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Robert wasted no time snatching one of the better tents from the line up, and gave Aurthur a thumbs up after the man claimed his own sleeping gear, then the pair resumed being part of the background, for that quick how-to on how to put the damn armor on.

Before long, though, it was time to move on.
@Rekkuza

Robert half-froze, half-jumped with elation. It stung a bit that he was That Obvious, but he also wanted this done RIGHT, and having somebody that KNEW, was a huge bonus.

"ABSOLUTELY! If you'd be so kind!" he beamed, then walked up to the burgeoning fellow, carrying his prizes with him. "I hope we don't have to use these, but the time to get them sorted is *BEFORE* you need them."

Answering the chain of inquiry Sonia and the others were pursuing amongst themselves, he cheekily added his own 2 pence worth.

"Best I could wrangle free from tight lips last night, was that smaller groups had been sent, but have gone missing-- Gone at least 3 days past check-in. Stay on your toes. Nobody was willing to speak up about specifics concerning what to expect out there. Either they don't know, or refuse to talk. Don't know which."

He then returned his attention to his counterpart, Andrew.

"--Still need to get tents from the quartermaster before they get picked over. -- The nicer ones will probably go first. We should hit there first, THEN fit this thing, I think. Don't want to camp in a leaky tent."
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?....


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."

"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--
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."
"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."
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."

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.
The light-headedness was spreading, and he could feel his pulse racing. He'd need to find a spot to sit down, and that thought irritated him to no end.

Bad timing. He was trying to buy essential gear, at a time when there were lots of rubes walking around, potentially doing the same thing. (If they were smart.)

The smith's offer of a consolation was a relief though. He closed his eyes and heaved a slow, even breath.

"Thank you sir. I'll have a look."

He started to feel a little better, knowing at least this selection would be free of charge, but all the same, courtesy demanded he not take advantage of the man. He too, was just trying to make the most of an opportunity, which rarely, if ever, came knocking. Good relations were essential for people that had to live with each other's continued business, and that is what this gesture was really about. He would NOT take advantage of this man.

Taking a few minutes to peruse the wares, he eventually decided upon a new boot knife. Well made, unadorned, and unassuming, but of good quality with a keen edge. It was both practical and useful. Like all the best things in life.

"I'll take this then." he said, showing it to the balding man.

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