone's size; it should fill the belly of a Gnome sufficiently and to spare.

"Now, I'm off to that temple one of your serving girls told me about. Yellow Rose, or some such? Maybe I can pick up some incense there, what can chase out the last of the sulphur. By your leave, sir."

Keystone balled his hands into fists and tapped his knuckles together lightly while giving a curt bow. It looked like a motion practiced thousands of times, part of a point of discipline foreign to not only the culture in which the errant pugilist found himself in then, but his own culture as well.

Without further ado, Keystone made his way toward the Yellow Rose temple, directions gathered from the barmaid earlier in the evening.

Sundos has been walking with Saul to meet the constable and a local priest. He was still getting over his shock at Saul's words and trying to decide what he could say to right things with Saul.

Sundos saw them. that rude archer and wolf, standing outside the jail and thought,"Aw... crap. She is going to think I am following her. And is that an half orc with her?" Sundos didn't know what to think about half orcs. Humans, elves and even dwarves were races of Light and were under Lathander's Glory. Orcs clearly were not a race of Light. They were enemies of Lathander and all He stood for. However, an half orc was a bastard child of the two races. Sundos decided that the half orc's mother must have been abused by the orcs and forced against her will to be the child's mother. He felt pity for the half orc's mother and decided to treat the half orc as any other of the races of Light. at least for now...

Sundos walked up to Lob and Kyra. He didn't approach them too closely and said, "Greetings, Sister...hmm... Ash and you, Brother. Fear not the Darkness, Dawn Shall Arrive soon. I promise, Sister, I am not following you. However, I was guided here to meet the constable and a priest."

Then he continued to the half orc and said, "Brother, I am called Sundos Solito, I am a DawnBringer. May the Glory of Lathander shine upon you. Have you also come to help defend the village?" Sundos smiles and bows slightly to everybody but does not approach any of them very closely.

Persephone had a vaguely disgusted look on her face as Cremwise departed for the night, covered in vomit from Femnal. It really was turning into an awful evening. She hoped that would be the last of it.

"Well," she said, glancing at Lucan, "I'm just glad I didn't get any on me. I think." She started checking her clothes, pulling at her robe sleeves and twisting her arms and legs around to look. One splotch of vomit on her boot would be enough to make her thoroughly grumpy, but thankfully, she didn't find any. Finally satisfied but still feeling like she needed a bath anyway, she huffed out a sigh.

"We should probably do what Cremwise, suggested, go talk to some of these others, see if they'll join in the morning. You are coming, right? I'd really rather not fight off orcs all by myself." He seemed pleasant enough company, at least. Some of the other patrons from tonight were probably making him look better in comparison, though.

"I'll go up to the temple, if you want to find that white-haired archer." She'd seen the man leave the tavern on his way towards the Yellow Rose Temple. He was out of sight now, but she figured she could catch up pretty quickly.

Location: Jail
Interacting With: Ash, Kyra, Sundos

When lob was left the bone, he didn't want to risk being seen with their broken to so he used his ape-like dexterity to hook the bone over his foot and bring it up to his mouth like a dog would scratch behind its ear. And of course you always get guests when you sit down to dinner. He smelled ash coming once again, but now the familiar scent was much stronger and clearly different. There in the shadows he saw her, the wayshe moved was different but maybe she put some fat on for winter. His squirming in his stocks like an overexcited puppy was making the wood groan in protest until-

"I'm Kyra, who are you?"
"Kyyraa...not Sansa. Lob, Lob good, Lob sit. Ash bone, bone good, Ash good."

And like a disappointed dog, he went back to his bone; a bit dejected, with a heavy sigh. He was about to answer her when he smelled two more and curled a bottom lip just a bit but brought it back down as it wasn't the alpha of this village.

"Greetings, Sister...hmm... Ash and you, Brother. Fear not the Darkness, Dawn Shall Arrive soon. I promise, Sister, I am not following you. However, I was guided here to meet the constable and a priest."

Lob looked at the other like he was an idiot.
No. No moon, sundown, moonup, moondown, sunup. Sun down, no moon, wait, two watch, then sun.

