Adrila only smiled at the sight of the couple as the woman tried to organize themselves, sighing as she walked over. The elf followed the seamstress over to where she had been storing the blankets she was working on and clasped her hands in front of her. When the woman presented the blankets, a broad grin flashed across Adrila’s face and she beamed. “Those look to be perfect! I’m sure they’ll fit the cots perfectly.” She could gauge by the size of the blankets that they were probably a fit but she took the blanket nonetheless. She stretched it every which way, getting a feel for the item before giving a strong nod and flashing the woman a proud smile. “I’ll go see how well they work with the cots.” And so, with the blanket tucked neatly over her arm, she began to make her way to the other building once more.

She stepped over to the cots that were still located outside of the longhouse and placed the blanket down on top of it. It was a nice fit. It had just enough length to cover the cot completely and more than enough width that someone could easily roll about in their sleep and the blanket would still keep them covered well enough. She picked the blanket up and folded it nicely before peering around for a safe place to put it down. She needed to move the cots back inside the house and she didn’t want to risk getting the blankets dirty by setting it on the cot and then trying to carry both items into the building at the same time. So with a sigh, she stepped over to one of the many barrels that were sitting outside the stone building and set the blanket down. She then returned to the cots and got to work on moving them once more into the wooden longhouse. It didn’t take her too long to get the cots into the building. The part that took longer than she would have liked was situating the beds in such a manner that everyone had plenty of room to themselves without taking up all the room within the building solely for sleeping. Eventually she found a good spacing between the beds where she could stand in the middle and reach out to both sides and still not touch either cot while leaving a large part of the building open for other tasks or things they may find. She quickly counted the beds then left to retrieve the blankets.

She grabbed the first blanket on her way back to the heap that the woman had constructed and gathered them all up on her arms. The pile blocked her view a bit and she found herself fumbling around a moment as she situated the blankets but eventually she got everything well enough that she could see what was directly before her. Watching the ground as she went, she began to make her way back to the longhouse, stumbling a few times as something that was in her blind spot caused her foot to slip up. Eventually she made it into the building and dropped the blankets down on one of the cots with a sigh of relief before getting to work on distributing them between all the beds. She was just shy of having enough to cover all the cots. They only needed three more. Not too bad!

She gave a small nod of approval before stepping out of the longhouse to see Rinn had returned once more, sitting upon a barrel. “Oh, welcome back Rinn.” She eyed the barrel, a small frown crossing her lips at the sight of it. Was there anything within the barrel? Was it safe for him to sit on? Was that a book? Her eyes settled on the book he held in one hand while he stroked his chin with the other. He was obviously deep in thought, from what, she wasn’t sure. It wouldn’t be unheard of, though, for a bard to have a few books with them, though that book looked as if it had surely seen some better days. She would ask him about it later. She had a task to finish first.

She stepped over to the lovely couple and gave a small knock on one of the barrels to announce her presence. “Your blankets fit perfectly, just as I had assumed. We are a few short however. We need three more if we’re going to have enough for every cot by sun down. Also, do the two of you have any idea what we could possibly do for food? We could try and make plans with what we currently have or we could wait until the others returned. I recall the dwarf from earlier having a large collection of pots and cooking utensils attached to his belt. He may have something to cook but seeing as how he has left the others, we won’t know until he returns.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out her list, reading over it idly as she waited for a response from the red-headed woman.

---

---

"If the Slime proves inedible," Akitsugu mused as he walked with both armloads of wood perched atop his shoulders, "Do you think it might be possible to... tame it?" He asked not out of any sense of pity for the creature, but simple curiosity. "If it has some form of alchemic uses to Myrr, it might be more sustainable to... well, I don't know, actually. I hesitate to suggest...um... milking it..." He felt himself cringing at his own suggestion, and simply trailed off the thought there. At least, verbally.

But, really. Could you somehow raise a slime, and then... somehow... divest it of the useful properties of its goo?

Maybe not. Surely if that was the case someone in this land would've done it already. Unless perhaps Slime gel just wasn't that useful as an alchemic ingredient, foodstuff, or anything else. But...

"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed after going a while without speaking. "There are some varieties of acid-treatment used in steel processing! Most of what I've seen in that regard for swords is really just for artistry, to give it a "wootz" pattern, but, maybe if Slimes only eat organic matter, they could be used to remove impurities or process ore..."

If no one else had anything to contribute to his line of thought, he was fine just walking in silence for the rest of the trip. He wouldn't even ask Brom to help carry the wood, since now the dwarf had his own potload of slime to carry. Once again, the forested floor soon turned to open fields, and soon the fields revealed a dark spot on the horizon. It was only a shabby silhouette right now, but soon it would be a place bustling with potential... There would be repaired homes for those who had wandered, many of whom no doubt being called just as the blacksmith had been. Perhaps they could find some resources to trade with other settlements. Maybe... Maybe this could be the place Akitsugu could finally settle down, after traveling for so long...

