---

Elra padded back to her room. She pushed the door slightly and then changed. She pulled the blanket to the bed and partially covered herself.

There was a knock on her door. Then he said with concern, "I apologies for earlier, I did not know you were a shapeshifter. I know that you are wounded, and if you wish, I can help you." She knew the voice.

"Please come in Ernestus," she said as she covered herself. She was trying to reach back towards her ribs to put salve on them. Mostly to keep the bleeding from forming scabs with the sheets and tearing free. She had washed her face and rinsed her mouth of the blood. She had spent years on display: in cages and in chains.

"That's me, the terror in the night, the stealer of small children, and killer of livestock," she said with a sigh and with resignation. "I can't reach the wounds on my upper ribs," she said to him giving him permission to do something more than look at her and permission to touch her. Men sometimes needed help in that department. She held out the salve to him and pulled her hair out of the way. Her skin was pale and she bore scars across her back and sides from her time in captivity. Necromatic marks had be cut into her skin leaving permanent marks from spells that had been cast through her and using her. She had others, scars forming symbols of power on other parts of her body, but she wasn't going to show them off. They made her feel less than human and even if the scars could be removed, they were in her mind now. They were visible signs that she was claimed and touched by the dark arts. The fact that she enjoying the taste and feel of the man's blood did not help.

She moved slightly so the moonlight coming through the windows would shine on the wounds in the darkness.
"Do I need to go hide?" she asked Ernestus while trying not to cry.
She gave in putting her head in her hands and cried a bit, "He was trying to break in. I didn't mean..." she paused and let the tears flow. "If he wouldn't have struggled.." said trying to collect herself. She both regretted and enjoyed what she had done.

She couldn't really explain the wolf nature in her. The need to protect, to hunt, and to kill. She wasn't a cursed shapeshifter, she was a full born shapeshifter, the wolf was as much of her as the elf.

Right now, she would accept what ever kindness he would offer her.

Ernestus slowly opened the door, and averted his gaze from her at first out of respect.
"Do I need to go hide?" Elra asked while trying not to cry. She gave in putting her head in her hands and cried a bit, "He was trying to break in. I didn't mean..." she paused and let the tears flow. "If he wouldn't have struggled.."

Ernestus sighed "Its alright. Let it out of your system if you need to." he said as he approached. "I won't need the salve." he then said, his hands beginning to glow a small radiant light. Ernestus knelt, and his hands hovered over the wound, it slowly closing and coming back together as if time itself was reversing on that one spot alone.
He briefly peeked at some of the scars that she had on her arm, "Everyone has scars, both mental and physical. They may be subtle or obvious." he kept his hands over the wound to make sure it fully healed. "Do not think yourself a monster. What you did was admittedly a bit rash, but for all we know, the man could of been an assassin. The princess is leading our party after all."
The wound was closed, and he shook his hands as the glow faded away. Magic slowly made his hands numb the longer he channelled it.
Ernestus sighed as he stood up, "You are not alone." he hesitated as he turned away to leave, "I too, have a beast within." he then left Elra to rest.

Vuthaternock wakes up, hearing snarling, and waits until everything quiets down to investigate. He sees a body lying on the floor, throat torn out, and kneels down next to it to see if that is how the man truly died, or if it was meant to cover something else up. "I wonder what happened...?" He takes the body, hefting it over his shoulder, and casts a small spell to remove the blood, and smell of death. He carries the body outside, and whistles. A giant wyvern lands nearby, folding massive wings to his back. Wux relgra ihk ve rilnom? He nods. "Si rigluin wux ekess itrewic rid di nomeno mamiss." The wyvern grins, and takes the body. Si geou ti shartleg vhira duulo rhyaex. He then flies off a short distance to enjoy his meal, cooking it with a blast of fire.

A voice came from behind Vuthaternock, “If this was an option, you should have told us when I asked the others to report the body.” Arin was looking at the wyvern devouring the man with keen interest. He was brewing potions when he saw the dragonborn walk outside with a body and was curious what he was planning to do with it, especially since no one called for the guards just yet. “It would have saved us the trouble of reporting it… but now that you did that after Mr. Greye most likely told the innkeeper… well, you know that makes him look bad, yes?” He turned his attention briefly back to the dragonkin, “I do hope you have the perfect excuse to tell the innkeeper or guards.”