"Brother, I am called Sundos Solito, I am a DawnBringer. May the Glory of Lathander shine upon you. Have you also come to help defend the village?"

Yes, Lob good, Lob sit.

As he watched Cremwise walk away, Lucan turned to Persephone and opened his mouth slightly, holding it agape as he considered what she was saying. Finally she asked him if he was indeed planning to come along with her and Cremwise the next day. "Uh..." Lucan began, thoughtfully, he still hadn't made his decision about it all, but he was in need of money still, and a trip into Orcish territory wouldn't be the worst way to get further away from the 'predator' tracking him. "I uh... Well..." He continued to think, but ti didn't seem to be working out for him, so he just flipped a mental coin and decided to wing it. "Sure, right, I mean, yes, i'm coming." He'd nod his head firmly as if he had indeed made that decision, not letting on to the fact that he was still very much unsure if he actually wanted to be doing this.

"White-hair Arch-" He'd cut himself off, remembering the woman specifically as he set his eyes on her, having spotted her earlier when she first came into the tavern. He'd reminded him in her appearance as the same kind of self-righteous person he'd usually associate as a wannabe 'hero', but he'd been wrong making that assumption before, so he wouldn't totally pass judgement, at least not quite yet. "Right, i'll get on tha- you're already gone." He said, mostly to himself as Persephone turned around a corner to make her way off to the temple. Clearing his throat, he glanced around as if to check that no one had perhaps heard his little awkward moment, satisfied that no one had, he moved after the white-haired woman.

The Jail, his favorite place to be. For the first time in his life, Lucan was more comfortable around a prison than a tavern, and it was solely due to the horrid stench which still permeated toward the back of his nostrils. He continued after her, clearing his throat fairly awkwardly as he slipped past the guards who had followed Kyra. "Pardon me, 'scuse me." He'd let out a few awkward 'heh's as he'd move by, approaching the group, fairly pleased the guards had just assumed he was with the woman as he approached her, opening his mouth to speak before he spotted the Half-orc in the cage. "Oh, well isn't he... Wonderful." He'd think aloud.

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Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Early Evening
Weather: The air outside is becoming colder and the winds whip around slightly.
General Ambiance: Things around the town seem calmer than they were; the stench is cleaning out now. Around the stockades though tensions are running high with the guards.
Location: Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Within and Outside the Crossed Swords Tavern

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Femnal looked at the platter of food that Keystone bestowed on him and shook his head slightly; the man knew he needed to eat but he first needed to clean himself up and get his tavern back in order if he wanted anyone staying there that evening. Sighing, he weakly pushed himself up to his feet and ordered several of the tavern workers to get to cleaning up the place as he stumbled to his quarters. They were anything but pleased but this was the first time anything like this had happened, in fact it was a night full of firsts; the clearing out of the tavern, the apply off Femnals head, the.. well you know. Thankfully the concoction that Keystone had laid about the tavern was working well in clearing out the stench.

Outside the tavern, the town was quieting down. People were either filing back into the Crossed Swords or making their way home for the evening. Up at the temple things were peaceful, being far enough away not to have been bombarded by the events. Several militia stood outside the front doors of the two story stone masonry building, keeping watch and guard. Seeing the approaching man they stiffened somewhat; evening during the day they did not see many approach the temple, it was not exactly a town of prayer though.

“You there, why are you here?” one of the men asked as they pointed towards Keystone at his approach. The temple itself looked like so many others, the only difference was the emblem carved into the doors; a simple rose painted yellow. "Both of you, state your name and business."

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Kyra perked a brow as more joined her at the stockades, she wasn’t expecting more to show up but then again what all could she expect in such a situation or town. This was not like her home, either of them. Nodding in slight greeting towards Sundos before turning her attention back over to the one in the cell. She had to wonder why he would be locked up, did they not know he was not a full orc? Or was there something more. Lobs words made her stop, Sana? She knew that name but how would he?

"Sana? No, I am not Sana. Are you speaking of an archer who dances?” Kyra asked perplexed. If he knew Sana that would change things a bit. Rubbing her temples she glanced over her shoulder and spotted Lucan as he came into view.