After all, for the first time in his travels, he had a home all his own now. Sure, there was a hole in the roof and one wall was missing, but as far as repairs went, those weren't the worst. And it wasn't just a house, but a workshop as well---finally, a place where he could hone his own craftsmanship, without a master to bark orders for countless nails and horseshoes.

Yes. He smiled as he thought about it, growing ever more eager to return to the smithy with every step.

@Dragonydas, @Remram, @Zeroth

A captured slime inside a metal container proved to be not much of a challenge to keep securely locked away. After all, the thing didn't exactly have muscles to push with, nor did it seem all that aware of just what had happened and where it was. As far as the Forest Slime knew, night had fallen, and there was a mild earthquake and it had fallen into a strange hole, or something. Not that a slime could think in such detail, but it was an accurate enough estimation.

For those returning from the lumber-harvesting at the forest, they would find their return trip towards the village just as epic and eventful as their trip from it earlier. That is to say, not a single thing of interest other than their own chatter and conversation happened. But perhaps that was a welcome change of pace, after the thrilling and heart-pounding confrontatioin with their slimey new captive.


@ERode, @BunniesOfDoom, @Lupusintus

At the prospect of being given a shiny (?) new trinket by the older girl, Wilma broke out in a big ol' smile and her eyes sparkled like gemstones that had just caught the sun's rays. She cheered and yippie'd energetically, while the old man merely chuckled dryly at the small one's excitement.

"Well then, let's head on back."

Not much was said or needed to be said, some minor inquiries and childish questions from Wilma asking Big Sis MAc what she'd found, where she'd found it and how she'd found it. Other than that, Victor mostly asked more practical questions, like if she'd found anything edible, any signs of other people already living here here and where and which parts of the old ruined settlement that the treasure nhuntress had explored.

It didn't take long for the trio to return to heart of the village, where they were met by a now more organized and established Daryl and Sheryl, along with their busy-body elf lady and the foppish bard and his barrel o' empty.


@Rune_Alchemist, @CitrusArms

Even clearing a small area was no small undertaking. Thankfully, the farm girl's familiarity and practiced hand at the art of agriculture would prove beneficial in getting things up and into shape, spick and span and all that jazz. However, even when you know what you're doing and how to do it, time still marches on, and with no way other than the sun in the sky itself to tell you how much time has passed, it's hard to say just how long the two ladies spent on getting their little plot of farmland ready.

But at the very least, the sun had moved enough across the celestial camopy to now be casting the shadows of things in a slightly different direction.

---

Time: Early Afternoon
NPCs: Daryl, Sheryl, Victor, Wilma
Players: Everyone who made it back to the town center.

"So, old timer. What'd you and the lil' missy find out after your walk?"
"Nothing much, really. We couldn't find any signs of other people still living here, and I couldn't really find any hints as to why."
"YOu... You think it might've been monsters? Or bandits...?"
"I doubt that. Monsters wouldn't bother clearing out the furniture of most buildings, and there aren't any bones or dried blood. Bandits, same deal. No signs of any fighting, and none of the buildings look forcefully entered."

The three new settlers were standing around the big, four-pointed star statue at the center of town, discussing their findings and musings with one another. At this point, Sheryl and Daryl had mostly gotten their wagon emptied out and their crates and containers properly categorized inside the stone brick building. Wilma, was happily inspecting the strange shuriken-like object with a sense of adventuruous wonder while her grandfather did the boring adult-talking.

"Well, we haven't really found anything out either. Mostly just unpacked and stored stuff away, so..."
"No worries there. I don't think we'd find much even if we all ponied up and searched around. Ths place looks... Like it was just abandoned, for whatever reason."
"Well, that isn't ominous at all...."
"Don't be such a worry-wart, it's fine! I'm here to keep you safe, honey!" Arm flex.
"... My hero..." Eye rolls.
"Hah, you love-birds were made for each other." Bemused chuckling.

After some fervent denial from the red-headed woman and some loud, undeniably ruckus agreement from the big man, the conversation continued.

"Still... I'm curious about this thing." Victor pointed at the suculpture his granddaguther was now attempting - and failing - to get up on. "I feel mlike I've seen it somewhere before, but I can't... Quite place it..."
"Memory starts going at your age, huh?"
"Daryl!"
"_Sorry...
"Gramopy's old and forgets stuff!"
"Hey...! That's not a very nice thing to say about your granpa...!"

