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Turn 165.0: Crossing the Border

Posted: 10/28/01

"They came here again!" Elloharin hisses vehemently. His eyes are hard violet orbs. "What arrogance! They--" El all but sputters in anger. He cannot even finish his sentence. Drow! He was unfamiliar with the elves of this land, but he knows that evil has a way of maintaining its connections in all the places of the world.

Hannibal watches the rest of the Six's reactions to this news. He for one was not fond of the idea of having drow chasing them down the rest of the way. The battle on the steps of the church had been challenging enough!

"Hmmmm," Emma strokes her chin as she considers the barkeep's story, "You say no one knows where they went...but did anyone ever notice how many of them there were? I mean, what can we expect when we finally come face to face with them?"

"The one who delivered the message came alone," the barman replies to Emma.

Crayne pauses for a few moments, pondering the strange message that had been delivered by the drow. He then turns to the barman, "Perhaps I overreacted on our first meeting barman. I apologise for it now! With further thought your reaction to Elloharin here was, I suppose, understandable considering the circumstances. The times ahead will be rough for you barman being so close to the border. However, I hope that someday I'll be able to visit you again after all of these troubles are over and enjoy the fine wine and food that you serve here! Best of luck to you barman!"

Feeling a little less awkward Crayne addresses Rinder's Six. "I believe we have some issues to address following this new incident. I feel however that we must be more careful and that a better venue would be more suitable."

Hannibal agrees with a nod but says nothing.

Emma raises an eyebrow, but assumes Crayne must already be contemplating a solution to the problems ahead. She's interested in what he might have to say on the matter and follows along.

The group then relocates to one of the guest rooms. Space is a bit tight for all of them (plus some of the food and drink which they transport upstairs with them), but they've been in tight places before and survived--under worse conditions!

Once there, Crayne addresses the group. "I think it is now time that we stopped announcing our presence to the public at large. It is time that we acted undercover and adopted some new names. Also," Crayne turns to Emma and Skandor, "I think the both of you should hide the fact that you are of Anhur. Hide your holy symbols from view and any emblems of heraldry that reveal your religion. I too will carry a sword if anyone can spare one and a shield. If not then I will purchase them in the market tomorrow. Now what to do with my staff..." Crayne says thinking outloud.

"Hrmph!" Storm mumbles to get attention while guzzling some ale. He swallows loudly, then turns to Crayne as he starts unbuckling something from his back. "Here. I's got one extra now, after Kilner's place." He unbuckles the scabbard of one of his old long swords, the one he replaced with his new magical one from Kilner's vault. He smiles and hands it (with the sword of course) to Crayne.

"I have a suggestion," Crayne says, nodding to Storm in thanks. "Once we get over the border into Caerloon perhaps we could act as a small patrol of Caerloon soldiers. We could buy some shields in Jilten and then paint them with the emblems of Caerloon. Also, we could dye some material and create a Caerloon flag which I can attach to the end of my staff. Maybe then we could forge some papers granting us authority from Baron General Wade III, explaining that we were on some sort of urgent secret mission of his. I fear that going under the shroud of invisibility we may stick out more to the Red Dragon mages. Once over the border we know that the Caerloon troops have been using Orcs. Thus, we all know that Orcs will do anything for money. Perhaps we could offer a few of them a large sum of money and have them travel with us through the border patrols. It would surely make our ruse seem even more convincing. Also, my charm person spell should come in very handy I believe. What do you all think?"

Elloharin practically explodes. "We must deal with this threat at once! Hide? I will not hide from the Fakirath! Hide from the fallen ones? Powerful they may be, but they have no honor. We must have honor where they do not! Hide! I will not hide!

"Orcs! Orcs? Mage Crayne with all due respect, have you lost your mind? Orcs are the sworn enemy of the elven people! Pure evil, have you no understanding of this? If we encounter even one orc patrol while we travel we must eradicate them immediately!"

Hannibal shakes his head and takes the opportunity to speak. "Your suggestions are wise Mage Crayne but possibly you are trying too hard to outsmart yourself. I think it would be better to ride simply with a low profile. Plain winter clothes, no holy symbols, banners, painted shields or otherwise. I believe it would be far easier to play ourselves off as lieutenants of the Baron if we seemed less...conspicuous."

Emma stiffens at the idea of masquerading as the Baron. Robert Wade the Younger comes to mind and she can't quite bring herself to deceive him once again. But perhaps they won't even cross paths this time. After all, El-Balans was far away now.

