---

---

The chief listened to what they had to say, taking it in. It wasn't the first time the camp was attacked and he was sure it was not going to be the last. Yet this was the first time that anyone had arose again during an attack and he had never heard of a red mist before; much less any just appearing within in cave. These details he gave to the two that were representing the group of non-orcs in a gruff quick manner before telling them he wanted them to leave as quickly as possible and get this so called truce started. With these attacks increasing the way they were, as much as he loathed it, the village and his people needed to put everything else behind them if either wanted to survive without having to abandon the area completely. Adding two last little detail before insisting they leave the cave and get on their way - they may take one of the camps wagons to hasten the journey if they would like and that no one needs to stay behind now. He wants them all out of his villages encampment post haste.

Outside Sana just looked around wild eyed, shaking from something but it was obvious it wasn't the cold water that was soaking her to the bone right then. She didn't even flinch when it drenched her. Kyra cocked a brow as she stepped closer to her old friend, resting her hand on her shoulder and Sana seemingly to finally snap out of it as she looked over to her but still looking as wide eyed and shaky as before.

"Sana? Come on, let's get you dry."

"Dry?" she said before slowly looking down at her clothing and finally noticing the wetness she was sitting in. Taking Kyra's hand she stood up, her knees wobbling as she did and Kyra helped to steady her.

"Sana? Are you okay?" she asked, concern in her voice as she glanced over and around to the rest of the group.

"We need to go, we need to go now," she said suddenly pushing Kyra away so hard she nearly stumbled and fell into the water. Sana rushing over to Epona and trying to climb on but she was still far too weak to, the jolt of energy she had had was gone and now she was barely standing up as she leaned against her mare.

Cyneburg

Location: Orc Cave
Interacting with:Ntaj

<<Thank you, Chief.>> Well that certainly ended the discussion. He clearly wouldn't want the group moving deeper into the cave, so she didn't even bother trying to bring up the stated mission for either of them being there in the first place. Stifling a yawn (she wouldn't be surprised if it was dawn already), Cyne motioned for Ntaj to follow her back towards the cave's mouth.

Overall she would consider this a net gain from the position they had found themselves in last night. A new (if borrowed) wagon, no need to try figuring out who to leave as a political hostage and not having to worry about relying on the hospitality of a powerful group that wanted you dead. Yes, everyone was tired from their rude awakening and Sana was unconscious, but at least one of those problems would get sorted out within the next few days.

---

---

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Small Hours of Day Four

Interacting With: A growing sense of trepidation.

---

---

If Keystone didn't know any better, he'd say that Sana was acting with alarm. The kind of alarm that betrayed either paranoia or access to knowledge the the rest of them didn't. Either way, he agreed with the lady. Leaving was a huge priority for him, too. Of course, Keystone was in a much better position to act upon his desire to make his egress than his Bowmaiden companion.

He trudged over to her, pausing briefly to make sure Kyra wasn't still in danger of falling over thanks to Sana's thoughtless haste (a subject in which Keystone was particularly versed). He stopped a pace or so away from her and offered his take on the situation.

"I'm with ya, there's a big mug o' soddin' off with our names on it. But you ain't in a condition to ride, let alone walk outta this place. If you got a damned compelling reason we ought leave on the now, I'll lift you on the horse and run alongside. Hell, I'll toss you over a shoulder and carry you outta here. And this place..." He motioned around with one hand, indicating their general vicinity, "can smooch my muscly arse on the way out. Otherwise, we ought hold tight for the rest of us to get back, yeah?."

Satilla Valen

Well situation once more had shifted into something rather unexpected. The way the wall of ice decided to attack them with icy water was extremely effective way to confuse someone who had just prepared himself to spend a quick relaxing nap after a cup of tea. Now she really needed to get into another set of clothes, but right now was probably not the time and the place. That is if her other set had dried in her bag from the rain the other day.

This was it though, leaving was not too far away now since their campfire was rendered unusable and they had no more work here. The way Sana started acting when she woke up was rather interesting though. The paranoid almost way she acted was something Satilla didn't expect, but then again people who just underwent very traumatic situations sometimes acted like that in confusion after waking up.

“Sana, you shouldn't be moving like that...” Satilla then called to the bard with concerned voice.” You still need to rest without much movement. Keystone could help you onto Epona as the horse's back will provide you some warmth, but moving about the place should be a no-no!”

---

---

There was a graveyard on the outskirts of the town named Salarn, which in better times would have provided the citizens who lived there with a place to silently pay their respects to those who came before them, a place where they could give their departed loved ones the respectful send-off that they deserved into the next world, a place for peaceful reflection and quiet prayer. That was before the dead started getting climbing from their graves.