"Actually, I think he is,” Kyra said before standing and glaring at the two guards.

"Why is locked up like an animal?” she demanded to know.

“He’s an orc!” one exclaimed.

"No he isn’t you idiot. He is half,” she snapped as her fists balled up.

“So? Half, full, no difference. He is the enemy,” the other man barked. Kyras eyes narrowed at their stupidity as she took a step forward, both men pointing their spears at Kyra as if they defending against an attack that was about to come.

"Wow, you’re dumber than you look. There is a huge difference. As much as there is between a Dwarf and an Elf. Now let him out of there,” she demanded, Ash growled low as he bared his teeth and stepped between Kyra and the guards.

“Like hell we will,” they said in unison; their voices trembling slightly as their eyes drifted to Ash and then back to Kyra. The pale archer groaned inwardly, this was going to be a bit more of a pain than she had hopped.

“What is going on here?” Marcus yelled as he came around the corner to see the group there before the prisoner. The stopped in his tracks and looked the group over. “Get away from him, he’s dangerous Kukuwa,” he implored Kyra.

Clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly as Kyra spoke, Lucan hadn't really expected a reply to his mostly rhetorical comment. Watching the exchange between Kyra and the guards, Lucan set his hand on the hilt of his sword as the guards lowered their spears, drawing it slightly, so a little more than an inch of the blade was visible. Even that was the man showing restraint, had he been certain he'd be backed up by the others he was with, he might've actually started something. However, armed with the knowledge that starting a fight with the town guard where he planned to stay the night was probably a bad idea, he settled upon looking threatening as an alternative.

Glancing down at the Dire Wolf momentarily, Lucan noticed it properly for the first time, he'd seen it leading Kyra here before, but hadn't really paid it much mind until now. It was fairly clear that the creature was a pet of some sort to the White-haired woman, well, as close to a pet as one could get with a Dire Wolf, his encounters with the creatures had usually not been very 'tame'. However, nothing about the woman particularly seemed tame, she carried herself similarly to the few woodland elves Lucan had encountered in his travels, though he had been able to establish fairly obviously that she herself was not an elf - which only served to make the fact of the matter more intriguing.

Sundos, however, Lucan figured he had him in a nutshell after little more than a glance. See one religious nutjob, seen them all. While it was exceedingly rare for one to avoid religion, Lucan did so like the plague, the 'holier-than-thou' way some priests, paladins and clerics carried themselves did little more than irritate him, and the idea of serving any power higher than himself was not really one which appealed greatly to the former bandit. Sundos, evidently, did not see things like Lucan did, and while he didn't agree with Sundos decision to devote his life to whatever god was the flavour of the month at the time, he could respect the decision, well, not respect it, more 'not pick a fight over it'.

Drawing about half an inch more of his blade, Lucan heard the yell of Marcus as the man rounded the corner. He was also easy to figure out - clearly the Constable in charge, Lucan figured Marcus was much like any other man in his position in a nowhere town, especially one on the borders of fighting - more focused on the wonder and excitement of 'protecting the people' than to actually stop and think something through before tossing it in a cell or bringing an axe down on it. Lucan could barely hold in his laughter at the Constable's insistence that the half-orc was dangerous, and he looked back to the large creature. "Ooh yeah, he looks real dangerous, like the type to squash your head between both his hands sooner than look at you. Gosh, aren't the people of this town lucky to have a Constable like you, huh? Can I just pay you directly for all this or does it get counted up in taxes? Lord, really, you should just come back to my house and fuck my sister." Lucan was enjoying himself.

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Lob could smell trouble on the wind as it whipped up. He took a moment to snap the bone in half before sucking the marrow from the bone. A noisy and mouthsome ordeal, but truly impressive if you consider he is doing it with only his mouth and tongue with hands still in stocks.

"Sana? No, I am not Sana. Are you speaking of an archer who dances?”
"Yes. Sana, alpha, Hugo, alpha. Hugo go, Sana go, find Hugo."