As El finishes his tirade against orcs, Storm slams his clenched fist on the table. He's breathing harder now, his brow creased. "Aye! Ain't no way in the nine hells I be walkin' with no orcs, 'nless it be with his head in me hand. It ain't be no secret we dwarves ain't be no friend o' orcs, too

Crayne. I thought ye be knowin' that." He breathes three rushed breaths, then settles himself down, and mumbles a soft "Sorry..." into his lap, followed by some unintelligible dwarven mumble.

Hannibal took a moment to make a sideways look at Emma, mainly to see how she reacted to the mention of the Baron. When she finally meets his gaze he plays it off with a question. "Is Anhur against you removing, or at the very least binding, your holy symbol for the sake of mission security?"

"He is neither pleased or displeased by such an act," Emma responds, "I changed my appearance during our last ride in order to play the role of Lady Hannah from Seden, if you recall? I could do so again, though I don't enjoy hiding my faith from those that oppose it. Still, I recognize that it will speed our journey and accomplish our mission more effectively if I take steps to 'keep a low profile' as you suggest."

She turns to Crayne and continues, "As for taking additional measures to disguise ourselves as Caerloon soldiers or charming an orc to accompany us...I think I'd rather pass on that option. We've already used disguises in the past. It's quite likely the Baron will be looking for that. And orcs are untrustworthy beasts at best. I have no doubt that your magic would be strong enough to hold one, but I'd just as soon not be forced to travel with one if we can avoid it.

"Instead, I'm more inclined to travel as simply as possible," she says, "With the common folk is good enough. Perhaps if we can locate the kindly priest or another faith in Caerloon that would be sympathetic to our cause, they might allow us to travel with them. In that manner, the Baron's men will never find Rinder's Six. They'll only find a group of traveling monks on a pilgrimage.

"It's the dark elves we'll have to keep watch for..." her voice trails off.

Crayne replies in a disappointed manner, "If only Guilliam were here!" he mutters, "I accept your opinions!" Crayne says nodding. "I just hope we get through the Caerloon patrols and army on the border in our plain clothes!"

Storm, laughs loudly very quickly, adding a reminiscent "Aye," thinking for a moment about Guilliam the Gale.

"I do not like the night," El states. "But, I confess, in enemy territory, it may be better to travel when the light has fallen. Our adversaries will be more inclined to attack us then, and we will be more awake to deal with the threat when they come upon us, if we are traveling then if we are at camp."

Crayne says, "As to these dark elves: I am unsure as to who they have a deal with. Although my gut feeling says that it is Paros they are working for. It seems I would guess that the other side which the elf referred to in his message is Caerloon. The other side of the border. Thus, we should expect to have another visitation from them if what they say is true. Thus, we should now be extra cautious. Watches will be required and I am afraid Storm and Elloharin we will be looking to you heavily with your abilities to see in the dark. If I can get hold of the infravision spell then perhaps our task will be a little easier. On the way back after we've picked up Emma's armor I think I will ask Dire if he has the spell!"

Storm fidgets as the group talks about their new direct adversary, the menacing drow elves. "Arr....I be hatin' them drow and their sneakin' around and messagin' crap. Why's don't they just come out an' fight? Stinkin' elves..." He crosses his arms. A moment later his eyes happen to cross El's. After a noticeable flinch, he looks down into his lap again with a mumbled "Sorry..." followed by more under-the-breath dwarven.

"I disagree with you I'm afraid Mage Crayne," Hannibal says. "I think they must know that we seek the ring and intend to stop us from retrieving it. I could be wrong but is it not possible that Paros knows at least of our destination through magic?"

"You disagree with what Hannibal?" Crayne asks.

Hannibal shakes his head, a little frustrated. "I'm sorry Mage Crayne, I guess I'm just a little wary of having to face these drow again. Have I mentioned that I hate magic?!" He smiles at the wizard but it is clear he has a lot on his mind at the moment. "You have some very good ideas Crayne and I would not be against following any of them...just as long as they work."

"Possible? Most certainly," Emma supplies the answer to Hannibal's question, "He found us easily enough at our dinner table in Parton not all that long ago. We can only assume that he has the means to scry our location. And, if Crayne's right, and these Drow are in league with Paros or the Red Dragon renegades, it's clear that they'll take steps to oppose our recovery of the ring.

"Crayne?" she asks, "These dark elves...they depend upon the cover of darkness, is that right? You have more experience with them than I, but I do remember they conjured a globe of darkest night to obscure our vision on the temple steps. Perhaps we should try and counter them with a holy light? Anhur can provide such power to me. Perhaps you'd do better to ask Dire for something similar to add to your spellbooks?"