He let a few seconds pass to admire the creature in the distance. “Does your cousin have a name?” He also wondered if it was who Vuthaternock was talking to every now and then. It was comforting to know that the dragonborn didn’t spend time speaking in draconic out loud just to show off that he can or that he lacked the ability to keep his internal monologue, internal.

Arin stayed outside just long enough to hear Vuthaternock’s response before he remembered that he was in the middle of brewing potions. “Well I shall leave two to it. I must return to the kitchen before I burn the potions.”

All of Arin’s tasks ---cleaning included--- completed only after the sun peaked out from the horizon. More and more people were waking up and becoming more active. The potman of the inn walked into the kitchen just as Arin confirmed the crystalized essence was fully absorbed by the wooden ring.

“Good morning, sir. You must be a very early riser, or you never went to bed.”
“It would be the latter.”
“Oh… it must have been a very important duty if you had to stay up all night.”

Arin offered a polite smile, avoiding a direct response. Instead, he thanked the lad, and by proxy the innkeeper, for allowing him to use the kitchen for the night. He reached out his hand towards the area of the kitchen he borrowed, as if to present it to the potman, “I made sure to clean up after myself. I hope this will suffice.”

The potman perused the kitchen, touching areas of most concern to him with his finger to see if anything would stick to it. His face lit up at the clean finger, “It is more than satisfactory, sir. You practically did my morning chore for me! I have never seen this kitchen this pristine before!” The young man covered his mouth, realizing that he probably shouldn’t have said that. He quickly tried to change the subject as subtlety as he possibly could, “I didn’t know nobles can clean up after themselves so well!”

I imagine that is what the nobles pay servants for. “I am not a noble.”

The potman looked surprised, “You’re not? You could’ve fooled me. I thought only nobles wear those clothes.”

Arin looked down at his attire. As the potman pointed out, his clothes were the kind commonly worn by nobility and wealthy merchants. The materials that made the outfit were valuable enough to buy most, if not all, of Timberholde. At the end of the day, however, it was a costume. Something to wear to feel important in front of people of influence to make them feel important. Outside the capital boundaries, it was a target.

Everything had been so rushed, Arin forgot that he was heading into a territory notorious for overflowing with lawbreakers, with luxurious garments on. He was careful when he chose the wooden ring to serve as a detector ---it was made of wood found anywhere and it had no decorative engravings, making it an unappealing item to steal---, but it would be meaningless if he was mugged because of what he wore. He needed to change.

Arin inspected the young man in front of him, who looked like he was as tall as Arin was and had close enough body types. The potman shifted uncomfortably under Arin’s gaze, “Is there something you need, sir?”

“As a matter of fact, there are a number of things I need. Can you run a few errands for me? I will pay you once you are done.”
“I can,” the potman sounded a little hesitant, unsure what the elf needed him to do.
“Do you have an apothecary or an herbalist?”
“We do.”
“Excellent,” Arin fished out a list and coins and handed them to the other man, “I would like you to buy these ingredients. Get as much as you can with the money I’ve given you.”
The potman visibly relaxed, seemingly relieved that Arin wasn’t asking him to do something unusual, “I can do that.”
“I would also like to buy your clothes off of you.”
The man stared dumbly at Arin.

A beat later Arin spoke, “Let me rephrase that. I would like to acquire some less flamboyant clothing. This trip was a bit sudden, so I did not have time to pack proper travel wear.” Arin spread his arms out to the sides, “It looks like we are of similar stature and build, so I thought I could persuade you to let me have a set of clothing… Unless I am mistaken in assuming that your village does not have a clothier.”

The man laughed a bit, “No, you are correct. Our village is much too small to have something as fancy as a clothier. My mother had to make my clothes.” He looked Arin up and down before his eyes stopped at the shoes “I have some clothes that I can give, but I don’t have any spare shoes.” He stuck one foot out and wiggled it, “These are the only pair I have.”

“The clothes will do, thank you.”

While he waited for the potman to come back with the items he requested, Arin decided to try out the ring. He needed to see if the item would work as intended and to make alterations if necessary. More importantly, he needed the ring to recognize and memorize Rynn to prevent it from responding to her in the future.

When Arin placed the ring on, he immediately felt it resonating with something ---the blood that flowed within Rynn--- nearby. Though it didn’t physically emit a sound or move, the ring “sang” directly into the wearer’s mind. It was a sound that would always be “heard” even in the loudest of places but can never be heard by others besides the ring-wearer.

