The return had been a journey fraught with anticipation, especially once the lingering touch of the moonborne gift slipped away. The will to sustain it, to control it, to kindle and embrace its inner flame was far outside the reach of the man who was so marked by it. It was as much his right and gift by blood as it was not, the comprehension of it and its way still a mystery outside of reach. One element of him played with the fire, the desire to simply cave to the divine wrath the pale, striped cat represented as an agent of change for the better with no shortage of righteous vengeance, while the other attempted to stay it and temper it. The latter of the two was the reason the outlander clung to it, for it was indeed outside his grasp. The Pale Lady had made it clear what it was for, an instrument of her will and a weapon in the darkest hour, but left to be swung blindly and move the wielder than it be moved by them... what dire, dire consequences that would hold.

He lingered on this topic as he drift among the woods with the rest, so at home now that the passion that plucked at the chords of his heart fluttered out and serenity returned. The time to understand, knowing that the enemy could not find them here without great effort and should they, they foolishly dared into terrain that favored their quarry; an ambush at any and every turn could they all set for the cult and then fade away with nothing other than the dead as testament to their deeds. It was this calm after the height of the escape and the staying of death that allowed Brannor to muse further to himself his role in all of this.

Stronger and stronger had his tie grown since he left for Greenest, but nothing ever more than all of the past few nights. Surely this had to have been what the pull that drew him here in the first place desired of him - the same that revealed unspoken, unknown powers. So with arrow knocked upon the string of his retrieved bow, the sizable man thought further in whatever direction led his spirit while his body kept to the direction of his boots. Stained so red as he was in the wake of near death and the grip of the beast, this was a surreal experience after and one which made such an effort even possible.

Eyes searching, pressing the woods for lore and answer, it became evident that not just was animal fury within his grasp, but just as the priestess beheld a goddess of nature and life, so too did his ties extend. The great roots of trees, the faint creeping vine, and what made them touched back so slightly, of course not to Brannor himself, but the domain he held within. And that of all things? That made it increasingly clear just what he could and soon would sway.

Continuing the reflective journey, which progressed on through the night and into the morning after they had been afforded the much needed rest, it was broken only by the summons they all received. Brought to where the final confrontation of the battle had been some nights before, the assembly seemed to have the attention of the town and while the wilder kept quietly to himself, the gestures made on the events and the sincerity of their thankfulness was much appreciated in turn. After all they had not driven him out, wary as some might have been after the events, rather in place offering even their unexpected thanks to him. Brannor could not help but return a subtle smile at this, a subdued smirk that played his face's features, nor that he was even further honored to have them mend, repair, and modify the armor.

"You have my thanks." He offered Governor Nighthill, humble and simple as it was, it struck him on a level of legitimacy and sincerity unexpected. Kindness done to him by common folk, townsmen, civil people, was rare and while he might have done them a number of great services alongside his newfound allies, the experience was still most alien. Yet the call to meet the master they had so endured to rescue was not far behind in thought and it was clear they needed to continue their fledgling campaign against the dragon worshiping enemy.

Something the paladin was not opposed to.

@Hekazu@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

After the last dragonclaw fell, Parum felt a bit sick to her stomach. She thought she'd be used to killing now, but somehow the sight of that man taking his own life, just to spite them, dishearten her. Somehow, she wished that they were facing weaker-willed foes; where a show of might and utter determination would be enough to send these ruffians running. But a cult... They were mad, deranged people who would stop at nothing until success or death. This sort of fanaticism scared her. But Parum had to remain strong. As scared as she was she had to continue onward. She can't hope for some other adventurer or hero to arrive to replace her if she falters. Too bad for her.

As the group continued onward Parum looked at the party again. Torus, while still confusing with his cryptic ramblings, was starting to make sense to Parum. Or perhaps Parum was just understanding him in ways beyond words. It was hard to describe; it was like she simply had a feeling. Kyra seemed... Still bloodthirsty, but in control. Parum thinks that perhaps now that Kyra had a chance to kill a few of their numbers, she's slowly getting over her madness. Orchid was still Orchid. Somehow that comforted the halfling; as simple as he was Orchid was reliable and consistent. Brannor was the one that Parum had the most questions about. Initially she simply thought of him as a rugged human warrior, a paladin of nature, but now he's revealed to be much more. Of course she knew about his bestial side but at the time she first saw it, she simply thought it was his paladin magic playing tricks on her and Cyanwrath. But now she knew for certain; Brannor was a skinwalker, a shifter, some sort of werebeast. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Part of her was scared; though she knew better than to believe in children's tales, could Brannor control his beast of his? What if he only took up his oath as a means to control the monster inside? Was he born or created like this? And where exactly does his alliance lie? Is he truly a warrior of the Pale Lady, or is he simply clutching to her as a means to maintain his own control?

Parum wasn't sure how to ask these questions without offending. When they returned to Greenest she wanted to find some time to talk to Brannor alone, but the moment she got a chance to rest she did so without hesitation, and didn't wake up until a few hours later when she was hungry. By now Greenest, while not fully recovered, was being restored. Guards remaining vigilante while the dead were cleaned up and removed. People went back home to try and recover what little was left. Return to a normal life. It just made Parum remember why she was doing this in the first place; not just for the honor and glory of fighting a greater evil. Because for every great evil there was thousands of small, nameless victims like those in Greenest who go unheard, unremembered, because of a cruel tyrants greed. Parum did not want to be the person to forget them, to be blinded by her own pride or fear and think that the only person who has anything to loose was Parum herself.

