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D

Eloquent as ever the pale elf just shrugged. He knew death and villainy, not alchemy.

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GM

The bard's singing, wistful but upbeat, distracted Sergeant Almador from his woes. For a time, he sat and was entertained by finger and thumb across strings.

As for the bronze key, although most of dirt could be washed off in the river, there were orange-hued encrustations that could not. It was ironic then, that a key attributed to secretive alchemists would need alchemical treatments before it might give up its secrets.

From what Jex and Tindarien could make out, there were more markings graven into the bow of the key, pictograms, possibly dwarf runes.

What was the key doing buried in scrubland on the Sword Point? You could only conjecture. Although you could guess at when the key was crafted, could you even hazard a guess at when it was brought to the peninsula?

Having lost his straw hat, Irt tied the bandana around his head instead. He pointed to the shimmering surface of the river.

"See how fast she flows, even when she's smood. If ya need to get back to town once yis done wid yis doings, a sturdy raft or dugout's da way to go.

"What's upriver from here, yis guess as good as mine. But I'm heading on back, ya best believe." He said, dusting down his smock and whistling for Wanshanks.

The dog had nobly resisted dashing into the river, suggesting the shepherd had been strict in teaching it not to. The water didn't seem at all harmful to Seyja's feet, but that didn't mean you should go diving in it either.

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Seyja


She grinned at the lively little man (little in her eyes) and chuckled a bit as he sang his song.

"You do sing fancy."

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[Ghosted for Owain]

Nestaron

He listened appreciatively to the Jex, and tapped his staff on the rock as applause.

The half-elf stroked his beard and leaned over to the Sergeant.

"And there you have a tale of what a really pointless quest is, Sergeant. Ours is not pointless. There is a town to save, your wife, your family amongst them.

"So do not despair, as unnatural as you or anyone else thinks this journey gets, we do a good deed here."

With a huff he stands and stretches his back, nodding to the shepherd.

"Thank you, Irt, for your guidance thus far. And you too, Wanshanks! Needless to say, you might be wise to skirt that clearing on your way back."

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Heilbutt

He scowled and packed away the rations once they were done.

After Seyja and Jex's shared joke last night, and now Jex's deft play of the lute, Heilbutt felt he needed to do something impressive... to impress Seyja? He wasn't sure why and it left him flushed yet again, and thus grumpy.

"We waste time on frolics and baubles." The half-orc grunted, trudging off upriver.

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<Weston>

He was completely out of his element with the key and ancient history.

Irt's advice, though, he understood. "Thanks Irt. We will be sure to keep the raft idea in mind. It is a good one. And be safe on your trip back." Although, he suspected that Irt knew the area well enough to not need any help getting safely back.

He glanced at the half-orc as he made his opinion known and headed on up river. Well, he =did= have a point. "Shall we join our headstrong friend", he asked the others and took off in the same direction ... up-river.



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"It would seem the plan." He agreed, stood, and moved after the half orc.

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[Ghosted for Owain]

Nestaron

He sighed at Heilbutt's back and shook his head. He could see what was happening and swapped a glance with Tindarien. Young blood!

Nestaron offered a hand to the out of shape Sergeant Almador.

"Come Sergeant."

The Sergeant was a heavy set man, wearing guard armour. But Nestaron wore a brigandine too, over his robes. Plain leather finish, without such shiny studs or the brightly coloured velvet perhaps, it was still a heavy load.

It was forgivable to call it 'damnable' on a hike, as Almador had. If you had never been in battle. This told the half-elf cleric that, as old and experienced their Sergeant was as a town guard, he was no soldier. After his first battle, he would quickly change his tune about his armour.

Nestaron looked around for Zoltan. He wanted a quick word.

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Sergeant Almador

He accepted the half-elf's hand and hauled himself to his feet with a grunt.

Adjusting the straps on his pack and straightening his kettle hat, he then nodded to the rest of the party.

The holy man was right. How could he sit there griping about a morning's exhertion when his people's livelihoods, their very lives, were at stake. He was taking this personally, like it was a grudge between him and his grandfather, and maybe it was, but the repercussions would be felt by more than one man.