Now though, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone from Salarn who was still willing to venture from their relatively safe homes into the forbidding graveyard, in fear of stumbling across a deceased friend or relative who had suddenly clawed their way back into the land of the living, and was now wandering aimlessly sporting a bad attitude and a hunger for human flesh. Those souls still brave enough to venture into the boneyard would be disappointed if they had gone looking for the undead though, as the place was now empty and silent, not a single corpse to be found, walking or otherwise. In fact, the only person in attendance at the burial ground today was an outsider to Salarn, a traveller looking for fame and adventure.

Magnus Arhkaine, as the tall adventurer was known, hadn’t realised that his hunt for renown would take him to quite so many graveyards, but he’d slowly come to accept that spending more time than any right-thinking person would like in cemetery’s was just one of many ‘perks’ that came with the job. This particular boneyard was more vexing than most though, as there was a mystery here that was beyond Magnus’ abilities to discern.

He’d arrived at Salarn the night before, meaning to solve them of their Orc problem, only to hear that they’d suffered attacks by the undead not two days before. Realising that their issues with the fiendish shamblers was a touch more pressing than their ongoing war with the Orcs, Magnus had asked for directions to the graveyard, meaning to investigate. Upon arriving he had found all the graves dug up and abandoned. And that’s where the mystery lay. The bodies hadn’t unearthed themselves, they had been exhumed by an outside force. Who, or what, had done the deed, well he just couldn’t tell, and that lack of knowledge was gnawing something awful at him.

He cast around the area one last time, hoping to stumble upon the missing clue that would make everything fall into place, but knowing deep inside that it wasn’t going to be so easy as that. After another hour had passed he admitted to himself that without more information, he was never going to solve the case of the missing bone bags. Scratching at his beard, and with one last suspicious glance over his shoulder at the offending graveyard, he made his way back to the town.

Skulking around cemeteries was thirsty work, even at this chillier time of year, and seeing as it was around lunchtime, Magnus figured to head back to the Crossed Swords, get himself a bite to eat and something to wash his frustrations away, and maybe quiz some of the locals about recent events a touch more thoroughly. Someone must know more about what’s going on than they were letting on.

He got a few sideways glances on his way through town. It had bothered him the night before when he’d first arrived, like he had food caught in his beard and no one was telling him about it. However, he’d since discovered that, on top of their recent troubles with Orcs and undead, the people of Salarn had also had to suffer a crew of adventurers like him, and they’d apparently caused quite the ruckus. Something about an apocalyptic fart that had caused all the cows in a two-mile radius to produce sour milk, and then releasing a half-orc prisoner out of jail even while the constable ordered them not to. In light of all that it was understandable really, the locals being a little edgy around strangers.

Magnus made his way into the Tavern, the place being conspicuously busy for a mid-afternoon, when most people should be busy working the fields instead of filling themselves with cheap ale. Considering their troubles though, it was hardly a surprise that most would rather be determinedly drowning their sorrows than doing any real work. The swordsman claimed a table near the fire for himself, and gestured for the attention of one of the tavern workers.

Ntaj wasn't going to argue against getting out of this cave, and getting a free wagon out of the deal just made it all the better. Ntaj bowed towards the chief for being fairly reasonable, which is a nice change of pace compared to the other orc leaders Ntaj had met in his life. Following Cyneburg out Ntaj met up with the others as soon as he could and told them what the Chief said. "Chief not dead. We can take one wagon, and no one stay behind. Chief want us gone now, talk to village, make peace." Ntaj didn't really stay to talk more about it, and went to his tent to take it down as well as get Thomas and whoever else was with him. At this point Ntaj spotted Honey walking out of the forest with a fox in his mouth, but now was not the time to enjoy breakfast.

While the sun was working it's way up the horizon Ntaj was busy taking down his tent and packing everything. If he had more time things would have been neater, but time was of the essence. While most of the tent was packed into Ntaj's backpack everything else was stuffed into a makeshift sack using his tent's tarp and slung over his shoulder."Thomas! We go now!" Ntaj shouted into the forest. Hopefully Thomas and Calanon didn't do anything foolish like run into the forest to chase down zombies, but at least now Ntaj could say he called for them. He made one more inventory check to make sure he had everything arranged before returning to the others, either to help them pack up or carry things so they could get out of here.

The time has come,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes and trips and battle-axe,
Of skeletons and kings,
And why water is freezing cold
And whether Orc can sing.