The song grew in intensity as Arin got closer to where Rynn was. When he reached the door to her room, it was impossible to ignore. It was even difficult to concentrate on what he was doing. Something to adjust, Arin vaguely thought. He remembered knocking on the door as the
world


Trwil. Sipn aornud. Lkie a brllooam dance. The wrold daecns to the music. Nhtoing sayts sltil long enoguh for him to get his biaengrs. He tkihns he hreas Rynn, but the snog it stuhs it out. It stuhs amolst envyerhtig out. It gets worse. She’s cnmiog. She oneps the door and the olny thing he is able to do is garb on to her for daer lfie. The song is so luod now, he flees lkie his head is auobt to eloxdpe. It geivs him no time to reregt. It gives him no tmie to think. It gvies him no tmie to do ahinntyg. He just exsits. The snog eitxss. It just sings, sngis luod and porud. Of teihr boold, a glrouios hrsioty pseasd dwon form gienoaertn to gotenaerin. It ddeanms aeottntin, it dnaemds paisre and more. Mroe. Why won’t you lstien Arin? Tiher one and olny aeidncue. Ltsein. Look. It’s rhgit here. The key. Look at it. Look at her. She lokos at you. She’s lonoikg at you. You see her. Arin sees Rnyn.

As the song started to subside, Arin’s brain regained functionality. He noticed that he was staring at Rynn’s face and grabbing her arm with an iron grip. The ring touched her skin, memorizing her. He just needed to stay like this until the ring had nothing else to sing about. He also became keenly aware that he felt more than a little queasy.

He closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths. With each breath he loosened his grip. As soon as the song was completely silenced, Arin pulled his hand away as fast as he could, almost as if Rynn was made of fire.

“Many apologies,” Arin rubbed his forehead to alleviate the headache that was forming. He stood like that for a while before finally speaking, “I wanted to report to you my findings. Though… now that I think about it, maybe I should have waited until breakfast when everyone is around to hear it. ” He sighed and straightened himself, “Well, I might as well tell you now seeing that I have your attention and I do not want to make this a wasted trip.”

Arin took a step away from Rynn, feeling that he was still too close for either of their comfort, “After analyzing what samples I could obtain in the allotted time, I came to the conclusion that magic was not used to break into the vaults. If some form of magic was used, it was the ones already in place.”

He waited for the words, and the implications that came with it, to sink in. “I understand you want to believe your family and those who work in the palace took no part in the theft in any capacity… but unless the spells on the vault were public knowledge, we can narrow our suspects down from the entire population to those who are, or were at one time, close to the crown, whether by blood or not. At the very least, someone who has intimate knowledge of the castle’s architect was involved.” The name Callin crossed his mind. “I am willing to change my mind once we find evidence that proves otherwise, but with what we have, this is currently my strongest hypothesis.”

Rynn stood in front of the grimy mirror, half crouched in order to see as she braided her hair. If sleeping on such a lumpy cot didn't give her a backache, trying to do her hair certainly would. She huffed as her fingers once again slipped. Frustrated, she pulled half her hair out in an attempt to start over again. She figured that if she had managed to get the first half near perfect, she would eventually do the same for the end.

She was halfway through the first motion when there was a knock on her door. Sunlight had crept into her room nearly an hour ago, despite having said they would be leaving early. Her braid had got the best of her, and she was certain it was one of her companions coming to rouse her. Leaving her hair as it was, she opened the door, only to find the elf - Arin, she corrected herself - half-standing, half-leaning against the doorframe.

His hand wrapped around her arm as he stumbled. Without thinking, she grabbed ahold of him, struggling to keep him from falling to the floor. "You've certainly looked better," she huffed, bracing her feet apart in order to gain some sort of hold. "Do tell me if it was the breakfast, as I'd rather not fall ill myself."

Moments passed and he seemed to regain his thoughts. He blinked, closed his eyes, took a few breaths. Rynn was looking at him, almost afraid that he would begin to fall apart again. When he finally was able to stand on his own, he moved away from her. Quickly, like he couldn't stand to be so near her. "Many apologies," he said, and Rynn bit her tongue.

“I wanted to report to you my findings. Though… now that I think about it, maybe I should have waited until breakfast when everyone is around to hear it. ” He sighed and straightened himself, “Well, I might as well tell you now seeing that I have your attention and I do not want to make this a wasted trip.”