It seemed there was not but a bit of casual discussio and backhanded comments flying to and fro now. Perhaps soem of the other settlers had more to share, or things to bring up, or something to ask, declare or otherwise make heard? Or... Perhaps they were interested in getting ready for the approaching evening. Victor and Wilma still hadn't unloaded their cart, but it didn't seem like the old man was in any hurry to do so.

Thanks to a certain elf, the wooden longhouse had eben cleaned. OR well, at least made less dirty than it was before. And with the addition of Sheryl's blankets, the cots were now at least serviceable as a place to lay down and rest. The group who what brought back firewood may want to divvy it up amongst the residents, or keep it all to themselves. There was also the strange tome that the bard had found, and the bits and pieces of recorded history there-within.

So much could still be said and done, as time marched on.

//Central Village
_{@Xaltwind@BunniesOfDoom@LupusIntus}
MacKinnon, too, was inspecting the four-pointed star statue. She felt for the medallion in her pocket, pulled it out, and took a good long look before deciding, yup, it was related.

Some kinda religious thing then? She didn’t really pray herself, and she didn’t particularly understand why people would pray to begin with, but there was probably something there, wasn’t it? Welp, back to it.

Dragging the empty barrel over to the well, MacKinnon finally dropped off her rucksack beside her, pulling the sweat-stained fabric around her shoulder off and letting out a small sigh of relief as a cool breeze trickled through. She pulled the cords open, then methodically removed her finds for the day:


Plenty to clean, plenty more to use! While the well itself didn’t look like it had been improved in any of the ways that anyone else said it would, working with broken things was basically just want MacKinnon did on a regular basis either way. Hand over hand, she reeled up the leaky bucket and upended its contents into the barrel as she forcefully injected her way into the conversation the others were having.

“Not abandoned,” MacKinnon called out. “There’d be a lot more trash here if it was; feels like everyone took their time packin’ everything up 'fore leaving. Oh, and I didn’t come across any graves either, so it’s probably not a sickness that did it. Maybe whatever they were here for just ran out, and they had no reason to stay?”

That was a possibility. There were no proper roads that she saw leading here, and MacKinnon had seen her fair share of mining towns that turned into ghost towns over the years. But there was a forest; couldn’t they have gone into lumberjacking? Or fishing? Or just regular farming? Why were people here anyways? Why did everyone other than herself decide to come here? Surely, not all of them were treasure hunters, right?

“Anyways, didja let the others know about the whole ‘buildings with burnable furniture bits yet’? Not seeing lotsa em here. And Wilma, c’mon over! I’ll show you how to clean things up!”

---

Walking alongside her companions, Myrravel found herself alternating between watching the pot containing their captive slime and considering Akitsugu's suggestions. "I hadn't considered the metallurgical applications," she said thoughtfully, her earlier caution giving way to academic enthusiasm. "Though I'm not sure about... milking one." She couldn't quite suppress a small laugh at the idea.

She adjusted her satchel as they walked, her mind clearly processing the possibilities. "But the acid properties could be fascinating to study. If we could understand how they break down organic matter..." She trailed off, watching the pot intentively "Though I suppose our first challenge will be figuring out how to safely get a sample from our new... guest."

Her thoughts began to wander into the realm of experimental possibilities - different containment methods, reaction tests, perhaps even finding a way to neutralize their corrosive properties for safer handling. She was so absorbed in these alchemical daydreams that she didn't notice a loose stone in her path. Her foot caught on it, making her stumble slightly before she caught her balance. Her ears pinked as she glanced quickly at her companions, hoping they hadn't noticed.

The sight of Brom's secure grip on the pot's lid reminded her of their earlier concern about touching the creature. "I should probably look through my notes first. And maybe find some proper equipment. The last thing we need is to discover its exact properties through trial and error." She glanced at Brom, a mix of curiosity and concern crossing her features. "Though I have to admit, I've never heard of anyone actually trying to eat one before. I'd be very interested to see how that turns out."

Her pace quickened slightly as they neared the village, her mind already cataloging what she would need for proper research. "At the very least, this might help us understand how to better protect our supplies from wild ones in the future."

Now there was a question. The dwarf arched his brow as he contemplated such a notion of taming a slime. "In the same way one could tame a slug I'd suppose," he said with a shrug. "They aren't exactly bright creatures, but keep one full enough that it doesn't eat through a pen then I suppose it would be fine." It was with great caution that he said that. Slimes were not exactly known as intelligent monsters, hell, he was not even sure if they had the capacity to form attachments.

"Assuming that the impurities are anything not metal," Brom pointed out. Then again, it was not like he was some monster expert either. Perhaps out there was a slime that with such a powerful acidic ability that it could eat away at impurities though not the metal itself. However, what he could say was that he never thought about milking a slime. "Milking a slime huh...?" His mind drifted off to a thought bubble when the image of a slime, but then it became pixelated when he thought about a slime having the parts of a mammal needed to be milked.