"Indeed! I already have a spell that will counter their spells!" Crayne says.

Storm listens to the conversation with little input. "Either goin' through with some priest fellers or as a group o' soldiers sounds good to me, if ye think it'll work. But...eh...um, I's don't really know...." He pauses, obviously a little nervous. Finally, he decides to ask his question. "What

be the Caerloon opinion o' dwarves? I ain't be knowing. Way back when with that Mazer feller...Mazer...Mazen? Ya, it be Mazen, right Crayne? Er, ya, anyways, with him we just be a little over the border, and we be sneakin' 'round. But if we's gotta talk ta people...what be they thinkin' o'

dwarves?" He seems greatly interested in an answer to this question, though he's certainly nervous.

Elloharin sidles up to Mage Crayne and murmurs an apology: "Mage Crayne, I apologize for my outburst earlier. The drow scare me very much. Do you know the tale of Lloth? The spiderqueen?"

Storm finishes his drink load after four drinks, though he is truly unfazed. "I's be goin' to sleep. Wanna shop tomorrow." He leaves it at that and starts to walk upstairs. Before he gets there, though, he says to Emma, "Ye goin' to the amorer? I'll go with ye. Wann get me swords sharpened by a

profer...prof...professional." He goes upstairs.

Hannibal stands up shortly and moves downstairs to the bar, ordering a cup of warm cider and a half of bread. He sits to himself for a moment and thinks, contemplating what the future holds for him. It is a future that seems oddly intimidating. When he was nothing but a thief his future was no more ominous than his past. Nothing to hope for, nothing to risk losing. Now, with the Six, there was much to hope for and a great deal to lose!

After a time, Emma moves to the bar to join Hannibal. She waves away the barkeep, not caring for anything strong to drink. "Why so thoughtful, soldier?" she asks her friend, smiling to disarm him somewhat. Mostly Emma is just looking for conversation...and this time it isn't to find an opening in the thief's armor so she can debate his personal philosophy.

Hannibal looked at Emma and smiled. It was nice to have her company, especially in such trying times. "Oh, nothing really. Just warming up a bit," he says plainly while motioning to his cup. Can I buy you one?"

Emma shakes her head. "Doesn't sit well on my stomach when it's so close to bedtime," she explains. "These drow?" she asks, "They were in league with Bernigan." She watches Hannibal for any kind of reaction, in much the same way he watched her after mentioning the Baron's name.

Hannibal flinched noticeably at mention of the name. Was Bernigan really dead? After so many years of wishing and praying and hoping was it finally done. It almost left an empty feeling in Hannibal. As Emma had stated before, his thirst for revenge seemed unquenchable...or was it?

Emma chewed her bottom lip as she noted Hannibal's reaction. She almost hated bringing up the subject again. It would always hurt him, and she couldn't help but feel guilty about doing that. It might be best if she simply never made references to Bernigan again. That way, Hannibal might have more time to put it behind him, at least. "Do you think they're seeking revenge for what we did to disrupt their arrangement with him? Or is it really possible Paros commands their loyalty now?" Inside, Emma's not sure that it really matters, but strategically she knows it'll be much worse if the dark elves serve the wizard.

"I don't know Lady Emma. I for one pray that is not the case but thus far the evidence would suggest that there is at least a possibility."

Emma nods in agreement. "A troublesome possibility," she sighs, "Paros is enough of a problem by himself. If the Drow are involved, then it just muddies the waters, I think." She grins for a moment and then laughs softly. "Oh well. I guess it does help to keep a good warrior...or in my case, Shield Maiden...on her toes. They say the good fight isn't worth fighting if it isn't challenging, you know."

She looks at Hannibal and then says, "I don't necessarily ascribe to that belief myself...at least, not all the time. Too much of challenge can lead to death. Many a would-be hero went off to battles he imagined would test his strength and courage. And then, in the end, the fight proved too difficult and all that strength and courage went to waste, you know? That's what I fear for my priesthood sometimes. We so want to test ourselves that we may just walk into a battle that we're not suited for. That, at least, is my personal mission during my journeys with Rinder's Six. To make sure that we are prepared. To make sure that we not only fight the good fight...but that we do it with wisdom and the right sense of purpose. Anhur isn't about just violence all the time. It's a desire for justice that moves him to make war."