It was still dark when Parum awoke. After she had eaten a light meal, she tried to go back to bed but was restless. She couldn't seem to find the lack of energy to sleep. So she simply wandered around the keep for a bit, careful not to make too much noise but at the same time make just enough so people wouldn't be surprised seeing her. Last thing she needed was to spook a guard and have him accidentally attack her. Even so, Parum couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she were more stealthy. Plenty of halflings in tales of adventure were known rogues and sneaks. They were cunning even when they were bombastic; the key to their success was knowing when to be subtle and when to be loud. And even for a bard, a occupation known for their flamboyant personalities, they too must have a certain subtly. So Parum started to walk more quietly, until eventually her footsteps just seemed completely silent. "Yes, just like that. Learn how to vanish until it's time for your roll to be played."

Soon Parum found herself on the castle battlements. She looked up into the night sky, remember that terrifying sight; the sight of that blue dragon. Just remembering it made Parum fall to her knees in a cold sweat. How is it that she could stare down gory death, lie in the face of warlords in their own camp, and even choose to fight a dragon god, and yet simply seeing that blue dragon who didn't even seem to want to attack this castle could frighten her so much? Slowly she stood up and found herself gripping her viol. Music always calmed her soul. And so Parum put the instrument to her shoulder and braced with her chin as she drew her sword, playing a song to soothe her spirits.

And at some point Parum found herself asleep on these ramparts. Someone must have stopped by and given her a blanket as well, as she was wrapped in a thick wool sheet. By now the sun was up and Parum was feeling more energetic than usual. While her thoughts from before still lingered, she was easily able to distract herself from those things when a guardsman approached her, telling her that the governor wishes to see her and the others. They were to go to the main gate; Parum could see it easily from where she was at, and so she would follow the guard to the main gate where she reunited with the others as well as the governor. There she heard his speech calling the group heroes; something that made the halfling rather bashful. She didn't really consider anything she did heroic; she got scared and threw around some spells. She didn't even remember if she fought or killed anyone personally. Even her plans, as much as she tried to do everything right, ultimately ended up failing in some way. At least they managed to get Leosin.

Not only did the group receive the governor's praise, but also payment; 200 gold in total. Divided up among the five of them, each would receive 40 coins each. Frankly it seemed rather.... Underwhelming considering everything they just went through. But Parum couldn't fault them. They were just raided of all their riches. If anything the gesture itself was more than enough; they were at least being recognized and the people of Greenest were trying to scrape together some reward for them. So Parum wasn't going to complain. But as much as Parum wished this would be the end of it, one of the monks approached the group and asked for them to see Leosin. Parum gulped; Leosin had intentionally let himself be captured so he could spy on the cult. Despite all of the damage it did to his body, he was still willing to go through with it, even potentially to the death, just to gather information. Parum had no regrets saving him, but now that he was alive he needed to tell the party what he knew; Parum doubts Leosin is in any shape to be doing espionage work himself even if he wanted to. In order to prevent him from needlessly getting himself into danger or worse, killed, they would need to see him and work with the information he knew.

"Alright than. Let's go see Leosin. Hopefully he's feeling better now."

The blades of grass, oppressed by lines of spilt sacrificial blood, resembled a series of fishing stakes half-submerged, in an avocado sea, incomprehensible. The monster of a man, zealous in the dew of death, honored the unforgiving deity of his adoration, before indulging the jade bed with a crimson pool of coagulated kismet. Their remnant of an abandoned demesne, paraded past the slain tribe, nomadic in the ocean of the trees and branches, wading past the foliage further and further, until the habitation of barren islets of preserved salvation, still and stable, below the westering sun. The fading ripples of light animated glitter off the parting citadel, lowering the draw-bridge, welcoming the unsung heroes, now anchored once more, with the promise of protected repose, in Greenest.

A quixotric bear, no longer, still sleepily schismatic between a pirate and its stowaway, now joined in the perfect frailty of unmarked closeness, beneath the tides of dreams and above the waves of nightmares. Eyes, behind fleshy lids of wrinkled skin, darted, to and fro, enjoying the labored rest of the vainful task of exploring the monotonous sweep of the imagined horizon. Here and there, sleepy gleams scattered ships, full with hull, funnel and masts, as though the impassive waters failed to ingest the Amnian armada, without a tremor. Light clouds of fog followed the devious curves of figurehead afore every vessel, but always fainter and farther away, as braids of ginger locks of hair, rose into view, resonating with thunderous footsteps approaching the deck. She almost floated, with the shadows of her spars flung far to the eastward of the setting radiance.

The crew was ready to take the flanked ship, awaiting Captain Xaron's orders. At that moment, there was no sound.

Nothing moved.

In that breathless pause, the threshold of reality measured a fitness of gasps and coughs, as the elder Torus, awakened from the long, arduous enterprise of disturbed slumber. The appointed task of both existences reigned again under the bard, with only the walls of the infirmary for spectators.

The lone judge, Leosin, sat in contemplative meditation, gleaning the mocked arousal of the former sailor's famished sopor. The elder spoke first, looking for the others, realizing she intimated solace, alone with the monk.

“If this harbors the morn of our harvest, in which unremembered season have you sewn the seeds of solidarity?”

@Ryonara@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen@Hekazu

"Bah! Stupid horses. Too scared to fight!" The half-orc cursed as the horses thoroughly outran the barbarian. While disappointing, Orchid didn't bother to continue the chase once they returned to the forest, instead turning back to catch up with the rest of the party. He grabbed his sword, as well as the weapons of the other cultist, and hurried alongside the group back to Greenest. Today had been a productive day, What with the sneaking and saving and fighting. It really made Orchid feel like he’s doing something worthwhile.

