Rivana's Quest

[Leush]

Rivana's Quest

The moorland wears a reddish hue as the evening sun warms its slopes and valleys. At the same time, the sharp chill carried in the southerly breeze is enough to remind the denizens to make use of this warm evening sun, for soon, it whispers as it ruffles feathers and leaves, this indian summer will come to an end. And both the beasts, and the men who inhabit these moors hasten about their tasks, eager to finish their preparation for the long season of long nights spent listening into the howling and whistling of a wind that would drive the snows heartlessly over the moors, a seaon that will soon shackle this land, sending it into a long and fitful slumber.

The people of Hillfork seem to be especially aware of this and hurry about their business as if possessed. This has transformed the small town that stands on a major fork in the upper reaches of the river Manta from the major hub of activity which it is normally into a ruffled anthill.

The cobbles of the southern road end here. This is the last stretch of paved road between Frin and Hillfork. It goes through every major town between the two, passing first the endless ryefieds of Frin, then the earily quiet woodlands around Mydia's reach. The road continues along the varied and often wild riverside that characterises the portion of the Manta basin that falls within Eastgate's borders until it finally arrives in the shallow valley, whose floor is paved with groves of conifers, and whose gradually steepening sides are lined with blooms of yellow gauze and purple heather. Yet it is only here, at the distinct fork in the valley, where two narrow, steep sided valleys take place of the one, that the paved road ends, and the dirt track begins.

This is where they chose to build the town of Hillfork, the last properly civilised place between the Four Kingdoms and the mountainous territories of Firni'en and the last (or perhaps first) chance for the caravans travelling between the two to restock, rest and taste the scents and excesses of civilisations.

Right now the road is even busier than during high summers and wagons of all shapes and sizes, drawn by ox, horse, mule and occasionally beast of burden of the two legged variety snake their way through the town's gates. There seems to be little in common between all these caravans. Some appear quite poor, while others are well kept and clearly have wealthy patrons. Some are unguarded, while others are accompanied by a substantial and heavily armed escort. The caravans share the road with both hasty riders and weary pedestrians, ranging from those who appear to be nothing more than lonely (and lowly) beggers to well organised patrols, bearing the insignia and well maintained arms of the great houses of Eastgates. This particular afternoon, an unsettling, cloaked Half-Orc (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=479887) happens to be making his way to Hillfork by way of this road.

Perched on the hillside, overlooking the track which exits Hillforks and heads into the east, is a peaceful grove of cedar. The treetops sway, exposed to the full brunt of the gusts that wonder the uncivilised hills, but within the shadowy grove itself the air is still, cool and pervaded with the earthy smell of the forest floor. It would be easy for an observer who wished to remain unseen to monitor the traffic leaving the protection of the city walls, but most of all, it affords an excellent view of the cottage, surrounded by birch, that is situated on the valley floor. The Elf (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=478193), concealing himself and his wolf in this little refuge is well aware that the thatched roof he observes from afar belongs to the Green Cottage. From this vantage point, amongst the caravans on the road, heading ignorantly past the Green Cottage he can spy a lightly armoured figure (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=479430) with what looks like a longbow, undoubtedly elven, leave the city walls and head decisively down the road toward the inn.

The Green Cottage itself appears to be very fortunately situated- a small, two storey structure, almost entirely wooden, apart from a stone foundation which almost certainly belonged to a much older construction whose upper stories are nowhere to been. Adjacent to the building is a small stables and a waterwheel that makes use of the river. The Cottage, unlike most taverns, has large windows on the ground floor that face in all directions but north and let in floods of daylight. Even now, in the evening, the candles were unlit and apart from an open hearth, the sun was the only source of illumination in the large room that dominated the ground floor. It was a strange room, with a typical tavern counter in the corner and the large, aforementioned hearth, supported by four square cut pillars of grey stone in the centre of the room. Unlike most taverns in and around Hillfork, this one is almost empty. In fact apart from the rather large Half-Orc, with the most magnificent tusks and intricately embroided purple flowery dress (who was making herself busy behind the counter and is often referred to as the Green Mistress) there were only half a dozen patrons in the inn. There was the group of three men in fine and colourful, if somewhat strange looking, silks occupying a table on the far side of the counter and discussing something in hushed tones of the strangest dialect of common as they picked half heartedly at a stew. There was a small figure, hunched and hidden by a dark green cloak sitting at the counter and quite obviously drinking. At the same time, a wild haired man in an exquisite red tunic at one of the tables nearest the hearth drums his fingers impatiently on the table, his face the very expression a strained impatience.

