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[S34N1C]

Tyr eats his meal gladly, for he was rather starving. After eating, he chats up some of the locals.

[Beirus]

Rathgar takes a moment to smell the food, appearing to enjoy the scent of the meal while he is actually trying to discern if anything is off with the meal. If nothing seems strange to him, he digs in using any utensils provided. The way he eats is civilized, at odds with his apearance.

[Silcugar]

Brussen Hearthall
^{Kat, Tyr, Rathgar, Nix}

Nix finds the people amiable, if a bit stand-offish, and Rathgar finds no issue with the food. It wasn't a large crowd, but the people who were curious enough to come to the hall were not shy about watching the lairds eat.

Gumain nodded sagely at Kat's questions, adopting a mourning look. "Both answers are related, I'm afraid. We have not been graced with any visiting lairds besides yourselves, as my foresight predicted. It is a dour possibility-- even very likely that this man of yours was claimed by the ravenous forest. This village lived in contentment for a time, this much I know from my relatively brief stay, but the evils of the valley grow in power and relentlessness.

My scars... An evil spirit of some power ravaged me with flame some time ago. I wandered, my magic the only thing guiding me, until I found a tranquil clearing. Here, I rested, and came to terms with my fate. Soon, though, some being beyond magic appeared to me and told me of the five signs of Orren, and the end of evil. First, a fire that doesn't submit," he gestures to the far wall, where a torch stood alone. "I was found with it when a ranger of this village rescued me. It never fades. Second, a day of madness, where my arrival incited an unusual fervor and panic in the village. Third, a rapturous chorus... though I may have misinterpreted this sign, for there was no chorus as I understand the term. But, o' renewed faith!" He rises from his seat, swept up in emotion. "The fourth sign, the end of madness, your very arrival!"

The crowd, a captive audience to the seer's speech, began to murmur with excitement. "And the fifth, final sign: a fire that doesn't submit. We will immortalize the torch in the grand construction outside, a beacon that will light the valley and expel evil!" The people, now thoroughly enthused, walk closer to the lairds, giving thanks and praying quietly.

Tyr now had a chance to speak to the villagers, and they were all too eager. First, a woman who had been serving the group walks up. "Sir, forgive my questioning, but are the lairds truly as heroic as Gumain says? That they search the lands for the greatest heroes and destroy evil where it lives and sleeps?"

[NRDL]

Nix, shaking his head to try and knock himself out of his mild stupor, approached the so called fire that does not submit. He then proceeded to inspect it for any unusual features, especially markings, and tested the flame by quickly running his hand through the flame, just like how he'd played with candles in the monastery as a youth.

[S34N1C]

"Yes , it is true , but that's not the only thing we do. We stand for justice, and help people in need when we can."

[Dwarmin]

Later, Kat picked out a villager who looked gossipy and questioned them.

"Tell me, good folken, where might I speak to the Ranger who rescued Good Seer Gumain? I would know more of this land, and what maybe befell our fellow soldier."

Kat was getting a bit suspicious. The Seer wasn't the leader of the village, that much was obvious-but, he was acting as if he was. It seems a lot of 'exciting' things had started to happen as soon as showed up. Along with disappearance of their man...two times coincidence, three times a pattern...

[Silcugar]

((I think we can skip ahead just a bit.))

Brussen
^{Kat, Tyr, Rathgar, Nix}

The lairds would find their accommodations quite acceptable, and the next morning they set about investigating the village.

First, they would find most of the villagers ambivalent about their stay. The seer, and self proclaimed 'Prophet of Orren,' was a recent addition to the village, and a pushy one at that. But his followers, mystified by his visions, were growing in number, and the lairds arrival only bolstered their ranks and resolve. Still, custom demanded respect, and the village was willing to host the new arrivals. For now.

Nix returned to the hearthall to investigate the flame. At once, he could see it was odd. More vibrant and powerful than a regular torch, and he found its heat weak to the touch. Closer investigation was difficult, for the hall was nearly always occupied. Villagers would thank Nix, or leer at him. There was something more to this everlasting flame, but would Nix dare tamper with it in broad daylight?

Tyr, following his short conversation with the village woman, found himself the focus of some attention. Something about his appearance or demeanor interested the common folk, and he found it hard to avoid them. Most were merely curious, but one man in uncommonly heavy armour sought out the rogue. "Good day, Tyr the Laird, I presume? I am Oswald of Reeds, come some distance south to this village on some quest. Are you a man of sport, perhaps? Interested in a wager?" He held himself in a firm, strangely wide stance. A curled mustache accented a wide, mirthful smile, but his eyes were as sharp as any warrior's.