Arin took a step away from Rynn, feeling that he was still too close for either of their comfort, “After analyzing what samples I could obtain in the allotted time, I came to the conclusion that magic was not used to break into the vaults. If some form of magic was used, it was the ones already in place.”

He waited for the words, and the implications that came with it, to sink in. “I understand you want to believe your family and those who work in the palace took no part in the theft in any capacity… but unless the spells on the vault were public knowledge, we can narrow our suspects down from the entire population to those who are, or were at one time, close to the crown, whether by blood or not. At the very least, someone who has intimate knowledge of the castle’s architect was involved.” The name Callin crossed his mind. “I am willing to change my mind once we find evidence that proves otherwise, but with what we have, this is currently my strongest hypothesis.”

Rynn shook her head. "No. No one in the castle would dare." She straightened, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a step back into her room. "I've known them all my life. Some of them only most of it, but long enough."

---

In the morning, Elra was still nervous about coming out of the room. She was back in the robes with her staff. She had taken the luxary of a hot bath and clean clothes. She had even braided her hair. She had known herself as an attractive young woman, she still though that when she forgot the scars and marks on her body.

Elra pulled her cowl up so that she could try to be hidden. She made her way down to breakfast, got food and went sat outside the door to the stables. She did not want the locals staring at her.

She watched for Arin, Ernestus, or Ryan to see if they were going to go shop or walk around. She would go with them if they wanted company.

After Ernestus left Elra's room, he stopped and looked down, there was nothing there, no body and no blood. He didn't know what happened, and was about to go downstairs to investigate, until he then saw the dragonborn carrying the corpse away, Ernestus shook his head, and then saw out the window a dragon appear out of nowhere to scoop up the body and leave with it.
Ernestus was speechless, he didn't know what to do at first, and then remembered the innkeeper. He hurried down the stairs and went to find the innkeeper. She wasn't in a rush it seemed about informing the guards, and was surprisingly just irritated about the situation. Ernestus informed her that the situatiom had been handled and there should be no more concern.

Ernestus went back to his room to try and go back to sleep, but he couldn't, and before long, the light of the sun poured from the window. He sighed, and pulled himself up and got dressed.
The morning was a quiet one, no one spoke much more than greetings, then went about their business.

Ernestus had his breakfast, and decided to get some air and had a walk. Before he started, he saw Elra sitting alone and invited her to come along.

Rynn shook her head. "No. No one in the castle would dare." She straightened, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a step back into her room. "I've known them all my life. Some of them only most of it, but long enough."

Arin was tired. Very tired. He traveled and worked for what felt like an entire day, without a wink of sleep. Then there was this headache, though self-induced, it didn’t help. Little things grated him. In Arin’s current state, Rynn words were like flint striking steel over tinder. It caused a spark and without the energy to dampen it, a small fire of frustration kindled within Arin.

The elf’s eyes narrowed, “I said evidence, princess. As in tangible, concrete, proof. Not feelings. I will not go so far as to say that feelings are not important, but they are undoubtedly subjective. I want proof that there is no possible way that someone of the royal bloodline or people close the crown would not commit a crime against the monarch. You should know very well that I based my suspicions on facts, a chest fool of them. I even have the decency to entertain the possibility that I may be wrong because I know that I can be.” He pointed his finger at the woman in front of him. “But what about you? Just a ‘no, you are wrong because I am right’. End of story? ‘I am not obligated to prove to you anything because I am the princess and you are an outsider? My word is law here?’ Are you so naïve to think that no one close to you will ever cause you harm?”

A flash of a time long passed, crossed Arin’s mind. Memories of his family, the elementary family. Reminders of how your own flesh and blood could tear your heart out. When was the last time his mother laughed from the bottom of her heart? He can’t even remember what his father’s smile looked like.

“I am sorry that you are not able to cope with the harsh reality that we live in a world where the closest ones to you, hurt you the most because you, quote-unquote, know them. That family and friends are just as likely, sometimes even more likely, to steal, rape, beat, or murder you as some random person on the street, but that is the world we are in. If you cannot handle that, I recommend you return to your ivory tower. At least there, you can live in sweet ignorant bliss. Untainted by people like me who dare suggest the possibility that someone you know used you and your family to get what they want.”