There are a further three individuals, varied sorts, within the confines of the Green cottage....

[sidelar]

Kashat looks down at the floor of the valley. That must be the the Green Cottage, if the embassy in Eastgate gave me the right directions. Hmm, I was expecting something more impressive. .

He turns and pulls a rabbit he had caught earlier out of his bag, tossing it to the wolf siting on its heels next to him. "Stay here Ze'ev, I don't think the villagers would much appreciate a wolf running around their tavern."

Kashat slung his backpack on his pack and started to head down the hillside, making sure to take a non-direct route to the tavern below.

[Saidoro]

Within the Green Cottage a young woman sits upon the floor, her back pressed against the soothing warmth of the fire's grey pillars, her face angled to catch the fleeting heat of the sun, and her mind wrapped snugly in memories of the more tropical climes of her home. While she did not regret her decision to travel she was still unused to the weather of the southern lands, even as unseasonably warm as it now was.

Her hand came up and rested against the pipes she carried at her side. She knew she would have to try to play for her supper soon enough, but for now she just sat and watched the sun set, enjoying what warmth she could find.

[Axinian]

Sedia shields her eyes and looks into the sun and looks up to her destination. She doesn't appreciate being dragged into gods know what by a vague vision, but the place looks charming enough. She resumes her walk towards the Cottage with a measured gait.

[DeusMalum]

Arleth lounges comfortably at the bar, seated on a stool with one foot resting against the bar and the other on the ground, hooked through one of the straps of a small pack. A half-full ale mug is gripped in his left hand, his long, deft fingers curled around the mugs handle as he takes a pull, some of the froth spilling over onto his trim, well-kept black beard.

As he places the mug down, he takes a look around at the rest of the occupants of the Green Cottage, his dark brown eyes unfocused as he scans the room, avoiding eye contact. His hair is kept cut short. He is dressed in traveler's attire, the hood on his dark blue cloak thrown back, and beneath that he's dressed in thick woolen breeches and a loose-fitted shirt of the same color as his cloak. The shirt bulges slightly in a few places, indicating armor worn beneath it, and a slender rapier dangles from a swordbelt at his waist.

His survey of the tavern completed, he finishes his ale, placing the remains of his empty drink back on the table and signals the Mistress with a friendly gesture. As she walks over to collect the empty mug, he lightly places a silver on the table and says, his Frin-accented Common coming out in a light, mellow baritone, "Thanks, love. Happen t' know where I can get a room for the night?"

[Leush]

Kashat: As you reach the edge of the grove, intent on traversing the hillside in the likeness of a normal, unsuspicious hunter looking for signs of beast before returning home and then joining the trade route perhaps half a mile away from the tavern before making your way to your actual destination, you notice a patch of disturbed ground near the edge of the grove. To the ordinary soldier this patch of turned ground is but a fuzzy sign that someone or something had been here recently, but for you, it is like the page of an open book. Looking down you can tell for sure that three humanoids were here yesterday, that they stood around for some time, turning leaf litter with their feet before dispersing in different directions. One, a small fellow, either gnome or halfling, headed in the direction of town. One headed up the road and the third descended straight down towards the Green Cottege. It appears that some inadequate effort was made to throw fresh litter over the spot, and perhaps in a couple of days this spot would be much as if no one had been here, but right now, it only drew more attention to itself.

One more thing catches your eye. A group of four riders leave the city gates after a short discussion with the guard and as soon as they have cleared the incoming traffic head up the road at a wild pace. That is not eye catching in and of itself- what catches your eye is that two of the riders wear particularly distinctive red robes and the other two appear to be well armoured. This also would not say very much to the ordinary man, but to someone who spent year upon year in the seemingly endless conflict that grips Manta, the very sight associates with the scent of burned hair and charred flesh: These riders look very much like they hail from Seethin. From time to time, when Seethin would send re-enforcements to the front lines, it would be in the form of one of these four man teams. Their methods were generally less than subtle, but the results tended to speak for themselves.