Down the way came a second human with hair the same color as Lobs who emerged from the crown beside Ash's companion. And what came next was rather rapid fire talking.
"Oh, well isn't he... Wonderful.""Actually, I think he is. Why is locked up like an animal?”“He’s an orc!” "No he isn’t you idiot. He is half,” “So? Half, full, no difference. He is the enemy,” "Wow, you’re dumber than you look. There is a huge difference. As much as there is between a Dwarf and an Elf. Now let him out of there,” “Like hell we will,” “What is going on here? Get away from him, he’s dangerous Kukuwa,”

Finally his headache from lack of food and water peaked as he let out a primal roar to silence all around him. Solid steel snapped and blackened boards broke as he stood up to his full frightening figure to bellow out.



With that, the feralan brute who could thrown the cage he was locked within, crossed his arms and legs as he sat on the ground like a petulant child having a fit.

Location: Yellow Rose Temple

Interacting With: Militia, Persephone, Temple Attendant

"Both of you, state your name and business."

The beginning of the assertion, "Both", struck Keystone just enough to preempt a cautionary glance to the side. His peripheral vision caught sight of the upcoming Persephone, otherwise alone. After assessing her presence as non-threatening, his attention reverted to the soldiery and their none-too-friendly request of his name and business.

Keystone took a moment to rub his temples, exhaling slowly. Times of war always seemed to bring a change of attitude, including more than a fair amount of repetition. The brawler had a flashback to his own home, clearly recalling the City Guard's incessant, nagging interrogation of, "What's all this, then?" at length. May as well have made it the city motto.

Well, if his land's slogan was "What's All This, Then?", the slogan of Salarn recently seemed very much to be "State Your Name And Business".

Keystone couldn't blame the militiamen for their minor blusters of self-importance. Little rituals like this gave the men courage and a sense of solidarity. These were part-time soldiers; common folk, not too different from himself in that regard. Still, Keystone had a moral imperative to screw with them.

"Aw, for Gravy's sake, you lot stop fiddling with each other's danglies, eh?" he rumbled out in a low, quiet(ish) voice. It got louder as he continued. "I am Master Keystone of the Northern Ironfist Temple, comin' to seek Spiritual Fonging Enlightenment."

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Well, it was, but in the classical sense only. Keystone did have a spot for personal training back home, it was toward the north, comparatively speaking, and his principle technique was Iron Fist. He had trained others, as well, but all of these things had yet to coalesce into the grand vision of his own temple back home. He had plans, though. Big ones.

"Didja not get word already? Eh? I've come a long way on foot to be 'ere, and 'ere I am, wasting all m'good breath for mantras and supplications and whatnot on the likes of you tosspots. That answer enough, yet? D'ya need to know anything else? Boot size, favorite color? Whether I likes my womenfolk plump or scrawny? P'raps you'd care to see the birthmark on my arse. Or p'raps you could offer to open the sodding door for us. 'k?"

Utter shock and confusion gripped the irregular soldier in front of the Yellow Rose. His post mates had already fallen back, more confused than shocked at the verbal barrage of the intimidating man (that they suspected might not actually be a priest). But, he wasn't an Orc, which was mostly what they cared about. Slowly, wordlessly, he responded to Keystone's request and placed a his hands on one of the double doors, pulling it open to allow entrance.

Keystone looked questioningly to his new companion, the dark haired lady that had come up behind him, and entered the Yellow Rose.

Stepping just into the vestibule, the broad-shouldered pugilist sought out the attentions of the first person that looked like they belonged there. An oddly rustic man, as the others around him, approached. Keystone spoke flatly but with softened voice, "Apologies for the late visit. Was hoping to introduce m'self to your Master; I'm a visiting Xiang Disciple from a ways off. Turns out, I've got a hair of a problem, though - Unloaded a dragon's share of colonic Chi over at Femnal's, damned near wrecked the place. Hoping to buy some incense off'n you, chase out the last of it.

"Ain't a bloody clue why the lady's here, though." Keystone shifted his attention, "You here for incense, too?"

From elsewhere in the township, Keystone could hear the muffled sound of someone roaring, "LOB, GOOD! LOB, SIT!" and wondered what it could be about. Another mystery for later in the evening, maybe.