"Oh morning Ntaj. Uh, I guess." Robes a bit wetted by the sudden deluge, and thankfully nothing too precious ruined in his satchel, taking a swing of his bag around his shoulder Thomas unfolded himself from his dampened seat. A spell or two, probably just enough for one cast, with just enough trace sunlight peeking through to charge his body for a cast. Usually Thomas required at least till noon to prepare his cosmic attunement, breathing in and out in an almost trance-like state as he focused on the echoes of his distant kin. But it seemed from earshot, the chief wanted them out. Not as much to make peace perhaps but rather to get this rapscallion band of rag-tag merry adventurers out of their encampment. Because they seemed to bring trouble in the form of a bloody smudge.

It was a shame they didn't entrap it. The Crimson Death, now that Thomas had time to properly recall the obscurities. It was time to get his head back into this whole adventuring thing, although judging by the number of not friends he made within the party, it was probably better to stop off at the village they were going to and part ways. At least Ntaj was there. "So, why the sudden rush? Thomas inquired of Ntaj as Thomas surveyed the packing frenzy, deciding the help pick up any items left on the ground around them. Pointing a finger at the objects and guiding the invisible hands which picked them up and gathered what he could in a rather magey way. A mage hand was only useful for unattended non-magical objects, else it would have been great to pick up Keystone's thrown weapon, but clearly to harm the creature it had some magical property right?


"Do you think I should offer Sana another stamina potion? I mean last time it didn't go so well but it might be just what she needs now..."

---

---

Sana took a deep breath and looked over at Keystone before nodding. He was right in his feeling, she was acting with alarm and she was not near strong enough to get up on her horse herself. Seeing the lack of strength in the gypsy worried Kyra. Sana let go of Epona and leaned against Keystone, he was better able to help her stay on her feet than her horse was. Now this really worried Kyra, Sana was not only accepting help but wordlessly asking for it. That wasn't like the woman.

"Sana, what in the hell is going on?" she finally asked.

"I'll explain once we are on our way," Sana replied, it took her longer than normal to get the words out and her voice was gravely rough when she spoke. Kyra nodded and looked over towards Cyneberg and Njat as they came out and informed them of a few things.

"Right, let's get Epona hooked up to the wagon. Then Sana can rest in the back," she said before heading away from Keystone and Sana with Ash remaining at Sana's side. Hearing Thomas ask Njat about the other stamina potion Kyra gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, answering the question herself.

"No, this is a combination of bard trauma and something else. She needs rest. A couple of days and hopefully she will feel better," Kyra said before grabbing Epona's reins and leading her over to the wagon to begin hooking up the horse. "Alright, everyone pack up. We are moving soon as Sana is secure in the back of the wagon. I'll drive. Satilla, next to Sana to keep an eye on her. Rest walk and keep up. We want this to go as quickly as we can and we can't weigh Epona down more than is needed. Keystone, put her in the back please. Come on folks, we move out in five," Kyra said. She might not be an official leader of the group but she was taking charge.

"Let's get as much distance covered today as possible."

---

---

To say the town was subdued right then was an understatement. People did not want to venture in the fields or anywhere outside of the wall that surrounded the town. Even within the wall, things were tense. The graveyard was avoided at all costs. The care taker had decided today was as good a day as any to waste in the tavern drowning his thoughts like most others were right then. Even the soldiers were starting to drink more heavily and a dark cloud seemed to hang heavy over the place.

Fenmal was usually very jovial, even after his little event of evacuating all his meals for the last thirty years on Cremise days ago it was expected he would be right as rain again the next day. He was, then the attack from the undead happened a few days ago. Since then he had not recovered. He had been the only one left in the town with magical abilities. Ones he normally left for entertainment purposes. Yet he had been left with no choice to go on the offensive to drive them back.

Now he sat behind his bar, on a stool and slowly passed out ale and mead to the customers. The kitchen prepared meals. The wenches who were usually smiling and bright had had it at this point. They were as gruff as a man coming off the field. Drunks during the day and morose thoughts did not make for enjoyable patrons. Most seemed to be drinking until they were sick and then drinking again. The girls were tired of cleaning up half digested alabaster chum.

One of said women spotted the motioning from Magnus and headed over to him. Her shoulders dropping in defeat before plastering at plain look on her face. A smile was not coming right then. "What can I get fer ya?" she asked coolly.

---

---

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Early Morning of Day Four

Interacting With: Kyra, Sana, Group

---

---

Keystone helped Sana over to the Orc-craft wagon. Despite it being an ungainly thing, it was level and sturdy, which suited him just fine. He shrugged off his pack, still hanging from one shoulder, and tossed it lightly into the wagon. It wasn't perfect, but it should suit them just fine for the three-day trip back to Salarn and then some. Hell, if he could find a more or less trained mule back that way, he might just petition the group to keep the thing for himself. It seemed fitting, considering that he had always traveled with heavy provision.