Sedia: You shield your eyes from the low sun and turn to continue down the road. It will be only a couple of minutes now. The Green Cottage stands down a short lane off the road just up ahead... Just then there is a rumbling of hooves and snorting behind you and four riders rumble past you at what is definitely not a very polite pace or distance to overtake a pedestrian. Following them with your eyes, you would be able to see that two of them are heavily armed, wearing plate mail and bristling with arms, while the other two wear distinctive robes and cloaks of a royal red. While somehow, possibly because of your attempts to escape from your conflicted past, or simply by cruel coincidence, you seem not to know of any of the associated stories, but you are quite sure that those are the robes of a Mage belonging to the Order of Fire.. You think you catch glimpses of long strands of dark hair flowing and billowing beneath the hood of one of the Mages.

In the Tavern: The wild haired man finally seems to run out of patience and pushing himself away from the table and heading over to the counter. The cloaked short-folk there twitches visibly as he takes his place. He converses briefly and in hush tones with the apparent proprietress who nods and heads off into the adjacent room. Then he tilts his head towards the short folk and the cloaked figure nods, and pulling the hood over his face, jumps off his stool and heads unsteadily out of the door. The man on his behalf heads back to his table.

Tyla: While you think of things both nearby and far off, you can't help but vaguely recognise the impatient, wild haired man, if only from the fact that you had followed up rumours of his death and an inquest of some sort that you had overheard when you were passing through Mydia's Reach. He looks and acts, very much like a certain Aurelius Charridan, heir of house Charridan, said to have gone missing in Firni'en several months ago while doing what the Charridans do best- poking their noses into places where you really shouldn't go poking your nose if you expect to come back with it still attached to your face (or if you expect to come back at all).

Arleth: The others present in the tavern seem to be mostly occupied with their own business. The three men in silks at their stew seem to be so engrossed in their discussion that they probably wouldn't notice much at all beyond their table. One of them keeps shaking a hand with three fingers held up to the other two. The short folk at the counter is definitely a halfling, and by all appearances of the shifty sort. You can just about make out a small piece of a dull wooden handle between his trouser leg and inner boot- and while this would have probably fooled a stuck up aristocrat, or someone new to the underworld, but you know better. The guy has a knife hidden in his boot.

"Why you can get a room right 'ere, Duck," The half-orc states with a most motherly tone, "Bunk's two silver an' a room'n' breakfast's six. You can go to town, but you're not gonna find a better deal in all of 'illfork... Well, Farlaghn doesn't charge of course, but they don't tend to look too kindly to those with coin." She'll take the silver between two of her large and calloused fingers and takes a little bite at it. Apparently satisfied the mistress drops it into a pouch on her apron and fishes out five little coppers, which she deposits in front of you. "Shout if I can get you anything else." She says and turns to the impatient man who has joined the halfling at the counter.

"A Greentusk special for four and a couple of bottles of Esther thirteen on my tab, if you could Maeve," He asks quietly. The voice is pleasant, a touch higher than you'd expect for someone of his stature, but at the same time still commanding.

"A Greentusk special for four and the sour stuff?" She rolls a lip at his quiet request and winks, "Well, someone's mighty famished after their adventure. I'll give Alfonse a shout now- It'll take a while mind you." She then heads into the back room.

At that point the man tilts his head and whispers something to the halfling. His voice is so quiet you cannot hear it, but by the distinct and proper movement of his lips you're sure that he said, "The missus will be awfully cross if she catches you here. You'd better return home and sleep it off before she finds out." You are also sure that this innocuous message has another meaning. Send that letter to my secretary before the temple closes.. Yes, this is a man with a hidden agenda clearly.

Then the halfling leaves and the man returns to his table.

--------------------------------------------------
I rolled Spot/Listen/Sense motive off-line to preserve a sense of the unknown. If you prefer me to make these checks on the boards in future, I'm quite happy to.