Arin knew he was going on a tangent at this point. The only thing he wanted to say was that if it was impossible for any family member ---present or absent in the castle---, servent, or guard to steal the dagger from the castle, then she needed to give a reasonable explanation that went beyond “because I know them.” Knowing someone never guaranteed they would never commit a crime. Besides, how well can a person truly “know” another person, when people don’t always understand themselves?

Arin took a single deep breath to calm himself. He reminded himself that he was on business. It would be more than unwise to let his emotions get the better of him.

He summarized the points he wanted to make, “We need evidence to support our claims. Feelings are not proof. Believing that you know someone does not mean you know everything about them. You are not omniscient, nor am I. My hypothesis is based on what I found in the vault and what your people told me. Within an hour, I might add. Your denial of my hypothesis, as far as I can tell, is based on emotions. A reflex from feeling offended. If you want to prove me wrong, base your arguments on evidence.” He couldn't resist the opportunity to add, “I welcome it with open arms for I am interested in finding out the truth, no matter how brutal it may be, and not be fixated on maintaining my worldview. Unlike some people,” He didn’t say who, but his pointed look said more than enough, “I am not afraid or ashamed of being wrong.” At least, not about these thefts.

“So, pray tell, why is it impossible when the evidence so far suggests someone you know was involved in some capacity? Are you withholding information that could change the entire course of this investigation?” He didn’t think she was, especially after the conversation they had in the castle’s study. He had cast a detect lie spell in addition to the speech encryption spell. She spoke truthfully. However, it was possible that he wasn’t asking the right questions.

He heard someone across the hallway leave their room, but he didn’t take the chance to look at who it was, not wanting to give Rynn an excuse to avoid answering him because of some distraction. Considering how close the sound was, he was sure it was Elra anyways.

If Rynn wasn’t going to answer, he wanted her to know that it was because she didn’t have any to give. No proof to support her claims. That “knowing someone” was just simply not enough.

Rynn turned her nose up at Arin. "Fine. Maybe knowing someone isn't enough, elf, but I'm not going to go around and accuse people - good people - until I can say for certainty it was them who played a part in the theft of the dagger. Say what you will, I may be protecting them but that's my job." Her hands were fisted at her sides. "Until we reach the Underground, until we exhaust every other possible clue, I am not going to start pointing fingers at my people."

"We set out for Rosebriar in an hour. I suggest you start packing your things, because I am not going to be as lenient with extra time as I was before."

She stepped back into her room. Her hand was on the door. The frustration that had welled in her seemed to calm. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. "If you must know my real thoughts on the matter, I'll tell you." Rynn bit her lip. "I don't want to believe it was him, but my brother was in a bad way when they . . . when he left. Callin is a good man, and he isn't stupid by any means, but I've known my brother to get himself caught up in things he has no right to be caught up in.

"That's why I've come with you all. In the end, if it does end up being Callin . . . I'm not going to lose my brother a second time. Not when I can actually do something about it."

---

Ernestus invited Elra to come with him as he walked around the town. She was more than happy to walk and look at the wares in the shops. In one store, She bought a dress with long sleeves and ribbons. The dress had roses embroidered in the fabric. She held it in front of her and spun, it was a strange to see a person dressed in necromancer robes spinning with a flower dress. She asked “Ernestus, what do you think?” For work she bought large candles, a couple daggers, metal bowls, chalk and string. With this she could cast the necromantic spells her master had forced her to learn and cast.

There were times these spells were helpful even though it made her feel sick to her stomach.

“What other things should we get?” She ask Ernestus.

Ernestus enjoyed the company as they wandered the town. There were not many shops, but what it had was enough. The blacksmiths was open, so Ernestus had his breastplate and sword checked to see if he kept them in good nick. Excluding some minor tweaks, it seemed he had.

He noticed Elra go into a small but cozy looking shop on the other side of the street, and followed her in. It seemed to have basically all sorts, he then browsed the wares.
“Ernestus, what do you think?” he heard Elra speak to him, and turned to observe. He crossed his arms in thought, "Hmmm...Yes I do believe it suits you quite well." he said, "It would fit well for a royal dinner." he said smiling.
After some more time browsing, Ernestus purchased a new sturder and larger water bottle, selling his older one in turn. He also purchased a small ball of yarn, with an idea in mind for it, should the need arise.

“What other things should we get?” Elra then asked, "I'm not sure. I think I am alright for now." he replied with a nod.

