Sakr's face is expressionless as Arra answers his comrades' questions.

"I'm Sakr. Are you up for a trip to Caracara? We're looking for an escaped criminal who we suspect might have fled there."

Aeowin scoffed at the idea of magic being granted rather than learned. Nothing good could come of windy goddesses granting magic power to bloodsuckingwhatevershewas. But he had to admit they needed whatever help they could get so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"We can use the extra help", he smiled.

Her grin should not have been able to grow wider.

Yet it did, unnaturally so, as if someone had taken a razor to her cheeks. It made her smile a great gash across her features, a gaping wound with pointed teeth.

"You'd ask a Child of the Wild Hunt if she will join you when you blow the horns?"

Blessedly, she put the horrible smile away, her grin reverting to something they could at least believe belonged on a mortal face.

"Yes, yes I will fulfill my debt to you in tracking down this fugitive. Who, and what, are they?"

They might have noted that she didn't not ask what the fugitive had been accused of doing. If they had guessed that she didn't really care?

They would have been right.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Fri 21 Oct 2022.

Alfie shakes his head, "This is going to end badly. Orphanage badly. Now, anyone know where the glassblowers are? Or even the local Alchemist's Union?"

"There isn't an alchemist's union," Coby says. "But I'm sure you could find some alchemists in College Town. And there's a glassblower's shop just around the corner from here.

"Is there anything else you need from me right now? If not, I need to get back to work. We've still got a lot of cleaning up to do."

Alfie nods, "Right, thanks. Meet you lot at the inn in 30. I need a few things. Get to know her and see if she's as strange as she pretends."

Taking the question as rhetorical, Davor nods his understanding rather than answering. If he is at all unsettled by Arra's demeanor then he doesn't show it. He does answer the question about their prey however. "The fugitive's called Bruiser. Local bandit. The real prey though is the mage who blew up the orphanage that Alfie mentioned in order to break him outta jail. I'm Davor. My tribe calls me Spiritwalker, though I'd say I'm more of a spirit talker. I'm just followin' the scent of somethin' on the wind and the pull of Fate. Oh, and the voices tellin' me to track down this blasted wizard or whatever he is."

As the Captain takes his leave, Davor gives him a hearty clap on the shoulder. "Sure you've got lots to take care of captain. We'll see to Bruiser, don't you worry."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:09, Sun 23 Oct 2022.

She did not understand everything they said, particularly the names of places and things, but she did not need to know. She could track, she could fight, she could dance the rituals, and with the Witchqueen's blessing she could summon the new magics to her fingers. That would be enough.

"Why do you suspect the prey is in Caracara?"

She stumbled over the word  a bit, an unfamiliar name in a tongue that was her sixth.

"Cody-of-the-Red-Fern seems to think so", Aeowin replied:"Apparently Bruiser's modus operandi is to strike at annual fairs and this is one is the nearest next one apparently". He didn't say it out loud but he thought it was a thin lead to pin their hopes up but it was the one at hand. Steady old chap, Aeowin told himself, patience is a virtue and all knowledge comes with time.
"Stay positive team, we'll get our man".
He tried to inspire the team.

Aeowin rolled 1 using 1d20.  persuasion.

He didn't sound convincing. At all.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:31, Sat 22 Oct 2022.

She made a grimace, evidently not shy about expressing herself among strangers.

"A mortal fair..."

It was odd to hear her express skepticism, it sounded strange on her tongue, but that was definitely the word for it.

"At least there will be a Hunt to keep things exciting. When do we leave for this... Caracara?"

As before, they could almost hear her capitalize the word, sounding more like the invocation of a ritual than anything else.

Davor chuckles. "I don't expect it'll be that bad Arra. There'll be food and drink at least while we track our prey. Better than a lot of hunts I've been on. I figure we'll leave just as soon as the others get back from spendin' their gold."

"I'm not walking the whole 5 day track, I'll be back here once I spent some of my gold .. ", Aeowin made himself scarce to take care of some expenditures.

In less than an hour, the team of bounty hunters is ready to leave Red Fern and head south to Caracara. The journey should take about five days, leaving them plenty of time to search the area for Bruiser and his accomplice(s) before the festival begins.

The sky is clear, and the white sun is already beating down on them when they set out.

"What does this Bruiser look like, and who or what did he bruise to earn such a name?"

