Robert wished the balding metalsmith a good evening, then departed his shop, then promptly sat on a nearby rock for a few minutes to recover from the brutal assault on his purse these people were subjecting him to.

His respite over, he headed for his last destination for the day: The herbalist's shop.

Dried plants hung upside down from the rafters, and jars full of who knows what lined shelves behind the counter, and a musty smell of old plants and an even stranger scent of indeterminate "Medicine" hung in the air like the scent of last nights dinner from a poorly cleaned pot.

"Good evening!" he opened, after closing the door behind him. He hoped he wasn't too late to catch the shopkeeper before they closed for the day.

"Good evening!" he opened, after closing the door behind him. He hoped he wasn't too late to catch the shopkeeper before they closed for the day.

(in response to Robert) @wierdw

Behind the weathered wooden counter, an aged woman sat roosted like the guardian of a hawk's eyrie. Her silvery-gray hair fluttered gently in the wake of evening air washing in, as her sharp gaze locked onto the man entering. For several moments she remained silent, motionless like a statue save for the pale green of her pupils studying Robert.

"...Evening." She finally spoke in a soft, time-worn voice, her chin lifted toward the visitor. "...You're not one of them. Not entirely, anyway…" The woman mused, her gaze unblinking. "...You've been here before. Yet… your visit this time is unusual." A subtle smile shaped her wrinkled lips, before dissipating all too quickly with a furrow of her brows. "...How may I help you?..."

Meanwhile, huddled in a corner was a mouse of a girl dressed in unassuming cloths, dusting off the shelves with a feather. She snuck a tiny peek at Robert, before quickly returning to her duties.

The woman gave off a disconcerting aura of otherworldliness, but her sort usually did. He had always suspected that she dabbled in augery of some fashion when nobody was looking, or, at the very least, was overly nosy.

In either case, it might actually be useful, given how decidedly little the captain had been willing to divulge. It also meant that being more or less honest, was the best course of action.

"There's no helping it, but I find that I am now pretty much committed to going on this farce of a search." he opened. "Even if nothing of the missing woman is found, or worse, we DO find her, and it's a state the duke is... unwilling.. to pay up for, I have my own plan to at least recover some of the expenses your counterparts in town have wrought on my pocketbook this evening. That plan may well require some of your product; Bandages, Salves, in the event of the unfortunate. It is in no small part, due to their excessive mercantilism that I find myself now committed."

He hunched over a little, and huffed through his mustache in vexation.

"I had Initially planned this as a mere hedge against this being the fool's errand it appears to be, and to try to make something good of a bad situation; I have a ledger, and some pencils, and intended to survey the woods, and sell the results to one of our local competitors, and recover my expenses, at the least. The captain running this doomed little outing has a lot of bluster and bravado, for a man with nothing of substance to say. -- He DID say, that you have words of warning about the area. Mainly, I had come here for that, more than for the bandages and salve."

(in response to Robert) @wierdw

The woman contemplated Robert in silence for several moments after he finished speaking, varied sentiments shifting in her eyes. Finally, she let out a sigh that whispered of uneasy resignation.

"...So, you have come for these 'words of warning', then? If I were to deliver them to you in thunderous decree, would you heed them? Would you truly reconsider the path you unwittingly tread?..."

Curiosity flickered in her otherwise grave expression. She glanced away, and her voice adopted the polite detachment of a shopkeeper.

"Bandages and salves, we've plenty. Cloth and linen; ointments for broken tissue; balms for infections; antitoxins for the local fauna." She seemed to shrug without moving her body. Meanwhile, the small girl that had been in the corner appeared all too suddenly to place the respective items onto the counter in front of Robert – substances housed in miniature bottles and kits with homemade labels.

The elderly woman turned back to Robert, the look of appraisal returning. "I won't waste my breath trying to steer you from your course. If you insist on going to those cursed ruins in search of your missing mark, I'd only advise that you are fully prepared to meet the same fate as she did…"

Subtly, she wrung her hands, fingers counting over a bracelet of beads around her wrist. "...Let us hope that you, too, do not end up among the 'missing'."