Brom swatted away the thought bubble quickly as if to erase it from memory. "That's an image I never wish to think of again." He muttered gravely to himself. Though at the very least the mental image of the milkable slime was replaced by the charming, if clumsy image of the elf herbalist stumbling forward before catching herself. The dwarf kept his eyes averted from hers, whistling to himself a tune though he for the life of him could not hide the corners of his mouth curling upwards ever so slightly.

However, his attention once again was brought to the slime trapped within the pot. The two of them were making the same assumption. "You are both assuming that I've never cooked a slime before," he said with a playful smirk. "It's gonna be a bit strange, but I know exactly how to get rid of the corrosive effects of the slime though it's gonna involve using the wood we just picked. Well, the by product of it. It'll be easier if I show you."

Was Brom playing purposefully vague? Yes, yes he was. Was he also playing this up? Also, yes. Was he having fun with it? Most definitely yes.

Eventually, the trio would arrive at the village with wood and slime in tow. "Hello everyone! What have we missed?"

@Xaltwind@CitrusArms

---

"Weh?" Whatever Yingmei had been expected from Niara, it was not suddenly having an entire field full of freshly made crops. "A-are you a priestess or something?! D-did the divine actually bless the harvest?" There were so many thoughts going around in her head. Back home, any magical feats were reserved for high ranking people of the temples or those secretive few who didn't wish to be a part of society. As far as Yingmei was concerned, this was exactly what she needed in order to actually be a good priestess!

On the other hand, though, a rather unsettling feeling and thought wormed its way into her head.

"W-wow...this is...uhm, that was really cool Niara!" If the other girl could just make plants grow like that then...well...what was she doing here? She offered the mage an uneasy, slightly nervous smile. "Back home you'd be really popular. Usually only people that can do this are the priests or people that studied under the divine." Right, she couldn't let that thought get to her. She could still be useful! Her knowledge of crops and such would be good, too!

Miss Clucky lightly poked at her foot.

"Weh. Oh. Right, its gotten pretty late, we erm, should probably head back." Assuming Niara followed her, Yingmei would scoop up her new bird friend and head back towards the center of town.

---

---

Brom and Myrr both had interesting thoughts on how to make the best use of their new slimy acquisition, but it was starting to look like the idea of domestication might have to wait for the next Slime they trapped inside a cold, unfeeling pot. The Dwarven man seemed intent on having this one for dinner. Akitsugu couldn't say he wasn't intrigued by the idea, but to be honest he couldn't imagine it tasting very good.

Then again, maybe it would be like...a bitter mochi? Akitsugu had eaten red bean flavored mochi, and matcha flavored, and a few others, but didn't think he'd ever had one he could describe as "acidic."

As they arrived back in the town center, the blacksmith noted the position of the sun. They might end up cutting it close, but he could probably make one more trip for firewood before it got too dark. Right now, though, his arms and hands ached from carrying the two loads he had currently shouldered. With a heaving sigh of relief, he dumped both piles to one side of the longhouse's door, within easy reach for anyone who might want to fuel a fireplace or stove inside, but far enough under the lip of the roof that an unexpected rain shower wouldn't ruin the wood. He began unwinding the vine braces he'd tied around each pile as he listened to the ongoing conversation. The three from the forest hadn't been there for the whole thing, but picked up the last half at the least.

There was seemingly some mystery about the sculpture in the village center, but Akitsugu had nothing to offer on that front. The treasure hunting girl, however, was saying something about collecting furniture to burn?

"Ah!" The redhead suddenly stood up, tossing aside a handful of vines, and turned towards MacKinnon. She was knelt by an empty barrel near the well, washing an assortment of objects. Akitsugu approached her with an upraised hand to get her attention. "Before you start stripping the homes around here for anything that can be burned, you need to check with the others to see if they've laid claims! I told you before that I'm a blacksmith, yes?"

He had come close enough now that the pile of things in the barrel caught his attention. It looked like the girl had made a pretty good haul---there were clay pots that might still be useful, some old rugs that might as least serve for scrap fabric, and lots of other things...including...

"Before we went to the forest, I found the former smithy's house---the furnace, some of the tools, and other things in there were still usable, so I'd appreciate it if the rest of it was left alone until I've had time to sort---"

Wait. Were THOSE the same as---!?

Akitsugu stopped short, and suddenly pointed at MacKinnon's barrel.