And so he reminded himself that he was Sergeant of the Guard and that meant on this quest, he represented the town of Rosencliff.

He said farewell to Irt and told him they'd return soon after New Moon. Regardless of his newfound determination, he still hoped one of these adventurers knew how to fashion a boat! It sounded a lot more relaxing than hiking.

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Tindarien

He thanks Irt and waves the ir guide goodbye. His dog had been well behaved but both he and Farvi are relieved that it won't be around any more.

As they start to gather their things to set off after Heilbutt, he shares a look with Nestaron and shrugs in his response. Then he moves to speak to Jex.

"The washing didn't work on the key but I have something in my pack that might do the trick. Maybe when we camp I can borrow the key again?"

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Zoltan

He nods a reply to Jex. "Yes, well that could explain the pollution of the waters. Gold processing with all sorts of caustic chemicals flushed downstream.

Still, that was ages ago. Why would it be happening now. Unless someone has started the Alchemical work back up?"

He too thanks Irt for his help and makes ready to go with the others.

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<Weston>

"Another possibility is that all that old stuff had been ... let loose? ... when Red went exploring", he said thoughtfully as he walked. Then continued. "Someone restarting the mine is an interesting possibility as well. But I wonder how that would set with the 'spirits' involved though."



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He gave a wave and it seemed like he was being reluctant. But none the less he did so. Then he listened with interest to the thoughts of his companions.

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Jex

He offered his hand to Irt and said his farewells to their guide, "Thank you for taking us this far and for the advice on using a raft to return. It makes sense."

"Yes, Tinny, you can have the key any time you want. Just remind me when we're camping."

Then, to everyone he says, "Sometimes looking at a single piece of the puzzle is confusing and leads folks down the wrong path with assumptions. All I know is that we have a key and that it has the symbol of a group of people that wanted to become immortal. So I would rather not dwell too much on this one clue.

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Seyja


The barbarian woman bade curt, but polite, farewells to those turning back and then made her way to the front of the line, near Heilbutt.

"Time to stretch our legs."

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Tindarien

He raises an eyebrow at the nickname that Jex has just given him.. but says nothing.

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GM

A mystery is what you make of it, and there wasn't much more to be made of the key's until Tindarien could properly clean it.

Irt shook hands with Jex and anyone else who profferred. All said and done, he nodded farewall, turned and disappeared amongst the dappled shade of the pines, the large sheepdog bounding after him eagerly.

Without a guide, you were suddenly on your own and finding your own path.

Irt hadn't spoken much of perils. Armed party that you were, most animals would avoid you -- wolves, bears, lions -- but the shepherd had warned about dire boars, opportune yet savage carnivores that could measure seven feet tall at the shoulder and weren't so afraid of people.

Even unpoisoned, the Scintilla River itself could be trecherous, with its shifting, fast-flowing currents and undercurrents, but you weren't planning on a swim.

The Fey weren't usually dangerous to a wary traveller. Even at the garrigue earlier, they had chased you off with bluster rather than try to harm you.

But the Sword Point was a remote and untamed wilderness. If there were dangers lurking along your path, they would likely be unknown.

Which made the choice of scout or vanguard important. Who would lead your party onwards?

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[Ghosted for Owain]

Nestaron

With the party underway again, he fell in step with their dangerous-looking paladin, Zoltan.

Nestaron had some questions for the man, especially in light of the Fey guardian's accusation that something or someone in their party was unnatural. But that wasn't at the forefront of the half-elf's mind, and even if it was, just because you had a question didn't mean you had any business asking it.

Instead he said, "Heilbutt seems to be struggling with a young woman like Seyja in the party. The Wake Islanders aren't known for romance; marriages are arranged, often made out of sheer necessity."

He looked upriver as he spoke.

"I'm sure he knows about the birds and the bees, but I'm not so sure he knows about the heart.

"You have some experience with women, no?"

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Sergeant Almador

Using his partisan as a walking stick, he fell in line with the rest of the party. Almador was surprised at how easily the adventurers formed up and moved out in a loosely ordered file. He was disturbed at what it reminded him of.