"Quite so." he muttered gravely. "That's WHY it is always best to be prepared." he finished, with a hint of a wry smile, and a gesture at the various bits of kit he had purchased.

"Wolves and bears, I know of, and how to deal with. Cuts and scrapes the same. Can't make the salves, but know how to use them. Happens all too often in my line of work." He ventured a jovial smile-- "Still have all my fingers, at least." then wiggled his digits playfully.

"But you haven't really given me much more than what the captain gave, in terms of preparation. --Aside from the bandages, of course--. Are there any Specific things I should be aware of, or watch for-- It's always what you DON'T know, and DON'T prepare for, that GETS you. Again, the captain has been less than helpful. He clearly hasn't learned the value of admitting when you DON'T know. Anything you know, is more than I do, at this point. Every bit helps."

Kaelara pauses mid-step as the key clatters near her boot. She glances down, then up at Ludwig, taking in his disheveled state with a wary look. Bending down, she picks up the key but doesn’t hand it over just yet.

"Depends," she says, voice even. "If I agreed to deliver it, then I’d deliver it. Dead or not, the job's still the job. But if they’re gone, the package becomes something else—evidence, leverage, maybe even trouble I didn’t sign up for."

She flicks the key up, catching it in her gloved palm. "Why? You got something that needs delivering, or are you just killing time with riddles?"

---

“Huh, oh thanks.” said Jean. He wasn’t expecting the drink since it was offered to Sonia initially. The bartender must have been hoping to cash in on Engie’s offer and get a few more coins. Not that Jean complained about it. Engie didn’t seem bothered, and Jean did enjoy a good drink on occasion. He thanks the bartender again and took a swig from the flagon. He turned his head as Kaelara stood up, ready to turn in.

“Well met.” said Jean. “so it appears then us three are already prepared for the venture tomorrow. Get some good sleep then, I’ll see you again on the morrow.” Jean took another swig of the amber liquid before placing it on the counter with a soft thud. “Excuse me tavern keep, if I may have the venison as well, thank you.”

Jean waited for the moment as his meal would be prepared, finishing his drink in the mean time. “I can’t say for sure what you have packed away in that case of yours, Engie.” said Jean as he placed the empty flagon onto the bar top. Some left over alcohol dripped down the side, slowly racing towards the counter. “But it seems like you’re ready to go to battle against a large monster. Hah, I guess it might be too early to tell. But here is to hoping you’re not going to need everything you may or may not have stored in your luggage.”

Ludwig shrugs then raises the towel on his left arm to his left shoulder before shuffling through his bean slingbag for his eyeglasses.
"Mm-hmm, trouble is correct. It's troubling me right now..."

Upon his turn to take a question, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge.
"Uh... Yeah, you know me. I love riddles. Actually what am I saying, we don't know each other."
Ludwig shakes his head, his right hand swatting away something in the air. He might still be a little faded from whatever he was huffing minutes ago.

"I'm a courier. Nice to meet you... Assassin? Huntress?"
Clear avoidance towards the usage of names.

His left hand turns the doorknob a bit, it obviously doesn't budge. She's holding that key a bit firm, is she waiting for Ludwig to ask for-- Is she already making a point about leverage to him? Tch.
A rush of thoughts linger in his mind. Words of affirmation. Calm down. Play it cool. Psych her out and be done with this.

"Anyway, I seem to have lost the key to my room."
Snide.
"Would you mind sharing your room? I'll pay for half your rent."

Something about neither of them letting out any smiles.

Jean waited for the moment as his meal would be prepared, finishing his drink in the mean time. “I can’t say for sure what you have packed away in that case of yours, Engie.” said Jean as he placed the empty flagon onto the bar top. Some left over alcohol dripped down the side, slowly racing towards the counter. “But it seems like you’re ready to go to battle against a large monster. Hah, I guess it might be too early to tell. But here is to hoping you’re not going to need everything you may or may not have stored in your luggage.”