"Are those MY tools!? Did you take them from the smithy?!" His voice rose much louder than usual, even compared to when he'd shouted for everyone's attention before. For an instant, his brow furrowed and the corners of lips turned down sharply---but, the next moment, he'd recovered a more neutral expression. Still, there seemed to be a building tension in his jaw.

And then he realized what she was doing.

"ARE YOU USING WATER TO CLEAN IRON TOOLS!?"

He waited for MacKinnon's answer before he decided whether or not to be furious.

//Central Village
_{@Xaltwind@BunniesOfDoom@LupusIntus@Zeroth}
"Your smithy? Your tools?"

MacKinnon popped to her feet. When it came to people who were angry, after all, it was foolish to stay seated. But she was all smiles too, her green eyes narrowing as she flashed her teeth towards the furious redhead. She didn't even mind the spittle that flew out from his mouth as he lost his mind over water.

"Oh, so you live here, Mister? Wow, could you tell us why everyone else left then? Or why you kept your tools in such poor condition that I could've sworn they were abandoned?" Her head swayed from side to side, in a rhythm that almost seemed to imply that her words ought to rhyme. But they didn't. MacKinnon was a chatterbox, but she wasn't all that good with words. "Heckers, I didn't even see any name on the smithy that's yours! Don't they usually have a sign or something? Or are you just saying that its allllll yours, because you want it for free but didn't want to carry it with you or let everyone else know that you claimed it when you first came in?"

She shrugged then, suddenly as generous as a saint.

"It's ok though; if you want it, you can have it as a housewarming gift, Mister! Only..."

And there was that damned grin again, the dastardly, mischievous grin of someone who would certainly hold petty grudges over people who didn't respect the (confusing and unregulated) code of treasure hunters.

"I heard a pretty big crash when I was leaving the area. Might wanna check if your smithy still there, y'know?"

This, of course, was all to distract from the fact that MacKinnon had indeed planned on cleaning iron tools with water. It was fine so long as you dried it quickly afterwards, right?

@Rune_Alchemist

Niara continued to breath and sit, smiling under the compliments from the farm girl. “A priestess? Nooo, not me.” After a moment, she rolled over to take a knee and then up she went, to her feet. “Back on the Islands, I was one of the folks that would go around and treat people’s plants. There were some really particular specimens, I’m not ashamed to admit. Some of them needed constant adjustment. Or someone kept coming along behind me and undoing my work..”

Though she was on her feet, Niara still took a moment to stretch her back a little and breathe deeply. “whew, haven’t had mana sickness in a while. You’d think I’d be old enough to know better..” A moment more passed before she approached the rice, and squatted down in front of it, “hope the edits I made turned out well.”

As the other started to head back, Niara looked quickly between the plants and her departing cohort. It was grown, they should gather some! Quickly, she harvested a bit of the tea and more of the rice before following behind.

“Coming, coming~ the elf was careful as she hurried, to not bounce the rice too much and lose a bunch of grains. “I wonder if there’s a better place to plant the rice? We’ll have to see if this batch turned out. I’ve never worked with rice, myself, only learned about it..”

---

---

When MacKinnon suddenly got up in his face, Akitsugu didn't flinch. His jawline remained tight, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the mischievous, glittering green gaze of the first person he'd met among all these settlers who had earned his ire.

"It IS mine," he shot back at her, every ounce of him convinced of the matter, "and I believed it was obvious it would be mine when I stated, before: I. Am. A. Blacksmith." He swept an accusatory hand at the tools in the barrel. "What use do YOU have for them, then? Do YOU know how to use them? Can YOU make nails, or axe blades, or ploughshares, or ANY of the other things the rest of these people will need, using MY tools? Clearly you've no idea how to maintain them!"

With a jerk of his head, he indicated the others of the group around them---though whether anyone else had something to weigh in on this building argument, he wasn't of a mind to wait for their opinion. "Those of us who've gathered here, from who knows where, after going through who knows what, have all---unanimously, to my knowledge---agreed to work together for the good of the whole group! Thus I, as the blacksmith, am entitled to the smithy and its contents! Thus Master Brom, as a chef, is entitled to any cookware he may need! And so on for any other professionals among us and whatsoever we may find among these homes! So what is it that YOU do---besides loot your surroundings like a baser, no-good bandit!?"

Akitsugu, coming from a foreign culture that more often placed the good of a family or community over that of an individual, couldn't believe the sheer audacity of the excitable treasure hunter. It also seemed he wasn't taking her jests in good humor, either. True enough, he hadn't made any bombastic announcements or planted any kind of flag on "his" properties, but, true to his word, at the time the man simply hadn't thought it necessary. If someone had told him "by the way, if you don't stake your claim, someone else is going to rob the place," he would've been just as incredulous to that statement as he was in this moment. Why would they take things they couldn't use? Who would they sell them to, among the other poor-as-dirt wanderers too busy fixing up their own claims? Such ideas would've never taken root in Akitsugu's own mind, thus he could not see why they might be relevant to another's point of view.