Hannibal reflects on his past for a moment and then, uncharacteristically, smiles. "You know, my lord would have made a great Sword Bearer of Anhur. He always used to tell me that a man must test himself everyday, lest he forget that he is truly a man." Hannibal drifts off for a moment, watching the flames in the fireplace dance. "Of course he died because of his arrogance and refusal to run."

Hannibal spends a moment to gaze upon the priestess. How the firelight accented her hair and her eyes seemed to sparkle. Was she this beautiful before or did Hannibal just now have the eyes for it? It would seem that for so long the thief had had only eyes of revenge, everything painted in dull grays and bloodthirsty reds. But now this world seemed to come alive for the one time Fighter and he was deathly afraid to lose it! So scared in fact that he feared he might lose his edge.

Playing off his long stare as a glance over the Priestesses shoulder Hannibal motioned at the rest of the Six, who have taken up a table by the fireplace. "It's a fine group. Best I've ever had the honor to stand with..." Hannibal paused, hesitant to say something and then finally relenting. He is embarrassed when he speaks and stares at the bar instead of the Priestess.

"In the caverns, I thought we might have lost you. I would hope for our sake that you will be more cautious in the future. I...we can't afford to lose you right now...or ever." Hannibal stammers and hesitates through the last part, actually rubbing the back of his neck once in visible frustration over his lack of composure. Finally he finds the strength to look Emma in the eyes.

"I mean...I don't want to lose you."

He leaves it at that, knowing full well that Emma will be as shocked by the statement as he was that he actually finally said it. Turning back to the bar, Hannibal takes another sip of his cider and waits for the fall of the axe.

Emma's heart skips a beat as Hannibal's eyes briefly capture hers after the statement. 'How much does he mean by those words,' she wonders, 'Does he know how I feel? Do I?' Finally, bridging the distance between them, she reaches across and takes the former thief's hand, turning it over in hers. She looks down at the bar as well, unsure of how to express herself if she meets his eyes the entire time.

"Hannibal...I..." she falters at first, but her voice grows stronger as she finds the same conviction that fuels her passion for life and adventure, "I thought the same thing about you. In the caverns, I mean...when Covarc's lightning nearly took your life. You don't know how fast I climbed back up to the bridge when the others told me you had fallen. I know I've rushed to Canter's aid before, but with you it was different.

"I feel like I know you," she says, "More than most at least. You opened up to me on the trail, remember? When we first set out from Parton, you shared a little about yourself. And, over time, as we argued and clashed over personal philosophies and...and your past problems...well, you've been in my thoughts a lot. I can't deny that. I worry about you. I care about you. More deeply than most anyone else I've ever known. When you hurt, so do I."

Hannibal smiles to the priestess, that burning sensation returning to his chest. Not able to find the words to express himself he simply remains quiet for the time being.

She blushes and still doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I hope you don't mind my honesty," she says, "It's the only way I know to express myself."

She squeezes his hand and then nods to the bartender. "I think I'll have that drink now," she says to the man, suddenly feeling the need to have something to steady her nerves.

"Mind? No, priestess, not at all. As a matter of fact I was worried what you may have been thinking ever since the bridge. To know that you feel much the same as I brings me new hope. I am once again a man with purpose because of the Six...but mostly because of you." Hannibal holds onto the priestesss' hand, unwilling to let it go till he absolutely must.

Emma smiles timidly as Hannibal continues to hold her hand. These feelings are somewhat new to her, and she often second-guesses herself. Even now her thoughts turn to Robert Wade the Younger. Things had moved far too quickly in the tent of the Caerloon officer, and she had been less...experienced?...then. She feels a little more at ease with Hannibal in some ways...and very frightened in others. 'What will the others think if they see us here like this?' a small part of her wonders, 'And does it really matter?'

As the hour grows late Hannibal does finally relinquish Emma's hand and nods back to the others. Returning to the table he nods to each man. "I think we have our work cut out for us tomorrow lads. 'Til then, I need my rest."

Turning to Emma and extending his hand. "May I escort the lady to her quarters?"

"What? Oh," Emma stammers, "Um, yes. Yes, of course." She takes his arm and says goodnight as well. The entire way out of the common room, she can feel the Six's eyes upon them. The sensation is very unsettling.

As they finally arrive at her door, Emma's nerves nearly take her breath away. She hardly knows what to do with herself...or what to say.

"Hannibal...I?" she begins, then reconsiders her words, "I just wanted to say that the...um, that time on the...um, bridge, you know?" She moves closer to him, her chin low and her eyes downcast. "I...um...I mean it wasn't unpleasant or anything. It just sort of...um, caught me by surprise." She looks up and blinks, wondering what he will make of her words.