"Vell, vo knovs? Ve might pe facing zomezing heaffily Harmored," Engie answered. She pulled out something from her ammo compartment below on her torso. She then showed Jean a clip that fit a pointy, cylinder-shaped five-round bullet. "I sdocked ein punch of zeze pecauze it takes time und material to make zeze. Und mein gun is guite different from ozers zat uze musket palls zat are schtandardised Hefferyvere. I'm from afar; I did haffe ein hapit of backing zings heaffily loated," Engie continued. She pulled out a round from her ammo pouch and give it to Jean. "Take zis und zaffe it. I'm koing to mein room now."

Kood night, Mister Jean." She said. Rose up from the chair and gave Jean an angelic and warmth smile. Proceeded to her room to rest for another day.

(in response to Robert) @wierdw

"The best protection against disaster is to avoid it altogether… yet you walk straight for it, while asking for the help of a bystander like myself." The woman tsked her lips and shook her head mildly in admonishment. "I am but a simple woman, and such knowledge comes at a price too high for my taste. For who knows calamity better than those who fall victim to it?…"

A distant memory flashed in the woman's eyes – the nostalgia of youth, the warning of a long-gone guardian. It was another life, reawakened by the fuss of the present.

"How I came to know of the disaster waiting within those ruins is of little importance – but if you must know, it is a passed down belief, an intuition, an arcane sensing." A scene flutters in her mind, of tomes containing details and diagrams of strange rituals. "...I know what you may be thinking: superstitious hogwash, am I right? And who knows, perhaps it is all a great pretense."

Amusement colored the woman's expression, and she chuckled out momentarily.

"I suppose you may soon find out for yourself. I am beyond my years to try and stop you if you wish to follow this yarn of curiosity into the dark."

For a moment, she paused, and then produced an odd trinket out of her long-sleeved garments. It was a small circular mirror, with an intricately carved wooden frame. Coolly, she handed the miniature object to Robert with a faint smile. "Here. A good luck charm, if you will. It was once handed down to me, but I fear you may need it now more than I."

Kaelara’s grip on the key tightens ever so slightly, her expression unreadable. For a beat, she simply watches Ludwig—his restless movements, the way he fidgets with his glasses, the strange energy clinging to him like mist from whatever he’d inhaled earlier.

“Assassin? Huntress?” she echoes, tilting her head slightly. “Depends on who’s asking.”

She lifts the key, dangling it between two fingers. “You seem awfully eager to change the subject, courier.” There’s the faintest edge of amusement in her tone, but it’s cool, controlled. “I’d say misplacing your key is the least of your problems right now.”

The unspoken tension lingers—his deflection, her unwillingness to hand over control so easily.

At his snide attempt to weasel into her room, Kaelara exhales sharply through her nose, not quite a laugh, but close. “You’re a bold one, I’ll give you that.” Her fingers drum once against the key before she flicks it into the air, letting him scramble to catch it to remind him who had the upper hand in that exchange.

“But no.” A flat refusal. No elaboration. No hesitation.

She steps past him, boots steady against the worn wood of the stairs. Then, without looking back, she adds, "Next time, try keeping a better grip on what’s yours, courier.”

And just like that, she’s gone.

Cautiously, he accepted the strange hand mirror.

"thank you.. I think... Whatever is out there, it has several people missing already. I'll do my best to be mindful... With any luck, I'll bring it back. -- How much for the bandages and salves? You never gave me a price."

Ludwig watches as the key is tossed, hitting the wood floor. His right eyebrow twitches downward. Not quite because of the rudeness, just the loud noise.

He turns to follow Kaelara with his gaze as she walks past him, maroon hair and curvy form being enguled by the shadows of the dimly-lit corridor.
"Thanks for the advice." He said after a certain distance, probably just to himself at that point.