[DeusMalum]

Curious. Arleth makes a mental note to keep an eye out for the halfling, should he run into him again. Courier, and the sort that keeps hidden blades about his person. Wonder what he's carrying...

Making up his mind to go for a stroll, Arleth drops six silver coins on the table, rising from his place at the bar. He turns slightly towards the Mistress, saying, "Got six on the table, love. Keep a room 'ere for me, will ya?" With that he heads out the door, in a relaxed and nonchalant walk designed to avoid attention. Once out on the street he looks around for the halfling.

[Gorgondantess]

The man sitting at the bar is a creature of contradictions; he carries himself with a noble bearing and speaks like a gentleman, but wears the clothes of a traveler, the dust of the road, and several accouterments that seem to be relating to witchcraft and mysticism. He's gaunt and slight of build, but gulps from a tankard of the thick black stuff Tuqrians like to call ale (and most other folks call sludge) as well as any orc. He seems rather young, but carries the alert but weary eyes of one who is well traveled.
He slides a gold piece across the counter.
"I'll be needing a room for the night, as well. And might I say your tusks are looking absolutely exquisite this evening, M'lady Green."
He briefly flashes a confident grin, then settles into a contented smile.

[Leush]

Arleth: Your Green skinned innkeeper accepts the coin, in a similar manner as previously. "I'll be 'olding number 3 for you, duck." She nods and disappears into the back room.

With that get up and navigate the tables as you take a leisurely bearing for the door. Once outside you find yourself once more on the birch lined alleyway leading to the main road, swirls of a less than comfortable breeze once again wrapping themselves around you. The halfling is nowhere to be seen, even as you take in the scene with eyes used to discerning the things that were meant to remain hidden. Then you stop, and like a man out for a casual evening stroll look up to the sky, listening keenly for signs of the mysterious courier. Luckily for you, he appears to be more audible than he is visible and you hear the most faint of scrapings on the wall and an almost silent padding on the ground around the corner of the cottage towards the river...

Ross: The half-orc flashes a toothy grin back at you. "My my, it's been years since a lad me called me by that name, duck." She reminisces as she drops the gold into her puch, forgetting to chew on it and slides you your change- four silver. Then she leans a little closer and you get a particularly good view of those tusks, set in her wide and slightly wrinkled face. It would be a lie to say that a boar would be proud of them, but it wouldn't be far off the mark. "I don't usually make it my business to meddle, but I think you're one of the guests the man's looking for." She tells you quietly, with a spark of mischief in her eyes as she nods towards the wild haired man returning to his table. She straightens up and adds, "...And I'll be 'olding number four for you, duck. Anything else?"

[DeusMalum]

Looking around quickly to ensure he hasn't drawn unwanted attention, Arleth skirts his way over to the same corner as the halfling, drawing up the hood of his cloak and making his best attempt to blend into the growing evening shadows. His footsteps slow to a careful, measured pace, designed to make the least sound, as he alternately scans the ground for incidental twigs and branches that might snap under his feet, and keeps an eye ahead of him for the halfling and any watchful eyes. Once he spots the halfling, he intends to keep his distance, simply seeing where the halfling goes and what he does.


Hide: [roll0]
Move Silently: [roll1]

[Saidoro]

In storytelling a really, truly spectacular failure is very nearly as good as success, better if you didn't have to go through the failure yourself. And from what Tyla had heard when things failed around a Charridan it was all but guaranteed to be spectacular. Tyla pushed herself to her feet, remaining with her back against the warm stone as long as possible before breaking away.

After checking the horn and pipes at her side Tyla sets off after the wild-haired man to see if the rumors of his death had not been exaggerated.

