At the mention of help, the patrons of the tavern get a familiar battle-ready look to their eye and quickly stand to offer their arms to Riordan.
In the midst of the preparations, a lone dark elf enters the tavern and looks quizzicly to the hasty retreat of the other patrons. Finding the Minotaur to be always looking out for the people, Lef decides to join though he knows little of where/what they are doing. "Tell me of the problem on our way and if I decide to leave, I shall enchant your fine swords and armor the best I can. I have a feeling however I am going to stay along for the ride."
Rising from his chair, another minotaur named Gallantar bravely offers his arm with a few simple words. "If my assistance is needed, count me in." He motions for Riordan to continue. "Lead on Brother."
His belly now full of soup, and his soul content on the thought of a feather bed, Sedric also offers up his services, "Riordan, it would be an honor to accompany you to the village. I am willing to do whatever can be done to avenge these villagers, and prevent further attacks. Perhaps I can find some trace of this abomination, and track it." With that, Sedric sprints from the common area to his room.
Riordan looks at the girls while heading to the back. "Thank you so much... Farmer Bob will be in later this afternoon with some apples and two casks of cider... you know where the coin is for that." Finally getting to his stashed armor- Riordan rips off his apron and considers it a moment before tossing it to the side and strapping on the various protective plate and leathers. He quickly gets himself dressed for the journey and heads to another cupboard to collect numerous spell components and what appear to be potions, stashing them in various pouches, pockets and boots around his person. Finally he reaches into the space above the serving counter and carefully pulls out two identical silver longswords and with practices ease, slids them into their respective scabbards. A very different looking Riordan emerges from the kitchen area, without a smile this time, and looks to the assembled adventurers and messenger, "Lets go".
Before Riordan can take but two steps from the common room, a familiar face drifts out of the shadows of the fireplace. A tall, well equipped elven mage with a charming smile upon his face, and a look of readiness in his eyes. "If you need my abilities then I will walk alongside you Master Riordan. I do however require a price -- a hot cup of your stew to warm up with." Riordan smiles brightly at Loralon and they both continue to make ready for the journey.
The group of travelers assembles on the front lawn, looking over the fresh fallen snow and pulling cloaks against the biting wind. The journey may not be an easy one, but it is truly with purpose. Too many little towns like White Falls go unprotected in the new regime, and it is only people like this group that hold the line between order and chaos.
Mezmeric walks up to the group and raises his hands to each of them, granting magical protections to all. "I'm sorry I can't go with you all, but this cold threatens to take more than my warmth if I stay too long in it. You can be assured that the tavern will be well protected in your absence, Master Riordan."
Strapping the bow across his back and fastening down the remainder of his pouches, the messenger makes his way from the tavern to Riordan. "I may not be the strongest fighter amongst you, but I know the way and will lead if you'll have me. My name is Darontheles, but you may call me Dar."
Nodding in affirmative, Riordan gives the signal and the group forms up, mages into the middle, fighters flanking and to the back and front. Dar nocks an arrow into place, holding just a slight amount of tension on the bowstring, ready.
Except for the snow, the traveling through the village is easy. Passing by the Barlow Tavern, the travelers note that the chimney shows no signs of smoke, and that the lights inside have not been lit. The town center is a vacant space of emptiness, nothing but the cold and the wind within it's space.
Out onto the main road, the messenger leads the way towards the ancient spire at the outskirts of the village, turning right at the fork in the road. The travelers are mostly quiet, except for Dar, who relates their purpose to Lef.
The wind is blowing just enough to ruffle cloaks and tunics, but not enough to be considered a nuisance. A light snow begins to fall as the party steps away from the main road and onto a ranger's path through the forest. The forest is oddly silent this day, even for this early afternoon time.
Aura listens intently as the messenger relates his tale to Lef, while her acute hearing searches the forest deeply for any sounds of life, perplexed that she can hear nothing. Her eyes look into the forest growth for any clues as to the state of the woods on this day. She is silent for the journey, trusting in the judgement and command of those she travels with.
Lef listens while the messenger speaks, resolving himself to prepare the group to whatever may come their way. "Is anyone in need of protective spells that I may be able to give?" He waits for their responses, and passes out a few free action as well as shielding spells to the party. Once the casting is done, he wraps his cloak about himself and his long staff, for even though it may not be composed of metal, it still burns with the cold that a steel weapon might have.
About twenty minutes into the journey, Dar spots a campfire some ways ahead. "Should we inspect it, or go around?"
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