Walking towards his key as he rubs the cheeks of his face with both hands, as if trying to wash the cringe he felt off of himself, replacing it with relief at the conversation ending.
Hmm, but what if he... He tried to do that trick Kaelara did, flicking the key upward to his hand. Instead, he just kicked the key away and past the stairs, back into the first floor of the tavern-inn, and he palmed his face.

Shuffling through his bean slingbag to find a certain comb-shaped tool, he raked the keyhole and let himself into his rented room.

Audible sound of a door clicking as it's locked.

(in response to Robert) @wierdw

The herbalist's muted smile remained after Robert accepted the trinket. With a blink, the foreboding glint in her eyes vanished, and she reclaimed the casual demeanor of a shopkeep.

"Ten coppers for the bandages. Twenty-two for the salves." Her smile grew, yet with disinterest. The mousy girl was already sorting out Robert's purchase, obedient, glancing up occasionally at the man's broad form that starkly contrasted with her own. The respective items were soon left on the counter, awaiting Robert's claim following payment.

"We hope to see you again, traveler." The herbalist remarked, that curious glint reappearing in a brief conclusion. "May the winds of fate carry you gently."

"I'll need change for a silver. The others in town ran me out of coppers already."

He made a heavy and somber expression at the young girl filling his order. "You think you have it rough... I have to explain to my father why I burned through 2 silver, and 60 copper, just getting supplies worth half that."

He placed one of the few remaining silver coins from the payout of this delivery run on the counter, then nodded toward the girl parceling out his order.

He gave her a weak, but earnest smile and a bow as she made his change. "Thank you for your service-- Ma'am," then turned toward the elderly store owner, and repeated the gesture. " --Ma'am." Then collected his purchase, and left, feeling entirely hoodwinked in ways he could not properly articulate.

Well... ... So much for leads from the herbalist.

What was the deal with the hand mirror anyway? Superstition says that mirrors can ward off ghosts by trapping them inside, but surely not... Surely not...

Other thoughts flittered through his head: Silly notions of old stories about witches communicating with their familiars through mirrors, with the beings "on the other side", and relaying messages to each other this way-- though some tales of that nature insisted it was with cursed wells, or moonlit pools.

Purely, just idle superstition and nonsense.

Regardless, it was a fine silvered glass mirror, and in good condition. It was easily worth 20 coppers by itself; Glasswork wasn't cheap, and the item's quality was clearly high. Whatever sentimental value it held for the elderly shopkeeper he couldn't fathom-- Nor how it could be of any use to him on this trip short of helping him tend his hair and mustache in the mornings, but all the same...

--Maybe returning it after this was over would help him score a discount next time he shopped. --Goodness knows he was OWED one after this brutal treatment--

There were a bunch of people in the inn. The innkeeper boy was busy dealing with them, and his father was no doubt, busy in the kitchen, with so many gracing his establishment.

He was grateful that his room was already paid for.

He gave the boy a knowing nod of acknowledgement, then strode past the common area, and toward the back hall of the inn, to the cheap rooms, then all the way to the end, to the room where he and his hired man, Hans, were staying. Knocked once, asserted who he was when challenged by the occupant, then entered.

Hans was giving a filthy-faced scowl on the 3 legged stool perched by the single small table that was the only other furnishing in the room aside from the straw stuffed mattress, and the wood shuttered window.

"What in the 7 hells took you so goddamn long?" he demanded.

"I wanted to make a few purchases, since we almost never get to come to town to get any. Got a few traps, and some medical supplies, for the next time we have to work the damn bramble-side of the cut--"
then he groaned loudly.

"---EXCEPT-- every fucking shopkeeper in town smells outsiders with more silvers than sense, and they fleeced me for my trouble. Dad's gonna be PISSED."

Hans' lips pursed like he had just suffered a searing burn, or a slap to the face.

"What's the damage, Rob?"

Robert didn't want to say. He hesitated a few seconds, then answered. "2 silver, 61 copper."

"Whoooooo.... Good thing you're grown. You'd a got the belt for sure."

"I still might, when I get back-- Which brings me to the next bit of unpleasantness..."