[Leush]

Arleth: A quick survey reveals that when you stand close enough to the cottage, you can't be seen from its numerous windows and that while you might be visible from the road from certain angles, you're probably far enough and well enough covered amongst the birches that no one is going to raise an eyebrow. You raise your hood and, as if trapped in a strange childhood game, creep around the house, stepping through the long, evening shadows. You try to avoid twigs at all cost, but seem to inadvertantly step on one. You fight the urge to freeze, and keep moving in a natural rhythm. As you peer around the corner, you can see the halfling head silently around the cottage, staying low and using what little cover there was- only it was a strange use of the birches and rose bushes- in no way was the courier hidden from your eyes. In addition he appears to be completely oblivious to you, his focus clearly elsewhere. Then it twigs- the halfling is hiding from whoever might be looking out of the windows. In any case he heads down to the reeds near the river and glancing back nervously steps into the the wall of quivering green stems. You can no longer see him at this point, but by the rocking and rustling of the reeds and the occasional bird which darts away, you're pretty sure that he's still heading towards Hillfork. You glance towards the town's grey walls. You appear to be in a bit of a dilemma here (no matter how minor)- the halfling's current location is evident as is his direction of movement, but it wouldn't be easy to follow him directly, with no cover other than the reeds between here and the city, and the near zero visibility from within the reeds.

Tyla: You get up, perhaps with a hint of reluctance, and follow the wild haired man to the table to which he's returning, allegedly not able to join us, but apparently here all the same. In any case you can practically smell the story. He notices you approaching and turns to face, you, the somewhat stormy expression of impatience changing easily to a completely inscrutable calm. You see how truly wild the man's shoulder length faded brown hair is. It pokes in all directions, much as if it had been left in sea water and allowed to dry till the salt had crusted over it and set it into a stony mess and hadn't seen a good bath since then. Despite this, he wears it well, like a merman of legend. For a moment you think you catch a scent of wild grasses, but then it is gone. His lively eyes dance briefly over your attire, pausing for a split second on the pipes, before coming to rest on your face.

"One will come, ready to share the riches of the lands of the muse, but hidden behind the mask of a pauper." he smiles quietly, a warm, pleasant voice, a little higher than you'd expect perhaps, but non the less almost fatherly. "She told me all about you, little muse."

He gestures politely to a chair, inviting, smiling a slight, unreadable smile. "I believe we may have much to discuss, if that introduction has not left you unnerved that is."

The man's voice and gestures are open and he seems to almost exude a soft air of authority.

[sidelar]

Amateurs, either that or someone trying to make it look like they have no idea what they're doing. Too close to a city to be bandits, locals shouldn't need to cover their tracks at all. Very odd. Kashat thinks to himself.

Kashat waited for the mounted party to pass long by before contiuning onward. While Seethin might be part of Mydia, the mages from that duchy were some of the worst "allies" he'd ever had to work with. They were very effective, but didn't take much care to avoid friendly fire, and their spells had burned down large tracts of Mantan forests during the war.

After the horses past, Kashat made his way to the Cottage, trying to look like an inconspicuous part of the roads traffic.

[DeusMalum]

[Does it look like I might be able to maintain some manner of visual contact if I simply walk the main road instead of trying to sneak my way over? I can probably also make a faster pace that way, towards Hillfork.]

[Saidoro]

Tyla's surprise at his introduction barely registers on her face, her dealings with the fey having given her some experience with those who seem to know more than they should. In particular they have shown her that such beings rarely bring up their knowledge at all if they do not wish to share it, even if only to gloat. Deciding to see what she can learn, Tyla pulls up a chair across from the man and leans toward him as she joins the conversation.
Not in the least, though I'd quite like to begin with hear what she's been saying about me. Things I'd like to hear, I hope.
Tyla accompanies the last words with a self-satisfied grin, placing a facade of vanity over the slight concern that had truly inspired the question.

[Leush]

The dice pulled the drama tag
Kashat: You have little trouble making it off the hills without drawing attention to yourself; it appears that hunters are a common enough folk around here that no one blinks upon seeing one come off the hills. In any case you manage to make it to the Green Cottage without incident... Or you would have managed to make it there without incident, but it appears that it is your nature to see far too much. The fact is, that as you turn down the birch lined alley that leads to the Cottage and near to within around thirty paces, you notice that a little around the side of the cottage, pressed against the cottage in the shadow of a birch, stands a dark cloaked figure in a blue cloak. It is clearly trying to be stealthy, and by all rights, is doing quite well given the circumstances. It just happens that from this particular angle, it is quite visible to your keen, elven eyes. In fact, it appears that it is engrossed in its own 'game' of hide and seek, but if you get much closer may well notice you.