It was an odd feeling. Having never been a complex man, simply living to the next day was all that concerned Orchid. Even his adventure for power was naught but a reason to wake up to the next day, alongside simple pleasures like eating. It made the half-orc wonder what exactly he would be doing and what must be done in order to actually “win” against the enemies he’s facing. Would it be so simple as to just keep fighting the cultist until he was the Kat man standing? Was there even more that Orchid needed to do, something beyond strength? Time will tell.

Upon reaching Greenest Orchid let out a loud, satisfied sigh. ”Yaaaargh! Orchid tired. Good fight! Save Leosin. Orchid hungry. Gunna go eat and sleep.” There was very little fanfare for the heroes as they retired to the keep. Orchid ate his fill and slept in the infirmary, dreaming of things to come. Of dragons and monsters. Giants and armies. Him among the enemies, his blade raised high to cut down everyone that dared stand in his way. But as he slept he saw something else. A small beast that caught his eyes.

Suddenly the dream shifted to his village. Not the elven one, but an orcish one. He could see men and women working on their homes, patching up holes or preparing tools for work. Making harpoons for fishing, baskets for foraging, soup for breakfast. When one would think of an orcish village some might expect more savagery and violence, but the truth was that orcs are a people like humans or elves, and even they need to fulfill basic needs and duties outside of warfare.

As Orchid observed this village he spotted the beast that caught his eye. A golden badger. Curious he chased after, and the beast fled. Orchid ran through the village, dodging people and jumping over obstacles to chance the badger until eventually it lead Orchid to an isolated spot in the forest. He had no idea where he was at. The badger was sitting on a stone. The stone seems familiar to him. The young orc approached and touched the rock, filling his vision with light.

Then Orchid woke up. People were busy going about their business in the keep, tending to the wounded or fixing the damage to the walls. Orchid yawned and got up, looking for something to eat. As he was doing so a guard approached him about the governor wanting to meet him. ”Mkay. Orchid go.” Orchid went to go meet the governor, still sleepy and tired, and frankly he didn’t really pay too much attention when he praised the group for all of their efforts. Orchid was still groggy and hungry. And now it seemed like the party was being led away to Leosin, who Orchid vaguely remembered as the man they picked up yesterday at the cultist camp. Giving a big tired yawn Orchid scratched his head and looked to his companions.

”Leosin have food? Orchid hungry.”

After finishing off the last man, Kyra went out of her way to make sure the others were dead too. She wasn’t going to waste time giving them any proper rites; let the wolves feast tonight. She took away their swords so that no other brigand could make use of their remains, and soon joined the others on the trip back to Greenest. Now with their pursues dead and gone Kyra could guide the party quickly back, using hidden hunting trails that provided a quick and safe route back home. As she moved through the forest Kyra couldn’t help but pray to Chauntae as she walked.

”Oh Great Mother, is this the path you have set for me? I would have been more than glad to… Continue leading Greenest in quiet peace, to spend my days in calm teaching the children and giving sermons to the old, toiling the fields along my father and kinfolk. I know that defending one’s hearth and home is also our duties, but please tell me, is this my path? Is this the way? To descend into the ways of beast and mad men, to cull them all for the sake of our prosperity?”

Kyra stopped for a moment to listen, not just for some sign of her goddess, but in case there were any pursuers. When it all seemed clean she continued to move and pray.

”Is it my divine duty, to protect my flock, to hunt the wolves? When beasts of destructions burns the land, do I take up the pail to quell the fire, or the blade to halt the dragon? Give me a sign oh Great Mother, so that I can temper this flame in my heart. I know the hate that I hold is a vile and corrupt thing, but I cannot stop it’s fury without some guidance. Should I continue to seek vengeance to right these wrong, or must I stay and heal the wounded? Please, Chauntae, give me a sign…”

And then they were home. Or at least Kyra was. Greenest; though damaged and scarred, it was recovering quickly. Or maybe it was just Kyra being so distracted by her anger that she didn’t realize something so very simple; Greenest can heal without her. It was a hard pill to swallow. She was just days before the formal inauguration to become the new Head Priestess of the church, where she had spent nearly all of her days preparing for. To guide and teach, to pray and protect. All it took was one day to throw that all away and yet… And yet Kyra felt more uncertain, now more than ever, and not because of anger but because of hope. Greenest would survive without her. Though it may be a tragedy, the people here were not so weak that they couldn’t heal from something as devastating as a raid. Indeed Chauntae’s many portfolios covered not just nature and agriculture, but healing and community. Instead of questioning if what she was doing was against Chauntae’s teachings, perhaps Kyra needed to witness the strength of her lessons.

Most of the party returned to the keep, but Kyra herself choose to return to her home. She wanted to check on her father and sure enough he was there, sitting on the wooden bench in front of their house drinking from a waterskin. ”Dad…” Kyra was only able to say that much before he came over to Kyra and embraced her in a hug. She hugged him back and looked to his face, seeing that it was red and puffy. He had been crying. “They told me you left two days ago. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I… Don’t ever leave without telling me again!” Quietly, the two released each other and just looked, smiled, and chuckled. They were just happy to see one another.

That night Kyra and her father tried to have some semblance of a normal dinner. Compared to other homes, their house wasn’t too damaged; their door was kicked down, and they lost two barrels of arrows and two longbows belonging to Kyra’s father, but aside from that they didn’t seem to bother taking anything else and mostly just trashed the place, which Kyra’s father David already cleaned up. For dinner they had rabbit ragout, Kyra’s favorite meal. Over dinner Kyra spoke to her father about her doubts and thoughts, and he simply reminded her of what he told her a few days ago; among everyone in Greenest, Kyra was the only one who could afford leaving the village to fight this great evil. Greenest could take care of itself right now, but Kyra needed to do what must be done.