One of Keystone's massive hands untied the bedroll from his pack and spread it out. It was a slightly cumbersome procedure while holding up the Sana, but his breadth of shoulder was helpful in reducing the difficulty. From there it was a simple matter of angling the woman onto the padding and covering her blanket-style with his hellhound cloak. "Right then, you rest easy on the now, got it? Tell us the grim an' shady on the road. Be back in a few."

Luckily for the ordinarily irate brawler, he hadn't bothered to unpack a whole lot, and already packed up supper from the evening before. Technically, he could jog out of there at a moment's notice. However, he did have a couple of things to recover that he hadn't already. Sharp things. Pointy things. Things that make other things go Ouch. The first kunai was easy, laying in the ground a few feet from where he had hurled it into a skeleton that decided to, for whatever reason, explode. The second one was obvious. It was embedded in a tree a few meters away, apparently catching the force of the explosion at just the right angle.

He really couldn't have missed it if he tried. A small, brown bird lighted atop the false branch and tittered once or twice before flying off. It was as if the dagger wanted to be found. He pulled it from the tree, replaced it in his bandoleer, and returned to the group.

Kyra was barking orders again, of course. But Keystone didn't care this time. He wanted to get away from there as badly as she did, as badly as Sana did. Ok, maybe not as badly as Sana, but still... leaving was the priority.

"Hey! Did Cremmy up an' die, or are we hauling his arse back, too?" Oh yeah, he was ready to leave.

Cyneburg

Location: Cave Mouth
Interacting with:N/A

Oh man, it was dawn already? Cyne didn't think that much time had passed since everyone was so rudely awakened by the walking dead, but there you had it. And the fact that they were going to start traveling within the next few minutes meant that she wouldn't be able to properly recover any of her expended spells from yesterday. She hoped that they wouldn't be urgently needed within the next 24 hours.

The druid stumbled over to her sleeping place and gathered up her things within the space of a couple minutes. She was one of the first to be ready by the wagon, eyes half-lidded and stifling another pesky yawn. When it came to preparing a wagon, her help would provide little real assistance and Sana didn't need any more assistance than she was already receiving, so Cyne provided the most help she could by staying out of the way of those performing more important tasks.

Satilla Valen

As Kyra had told her to do, Satilla quickly climbed up in the wagon when it was ready and after Sana was placed in it. The witch really needed to keep the bard under close observation for the moment because it seemed that there was something else at work here beside the hypothermia the bard had experienced. The witch only hope it wasn't anything that would get worse from now on.

She then felt a movement from her bag as she saw Skittles the cat leave it and move next to Sana, curling up next to the left side of her, just waiting for a good chance to probably hop on top of her and curl up on her stomach. It wouldn't be the first time the kitty had done that to people who didn't feel well. With a smile she then looked back at her bag before giving it a very quick check on the remaining supplies within. The situation was more dire than she suspected. She was running low on most herbs. It situation came to the worst, she would be able to brew some healing potions, but that was about it. She needed to supply with some mint... it had a lot of uses.

---

---

A tavern wench with all the good-cheer of a hatchet to the face approached the table, moving with so much ill-grace that you’d think she was only serving him because she’d lost a bet. Magnus wondered what the service here was like when Salarn wasn’t on the brink of destruction. Somebodies going out of her way to do themselves outta a tip, he thought to himself, Like Pa always said, niceness don’t cost nought.

He looked up at the girl and forced a grin, trying to practice what he was preaching, before pacing his order.

“Afternoon ma’am. I’d like a mug of whatever you got cold, and a bowl of whatever’s hot, if it please ya.” His grin cracked a fraction wider, showing off those strong, pearly whites that he’d gotten from his Ma.

Just before she left to put in his order he grabbed her arm lightly.

“Uhm, excuse me ma’am, but before you go there’s one more thing I just remembered to ask.” He pulled her down gently, until her ear was at his mouth level, then whispered into her ear, eager that no one else heard what he said. _{“That man in the corner? The one making a damn good effort at committing suicide by alcohol poisoning. Might that be the cemetery caretaker?”}

---

---

Sana curled up in the back of the wagon as Kyra climbed into the driver seat. Ash jumped into the back and curled around Sana, letting her use him as a make shift pillow; his body heat would help keep her warmer than if she was just piled beneath layers of blankets and furs.