"I dont like the way you said that..." muttered the man, rubbing his temples.

"I need YOU to tell him, because I wont be joining you on the trip back. We can't really AFFORD this kind of loss from these scoundrels-- and I have a plan to at least get SOME of it back. I very much doubt that whatever foolhardy "Rescue" these idiots have planned is going to work out, and doubly so doubt very much that our loved Duke is going to be in anywise be willing to pay a single gold coin of this so-called reward should we manage to actually FIND that woman-- Fuck, she's probably wolf or bear food by now-- BUT----"

"Fucks sake Robert--"

"--BUT--- You know how the Clarkes are constantly trying to cut into our work this way? The way I figure it-- This little soiree the duke is putting on will allow me to have EXTENDED time to survey the WHOLE DAMN AREA, without having to pay for a SINGLE FUCKING PERMIT. The way those foresters squeeze us, that alone might help offset the bloodletting I just endured. I got a brand new notebook and pencils, and the Duke is supplying the food and other essentials. I'll do the survey on HIS dime, and maybe, if the fates allow, ACTUALLY GET PAID to do it. Then we can sell the fucking thing to old man Clarke, and pretend this incident never happened."

Hans have him the evil eye. The look of a man 10 years his senior, telling him what he already knew, and that the man KNEW that he already knew. This was fucking insane bullshit. And that was the genuine, Honest, Gods' Truth.

"I'll let you have the bed-- Just tell dad for me. I'll be back home...... When this is sorted. Here's what's left of our take for the trip... Fuckers fleeced me hard, but didn't get the full share. Take it to pops..... with my apologies.... He can dock my pay when I get back... Fuck, why did these people have to rack up the prices clear to heaven just when WE got here?"

"Sounds like the devil's own luck, you ask me."

"Don't even get me started... Let's just go to bed."

After the bar was clear and the last of the patrons had left the common area, the bartender gave a last wipe of the countertop and let out a sigh. It had been a long shift for the young man, yet he wasn't particularly tired. Rather, his heart yearned to explore the outside world from where these varying travelers had hailed. Glancing at his father cleaning up the kitchen, words lingered at his half-open lips with a growing determination to be spoken.

Meanwhile at the herbalist's home, the elderly woman lay awake in bed. With contemplation in her eyes she stared up at the thatched roof, memories and curiosities intertwining in her mind. Solemnly, she glanced at her granddaughter sleeping quietly on the bed next to her.

In the village hall, Captain Greystone rested on the hard wooden mattress of the makeshift barracks, stern gaze fixed on the piece of parchment in his hand with Lady Miralys's portrait. The portrait was an ink printing of the noblewoman's appearance, its details limited, but able to portray her general likeness. Miralys had raven hair, styled in a medium length bun framing her face - soft delicate features, the hazel of her eyes absent in the monochrome drawing. Looking upon her now, the Captain was only reminded of his failure to bring her back from the consequences of her own unhinged curiosity. With a grumble, he threw the paper aside and shut his eyes.

---

The village slept soundly under the glow of fireflies in the clear night sky. Hours passed, and the inevitable wake of dawn arrived, with the first rays of light dabbling color upon village roofs.

Captain Greystone was up to an early start as always, pacing the outside staging area near the village hall and making final preparations for the expedition that would shortly ensue. The grave expression on his face remained as it had the previous day, his dark blue pupils going from inspecting gear to anticipating the adventurers' arrival. He hoped at least an adequate few would show.

Nearby, a table was set up, where a younger soldier was seated with parchment and ink. With the first signs of the adventurers gathering, the soldier began to declare: "If you are here to join the expedition, please register your full name here at the desk. This is how your contribution to the Duke's cause will be recorded and verified." It was also to manage roll call and headcount.

The soldier repeated the statement as more adventurers showed, while the Captain assessed the attendees. From the peripheries, several early-bird villagers watched, their eyes squinting from the dawn's rays.