But what she needed to do, or what she thought was the right thing to do, was what Kyra was most confused about. Her naivety to war and bloodshed was most apparent here. Without the initial rage and anger that fueled her arrows before, she worried that she was losing herself to some sort of wild beast inside of her. And yet, to Kyra’s surprise, her father encouraged her to embrace this beast.

“Kyra, you should know that Chauntae, much like nature itself, is not just warm sunny days, flowers, and a bountiful harvest. Chauntae covers nature both beneficial and beastial, like the wolves who would hunt sheep or a storm that could tear down a house. And let’s face it; you can’t escape this anger inside of you. So you need to tame it. Control it. Use it, don’t let it use you.”

David stood up and grabbed one of his few remaining bows and arrows, motioning for Kyra to follow him. She did so and together they went off into the woods to hunt. But this wasn’t just a usual hunt; David wanted to teach his daughter what it really means to chase prey and be part of the land. These wasn’t new lessons to Kyra; her father had taught her these things before. But it was only how that they were truly starting to make sense to her; he had always been naive to the true nature of their world, even as enlighten as she was suppose to be. Learning from books could not beat learning through experience after all. For hours it felt like Kyra and her father trained in the woods, until they returned home to rest. David was tired, and Kyra knew she could easily rest and wake up before he would. As the two retired to their beds Kyra fell asleep mulling on these new thoughts, new lessons, with a new sense of purpose.

When Kyra woke up she immediately went into the usual routine; she went to fetch some water, start a fire on the stove, and made a light breakfast. They still had some supplies here; such as salt, cabbages, and a bit of game meat. It’ll be a very light breakfast for today. As Kyra was cooking she heard a knock on the door and went to go check it. One of the guards wanted Kyra to go speak to the governor. ”Sure, just let me finish making breakfast.” Kyra finished the soup and helped herself to a small bowl with a few slices of toasted bread before heading out to meet the governor. Not surprisingly, the others who went with her to the camp were also there. Brannor, Torus, Parum, and Orchid. What a strange group that has come to Greenest’s time of aid. Just like a classic tale of heroism and adventure.

The governor showered the party with praise and offered a meager reward for their efforts. Kyra of course was going to initially refuse, but she also knew that the people of Greenest weren’t simply going to let Kyra give back that money. They were far too prideful for that. ”Thank you, governor. I’ll make sure to spend this money responsibly.” Soon after one of the monks came and asked for the party to see Leosin. The priestess nodded; as much as she wanted to rest and heal this village, there was much work to be done. ”Alright, hopefully Leosin is doing well. He wasn’t in the best of shapes when we first found him.”

The Druid had sought Leosin out on his own initiative, but this meant the speech of the governor could not come to pass until they would be fetched. Before the monk had had any time to answer, a few guards had found their way into the infirmary and politely requested the Druid to come with them. Leosin had promised to answer the question at a better time, and so the old man departed peacefully, to be brought before the people and praised as the hero he was. The Governor was quite adamant about this. None of the participants would be left out. And Leosin did appreciate the moment to gather his thoughts, even if said matter was not communicated between the two.

And in time, the heroes would move in to greet the man as he had requested. He was already looking much better than the night before, proper care doing wonders, but there was no mistaking the wary movement and the slight tremble in his arms: He was still weakened, but much like the day before his mind held strong. The weakness of flesh would pass. It was the strength of will that mattered. "I believe the proper order of addressing the matters at hand is to start with a thank you, though I am sure you have already been showered with gratitude. There was so much more to learn, but I will have to admit I was perhaps too stubborn for my own good. I did not have much time left one way or the other, so the rescue came at a good time. For that, you have my thanks."

He then turned towards Torus, intent on giving his answer to the earlier question: "As for your inquiry of solidarity, this is something I already have shared with the Governor, but you will no doubt be interested in hearing just as well. What I know of the Cult." He had played his hand, and at this point it would be quite apparent for Orchid that there was no food coming from this man, not unless one were to count information as sustenance of the mind. That would have to come later, if the half-orc could stretch his patience long enough to listen, rather than leave out of boredom or discomfort.

Leosin closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, opening them again once he finished his exhale, setting his hands into his lap with his fingers laced around one another. "They are breeding dragons in the cave", he stated as the first thing and looked up to the others to see what they thought of the matter before going on. "It was all started by one of the two half-dragons on scene, Rezmir I believe by her name, set the camp up. The rest came in with what they had looted in the past, and Greenest was only conveniently close for them. But in the cave at the back of the camp, where only those approved by Rezmir or Morndath, the one that deals with everyday business, could enter. As it happens, that is also where the treasures were stashed."

With these things said, the monk let his eyes wander about the group of individuals that had formed into a formidable force over the last few days, if rumours were to be believed. And with him having seen them in action, there was no denying that. But what would they say of this? Did they already know it all? Was some, or perhaps even all of it news? Would there be questions? But whatever it was that would happen, it was only polite to let them have a word in just as well. And it let him take a breather.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Ryonara@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

As fitted as he was in the suit of new armor, it now joining alongside the well-worn cloth and leather that too found itself part of his apparel, the outlander, outsider, and now hero moved slightly as the man crossed his arms. One palm laid upon the upper mass of the arm just below the shoulder, it clenched tighter as the monk's dialogue evolved and elaborated. All of the green-cloak warrior seemed to seethe slightly at recollection of the enemy, although that might well have been the ambiance that had grown increasingly strong with the man's ties to nature's unnatural power. The other hand, previously unoccupied, now calmly toyed with the snarling silver medallion that hung from Brannor's neck; a scar among lining his flesh where divine grant quite literally turned a killing blow aside.