One thing Arin learned about Rynn was that she would make a terrible investigator. She was obviously biased and would rather blame “outsiders” sooner than what she considered “her own people” ---it was facile for her to assume the culprits were from the Underground and were, in no shape or form, affiliated with the crown. Arin thought she would become the type of leader who would be loved greatly by many of her subjects and easily assassinated by the remaining few due to the blind trust she willingly reserved for “her people”. He did, however, agree about exhausting every possibility: Arin just made sure to include everyone and not play favoritism. If that made him a bad person, then so be it. He never was a good person to begin with.

"We set out for Rosebriar in an hour. I suggest you start packing your things, because I am not going to be as lenient with extra time as I was before."

Arin couldn’t contain a laugh, “Oh, how magnanimous of you!” Every word reeked of sarcasm. Rynn may not have realized it, but what she demanded of the volunteers in terms of time was unreasonable: she never gave them a chance to plan the proper course of action as a group, she forced them to investigate the vault within an hour ---something that wouldn’t have happened if Arin and Callista hadn’t voiced their opinions---, gave them no time to digest or scrutinize what they found, and dragged them out onto the road. All in one night. Quite frankly, Arin wouldn’t have been surprised if the only reason why they stopped at The Dancing Badger was because Rynn and the horses were tired. Not for their sake. Maybe she never cared about the investigation; maybe there was something else she wanted from them.

He made a grand gesture of bowing deeply as he said, “As you wish, human princess.” That was for calling him elf. Typical. Did she realize she never once called the volunteers by their names? Does she even care to remember their names? It felt as if they were pawns to her: something to be used and discarded as soon as she got what she, and only she, wanted.

He held the position for a while longer, standing up when he didn’t hear Rynn’s door close. The side of her face showed an expression of deep concern. She confessed about Callin and his proclivity for trouble. Something about how she talked about him made Arin think that Rynn considered Callin to be an accessory to the thefts. It was her protectiveness of “her people” that prevented her from taking her theory one step further: that Callin was a collaborator and maybe even the perpetrator.

Arin wondered if she told this to her father. Would he have allowed her to leave, let alone travel to a dangerous territory with complete strangers, if she did? By the sounds of it, something happened to Callin which caused him to run away from the kingdom. In fact, he might have even been exiled by the King himself depending on what transpired.

"I don't want to believe it was him, but my brother was in a bad way when they . . . when he left.

“They,” huh?

"That's why I've come with you all. In the end, if it does end up being Callin . . . I'm not going to lose my brother a second time. Not when I can actually do something about it."

“That's why I've come with you all”? Is she using this investigation as a means to reunite with Callin? I suppose Rynn did not tell her father of her true intentions, then. Which probably also means Silas really did cut ties with his son. What could he have done to warrant the King’s ire? Arin rubbed his chin. No, it could much simpler than that. Callin leaving alone may be sufficient. He knew some families can be like that.

“To make my opinion abundantly clear, I could care less if your people are good or bad. It is irrelevant whether they or Callin are one or the other, or a mixture of both like a vast majority of the world’s population. What matters is we find the people who were involved in the thefts. Get the dagger back and return to Eastormel Castle. We may disagree with each other on a lot of matters and you may not want to listen to what I have to say, but I will promise you this: I will see this through.” As if he had any other choice. “As long as you do not obstruct the investigation… I have no intention of getting in your way, if your ultimate goal is to find your brother.” Arin’s thumb rubbed against the silent wooden ring. “Conversely, if you hinder the investigation for any reason, even if it is because of your blind love for your people, brother included, then understand that I will no longer be traveling with you.” The contract demanded him to follow every word of the deal. Since Rynn did not sign the contract, she could literally do anything and everything to hamper the investigation and would not suffer the consequences of a deal unfulfilled. Arin would, though.

He bowed, less mockingly this time, and walked away to make final preparations. He called out to Rynn from the hallway, “By the way, I advise you not to eat the porridge or the soup. I have seen what they do… or rather do not do in the kitchen.”

---

Arin made adjustments to the wooden ring as he waited for the potman to return with the items he requested. He avoided eating the cooked breakfast provided by the inn, partially because he wasn’t hungry and largely because the food was less than appetizing once you spent time in the kitchen. He instead opted to take four apples for the journey.