The next day Hannibal is packed and ready to go, looking as if he had slept better that night than all the others he had spent with Rinder's Six combined. "Well, shall we hit market and get ourselves some travelling garb?"

"Let's..." Emma agrees, "Perhaps the armorer has finished my order? Anyone care to come with me and Storm and see?" She lets the question hang in the air, though it's clear to Hannibal at least that she'd love to spend more time with him.

Indeed, Hannibal does agree. Along with the rest of the group. Walking down the snow-lined road toward the armorer's shop, they can see the city of Jilten in the morning. Young children accompany their parents as they open up the shops. The baker and his two sons have been up since long before sunrise, baking loaves of bread for the day. The candlestick maker and his children, a daughter and a son, arrange boxes of wax candles in their shop, eyeing Rinder's Six as they march past.

Soon they arrive at the armorer. He looks up as they all enter, smiling as he recognizes Emma and Skandor. "My lady, sir," he nods to the two representatives of Anhur.

"Dorrin," Emma replies, smiling, "Good to see you on this fine winter morning. Are my plate mail pieces ready?"

Dorrin nods, turning to walk toward the back room. A moment later he appears again, holding up the shiny breast plate. He lays it on the table and adds to it a pair of greaves and a pair of bracers. "Just what you asked for," he says, holding his hands out to present his craftsmanship.

Emma smiles as she looks over the pieces. "Wonderful work," she says. "I'll just try it on..."

As Emma tries on her new armor, Storm has Dorrin shapen his swords.

Emma is pleased to find that her new armor fits perfectly. Taking it off once more, she lifts her battered chain mail and lays it on the table next to the shiny new plates. "This is for you, sir, along with this..." She counts out 40 gp, the rest of her payment. "Thank you for your admirable service."

Dorrin nods, "And thank you, Shield Maiden. You and your comrades are always welcome in my shop."

After finishing up some other small tasks (Storm purchases another 30 caltrops to replenish his supply, and picks up some rations), Rinder's Six collect their horses and set off, heading south, toward Caerloon. The going is slow, with the snow drifts fairly high. But progress is steady. By nightfall they have made good time and distance, though are still definitely in Rinder. Camp is set, as are the watches, and they turn in for the night, which proves uneventful.

In the morning, after some breakfast, travel continues once again. By midday they are approaching the light forest on the Rinder side of the border. And by late afternoon they are very close to the border. Close enough, in fact, that they are spotted by a border patrol. Seeing the Rinder flag, the party approaches calmly. It is a contingent of ten soldiers, stationed along the road.

"Halt there!" one of the soldiers says, addressing the group. "By order of King Bryant, you are commanded to stop and present yourselves. What is your business here?"

Crayne rides his horse up to the soldier slowly, looking down upon the young man. Hannibal eyes an older, obviously more experienced soldier (perhaps an officer) standing a few yards away, watching the situation. 'I wonder how many parties they stop each day?' Hannibal thinks to himself.

"We are..." Crayne begins, his voice booming and proud. But it trails off, as it occurs to him that they had decided to keep a low profile. He looks to Emma, then to Skandor and Hannibal. How to explain themselves? It would seem safe to announce their true identities to these soldiers, but if Paris did, indeed, have the ability to locate them, would it not make the evil wizard's task so much easier by telling these soldiers of their true identity?

There is a tense moment, with the sun setting over the leaf-less trees and the pale white snow. Crayne looks to the others, the soldier looks to Crayne, and the officer keeps a keen eye on whole exchange.

Finally Crayne decides simply to say it. "Rinder's Six, on assignment from Sir Nigel of the Knights of Rinder. We must pass into Caerloon."

The young soldier is startled by the reply. It was surely not what he expected to hear. He looks nervously over his shoulder to his superior officer. The officer steps forward, coming alongside the solider, while the others look on.

"Rinder's Six?" the officer asks.

"That's right," Hannibal says in as unassuming a tone as he can muster.

The officer looks to Storm. "And you are the dwarf Storm..."

Storm isn't sure what to say.

"My cousin served on the line in the Battle of Dillend. He speaks of you like a god." The officer pauses for a moment, looking over the others. "You are free to pass. But be warned, we have seen more orcs in the past few days. I'd not be surprised if you came across a few."

"Thank you for the tip," Canter says to the officer, smiling. Then, spurring his mount on, he calls back, "Keep warm, stand tall!"