His amber eyes narrowed further in deepening thought, although a certain streak of pleasure welled up in him. If the enemy was to use said cave for rearing dragons, it meant it was difficult for them to move. The cult would be mostly static game, the sort of thing they could press and harry by exerting the slightest of force, one compensated for by numbers only. The monk revealed nothing about if there were more of them to come, but the history he portrayed from where he sat made it plain that others had come to the outskirts of Greenest to establish this camp. Just as they were novices before, it was clear they were novices now and expanded right into the town, sacking it for their lair. Had they stayed as covert as possible and ignored the farmers and the farmland, who knows what they could have accomplished? Now they were being forced to show themselves.

Brannor's stupor broke as he audibly sighed, finger so faintly tapping his breastplate. There was nothing to be gained on dwelling about the events that could have been, rather only the gifts they had been given unknowingly by their enemy and carried in secret by the monk back to this very room.

"And when you say "dragons" just how many do you believe?" The man's voice piqued with interest, as the hunter knew he and the others could well kill whelps and lesser scaled-ones, but the greater and more numerous they were, the more difficult or perhaps erring toward impossible would such a quest be.

@Hekazu@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

As everyone gathered around Leosin to listen, Parum wondered how they were going to take down this cult of dragons. She needed to put aside her hysterical fear and focus on objectives and targets; while taking down the cult was the ultimate goal they needed to figure out how to go about doing it. Taking out the various leaders was a good starting point: Cyanwrath was a fearsome warrior but together Parum has no doubt that the party can eliminate him. Morndath was a cut above hot average cultist so she would need to be defeated as well. And of course, all those dragon’s that likely live in the cave... Parum tried not to think about that too hard.

Soon Leosin told the group what he knew, some which they knew already. They knew from the cultist that the camp protected a dragon hatchery. But hearing it from Leosin did give Parum another look at how insane the idea was; Parum can’t imagine dragons willingly sharing their eggs on their own accord. Parum might not know too much about dragons, but generally speaking even the lawful ones wouldn’t want to be part of a deranged breeding program, at least not unless they directly benefit from it. The idea that these dragons are all doing it for Tiamat...

”Focus Parum. One thing at a time.”

Leosin also told them something else that would be important: there was another half-Dragon aside from Cyanwrath. One called Rezmir. No doubt she handles things directly related to the hatchery while Morndath handled the mercenaries and cultists. A ther enemy they’ll have to eliminate. Seems like things were getting tougher and tougher.

”Have you heard or see any adult dragons while you were investigating? We saw an adult blue dragon attacking Greenest the first time we arrived. And how exactly did you find out about this? I don’t inagine you figured all of this out while you were tied to that post.”

The questions asked of Leosin were ones he, quite unfortunately, found himself unable to answer. Well, other than the adult dragon part of if he had seen one. He shook his head and breathed deep in preparation. Looking first at Brannor, he answered to the best of ability in the order the questions had been asked: "I cannot say. I have never been to the caves. Only those approved by the leaders other than Cyanwrath could go. And they know people by faces, so few were those numbers. Much more food went in than people went in and out though, so I have my suspicions on there either being a larger force than I was led to otherwise believe… or eggs in numbers I would rather not even consider." Options were open, of course, but neither of them sounded particularly good to the future of the adventurers.

The matter of the dragon was an equal mystery to him however. "Of that, I know as much as you, if not less. I was down in the town when it assaulted the keep for the final time. As for how I know, I joined the mob of cultists when they were drawing back. I had all night to talk with them, find out what they were here for. But once morning rose, the black half-dragon found me. And so I ended up where you would later come to find me." The monk sighed, letting his head hang for a moment before raising it back up again.

"Speaking of the half-dragons, you would be surprised to find what I heard of Cyanwrath. As brutal as the individual is, he seems to have a very rigid sense of personal honour. Those of the cult were afraid of him, not wanting to cross the lines this code set around him. That would explain the challenge he threw at you, champion", he would add on his own, nodding towards Brannor as he addressed him. "But did you have any other questions before I move on to what I have to request of you?"

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Ryonara@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

"Seems like we weren't the only ones who's attempt at subterfuge failed. This is going to be a problem... I doubt we'll be able to pull off that trick a second time, especially not after our rather bombastic escape." Kyra sighed as she mulled on Leosin's answers. They already knew that the camp housed a dragon hatchery, though information about the other two half-dragons were invaluable. One was bad enough, but two? The odds were not in their favor. "Black dragons... Do they use necrotic energy, or do they breath fire as well? I know Cyanwrath had used lightning and he's a blue dragon." Kyra asked curiously. Dragons weren't really something covered in her books.

"In any case, what is it that you'd ask from us Leosin? If it's to infiltrate the camp again, that goes without saying. The fact they're so close to Greenest, growing dragons... I have no doubt they'll attack again, even after they had already robbed us. And next time they won't be looking for treasure, but fodder for their beasts. I hope to end them before it would come to that." Kyra says as she rests her hand on the pommel of her sword. Though vengeance was still on her heart, her time spent with her father helped her temper that rage into something more focus, concentrated instead of just blind feelings. To that end they needed a plan. "Of course that's easier said than done... How are we suppose to get back inside of the camp without an entire army of cultist and mercenaries on us, as well as the half-dragons and the purple cloaked leaders?"