But, after he'd said his piece, he realized just how angry he'd become. He sucked air through his nose and let out a low sigh, not quite a growl, and tried to compose himself---

"I heard a pretty big crash when I was leaving the area. Might wanna check if your smithy still there, y'know?"

Akitsugu's pupils dilated. In the same instant it took his body to trigger that involuntary reaction, the micro-expression of emotion, the left side of his coat-like robe flared outward. His thumb pressed against the tsuba. His right hand locked onto the hilt. An inch of the blade gleamed and the ball of one foot dug into the earth.

"Aki-tan, don't do it!" screamed the sword, in a voice like a young woman.

---

As they arrived back at the village, Myrravel was deep in thought, still contemplating the possibilities their captured slime presented. Something was nagging at the back of her mind - a sense she had forgotten something important. She furrowed her brow, trying to remember...

The seeds! She had completely forgotten to gather any seeds for Niara. Her ears pinked with embarrassment as she realized how distracted she'd been by plant identification, the slime capture, and theoretical alchemy. She'd failed to fulfill the simple request.

Her self-admonishment was interrupted by raised voices. Looking up, she was startled to find Akitsugu and MacKinnon engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument. The sudden escalation from irritation to what appeared to be an imminent sword draw made her eyes widen in alarm.

"Oh," she whispered, taking an instinctive step backward. Her eyes darted nervously around the village center, searching for Adrila. Surely she would know how to handle this situation without making things worse.

When Akitsugu's sword appeared to speak, she blinked in confusion. Despite her aversion to conflict, she found herself taking several small steps forward, positioning her slight frame somewhat between the two agitated parties. It wasn't a bold stance, but rather a tentative, almost unconscious movement born more from concern than courage.

"Um..." she began hesitantly, her voice barely audible at first. "Perhaps we could... that is... maybe the tools would be most useful in the smithy?" She immediately regretted speaking up, her eyes lowering as she took another small step back, though still remaining somewhat between them.

"I'm sure there's a way to work this out," she added softly, looking around again for Adrila or anyone else who might intervene more effectively.

@Xaltwind@CitrusArms

---

"It'd need to be some more...mountainous area? At least, most of the rice fields back home were on hilly terraces called paddy's. Rice likes a lot of water in the initial stages, but can't thrive if submerged all the time so you need to either drain the field or replant the seeds elsewhere. Its a loooot of work normally." Yingmei seemed happy enough to talk about the plants and her home as she'd walk back to the village square, holding Miss Clucky in her arms. "Its one of the reasons we relied on the Priestess...she'd pray and dance for the blessing of the divine and they'd cause the crops to grow with no issue. At least, thats how its supposed to be..." She'd fall silent, though If niara wanted to continue she'd probably be cut off.

As they neared the village center, she could hear something of a commotion?

Ah.

Akitsugu was angry about something, it looked like? Come to think of it he looked pretty...intimidating like that.

"Erm...h-hello...? Did something...happen...?" She wasn't confident her voice would be heard, but she'd try anyways.

@Zeroth Yasunami Akitsugu
@Dragonydas Myrravel Velasien
@Remram Brom Stronghammer
@Lupusintus Rinn Arniman
@ERode MacKinnon
@CitrusArms Niara Rootwick
@Rune_Alchemist Yingmei Okudaira
@BunniesOfDoom Adrila Jaaxa,

---

"'Kay~!"

At the behest of the treasure hunting young woman, Wilma happily stopped her play around the statue and happily jogged over to the MacKinno's side. Squatting down next to the older girl, the child looked with sparkly eyes filled with youthful excitement and anticipation.

"Just be careful, Wilma. Don't touch anything sharp, alright?" Ther old man casually called out, warning his grandchild not to put her soft child hands on anything that could potentially cut them open

Although the treasure hunter injected herself into the conversation, and asked a question related to her prior antics of defacing every building she coould with her pickaxe, nobody really had the time to answer before --

"Ah, there they are! Hey, welcome back, you three."

Daryl acknowledged the return of the forest troop. A smile on his face that grew even biggewr when he saw the piles of wood that the blacksmith-boy was carrying with him. Sheryl, on the toher hand, looked more confused as to why Brom was carrying a pot in his arms, and was seemingly focusing rather intently on keeping the lid on it sealed tight... He wasn't walking around with a pot full of something hot right now, surely? All the way from the forest?