Sana felt like she had gone through the ringer. She knew she needed to explain why they needed to make haste but her throat still felt like it was on fire with molten gravel. So she lay there, trembling slightly, as she tried to figure out in as few words as possible to tell them what they needed to know.

Thankfully, with or without explanation, people seemed to be getting their acts together and ready to move out but it didn't seem fast enough for Kyra. Whatever happened to Cremwise she didn't have a clue and she wasn't about to wait around to find out. Their resident Elf had already taken off, another seemed keen on leaving without them, heading north instead. She wasn't going to blame them. People had things to do, living was one of them and right then it seemed that the path that Kyra needed to travel was south to ensure that Sana was able to heal.

"Alright people, let's move out. Sana can explain on the way." Kyra's were short and too the point as she snapped the reins. Epona pulling forward slowly at first. The wagon not wanting to move through the mud created when the ice wall had suddenly melted but eventually the mare was able to get things under way and they were headed back through the forest towards the road and then back south to the village which they had left around half a week prior.

---

---

The wench nodded at his order but she nearly back handed him as he laid hands on her to stop her. Her eyes shooting dagger as she yanked her arm away. Looking towards the one he was asking about she nodded. "Yeah, that's him," she stated flatly before turning and walking off.

He didn't seem to be the only one drinking himself to an early grave but he was the only one that looked to have an air of guilt surrounding him instead of just drinking to forget the hard times or to not feel anything. It was a sad state of affairs to be in at any age, on the elderly it was just down right pathetic.

Coming back the wench set down a mug of mead and bowl of stew. Neither were anything particularly special in their craftsmanship of culinary fashion but there was far worse fare in the world. Each was hearty and had a pleasant enough taste. It would get a person through the day and they would not gag nor cringe while consuming.

The crossroads weave,
Two enter, two leave,
Off on their own run,
Into the rising sun.

It was time to go, the question was with who? Thomas could try it alone, but given the nature of the path, although others had left as well, slipping away in the early hours to who knows where. Frankly there were only a few of them left now. The Elf had gone, the other archer disappeared too. So from their original party, only the leader trio, Satilla, Ntaj, Cyneburg and Thomas remained. And if Thomas left, then it would just be the six of them, well more if you count their animals. Kyra made it a point to take charge, given Sana's listlessness and Keystone seemed to be asking about the merchant or something their party had earlier, some engagement Thomas was not aware of nor privy to. Either way, if the Orcs wanted them all gone, it was probably best to comply, albeit sticking around to charge himself for a few more spells might do well if they encountered any more undead on the road ahead given that they were already one fighter down. Sort of, Sana really shouldn't be fighting in her state, but with three brawlers, it would be on Thomas and Kyra to take care of any threats from a long range. And despite all he's done they've manage to not kill him yet so, he did owe it to them to stay.

"Okay then, if she's completely tuckered out magically speaking, I've got a little something that might help. Although it might not work on the something else. I didn't have much of a lesson on bardic magic. In theory it works in similar ways to wizard magic, like how wizards will have some evocations to some spells and movements, bards often have some movement too with their instruments but this is more of an analogy really I mean not all wizards wave wands or shoot fireballs from their staves... -" Once on the topic of spellcraft and theory, Thomas was unable to keep his mouth shut from Kyra, who had answered his question rather than Ntaj... " -... but such a simplistic view of magic and the dissection of the art into three components is often frowned upon, I mean for example a spell that takes an hour to cast produces a shallow hole in soft earth and involves a material of a spade, movements of digging motions with the spade into the earth, and some vocal noises of exertion."

Thomas beamed a playful smile trying to tell an intellectual magic joke to Kyra, before realizing he probably just annoyed her and excusing himself back to the relative comfort of Ntaj's side.

"Hey Ntaj, mind if I walk with you? Could you teach me some orcish too? I could teach you some elven if you want. My dwarven's rather basic so I can't teach you that."

Cyneburg

Location: Cave Mouth
Interacting with:Thomas

Cyne followed the wagon while stretching out her back. She was curious about what Sana supposedly had to tell them, and how she even happened to learn this knowledge while passed out from magical backlash brought about via overexertion. The only thing that came to mind there was having a bad dream whilst unconscious, and while Cyne couldn't rule out the truth of such a vision, the circumstances from which they would arise certainly brought any such information under suspicion.