There was little that Brannor proved to dwell on in the response. It was, regretfully, less than he had hoped as knowing just how many might suggest a better method to destroying the clutch than the obvious. That too posed an obvious issue, a question so simple it seemed almost foolish to ask, but up until recently presumably none had ever even seen a dragon. That question specifically? What did it take to destroy one of their eggs? Was it so simple as just a barrage of steel and spell, much like it had been when the mature dragon that assaulted the keep and laid waste to many of its defenders was driven off through immense effort? Or would it be a matter that was... time consuming in volume only, anything and everything capable of destroying the meager shell.

In the mean time the elven priestess spoke up, Shepard posing the more important question of how to return to the cave so that the eggs might even be handled. It was indeed very, very unlikely that their troupe would be able to so much as edge their way in covertly now; the enemy would surely be wary of anything and everything for at least weeks to come, expecting an attack as this. Unlike the world outside which held threats potentially around every corner, under every bush, and every stretch of sky, mortals were quick and become riled and roused. Perhaps for good reason, but they handled it poorly; it would be something that would be exploitable. Breaking their dark spirit by continually harassing and harrying them.

Yet as was made increasingly clear, the unusual band of fellows now set against this draconic cult were the only ones capable of doing anything whatsoever about it. Which only proved to tug at the lips of the moontouched, brow falling as well into a subdued frown. Hand removed from his talisman, he stepped to beside the cleric, lingering gaze over her then back to Leosin, "And how might one kill a dragon and its clutch?"

@Hekazu@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

The plumed fowl eventually added its own salty sill, whilst its schizophrenic summoner remained sultry and wide-eyed, sickly licking her confused lips, as the irises of gold peered over the monk, seeking an answer to his riddle.

"Tiamat, the cult's queen, in question, is no longer of this world. Still chained in the Nine Hells."

The neck of feathers tilted, to allow the sheen of the beak, to gleam in the candlelight. Xaron's bird had befriended Torus over the decades, out of pity, yet Judgement's home, heart and allegiance always remained in Amn, setting sail upon the seas against the City of Splendors and ravaging its trading partners. Plundering wealth by inhibiting the reach of its trade and reach. Rumors of the Wearers of the Purple also pillaged, rivaling their own ship's spoils. This did not exalt in novelty. Nothing new to the crow. But why the endless pursuit of hoarde? With extant, powerful dragons amalgamating for such pointlessness? For a deity, unreachable? Not to deplete Waterdeep as his Bard vengefully desired.

"They are searching for something, beyond mere bobbles. A means to an end?"

The inquisitive raven fluttered in place, hesitantly, before an elderly snap prompted its disappearance.

"Enough. Does this vine bear any fruit, Leosin?"

@Ryonara@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen@Hekazu

Leosin was bombarded with questions, though the occasion did not seem all that unfamiliar to him. He raised a waterskin to his lips and took a quick swig as the others were speaking, clearing his throat in preparation to voice his own thoughts. And again, he would begin from the question that had been asked first. If what he would request of them would indeed be to see to the destruction of the clutch. "You have found the truth of the matter, priestess. It will be difficult, but not impossible", he started with the matter of subterfuge before changing to the breaths of dragons as it was. "The black breathe acid, as it would happen. The white bring forth frost, and the green foul poison. Blue you know of, and red belch the fire."

"As for what I require of you, returning to their camp and seeing to the destruction of their clutch or even scouting out the information regarding their next move would be more than appreciated. You should have time on your side. They have rooted themselves in quite deep, as far as I have understood. They should not be leaving any time soon, so you may wait and strike when the time is right." The monk finished with a solemn nod and another sip of water before switching his focus to Brannor. "The dragon is not with them. It could not fit into the cave. Regrettably, I have little knowledge of the sturdiness of the eggs beyond that. But with your weapons and spells, I am sure they will give in", he explained, lacking in first hand knowledge and unable to tell from what he had read it seemed.

And finally, he turned to Torus. "As for what they seek to do beyond building a hoard worthy of their tyrant god, I have been unable to discern so far. If you find out anything about it, I would very much like to hear it. Why they are building the hoard in the first place is also a question that I am unsure of when it comes to the answer, other than that they keep praising it as 'worth the Queen of Dragons'."

With all of the questions answered, the monk would move on to his proposal. "While destroying the clutch would be the best outcome, all I truly need is knowledge of their upcoming antics and for that I will see to rewarding you handsomely. My travel fund, nor Greenest hold enough coin for me to make the payment here and now, but find me in Elturel afterwards, where I will have collected the money from my contacts. I promise you no less than seven hundred and fifty pieces of gold. That should amount to one hundred and fifty for each of you." The man paused, drawing a deep breath.

"It hate to ask anything more of you, after all you have already done. But the need is great, and I can only hope that you can aid me this one more time. I need you to return to the camp. You know your way to it and around it now. I need to know what they are planning", he expressed his regrets, before his face curled into a wry smile. "I don't recommend letting yourselves get captured."

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Ryonara@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

Orchid was hardly paying attention to most of what was going on. At some point in the conversation he had left to return to his things so he could grab his food, only to later come back after having eaten. It didn't help that everyone was talking a lot using big words that he didn't understand without listening very carefully. But he had a rough idea of what Leosin wanted; basically he wanted the group to go back to the camp and finish the job of destroying the nest. Certainly a challenge but one that Orchid was willing to pursue. Though he imagined that beyond whatever information the party would get from Leosin, they wouldn't get much help then that. Orchid knows that much at least. When he did arrive back inside the room Leosin mentioned something about a reward, but Orchid would let someone else handle the money.