Unfortunately, there was no time for inquries about that either, as almost as soon as Akitsugu had dropped off the firewood and was about to rejoin the others, a scene of civil drama unfolded. The young man raced over towards where MacKinnon and Wilma were and began to loudly shout and vocalize. The sudden act made the small child, who was at that time trying to help clean one of the rugs, let out a small 'yeep!'-noise, dropping the rug and shrinking back. Things got even worse when the treasure hunting girl stood up and approached the smith, leaving Wilma without the safety of an adult to shield her from this loud, angry and scary man-child. Whcich made the little girl's eyes groew even bigger and become tear-filled aas she cluched her hands together and held them infront of her, pressed against her chest in attempt to shield herself from potential stray flak.

At this point, the pair who'd gone to the farmlands in the south returned, and were equally stunned and confused by the unfolding events. As MacKinnon and Akitsugu's debate on the ownwership of the blacksmithing tools continued, Sheryl slid away from her husband and approached both Yingmei and
Plenty to clean, plenty more to use! While the well itself didn’t look like it had been improved in any of the ways that anyone else said it would, working with broken things was basically just want MacKinnon did on a regular basis either way. Hand over hand, she reeled up the leaky bucket and upended its contents into the barrel as she forcefully injected her way into the conversation the others were having.

“Not abandoned,” MacKinnon called out. “There’d be a lot more trash here if it was; feels like everyone took their time packin’ everything up 'fore leaving. Oh, and I didn’t come across any graves either, so it’s probably not a sickness that did it. Maybe whatever they were here for just ran out, and they had no reason to stay?”

That was a possibility. There were no proper roads that she saw leading here, and MacKinnon had seen her fair share of mining towns that turned into ghost towns over the years. But there was a forest; couldn’t they have gone into lumberjacking? Or fishing? Or just regular farming? Why were people here anyways? Why did everyone other than herself decide to come here? Surely, not all of them were treasure hunters, right?

“Anyways, didja let the others know about the whole ‘buildings with burnable furniture bits yet’? Not seeing lotsa em here. And Wilma, c’mon over! I’ll show you how to clean things up!”.

"Seems we've got our first local spat. The red-headed foreigner boy there claims that girl stole some tools of his. What a mess." The woman explained, making a lisght nod towards the male red-head.

And then MacKinnon said something that triggered Akitsugu to reach for his sword. Almost instantly, both Daryl and Victor took a step forward - but they suddenly stopped. A woman's voice called out. A female voice... Coming... From Akitsugu... ...? There was a momentary pause of awkward silence accompanied by crickets chirping as the various gathered onlookers stared at the scene with a wild mix and range of emotions and expressions.

"Wha-- Who...?"
"... Was... Was that him? I mean, her? I mean him?"
"... I'm not sure, but that can wai- Ah, wait."

Victor tried to stop her, but it seemed the brave botanist elf had mustered up courage and a spine, and was now trying to interpose herself between the girl who was mockingly denouncing the blacksmiths claims to tools and property he saw as rightfully his, and the boy who was ready to pull a blade on a defenseless, unarmed girl just because she said something that irked him. Of course, the elf's words were meek and weak, and didn't exactly carry much weight in the department of being a convincing deterent to the current situation.

"C'mon now, calm down, kid."

A large, burly hand fell on Akitsugu's shoulder. Daryl had, at some point, started his approach anew, and was snow standing next to the red-headed lad, although also slightly behind him.

"You really gonna pull a blade on a girl you just met? 'Cuz she went and grabbed some rusty old lfetovers someone didn't even care enough to bring with 'em when they left?"

Daryl, being a craftsman himself, could tell the quality and worth of tools as well as the next producer. Sure, he may not have used the same tools in his trade as a smith did, but he did often work alongside blacksmiths when doing his job. And so, it wasn't hard for him to see that these tools that the kid was getting so worked up over... They were... Well... Garbage... At the most, they'd last for maybe a handful of more projects before they'd be completely unusuable, and their only purpose would be to be smelted down and recycled for what little metal that could still be salvaged from them.

"I can't really say one or the other is right or wrong here. Nothing left behind has an owner until they're claimed by a new one, but it also doesn't really make any sense to grab things you can't use or that others won't want." Victor tried being as... Diplomatic... As he could. After all, the old man didn't want to escalate the situation. Still, he couldn't help but have a hint of annoyed, tired elderly grumble-glint in his eyes as he looked at the two squabblers.

"G-grampy..."
"Come here, Wilma. It's okay."

The small girl half-walk, half-ran in a half-circle around the well, making sure to give Akitsugu a wide berth, before joining back up with her grandfather. Clutching tightly to his side and standing behind him, using the old mna as a human shield, she buried her face in his side so as not to allow anyone to see it.