When the potman returned, Arin put the ingredients away and changed into less conspicuous clothing. Once done, he made sure to pay for the potman’s services.

“What did you people do?” The potman asked.
“You will have to elaborate the question for me to answer.”
“Mrs.---, sorry, the innkeeper was so happy when you and your friends came yesterday. Now she seems like she can’t wait to kick you out. ‘More trouble than they’re worth,’ she said. Even accused you guys of being a bunch of scam artists, threatening to tarnish The Dancing Badger’s good name… so what did you people do?”

She must have been referring to the body. From the innkeeper’s point of view, she was forced to wake up in the middle of the night to be told that a man, a potential thief targeting customers, was killed, lying dead in the hallway. Then when she looked and saw that the body was gone without a trace ---or maybe one of the others told her before she had a chance to look. Why wouldn’t she think that it was some elaborate prank or ruse to demand compensation for the customer’s terrible time at the inn? A thief stealing from customers, bad. Someone dying ---especially if they were killed--- in the inn, also bad. People spreading the word that either of the aforementioned happened in the inn, regardless of their veracity, very bad. No respectable customer would ever want to set foot in such an inn. To the innkeeper, the group became unwelcome company overnight.

Speaking of the body, Arin wondered what happened to the handkerchief he draped over the man’s face. Did Vuthaternock take it? Maybe it was charred by the wyvern’s fire. He should ask him later.

“I have not the faintest idea.”

Vuthaternock walks back to the inn, and spreads his wings, flying to the window. He steps inside, and stretches. He then looks at the innkeeper. "What? Oh, the body? I gave it to my friend, it was starting to smell like rotting flesh. I assumed you wouldn't want the stench of spoiled meat stinking up your inn." He shrugs. "If you want the body, too bad. My friend already ate it." He yawns. "In my homeland, we just get rid of bodies. I just assumed it was the same here."

Rynn rode in silence, the road to Rosebriar stretching out before her. She left the others to talk amongst themselves if they wished, but she doubted they had any desire to speak with her. It seemed they weren't all too fond of her or her presence. Then again, she hadn't been the most accommodating. It mattered little. There were two reasons for her coming on this journey: To find the Dark Dagger and to save Callin from whatever fire he'd gotten himself into.

The sun had long since reached its highest point and was now starting its decline. Rynn had hoped they would reach the village before nightfall, but that was becoming more and more unlikely. Shielding her eyes with a gloved hand, she looked forward to see something blocking the road. "Hold," she called to the others, coming to a stop. "Is that a cart?"

She spurred her horse onward, just enough to get a look at what sat in the path. A cart, laden with goods. She looked around as if to find the merchant or owner, but there was no one around. "Perhaps they decided it was too heavy?" she said.

It was at that moment that a bone-chilling holler rang out over the rolling fields. The horses whinnied, kicking and bucking as if they'd seen Ahnera herself, the Lady of Destruction and Chaos. Over the crest of a nearby hill, three shapes emerged. Their lumbering, broken forms heaved down the hill. The tattered remnants of what once might have been clothing fell from their bodies as they raised broken, rusted shields.

Rynn's horse bucked hard, throwing her from the saddle. She hit the ground with enough force to knock the air from her lungs, rolling out of the way only seconds before she was trampled beneath the horse's hooves. Another cry rang out, even more terrifying than the last, and Rynn scrambled to her feet.

"Dhiasis save us," she whispered, watching as they drew shattered swords. "That's not right."

---

Elra hopped off her horse, glad to be on the ground. She took her staff stepping walking forward with an evil smile on her face. This she understood, this she had practiced.

She pulled up her cowl and squatted. With her staff stretched out, she started inscribing a circle in the dirt but did not closing it. She drew out her pentagram. As she worked she asked, "I can try to capture them, free them, hide us from them. If I free them, they will need to be put down. If I hide us, it will buy us some time to watch them. What do you want me to do?"

Ernestus was surprised at what he saw, as he had heard stories about the wandering dead, but he never expected to actually see them.
He dismounted and drew his sword whilst chanting under his breath, his free hand began to glow a dim light as he spoke.
He kept an eye out for other creatures as he approached Rynn. "Are you ok?" he asked Rynn as he swipped his hand across the back of his blade, the blade glowing in turn.

He turned to Elra, "I suggest capture, so we can understand where they came from and who the are or were." he suggested as he watched the approaching ghouls.