[color=#17c311]"You probably shouldn't be seeking help for learning a language from one who struggles with Common tongue." Piped in Cyneburg from behind. Cyne was one of the few people in the party who Thomas hadn't managed to piss off within the last day, possibly because she wasn't really around to see most of his fuck-ups or wasn't in the proper frame of mind (not a crocodile) for any such annoyance/rage/etc to properly register. As a consequence of this, she didn't try to distance herself from Thomas or purposefully ignore him. That said, she did find the way he acted rather wearisome. But if he was to learn any of the orcish language, she would probably fare far better as a teacher than Ntaj.

---

---

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Early Morning of Day Four

Interacting With: Thomas, Group In General

---

---

Keystone generally enjoy hearing Thomas talk. It was refreshing to him to hear speech phrased in such a bookish and elegant manner, obviously the preferred method of Magely folk about the world. Keystone's own accent and curious dialect marked him (to many) as a witless, uneducated oaf, incapable of contemplating the finer points of tiddlywinks; let alone the subtle idiosyncrasies of similar language from region to region.

Now, what people didn't know about Keystone was that he was actually a reasonably well read man. Admittedly, he was no great pursuer of scholarly works, at least those that fell outside of his sphere of competence, but he was literate and curious, equally interested in reading as he was writing his personal philosophies, martial techniques, and observances relevant to his adventuring career. Point of fact, he had full intent to add to his books the first good chance he got, either on the road or back in Salarn. There was much to add after the events of the past few days, not the least of which being the flying blood-fog that sucked out a few pints of his sanguinity.

But back to the broad man's admiration of Thomas's way of speech. It was quite captivating. So captivating in fact, that while the group's dedicated spellcaster was speaking to Kyra about magic, shovels, and the like, Keystone reached into his pack and produced a large, leather bottle. He took a long, furious drink from it, for as long as Thomas continued speaking to Kyra. It was apparent that he was timing it by the sound of his voice, as if the duration of speech would somehow shape an event that was to follow. Being both introspective and long-winded, Thomas ensured a more than healthy series of gulps of heretofore unknown liquid for the larger Keystone. And boy howdy, did he enjoy hearing Thomas talk.

As his speech drew down to a cessation, Keystone lowered the bottle. Yes, it was quite sufficient. More than necessary by at least seven seconds of pure, eye watering, thirst smashing action. Hopefully now, they could head out. But first, Keystone was compelled to share a little of his own native dialect with Thomas. He walked over to where Ntaj and Thomas were engaging in discourse, he inquiring as to the possibility of learning Orc, trading with lessons in Elvish. Still such sprightly talk of trading linguistic tips! Such was a conversation to which he intended to contribute.

Yes chums, Keystone shared the song of his people. It was only fair.

The growl could be heard emanating from his stomach, the sound of a drowning tiger in a deep, deep well, even before he opened his mouth to permit the egress of his vaporous leavings. The gurgling backdraft changed pitch fully twice before it rocketed past his esophagus and into the world at large, bearing with it the lightly soured aroma of fermentation. And neeps. It became a broad, bass sound, almost musical in the same way that a war horn or unrestrained bellow might accompany a symphony purely for dramatic effect. But what was the truly impressive part of this upper gastrointestinal rebellion was the utter, prolonged duration of the belch. Never flinching, never altering nor stuttering as it roared out of him.

It was less of a feat on Keystone's part - it would be more accurate to say that he created the optimum conditions for the end result, that being the auditory equivalent of scrotum-torn demons screaming in unbreathing, backwards Dwarven; the collision of white-hot boulders raining upon each other and slamming into a lake of burning piss, to quench in a chorus of the roaring damned. All our ignoble protagonist needed do was maintain his own physical integrity while allowing the beast to exit. But it was not easy.

The effort contorted his face, widening his mouth to a diameter mildly disproportionate to the size of his head. The strain had completely closed one eye while simultaneously popping the other fully open, staring bloodshot into the morning light. His head vibrated visibly and listed slightly to one side. He widened his stance just to keep balance. Even this seemed to prove unreliable, so the bardsung Pugilist reached out a ham sized hand, grasping with no small amount of desperation at the nearest shoulder to him to steady his labors; it happened to be Thomas's.

The rolling burp continued. How long had it been? Mere seconds? Minutes? A half hour? The overbearing drone of escaping gut gas blasted away concepts like Time with its hypnotic, if unsettling rumble. It blared and fought, pitched and rolled from him. A tempest of juicy vapors exploding out of the man in ways not assumed to be within the boundaries of human possibility. Keystone turned his still belching face toward Thomas for the purpose of locking eyes, just enough so that he could see the thankful "thumbs up" he thrust out before him while the rrrrraaaaaaaarp played on, unfortunately putting the poor sorcerer in the line of hair ruffling fire. Keystone nodded, possibly trying to indicate that his time upon the earth might be drawing to a conclusion, and that he had something to say to the man who was so unlike himself. He leaned in closer, pushing against the waves of sonic concussion trying to flail his head backwards as tears of strain streaked down his face; one or two of which fell in front of the stomach discharge only to be instantly and irrevocably blasted from its state of matter.