[color=silver]"The little elf lady's right though. If we plan to live here, all of us, then it makes the most sense that the boy here keep those tools."[color] Victor said, a small sigh escaping his lips at the tail end. "Still. You, boy." The old man narrowed his eyes and gave Akitsugu a stern look, his face clearly not amused. "You couldn't have handled this in a better way? Is screaming, shouting and threatening how a civilized person deals with a misunderstading or situation they're not fond of?" He then moved his eyes over to gaze at the girl who was defiantly standing there. "And you. What manner of fool antagonizes someone who is armed with a weapon when you've got none of your own? What if this boy had been a bandit or highwayman? He might've struck you down, and then the rest of us for good measure. Think before you open your mouth, girl."

The old man placed a hand on Wilma's shoulder and began to speak to her quietly. Though it wasn't for anyone else to hear, as he gently turned the pair around and began moving them back towards their cart. Meanwhile, Daryl let go of the smith's shoulder and Sheryl let out a seemingly held breath.

"Hm? What's going on?"

A new voice, at least to some, suddenly rang out from the north. IT belonged to a dwarven lady. Dressed in a long coat. With a strange pair of horns worn on her head. On her back was a crossbow, and in her hand... Was a pair of rabbit-looking critters... With... Distinct puncture-points on each of them. It would seem the huntress had returned from her little trip, and had returned only just now.

---

---

Miyusahime's voice froze Akitsugu the moment before he was about to draw--the expression that flashed across his face was one of both disbelief and what seemed to be...fear? Shock? It was the kind of expression someone makes when they have, without realizing it, exposed a secret about themselves.

But at that moment Myrr stepped up between them, and though her voice was soft, she vindicated Akitsugu's belief that the tools would be put to much better use in his possession. That validation gave the young man what he needed to take another deep breath---though his nostrils still flared angrily---and push his blade back into the sheath.

"Yes," he replied to Myrr, "and that way is for her to give them back---and then explain what she's done to my workshop." His eyes still glared hard at MacKinnon, and he had not yet removed his hand from the hilt.

Others were gathering now, and for the first time Akitsugu noticed the little girl behind MacKinnon. Their argument had, understandably, scared the child, and for a moment the blacksmith looked regretful. But as he sensed the large man---Daryl, right?---behind him, and the carpenter took a stern hold on his shoulder, once more Akitsugu set his jawline in a neutral expression. With a sigh, he let go of the sword's grip.

"Leftovers they may be, sir, they're all I've got until I can make new ones. And her thievery, much as I detest it, isn't what provoked me so." He crossed his arms and once again glared at MacKinnon. "She implied, just now, that all her rooting around has done something destructive to the smithy." He turned to look side-eye at the large man. "Would you tolerate someone who stole your tools, destroyed your shop, and then had the gall to taunt you about it?"

The merchant, whose name Akitsugu wasn't sure he'd learned yet, took the fence-sitting position and pointed out what he felt were the flaws in both parties' reasoning. The blacksmith sniffed, and held up one palm to show Daryl he had no more hostile intentions before slipping out from under the man's grip.

"Again, I had assumed that by stating my profession and intentions, anyone who came across the smithy would leave it be for my use. Just as I would have left a carpenter's shop to Sir Daryl, or a tavern of any sort to Sir Brom. I suppose I should beg your forgiveness," he spat the next words with more venom as he looked back at the quote-unquote treasure hunter, "for assuming the same decency of certain others in the group."

But the old man went on to lecture Akitsugu for his response. When he gave the blacksmith a stern, clearly unamused look, he would find that the red-head met it with the same intensity he'd conserved so far for MacKinnon alone. Clearly, the young swordsman felt completely justified in what he'd done. But, as the grandfather turned to lecture MacKinnon next, the smith felt there wasn't any need to keep defending himself.

"If you'll excuse me, Sir Daryl." Akitsugu made a curt bow, "I must go check on the smithy---"

At that moment, a newcomer arrived. At first, Akitsugu thought "What now!?" as he turned towards the voice, but then his eyes blinked very rapidly.

By the great kami, THERE'S SO MUCH SKIN!?!? For a moment the expression on his face went beyond "neutral" to simply, profoundly, "blank." The only indicator of a single activated brain cell was that of a blush that began to redden his cheeks---then, Akitsugu whirled with a sudden energy and pointed at MacKinnon.

"You will return my tools post-haste! Do NOT put water on them! Sir Daryl, I'm going to check my shop!"

Compared to his earlier attitude, this sudden urgency seemed almost panicked. But the red-head's coat and robes swished in the air as he hurried to the north western edge of the village, practically jogging with one hand steadying the sheathe of his blade---which, once again, produced a sound very much like human speech.

"Oi! Aren't you _{going to thank me for...}"