Kat found a woman near the edge of town, who was only so happy to direct her to a ranger who took residence in a small cabin nearby. Kat happened to approach just as the ranger was returning from an errand. The ranger, a woman with a few grey streaks in her hair and a firmly neutral expression, walked with a slight limp and had one arm in a sling. "You're one of the foreigners. I'm sure the burned man was happy to see you, and the upstarts who follow him." Her words were dry and tired, but she motioned you into her cabin all the same. She offered some tea, sitting down on an old chair, reapplying a bandage to her hand.

[S34N1C]

"What kind of wager?"

[Dwarmin]

Kat accepted the tea with thanks.

"This tea mighty fine. What do you make it from?" She said, starting off with neutral compliments to ease the tension. It was also good to know what the locals considered safe to drink.

[NRDL]

This was getting increasingly suspicious, thought Nix. Searching for the most loose lipped looking villager, Nix bought them a drink, engaged them in conversation, hoping to learn ANYTHING new about the torch, the town, and the seer.

[Beirus]

Rathgar wanders around the village, looking to see if any of the villagers need any help, specifically something he can do using his strength.

[Silcugar]

Brussen
^{Tyr, Rathgar}

Oswald pulls at his mustache with a contemplative look. "Of the gentlemanly sort, I assure. I've heard a great many things regarding your... association's prowess at arm and honour, hm? Well, I'm not one to rely on rumour, though it does land me in interesting situations! Anyway, the wager is simple, a game of skill. You seem the nimble sort, so a contest of accuracy and finesse? Nothing complicated, my bow versus your weapon of choice; three shots close to the mark as possible.

"But! What is a contest without a prize? I offer this as ante." He hoists a complicated emblem from his pocket, dangling from a fine silver chain. "This shows you are friend to the northern settlements, a boon for an explorer like yourself? And in return, perhaps you can offer this?" He points to your shoulder, where your brooch of the lairds is pinned. "For symbolic purposes only, I assure you. I have a collection of such oddities, showing my skill over organizations such as your own. Nothing malicious, just as a show of personal vanity, I admit." He give a coy smile while dangling his ante above an open hand.

Nearby, Rathgar paces the village in search of tasks suiting his strength. It is not as easy as he would like, seeing as how villagers are either too proud to ask for help, or too humbled to accept it. However, he finds a group of burly men ready to set out to the lumber camp. They are all too eager to accept help from a man of Rathgar's size, and promise drink in return.

Ranger's Cabin
^Kat

"A taste for the earth, hm? You are perhaps more hardy than most townsfolk. 'Least the type I've encountered. It is a simple brew of hardy leaves found near dead things, and what few aromatic herbs are left in this harsh forest. I know not the names, I am no wizard or hermit, I just know what my brother taught me." She takes a full gulp of the brew before returning to her wounds, tending them without wincing. "I'm not sure what you want with a wounded dog like me. I can not track in this condition, if that is what you seek. My brother and the other rangers are on an outing right now, you'll need to wait for them."

Brussen Brewhouse
^Nix

After a while of carousing with the village folk, Nix was finding is difficult to get any new information. Men would speak in simple honourifics regarding the seer, though some seemed hard pressed to speak kindly of the man. When pressed, they seemed unwilling to talk ill of the man or his quest. Some, when drunk enough, when start about the beacon and how it was a waste, but held their tongues, even in a stupor. They spoke similarly factually of the town, insisting it was a simple place of woodworking and hunting, often praising their own brewers and rangers. Times were hard, they said, but it was the same for many small villages recently. You do learn that there are many more civilized villages than the lairds knew, even small towns farther north, but that is as far as these locals knew.

Regarding the beacon, the men would generally agree that it would be good for the village, but not all cited it as any salvation. Still, a vocal few believed that it would bring prosperity and wealth to them, but in vague terms. They say that the torch had magical, even holy powers, but there was little evidence given. It was rhetoric Nix was familiar with: a lot of faith and hope, but not much physical effect. One of the more well traveled villagers, when properly inebriated, admits he thinks very little of the prophet and the torch. He claims that he was one of the few that got to hold it, and says, in a hushed tone, that some mundane concoction keeps the flame lit. He takes it back when pressed, blaming the drink and hard times. Still, his claim reminds you of certain alchemical recipes that extend a flame's life. It was possible, but you would need to take a stick or similar implement to the torch to find out, something the village folk that guard it wouldn't be too happy with.