Their positioning in front of the Orc Cave served to the acoustic detriment of those nearby as secondary waves of sound echoed within and grew in depth, lowering and fracturing the original abdominal bray into a thing of demented imagination and projecting it back out into the surrounding woodland. It bore the efforts of a sadistic backup singer dripping with dark, frabjous glee, anticipating joyous discomfort it could inflict on something warm and soft. The belch continued unabated, now seemingly with help.

Keystone nodded to his sorcerer companion despite the blaring, continued act of gastric exodus. Staring fully at the man, he allowed the warm caress of his eye-watering gutsplosion to envelop the assembled gentry (if such a term were applicable) in a final push to fully vacate the carbonic acid gas from his torso. The terminal emission (and I do mean terminal) grew to a reluctant crescendo, flaring in nose breaking intensity with accompanying increase in pitch. It cut off abruptly; far more abruptly than it began.

The echo from the cave could be heard for an additional second or two. Keystone took this opportunity to suck in a sharp breath of air. Without batting an eyelash or waiting for reaction, he spoke plainly, and with simple words:

"Road's that way. Let's get a move on." He immediately turned and trudged in the direction of the departing wagon. It was time to go back to Salarn.

---

---

A bowl of stew and a mug of ale was dropped in front of Magnus. He ate methodically, robotically almost, simply filling his body with fuel rather than taken any enjoyment in the meal, his eyes never leaving the caretaker’s form. Not that the old drouth even realised he was being scrutinized so closely, being far more intent on drowning himself with ale, too wrapped up in his business to even consider paying attention to a stranger by the fire.

This one stinks of guilt, he swordsman mused to himself, taking in the man’s hunched shoulders, the way he adamantly avoided the eyes of the tavern wench who refilled his emptied flagon, how he shivered uncontrollably even though the Crossed Swords hearth boasted a blazing fire, that suffused the room with a comfortable heat. Even money bet that the cause of his consternation is linked to the deplorable state of his charge.

The adventurer emptied the bowl of stew before getting from his chair and, with his mead in hand, slowly crossed the tavern towards the caretaker, movements calm and measured, so as not to startle the older man. There was no real need though, as the man was so deep in his cups that he didn’t even notice Magnus’ presence until the warrior eased himself onto the stool next to him. The swordsman let a tense silence deepen for a few, long heartbeats before saying anything.

“Someone’s been digging all your town’s corpses up old man”, he stated without preamble. “I’m fixing on finding out why. Reckon you can help me answer that question. And don’t bother lying to me, or saying you know nowt. Do that, and I’m like to get markedly less civilized.” He took a pull of his mead while waiting for the caretaker to answer.

Satilla Valen

Satilla's attention was caught pretty fast by Keystone's display of rather cultural... song...sound...irritation...sound attack to her ears! She made a grimace as the sound did in fact made her hurting to a point. It was uncomfortable to listen and she sure was glad when it ended. She blinked a few times and took a breath, regaining her focus to a point. She needed more sleep for complete remedy though.

On a side note she did notice that little Skittles had snuggled even closer against Sana's side. It was a good thing the little fur ball would keep the location warm, but it was going to be more effective on her chest or stomach. Sadly with Sana's condition being what it was right now that was not really a good option. Cats were weird like that, feeling things such as places that hurt on people.

“Shhh... Sana, take it easy.” The witch said softly with a smile, rummaging through her backpack to find a good piece of cloth to use. She just remembered something that would help the bard's sore through a lot. A rather simple folk remedy, but one that was actually effective surprisingly enough. It was a compress that was put on the throat. Acting quickly she pulled her waterskin, took one of the bandages as it was basically already prepared almost for the task she had for it.” Keystone, can you give me that alcohol and some black peper if you have.” She asked of their cook.” I will delude the alcohol with water, put on some peper and make a compress for Sana's neck. It's effective way to deal with sore throats, will relieve the pain and warm it up.” She said with a smile, throwing a look at the bard.” It will get a little hot for a little, but it's better than hurting. I used to have to use such compresses a lot as a child. It's fine.” She explained that it harbored no danger.