"Hmph. Then we get ready. For sneaky hunting! If Dragon too big for cave, then no worry about dragon. But caves small. And only one way in. Maybe?" Orchid figured that there was only one entrance into the den, but perhaps there was another? Preferably from outside of the camp. Eager as he was to fight off a hoard of cultists their job was to destroy the nest, not the cult. Though now he really wished he did come here with an orcish hoard; at least then their numbers would be enough that they could conceivably win a direct confrontation with the unified cult. "So... What do?"

Parum listened to everyone and tried to make sense of all of this. It was plain to see that this cult intended to summon the dragon queen. That much was clear when they first interrogated a cultist. Stealing valuables and amassing a hoard of treasure tends to be what dragons do, and of course for a cult dedicated to it's queen that's what they will do. Possibly as a means to summon her? Parum had no idea how this cult intended to go about summoning the dragons. Perhaps it had something to do with the nursery? Or perhaps... There was somewhere else they would summon her at? "Leosin, during your investigation, did you learn if this cult keeps any other camps or strongholds? The hatchery seems... New. Nothing but tents like an army camp, instead of a proper fortified place one would want to raise dragons. Perhaps they have a place they intend to summon the dragon queen, and intend to use the stolen treasure as a means to summon like an offering of some sort. After all, if the hatchery is too small to fit an adult dragon, I highly doubt they intend to use it as the staging grounds to summon the queen of dragons."

As for a plan to infiltrate the camp itself, Parum admittedly had little clue, but she had a few ideas. "I've no doubt that the camp will be on high alert now that we've made it known it can be infiltrated, so Kyra is right, trying that again won't work. But I think it's been established that the kobolds and human members of the cult do not get along; perhaps we can take advantage of that. The kobolds kept to their own camp and if I remember correctly, they aren't too functional during the day being subterranean creatures and all. So we need to move quickly and try to get around the camp to where the kobolds have set up. We can try to scale down quickly during the day, where there will be less guards watching the kobold side. Alternatively, we can go at night while everyone should be asleep aside from the night sentries, though I imagine they too will be more alert knowing of our previous intrusion. And if nothing else, the high ground will provide us an adapt vantage point to stage an infiltration." Parum looked to the others and frowned a bit. As a halfling, she was half their size, and barely fast enough to keep up with them at a full run.

"And perhaps we should try to get some mounts as well. I'm not sure if Greenest would have any horses for us, but if they could spare at least a small horse for myself, I won't be slowing you down."

"I can see if there's any horses the villagers would be willing to offer to us. While I doubt it, perhaps if I can convince them that I can bring the horses back safe and sound, they'll be more agreeable." Kyra said as Parum detailed the plan. While she could ask Leosin more questions, Kyra wasn't really one for talk when she could be doing something. She turns to leave, waving goodbye to the others for a moment. "Before we set out we should discuss any specific tactics we have for facing the half-dragons. I have no doubt we'll be facing them at the camp, regardless if we're subtle or not, and I'd like to know how we'll handle that hunt. Anyways I'll see if I can get us some horses." Kyra knew where she could find some horses, though hopefully the family who owned them still had them. She didn't recognize any of their beasts at the cultist camp so either they killed all of their livestock or simply left them alone, hopefully the latter. They did seem more interested in treasure than pillaging.

Kyra was actually quite skilled in riding. Horse-back Archery was also something that Kyra had some practice in; her father had taught her how to ride horses as well as manage carriages, wagons, and other land vehicles growing up. After all someone had to haul the harvest to town for tax season. Bringing it to the public offices was cheaper than having collectors come to the village. Indeed, it was because of her skill at horse riding that she was a good hunter; during the lean seasons she could easily shoot down foxes and hares as they dash between bushes, snipe birds from the skies, or capture elk. It made Kyra remembered an old fairytale she heard as a child, of elven warriors who rode on the back of white stags to hunt enemies in the forest. A fairytale to be sure, since the last time they had a white stag in these forest, he kept killing off other bucks and kept a herd of females to himself, impacting the local dear population. Her father and a few other men went out to kill it.

"Focus. Find horses."

While the others kept to their circle, ready to discuss the finer details of the plan or do their own part in the preparations, Kyra's search began. She had an objective in mind, but distractions were many. Every now and then she would come across a few still wounded from the night before and the need to help would prod at her heart. Whether she followed it or not would not affect if she got the horses, she knew. These people would excuse her if she did not find it in her schedule, already being as grateful as they were. But they were still the villagers of Greenest she had come to know across her days in the village clergy, and they were in need. Could she ignore the call for her task, or would she diverge?

In what could be anything from and hour or two to most of the day, depending on the weight her conscience placed upon her, Kyra would finally make it to where a few of the rebuilders were using horses to help them in their task. A few questions of their availability were met with the grim truth: "What animals were not in the safety of the keep are gone now. Running free or taken with the army, we can't tell. But they sure weren't where they'd been left." The expected truth, but one that would have its own impact on the plans of obtaining horses. When it came to what there was, the foreman sucked air in through his teeth. "Well, ya know, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of the heroes of Greenest but… we can't really risk them…"

Under the arguments of the horses being likely safe and that they would be brought back, in addition to the debt the villagers were already in possibly leveraged for the discussion, the foreman slowly began to sway and it started to look like they might indeed get something. Hardly a horse for everyone, but there was the chance a few could be spared. On the grounds of them actually being back to help in the rebuilding within a week at latest.