Arin was more than astounded that the ragtag bunch of misfits were able to leave the village without being stopped to be questioned by the guards considering all that had transpired during their brief stay. He had hoped that the dragonborn used a bit of ingenuity to settle things amicably with the innkeeper. That hope was, however, immediately dashed the moment the potman ---all too excitedly--- asked whether Arin and his traveling companions were a group of man-eaters. When asked where in the nine layers of hell he got that idea from, he explained that the innkeeper was told by Vuthaternock that “his friend ate the body.” The potman didn’t have a clue what body the dragonborn was referring to, but this lead the innkeeper ---who knew nothing about Greenwings, Vuthaternock’s wyvern--- to believe that one of the dragonborn’s companions was a cannibal. Which, much to his dismay, included Arin.

Gods. Why did he have to word it like that?

It was almost as if the dragonkin wanted to cause more problems, sow chaos wherever he treads. Like it was part of his nature. The only reason he didn't cause more destruction was because he couldn’t be bothered to do so.

The elf questioned why Vuthaternock disposed the body without finding out what was going on first. All he had to do was talk to someone and this weird mess could have been avoided entirely. He was rash and lacked the most basic of communication skills. Then again, he didn’t strike Arin as an individual who put stock in savoir faire.

Arin regretted many things, and he was starting to doubt how well he’d be able to work with the members of the group. A deliberately ignorant princess who throws a fit when her view is challenged in any degree; a dragonborn whose diplomatic skills rivals that of a knife to the gut; a she-wolf who lacks self-control and is better off released into the wilds than being allowed to wander in civilization. At this point, Arin was just waiting for Callista and Ernestus to do something stupid or disappointing.

Despite all that, there they were, outside of Timberholde. Not a single guard in sight. Perhaps the innkeeper decided that it was more beneficial and less dangerous to let the wondering cannibals leave her home village as soon as possible than to report them to the authorizes and have The Dancing Badger forever be known as that inn that welcomed cannibals. A problem out of sight was a problem out of mind. They were someone else’s problem now.

---

Arin was struggling to keep his eyes open when the group got ambushed by the undead. He was spared being thrown off his horse like Rynn was because his horse ---Rosemary was her name--- was just barely composed enough not to buck. It did not prevent her from booking it, however.

Rosemary galloped quite a distance away from the ambush by the time Arin was able to slow her down. He petted and consoled her with a soothing voice until she was more receptive to his commands.

From behind, he heard the panicked noise of another horse getting closer to him by the second. It likely followed suit when it saw Rosemary dash into a random direction. Arin waited for the horse to appear before pursuing it with Rosemary. After a few minutes of chasing, Arin caught its reins and slowed it down. He spent time calming the horse down as he did before.

Just when he thought he could return to the group with the runaway horse, he caught sight of yet another one running off into the distance. The elf signed. The first chance they get, he is going straight to bed.

Vuthaternock flys over, and growls, seeing the undead soldiers. "Great. Now we have to deal with these rotting bodies as well?" He raises his hands, and a ball of fire begins swelling between his palms, getting bigger and dencer by the second. He launched it behind the undead monsters, trapping them between the blaze and the group.

---

As she closed the circle she felt the magic building, “I think I can capture one of them without much effort, the other two you all are going to need to deal with as I will need to concentrate to hold it. I’m going for the one on the right,” she said pointing to make it clearer which right she meant.

She poured all the hatred she could muster into the magic and pictured her former dead master standing behind the creatures. Since magic was the imposition of ones will on reality, she decided motivating herself would help her do this large task. She let the magic build till they got close enough for her to release the spell. The circle sparked with the magic she was drawing.

She would need to work speed scribing a pentagram in the circle some time. It wasn’t needed for the magic to work but it helped to focus the mind.

The shuddering figures screeched as a wall of fire blazed before them, effectively trapping them. Their swords and armor clunked and clattered together as they struggled against the heat of the flame. The leader, adorned with a broken crest on its breastplate, lurched forward toward the group, its jaw coming unhinged as the fire licked at its shredded arm.

Elra inscribed a circle in the dirt, using her magic and knowledge in order to try and capture one of the undead monstrosities. The leader shuddered and took another lurching step before coming to halt. It let out another unholy screech, the sound garbled as it tore from the ripped throat.

The other two advanced, wielding their rusted blades. Whatever magic held their leader in place did little to stop them.