Arleth: A quick judgement tells you that you can keep track of the halfling all the way to town if you follow him from the road.... In fact, unless he's going to do something awfully clever or unexpected, it's very unlikely that he'll be able to get away unnoticed now.

Tyla: There is something of a slight glint in the man's eyes. "I am afraid that I am almost as much in the dark as you yourself." He says with that little hint of bitter amusement, "The fact of the matter is that for the most part she used only the vaguest terms to inform me as where and when I may find someone of sufficient talent to continue my work and whom that might be. But given that she is seldom mistaken, I would quite probably take her thinking so as compliment in and of itself."

He pauses and considers you briefly, his expression once again hard to judge. "I can assume that you have heard of Raven Rivana. In fact I can assume that you might even know that she was poisoned by an Orcish arrow before she could return to Eastgate and complete whatever quest she was entrusted with. I can also tell for certain that neither you, nor anyone else in this room has the slightest idea of just what that quest was or where she had been before passing through the abject hamlet which we now call Rivana's Coast and meeting her end. But I can also tell, that just like I, you would go to great length to find out, if just you were given a direction in which to look."
See PM for knowledge check results

.........
Kashat & Arleth: For the sake of speed (it is pbp after all): You can consider for all intents and purposes that Kash has spotted Arleth, who is sort of hiding from the halfling and, who remains unaware of Kash. Arleth can elect to go and follow the road and follow the halfling to the city. Of course, unless Kash hides or just goes inside at post haste, Arleth will bump into him and we will have *gasp* character-character interaction.

[Saidoro]

Tyla's smile slowly becomes more genuine as the wild-haired man begins to speak of Raven Rivana. The tale, while well known, was incomplete. What he was offering was something she could perhaps find nowhere else in the land.
Perhaps. Tell me, were I such a person, in which direction would you recommend looking?

[Gorgondantess]

Ross keeps up his smile until the matron of the establishment is out of sight, then snorts at the wild haired man. More cryptic games. Well, he'd play along- his curiosity was piqued, he could say that much- but he didn't like not knowing things.
He heads over to the man's table, clearing his throat to draw attention.
"Excuse me, my good man, but I believe I've been summoned to you, however indirectly."
He looks the man in the eyes, and quirks an eyebrow.
"Not to make a pointed statement, but I'll have you know I do not appreciate anyone pulling my own strings but myself. Now, let's discuss why I've been summoned here." He taps the table with two fingers for emphasis, then invites himself to sit down.

[Leush]

Tyla: Clearly your question has pushed the a button, known in some circles as the "academic's switch". The man raises up a finger to the height of his nose "Where indeed? The obvious one would be Rivana's Coast- she is supposed to be buried there, although I have not had the time to pinpoint where exactly." He says almost eagerly. He pauses- a kind of misplaced hesitation. "Of course I believe that the Petrified Woods of Lasaturi, being the last place she visited before returning, ah, that is attempting to return to Eastgate probably have a good deal more to tell us- but once again..." He looks up as a slightly built man approaches and clears his throat...

Ross: The wild haired man turns to face you with the eyes of a keen observer that betray only the slightest hint of curiousity. Those eyes you look into tell you nothing- no hostility and no warmth, neither the academic detachment of a systematic observer or the smugness of an established academic. When you finish your introduction and sit down, however, you notice that while the expression on his face has not changed, the eyes are positively smiling.

At the table: "In as few words as possible; for the both of you," he says, a slight note of amusement in his pleasant voice as he reaches under the table with his left hand, presumably into a pocket. "This is the reason."

He slides his hand, covering a flat object back onto the table and as he does, there is once again that vague scent of wild grasses. This time it persists. He hunching a touch as he leans in towards the middle of the table a little and proping his chin up with both hands, reveals the object on the table to be a vaguely oval shaped mask of a dark wood which alternates with the swirls of bone. The mask has a long but narrow slit for a mouth and two shorter slits for eyes as well as stylised, fin like ears. It is around these slits that the mindbogglingly complex swirls of bone mingle with the wood. There is a small indent at the tip of every swirl, as if something, with the shape of a seed or precious stone was supposed to be set there. Tyla does not recognise the object, but Ross has heard of these rare and ancient masks.