{“Actually I am quite fluent in the elvish language. It was the second most common language in my home country, next to orcish. I mostly speak the human language because I do not interact with many elves in my travels. As for teaching you orcish, it may be a bit difficult. In my home country orcish shares a similar root with dwarf, including writing, however I'm not fluent in dwarf after they were driven to the surface. Still, I can teach you useful phrases. If anything my common could use more work. I am woefully new at that language.”} Ntaj said in clear, somewhat accented elvish. Before being put into exile Ntaj was expected to be able to communicate with Dark Star’s neighbors, an elvish city-state that provided magical services to the orc kingdom. Indeed, the one who oversaw Ntaj’s training as a Totem Warrior was an Elven Witch Hunter. Also a witch.

As the two were conversing Cyneburg and Keystone stopped by. Cyneburg questioned Ntaj’s ability to teach, and to be fair he was not much of a teacher anyways. He was more of a “watch-and-learn” type of teacher, which Ntaj believes is a horrible method of teaching. “Ntaj still learning. Not many know orc or elf. Had learn common.”

Then Keystone arrived. It wasn't hard for the half-orc to figure out that Keystone had been drinking, but the cascade of gastral reverberation that shortly followed his arrival was completely unexpected. Ntaj had never seen anyone do this before. His longest burp was about ten seconds: Keystone had easily cleared the one minute mark. It got to the point Ntaj wasn't sure if Keystone was mocking them or actually trying to communicate. Sufficient to say, Ntaj understood none of it. Once Keystone had stopped he left to return to the wagon. Fairly confused and uncertain, Ntaj would do the same.

“Keystone speak dwarf.”

---

---

Kyra was very glad that Keystone had interjected the way he did. She didn't have the patience nor the tolerance for Thomas's ramblings right then. She couldn't get over his ego. She had just explained for him not to try anything but of course he thought he knew better, even though he had admitted he didn't know a thing about bards. Or at least knew very little. His theory was only that, theory. Kyra had known Sana since they were children. Knew when the magic came to her and how long it hadn't before then. Whatever books the windbag had read were not on Sana and certainly not on her tribe. They did not let insiders in, and they were gone now but Kyra knew if she tried to explain this to Thomas it would go right in one ear and out the other.

The man didn't want to learn shit, he wanted to just show off what he thought he knew which in Kyra's estimation from his actions since his arrival to the party was Jack and Shit. Turning to look at Sat Kyra nodded slightly. At least that was a non invasive way that could help Sana rest. It didn't involve anything to be swallowed. And again, thinking swallow made Kyra think of Thomas nearly choking her childhood friend to death by forcing something down her throat and this time she couldn't help but shoot the so called wizard an eat shit and die look. The next three days of travel were going to be tense.

Over those days Sana spent much of her time resting, trying to regain her strength. She hadn't eaten in all this time but it was not the first time she had been without food. Water on the other hand was a different story. Anything but water made her throat feel like it was on fire and any attempts to heal her further backfired and set her back. Kyra finally had enough and just kept a close eye on Sana and would only let Ash or Keystone near her. Satilla was fine but Kyra made it a point that she needed to administer the herbs or salves personally.

During the travel Sana did her best to communicate why she wanted them to get a move on as quickly as they did. The first day she was too tired to even try to speak. Day two, it hurt too bad but she finally had a little bit of energy coming back to her. Pulling out parchment and quill she wrote what she could. It came out broken and her hand was shaky but it was enough to be able to be read. Kyra reading it first and then handing it over to Keystone.

What was on the parchment told of a darkness that was coming, an old feud between friends. One seeking out necromancy powers. That this was only the beginning. There were fires but the light they cast could not break through the darkness and it spread from village to village until the kingdom was over taken. Sana wished she could tell them the horrors but there were no words, all she knew was it had something to do with the village and the war between there and the orcs. The source was there, somewhere.

---

---

Kyra pulled up the wagon to the Tavern and hopped down, stretching out her back before tying off Epona and looking around. "Alright, let's get inside and secure some rooms. Keystone can you grab Sana, after the spill she took trying to climb up into the wagon this morning I don't think she should be walking yet."

Sana rolled her eyes but kept silent, her throat still hurt but it was getting better. Yet it was probably good not to strain it if she could help it. Instead she just sat up from where she had been laying, Ash jumping down off the back of the wagon, and holding her arms out to Keystone.

Inside the tavern the old man looked at Magnus and nodded before taking another long drink from his glass. "Ey, bodies were dug up one at a time weeks ago, just a few mind you. Figured it was grave robbers or kids being stupid but now they are all gone... I keep looking for the bodies but I can't find anything. Least I didn't until three days ago when we were attacked last. I recognized two of the skeletons. Well not recognized them but what remained of their clothing. I had buried them both years before."