A few years ago, Captain Achelus had taken Almador to the City of Swords, Axis, Seat of the Dragon Empire. The Captain's intention was for his sergeant to learn more about guard duties.

Almador remembered roll call of one ward's prisoners. The wretches, the caitiffs, strangers to each other, yet how they got in line, more easily than Almador's own men. Those prisoners weren't trained as a unit but they all 'knew the drill', as if it was second nature.

The Sergeant looked around at the party and felt suddenly nervous. What did he know about them? Captain Achelus shared some fellowship with two of them, but Almador, he was just dead weight to them. Would they slit his throat while he slept and dump his corpse? Why not?

Almador chewed his lip. He realised he was still fretting from their encounter with the Fey guardian. Still, he had to calm his nerves.

"So uh, you have seen my town, my family, you know why I'm here. What of you all? Do you not have families or - or friends, you'd rather be nestled with?"

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<Weston>

He had to chuckle at the Sergeant's question. "Well you can sit at home with your friends waiting for the world to end or you can go out and try to keep the world going for a little while longer for the sake of those you care about. We are here for the former."



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Zoltan

He walks easily along the rough terrain, his eyes automatically searching for tracks. While he knows the Knight did not come this way, it doesn't mean others haven't. Still, he expects to see tracks of nothing more than goats and mountain cats.

At Nestaron's question, he chuckles. "Women, yes. Heart, well, depends on whom you ask."

He glances at the towering mountain ridge ahead, and then at Seyja who walks just ahead of him, and says to Nestaron wistfully. "Now there's a mountain I wouldn't mind climbing."

At the Sergeant's question he simply shakes his head negatively.

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Seyja


"I've lost two families," the barbarian woman muttered under her breath as she moved to the head of the group. She moved in a lithe, long-limbed stride, her taut buttocks moving in a pert figure-eight motion with each pair of steps.

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The taciturn dark elf remained silent at the question. If what little he had that passed for memory was correct. He no longer had living family. One painful reoccurring element in hus mind was the death of hus wife and child, a young boy, while he watched unable to do anything. And that was long before the more terrible memories he still carried. It was a said state of affairs that, that were true. Thus in hus own mind was why he remained quiet.

He merely kept pace alongside the river his eyes vigilant like the rest of him.

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Jex

He replied to the sergeant.

"I am here to be a witness to tales and lore yet untold. Like a bee to a flower I am drawn to the extraordinary. I have a mother and father and when I see them once again, I shall tell them the tale of our adventures together."

It was not a discussion that he wanted converted into a conversation so he moved on to the next person.

The flamboyant bard was quite bubbly, even giddy at the onset of the trek. He didn't walk, he skipped. There seemed to be no need for absolute quiet and he made sure there was less of it than some might have wanted. He behaved like a big child; skipping from person to person to give every individual an ear workout. Nobody was ignored and the more taciturn a person was, the more attention he gave them.

There was tangible fear in the troupe and it didn't take some arcane sight to notice it. So it was upon him to take their minds off of their worries, if only for a while. A key technique to build morale was to create diversions.

As the march wore on he erased the silence. Sometimes it was with a low, rhythmic hum or the soft whistling of a tune. At other times he mimicked nature by imitating the birds that nested in the trees or the crickets that sang in the grass or by joining a chorus of frogs near the river.

It was always something and it was his way of keeping peoples minds off of the dangers that lay ahead of them.

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[Ghosted for Owain]

Nestaron

He nodded as Zoltan spoke and the paladin demonstrated his point aptly.

"Your verve does not interfere with your daily duties though, I deem." Nestaron said.

His concern was that Heilbutt with a dose of puppy love could hinder the party and their quest.

"Perhaps you could talk to Heilbutt at an opportune moment?"

The cleric was about to explain why he himself was not qualified to give such advice, when Sergeant Almador spoke.

Nestaron stroked his beard.

"I have a wife and two boys, Sergeant Almador. They live in a village on stilts, with her family.

"I'm here because of a higher calling and they would rather me answer it, than stay at home vexed."

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