Where the cleric chose to spare her abilities for a possible confrontation to come, the substantially more foreign paladin would seek to offer his aid. Tapping to the divine and primeval force that flowed within his body, the man would distribute health to those that needed it the most. It was no their time to go yet. And given the other adventurers appeared to be in no particular hurry to go, something Leosin had suggested there being no need of, unless there would be a quick upset in the plans currently in the making, he would be free to do so without any possible repercussions.

The people he gave aid to would not spare their thanks, doubly so if an expression of fear had first crossed their faces on the former outsider's approach. Be it the man was their champion, he was also something the common people did not quite understand. But they were ever thankful, no mistake to be made on that part. They naturally had nothing to offer but their gratitude, but had the man sought anything more than that out of the act in the first place? That was something only he knew.

What had changed the plan during this time was how Kyra had, in the end, decided against requesting horses from the people in charge of the rebuilding. While that had its own effect on what was to come, Leosin's delayed answer to the question about other cult strongholds would be met with a shake of the man's head. "No, I cannot say I would know. You are correct in your assumption that they must have more, or at least it would only make sense, but I do not know where to go looking for them. If you can find anything relating to that on your task… that would be something to go on."

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Ryonara@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

The mantle of healer was not something the ferine paladin took lightly. It was a gift, a grant of power from the very soul of him, from a well that overflowed with life. His hands had always been tools of restoration, even in youth when he did not know himself, but now? Now they were conduits of something far more powerful than the mere man. The silver blessing that had been laid upon him and flowed in every vein of his being was a channel for that, so offering this gift, this imparting of life to the weary, was not done thoughtlessly. Rather the man struggled greatly with the prospect.

Something in his heart and soul alike spoke to him that this was to be done. That the broken bodies and wavering flames of spirit needed to be stoked by his hand, the hand of an outsider, a beast. In the resentment he held for the way these people viewed his world he had to come to understand there were only so many ways to show them that it was not truly their enemy. Nature, supernature as well, could be just as benevolent as it was horrible and ferocious. But this came at the cost of conflicting with years of life that told him these people would just as quickly eschew all he ever did, that they would forget his gifts and aid in their time of desperation... or would they? These people likely had never endured anything on the scope or scale of a dragon laying siege to their quiet little town, they had no experience with fiends like the small scaled ones or the mind-bound cultists, and they certainly had no real knowing of just what he was.

This needed to be the way, it had to be the way, no matter if he desired to be a part of it or not and Brannor? Brannor desired none of it although he obeyed his instinct. He shrugged his gauntlets and wedged the plated, leather things between the bands of his leather belts and buckles and walked the dim halls in the night. Each step carried with him a ghostly, predatory presence, one that the dead or dying or now just lame perhaps at first feared, especially as the hooded figure drew near, lit only by the odd candle or torch. That same font which he drew himself up from, that other side of him, now guided the surreal and wispy white-green tendrils that reached from his hand on to their flesh. When the channel was broken, like a mist dispelled by daylight, it faded away into nothing and the wild-sworn soul offered nothing more than a distant smile.

He spoke little, allowing the lingering gold of his easing glare to say all that there was and when he finished his last round for the night, turning to depart, all he could hope was that their initial fear and surprise had faded away. Many had been thankful, some several times over, but the man seemed elsewhere; never once was it a deed done for any reason but that he was to. He was distant, a soul outside body, driving the physical to act in the moment of divine trance. A strange thing for a stranger.

Through the halls again, much later on only with his deeds done, did the ranger-knight drift until he again found himself in the familiar lair he had taken up when he first came to the town some nights ago in the belly of the keep. Tucked away as it was, Brannor slunk down to the corner and came to rest, pawing at the gem he carried with him. Touched by the moon's graces as he, it shimmered in the dark with an equally weak and distinctive silver light. From there, trinket in hand, arms soon laid to rest beside him did the tiger among men enter the dreamlit temple of sleep.

@Hekazu@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

Kyra didn't press any further when the foreman said they couldn't spare any horses. She knew they couldn't. She tried to say that she could have them returned soon, but she didn't have the will to try and make such an empty promise. To be frank, she couldn't promise him that they'll be back or safe. And while she did need them, she just couldn't bring herself to take them away from the villagers either. They needed them more. "It's fine. Sorry for imposing. Good luck and work hard, alright? If you or any of the other workers need anything, I should still be in town for a while." Kyra made her excuses and left as soon as she could. She needed to get her mind off of this. Ever since the attack started Kyra's thoughts have been muddled with anger and confusion. Even now she couldn't even speak to her fellow villagers without feeling incensed at how they won't simply give into her demands. Frankly she was tempted to just take the horses without asking. But she knew she couldn't. That sort of thing... That wasn't what she was suppose to do. The mere idea of it sickened her, not just because it's evil, but because she even considered it a possibility.

She needed to get her mind off of this. Unwind. And the only way she knew how was to hunt. Kyra knew that if she told anyone she'd probably be warned about not going into the forest less those cultists find her, but Kyra knew these woods far better than they would. In a group being found was a legitimate concern, but by herself Kyra could easily avoid detection and escape before anyone would notice her. And while Parum might be worried that Kyra was going to hunt the cultists, she just wanted to be out in the forest. The wild, apathetic nature where she could put behind the problems of civilization and indulge in the simpler things for a while. The bubbling of a stream, birdsong, playing with rabbits. The gentler aspects of nature. And so Kyra would return home to grab her bow and sword, as well as as a hunting dagger. Her father had shown her a useful trick as a ranger, and so Kyra hopes to put it to good use. Afterwards she heads off into the woods to do a bit of light hunting.