The journey continues south, over the border and into Caerloon. The sun is nearly completely set, now, as Rinder's Six approaches Faren Ridge. It was here that they harassed a column of Caerloon and Orcish troops marching westward months ago. How much had changed since then. Now the place appears, in the gray twilight, barren and deserted. The snow has blanketed everything, and the trees which once gave them cover are now bare.

Camp is soon set once again, and this time watches are doubled. A small fire is lit, for warmth and for cooking. As some rations are heated, Canter brings out the map again. "We know we have to travel south," he says, "and we know a bit about the layout here in northern Caerloon, by the border. But not much else. We can stick by this road, which will probably take us through the larger towns and cities, and maybe even to the Caerloon capital. But where there are more people, there are also more chances for us to be spotted, and we won't be able to simply turn back and run home to Rinder. The other option, as I see it, is to travel due south, leaving the road behind. We'll be traveling through the open land of the Sinele Valley, but there's far less of a chance of being spotted by the Baron General's troops. I recall from when we were down here hunting Mazen that there is another road, running roughly east-west, which parallels one spur of the Sinele River. The river can't be more than a day or two's travel away, because Mazen's hideout, that old mill, was on the river's bank. And somewhere near that mill is a town, I think."

"Sounds like a lot of guesswork," Skandor says, looking to Canter with a smirk.

"Then you have good ears, Skan," Canter says, smiling in return. "I think we're going to need a better map than these sketches. For one thing, they only show a small portion of norther Caerloon, and we know the Islands of Vile are in very south of the Kingdom. For another, relying on my memory isn't always the safest thing to do!"

"It seems to me, then, that finding this small town is probably safer than wandering into a larger city, such as Faren," Emma states, pointing to Faren on the map. They had been there before, and know the way, but it is a larger city and Wade's men were surely stationed there.

"Good, then let's get some rest, and I'll see if I can't point us in the right direction in the morning," Canter says, putting the map away and unrolling his bedroll.

With the sunrise they are up again, and Canter directs them south-southeast. Travel is quiet, with a howling wind whipping through the Sinele Valley, through which they now travel. They day is long and uneventful, but they make good time. They are slowly traveling downward, a gentle slope, suggesting that at the bottom would be the river Canter speaks of.

The following day travel resumes again. By midday, however, smoke can be seen on the horizon, drifting up lazily toward the gray cloudy sky. "There," Canter says, pointing, "that must be it." Indeed, a few hours later, it is confirmed: A small settlement along what appears to be a major road, running east to west.

They approach carefully, on the lookout for anything suspicious. All outward indications of Rinder have been hidden, and standards and signs of Anhur have been covered or hidden as well. Rinder's Six rides into the town slowly. It is not very large, a collection of a few small streets crisscrossing the main road. There is one small tavern, as well as a handful of shops: a butcher, a candlestick maker, a bowyer, a baker. It seems a sleepy place, with only a few people on the streets. Smoke rises slowly from many of the buildings though, indicating that most were indoors. And who wouldn't be with a day like today?

The only people on the streets are those traveling from one place to another. Most look up at Rinder's Six as they ride. Obviously, they were new in town. Most of those on the street don't seem to pose any threat at all; a mother with two young children, a stable boy leading two young horses, a trader unloading a wagon of supplies at the side of the tavern. And then there are the soldiers. El spots them first: a small group of five, all clad in chain mail, sitting at the front of the one stone building in the town. They are eating and drinking something warm (El can see the steam rising from their mugs), chatting amongst themselves.

El quietly signals the others, and soon all are aware of the soliders' presence. And the soldiers are aware of Rinder's Six's presence as well, though presumably they don't know that they are Rinder's Six. One of the soldiers rises, handing his mug to another, and reaches for his sword. He sheathes it by his hip and begins to walk directly toward Rinder's Six, who ride slowly along the main road, heading east. He doesn't appear threatening, nor does he make any outward indication that he even means to speak to Rinder's Six. But the four soldiers sitting back behind him all stop eating, watching their comrade walk toward the newcomers.

---

1. HP Status: At this point, everybody is back to full hit points.

2. STORM: You made all the purchases you requested. Do you want a new CIS? Let me know.

3. EMMA: please add the new armor pieces to your CIS. Please subtract 40gp as well as your chain mail.

4. ACTIONS? How will you react to the oncoming soldier? Will you address him even if he doesn't talk to you? Where in the town will you go to find a better map than the one you have? Will you attempt to mingle with the locals? What will you ask? Any other actions?

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