[Dwarmin]

Kat smiled, nodding. Her brother had taught her some things too...mostly, how to be clever...

"Well, what I was aiming for was hearing stories. Like where this Seer-Man came from, and what happened since then, and what happened to you. It seems to me he's elected himself your leader, but I don't get the sense it was exactly a thing everyone agreed on. Also, he's the sort who won't give a straight answer, even if you shake him. And, I'm not ready to shake him, see?

It's surely an unfortunate thing that one of mine vanishes, then he appears to yours, portending our arrival. Don't you think so? We found a piece o' his kit in the forest, true enough. Near to some strange altar and an abandoned cabin. which was most definitely not wholesome, if you catch my winds. Seems a lot of trouble blew in with him.

Worst idea I had, perish the thought, is that a man might fancy himself a King-if he makes something for people to be afraid of, then well pretends as if he was all that saved them from it."

[Silcugar]

Ranger's Cabin
^Kat

The ranger keeps her eyes on the floor, hanging on Kat’s words. She tenses her jaw, as if tasting something unpalatable, and gives Kat a firm look. “Your words are hard to hear, even if the same notions passed through my mind.” She rises from her chair, expending some effort to do so in her condition, but she doesn’t make it obvious. She walks over to a lonely window near the door, taking some moments to herself before returning to the chair. She uses her good arm to take hold of it, giving some relief to her bad leg as she continues. “I’m not one for stories; they can be blown to extremes easily. If only my foolish kin were so careful. But here is what I know, as plain and truthful as I can say.

“This man, Gumain, was indeed burned to some extremes and left alone to die. I found him some distance, nowhere near any town, his clothes badly burned and only the torch at his side. I thought nothing of it—the torch, but ran to his side at once. He was mad with a fever. He would not stop speaking of an invading demon, of wizards and darkness and all manner of danger. He wanted to run, he pleaded with me, but he would surely die if I moved him in that state.

“Thankfully, I know a little of medicine. It would only be a few days before he could be moved, and I thought, in my arrogance, that I could camp there easily enough. I messaged the other rangers, using a method I must keep secret, and waited while the man fell in and out of consciousness. A number of beasts tried to claim us, but I was keen enough to keep them away. But what would come next… I was not ready for. A lone wolf, five times the size of any alpha I’ve seen, with black teeth and blacker eyes fell upon us. At once I knew I could not match the monster’s speed or strength, but I knew I could not escape it as well. It maimed my leg and broke my arm with its jaws, but only to get to the burned man… It’s hard to explain, but there was a harsh intelligence in that beast. It would have killed me if it wanted to, but it surely did not.

“It grasped the man in its jaws and tore him to pieces in moments. Grisly, undoubtedly, but I was happy to have my life by the time it left. I woke up days later, my companions had rescued me and, somehow, the burned man was there too. At that point he had regained his mind and assumed this arrogant attitude you may have noticed. He said he had no memory of the beast, but knew I had saved him. I could have gone with his wild pitch and been the first to benefit from his faith… but I could not.

“We have no wizard here, no magician, and the cabin you found—once host to a shaman who vanished some months ago, he was the most in tune to the earthen forces. No one here can say, but I know that prophet is not the one I saved.

“These things I say, I kept from my village out of self-doubt, now out of fear of zealots. But you are looking for something else, and I have little doubt this ‘prophet’ had a hand in your man’s disappearance.

“I know nothing of these remains you speak of. As for the cabin, it is an old tragedy, older than this recent strangeness. If you want a real lead, I can give it to you.

“My brother found an odd thing in the forest recently, not long after the strange day that the burned man calls the ‘day of madness,’ when my people fell under some strange affliction. He thought it was an old camp of some wild shaman, but it sounded to me like something fouler. I did not want to say at the time, and have not seen it myself, but I believe it bears investigating.

“When my brother returns, I will seek you and yours out. We will take you to that strange site, and maybe you can suss out some insight.

“Bear in mind… I do not think that man desires to rule this village, but he does seek to use it for some foul, dark purpose. When I see him, all I can think of is that damned great wolf and its hollow eyes…”

[S34N1C]

"Hmm, I suppose I could past with it, but would you be willing to accept something else? Perhaps one of my knives?"