Between her accent, clothing, mannerism, appearance... the list went on... it was abundantly clear that Arra was not a local. She seemed more than comfortable with that fact, insatiably curious about the world around her.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:08, Tue 25 Oct 2022.

Davor talks towards the front of the group. When they pass under the gate out of Red Fern he tosses a handful of ash into the air and chants in orcish. [Language unknown: "Hiinis nonilo he i t est."]

To Arra, he answers: "Pretty ugly, even by human standards. He's got a big mustache, an eye patch, and a great big tattoo of a dragon on half his face. Hard to miss really. Not sure about the bruising, but he looks like the kind of guy who'd give people bruises."

"You don't say .. ", Aeowin muttered in reply to Davor's comment on bruises, still a bit sore from having been beaten into unconsciousness.
He rode his new pony, his meager belongings strapped to his new riding animal, save for the new armor he donned and rapier he carried, sheathed in its leather scabbard.
A quick goodbye had turned into pleas to stay on as a blade artiste but the lure of more gold, more than he could ever earn in the circus, was too strong to resist.
He'd taken a bath before the journey's start, cleaning off the grime and smells of a life on the street and felt a swell of pride in the new direction his life was taking.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:34, Tue 25 Oct 2022.

The party travels south throughout the hot day, passing various travelers as they go; no one they encounter reports having seen Bruiser.

After a long day of travel, the party is ready to rest for the night. There does not appear to be any town nearby, so they will have to find a place to camp outdoors.

Arra did not appear to have anything even remotely approaching a tent, just a simple bed roll that she set about unraveling. It was the first time any of them heard her voicing anything even remotely close to a complaint, though the tongue she spoke it in was strange to most ears.


For all her grim mutterings, she found an excellent place to put her mat, sheltered within the fallen leaves and bushes from wind and rain.

"I've keen night eyes, I can sit the second watch of the night, pass into the Witching Hour."

She said to the others, pulling forth dried meat and bread and returning to her grim complaints as she took the first bite.

Finding a nice place to settle down.  13:21, Today: Arra rolled 17 using 1d20+5.  Survival.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:58, Sat 29 Oct 2022.

Alfie rubs his hands together as camp is made, "Alright folks, pass me your ration packs. Anyone have a pot? And a torch?"

When the group stops to rest for the night, Davor to finds a relatively sheltered place for his bedroll and simply drapes his travel cloak overhead to make a makeshift tent. "I've always been partial to first shift myself. Can do a bit of star readin' before turnin' in."

Davor hands Alfie a torch and a wrapped bundle of food without complaint when he asks for it. To the newcomer he says: "He's a pretty good cook if you want somethin' better than trail food."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:16, Wed 02 Nov 2022.

The party camps through the night without incident.

Long rest.

The next day is even hotter than the previous. Early that evening, the party enters the town of Belville. The hamlet consists mostly of one- or two-story buildings set widely apart, along with five old manor houses. A temple of Tymora is located on the east side of town, and a large clearing packed with merchants' wagons, tents, and horses sits on the west side of town. The travelers quickly notice the large number of wells in Belville; every major area has at least one well, and there are five in the merchants' flat. The Worried Wyvern Inn sits atop the only hill in town.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:41, Thu 03 Nov 2022.

"Are we stopping here, or merely passing through?"

Arra asked, insatiably curious.

"The Worried Wyvern Inn seems as good a place as any to search for rumors of our prey, if they are the sort to leave such rumors behind."

There was something unsettling about the way she said that last word, something almost... ritualistic about it. There was no higher truth for her, a follower of the old ways. The bond between hunter and prey was sacred to the Wild Hunt, and thus it was sacred to her as well.

Sakr looks around at the town as they enter, making note of the landmarks.

"I think we should stay here for the night," he says in response to Arra's question. "It'll be getting dark soon. We can get a meal and ask around about Bruiser."

"Very well, seems okay enough", Aeowin chimed in. He hitched his pony, took off the saddle bags and joined the others as they walked in. He left the haggling over room prices to the others and took a long look around the establishment, looking for familiar faces and escape exits, should a need for those arise.

Aeowin rolled 19 using 1d20+2.  perception.

Davor surveys the town and voices his agreement."Someone'll have seen Bruiser in one of these towns eventually. Might want to ask the merchants too before they close up for the night."

The big half-orc strides off towards the clearing packed with tents and wagons. He calls over his shoulder as he walks away."I'll meet you all at the inn if you don't want to come."