Close by, a cart was parked, containing the likes of rations, equipment, and medical supplies. At the head of the wagon sat the quartermaster, pipe in mouth, holding the reins to a pair of mules that would be pulling the cart.

"Stock equipment is available in the cart." The Captain instructed with a wave toward the back portion of the cart. "Each man is permitted one weapon and one piece of armor." The boxes of stock equipment included the likes of daggers, short swords, axes, maces, sickles, spears, slings, and bows. And for protection - bucklers and leather-padded armors.

"Food rations will be distributed during rest times," the Captain continued, "medical supplies provided if the need arises. Likewise with tools."

In addition to Captain Greystone and the quartermaster readied for the journey, two other soldiers stood nearby, their demeanors indicating they'd also be in attendance. One appeared to be a younger boyish soldier with a focused determination, while the other was older and more lax, almost with a subdued smugness.

With the continued arrival of adventurers, the party was beginning to assemble in full. Once the adventurers had registered and any last minute preparations addressed, the expedition would be ready to set out.

Sonia approached the table with a positive if not nonchalant air and wrote her name as instructed: Sonia Alhathya the hunter. She then thanked the soldier and moved toward the Captain, which she greeted with a crafty glee. Probably much to the Captain's dismay.

"Morning, Captain. Now that I am in, pray tell, what is exactly our plan to rescue our Duke's wayward damsel? To which directions the site is at, and how far?"

A day in the life of a courier trying to be inconspicuous while getting ready for an expedition.

Shadowing behind Sonia towards the registration desk, he paused for about two seconds before pressing down with the quill to write a name.
'Shelby Appleton' is probably someone's name. It is a name Ludwig remembers, he just cannot remember where from.
He winced, noticing it has the same initials as the name already written there. Too late to erase. He could only hope nobody points it out.

Stock equipment. He reached into the pile for a buckler, and imagined blocking an attack with it. Shortly after, he dropped it back in the pile, after basically realizing its futility. Not combat-trained for any of these weapons, either.
After about twenty seconds of silent deliberation, he grabbed a quiver full of arrows. No bow. Just the arrows. He then scurried away from the pile and the people around it, avoiding any direct attention to himself.

The horned lady was a bit direct this morning--

Robert watched with trepidation as he stood in line to sign the roster; If anything, he felt even more uneasy this morning than he did last night. The gravity of the situation, (and how much he spent yesterday) clung in the air around him like a dewy gloom, gathering, and saturating his sense of resolve as he moved up the line.

And to think, he had considered doing this Voluntarily-- that was, before the option to 'say no' got financially ripped form his fingers. Now he *HAD* to go, and it felt ... very different.

Finally, it was his turn to sign. He sucked a breath in through his beard, held it, then shooed away the pounding of his heart, as he penned his name on the line.

Robert Owen Barrister

It was almost like getting hit in the head, the dizziness that came after doing that simple little thing--and with it, the gravity of being really, truly, committed to this madness.

From the pile, he selected something he knew how to use-- more or less-- and something he did not.

A rather large, (if oddly shaped) axe, and a heavy leather top he couldn't identify, but which had the best feeling leather of the lot.

He'd never actually *USED* a war-axe, of course. Used small-bearded ones plenty --hell, he had 3 on his belt already--, and long handled ones as well, but only for special purposes-- each had their places... But an axe made for cutting down people was a very different creature, and one he had never had need of before. Idly, he hafted the handle, and felt its weight and balance.

It'd have decent reach at least-- Useless for most anything practical though. It struck him that the 'practical' use, was planting it in the side of someone's head. A rather grisly thought.

Of the weapons available, it was the one he had the most understanding of though, which is why he had taken it.

The leather top however... It was all straps, buckles, and rivets, and felt like it had metal plates inside. It felt sturdy, and the leather was good quality.

He just had no idea how to put the thing on.

He'd have to find somebody in the group familiar with these things-- but of the offers, it seemed to provide the heaviest protection against something nasty.

He idly wondered if he should wear his leather woodcutting apron OVER it, or UNDER it...

Hmm... Which would chafe less?....