"While I did not have time to study the area as closely as I would have liked, I did manage to retrieve this from Lasaturi itself." He says emphatically. "I believe that she uses this as the focus to communicate with me..."

He turns to Ross, his voice once again pleasant, "How she pulled your strings, Alchemist of Tongues, I do not know."

PMed you the results of Ross's knowledge checks

[DeusMalum]

[I'm not 100% on the circumstances of the two of us bumping into one another, so I'll let you set that up and take it from there.]

Arleth drops his hood and heads for the main road, trying to maintain contact with the halfling as he continues along. Barring interruptions or changes to the scene, he follows the halfling as far as possible down the road to Hillfork, while trying to give the appearance of someone out for an evening stroll.

[Leush]

Arleth: You drop your hood and walk back to the road (with a little shortcut) and along the road, keeping an ye on the riverside. The road is certainly less crowded than during the day, but the remaining traffic, mostly inwards bound, seems a little more frantic, now that night will soon be upon the road. In any case it is easy enough to keep track of the reeds now that you know what you're looking for.

The reeds lead all the way to the town's wall, where it touches the waters. There is a zone of about twenty feet or so, where the reeds have been cut back and an observer can watch individuals approaching the town. From what you can see, the walls themselves are poorly guarded, and only at the gates do you see soldiers.

In any case, your halfling shows his face at the edge of the reeds, looks up and to the gates, and following a quick dash runs headlong into the wall. That is not to say that the strange man knocks himself out, only, that he appears to run straight into the wall as if it wasn't there at all, and disappear from sight....
-----
OOC: Since sidelar hasn't posted anything, I'm going to say he ignored you in favour of 'not my business.

[sidelar]

Kashat passes the cloaked figure, leaving him to whatever odd game it was playing with itself.

He enters the Green Cottage and finds himself an empty table, silently scanning the people in the tavern.

[Leush]

Kashat: You do not make the man's business your own. It is after all, literally non of your business- you came here in search of something very different after all. You walk up a short flight of sturdy wooden stairs onto an expansive porch, past a couple of empty tables and into the Green Cottage itself. You are immersed in the warmth of the establishment and hit by the scent of roasting meat, brew and cooked vegetables.

Aside from the hearth, situated in the centre of the large main room, the bar and a number of tables, there is not much of interest. There is a rather big half-orc behind the bar, and two groups of three humans occupying two different tables. The group by the windows, far away from the bar are adorned in a strangely baggy and colourful attire of what is probably silk. The other group of three is a little less homogeneous, and is made up of a wild haired man of noble bearing and a finely embroided red tunic (and trousers of course). Across from him sits an unimposing young woman who by all appearances would resemble a peasant, if not for the sheath at her waist. Also at the table is a man of patchwork attire with dark, shoulder length hair. The wild haired one places an object on the table...

Ross, Tyla: You notice the entrance of an elf in the attire of a hunter- it's hard not to with so few customers.

[DeusMalum]

Curious and curiouser, the young rogue thinks to himself as he continues towards the town walls. Considering his options, Arleth decides not to try and track the halfling through the city, or to approach the wall in plain view and attempt to look for a hidden entrance, and instead turns around and returns to the Green Cottage.

[Leush]

Arleth: Looking over the fast flowing river and the castle wall for a moment, you turn casually, and head back up the road. You will have no problem returning to the tavern, finding it much the way the you left it.

Leush: You blink. That's right, Leush. You blink. The computer screen in front of you still throws a bluish glow into the room. Except something's wrong. You look closely and see the light has faded and blurred. You curse, and stretch your fingers, tearing the delicate threads of the cobwebs that had been woven thickly between them. Then you reach for the nearby jar and plucking out your eyes, you reach into the Jar by your side and insert a new pair into the sockets. Nothing changes. The computer screen is still dull. You curse again at the prospect of having needlessly wasted a pair of eyes again. You lean in to look closely at the screen, your back creaking, and realise that the LCD is covered in a thick layer of dust. Then you realise and curse again. How long were you out for? Weeks? Months? Decades? Well, no matter. To the caffeine undead time has few ramifications. In any case, more out of habit than anything you stretch you fingers to the keyboard....

Guys, please check the OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=263887)!