Journey Into the North

The Imps disappeared from the view of the group.

After a few seconds, they heard a loud roar and a shriek. Two of the most terrifying noises ever made. The imps ran out of the forest, towards the heroes again.

They ran into the clearing and flinched as they saw all the warriors with their weapons ready.

A soldier that pauses for a moment on the battlefield is dead.

The trees began rustling as Alden and a gigantic bear emerged from the trees. Both the Imps and the heroes were taken aback by this appearance.

Ursa and Alden charged the Imps. Imp's flew everywhere as Ursa knocked them over. The bear grabbed one of the Imps in his jaws and crushed him. Ursa spit the Imp out.

The clearing was full of dead Imp's, they had been caught between two sides, and the result was a meat grinder.

"Where's Hooper?" Alden asked.

"Bugged out. But I suppose you knew that didn't you?" Cyrus said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You leave camp and a little while later, we're ambushed by these Imps."

"You think I unleashed them?"

"Or you contacted someone who did."

"I suppose you can prove that."

"Absolutely, where is Hooper and your other reliable men?"

"I think I've found them," Sirloaz said.

Hooper and his men were dead, stabbed by a lot of small blades.

"The Imps must have got them on the onslaught," Alden said.

"Who's your friend?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. This is Ursa, he's one of the great bears. He worked with the forest rangers for awhile, everybody calls him Podgy."

"You had to say that?" Ursa said, wincing.

"Don't sweat it. Let's get you some deer meat," Alden said. The two moved towards the wagon.

"Valin, did that bear just talk?" Seraph said.

"You know? I think it did," was the elf's answer.

"I see." I shrugged and went about searching the dimunitive demons for any valuables or clues that might tell why they had attacked us. Among the dead were Hooper and his men.

I grinned.

"Hopefully now you know why I'm your better," I told the corpse.

Valin called my name and I looked up from the body in time to see a small satchel flying toward me. My fist shot out and snatched it out of the air before it hit me in the face. I let the small bag dangle by its shoulder strap and examined it.

"This one was wearing it," he said from across the camp, kicking the largest of the imps with his boot.

I knealt down and opened the satchel, which smelled of rotten leather. Inside was a filthy, rabbit fur pouch, a rolled up piece of parchment that had been crumbled many times, and a small collection of human molars.

"Valin!" I called. I didn't bother calling out to any of the others. We were on a need to know basis--and they didn't need to know.

The elf nodded, hesitated a moment, then reached down and pulled the sword belt off the imp he was just examining.

"That one looks like he's seen quite a bit of battle--lots of scars and stuff. He might have been the leader...what do you want?" he said as he stepped up next to me.

"Look at this--" I said, unrolling the parchment. "--it looks like it might be a map...or some sort."

Valin squinted. "Dunno how you can get to that conclusion...'cept that pointy thing looks a bit like that mountain, eh?" he said, pointing in the distance.

"I'm not an owl, Valin. I don't see in the dark."

After Ursa’s delicious venison dinner, the group decided to move out. It was early, to be sure; the darkness still shrouded all. Valin’s eyes adjusted to the right level, and he led the group forward. Tan’quin shrugged. It was an unimpressive skill compared to some of the creatures out here. Even he had some tact with night vision.

The bodies of Hooper and his men had been buried while Ursa went hunting. It was a decision they decided lightly, and only after the insistence of Adrian, who felt it was the right thing to do.

Tan’quin didn’t feel obligated either way. He knew the bodies wouldn’t stay in their graves long. This was the wilderness, where creatures small and large fed on whatever they could to survive. Hooper’s men had only added to that process.

The path they were following seemed to narrow the farther they went. Tan’quin wasn’t quite sure what kind of trail it was, but from what they had seen so far, loggers were busy in the area.

“Where does this trail lead?” he asked Cyrus.

“How should I know, druid? Am I the keeper of these woods?”

Seraph called from up ahead, “Aye, druid, come here for a moment.”

Tan’quin drove his horse forward, and pulled alongside Seraph. Next to the templar was Valin, who gave Tan’quin a paltry grin.

“Druid--” Seraph began.

“My name is Tan’quin.”

"Tanquin...Tan'quin," Seraph said, careful to get the accents correct. "Right then, Tan'quin. A bit of advice: try not to upset the dwarf. He can get a bit… testy at times.”

“I noticed.”

“Why don’t you stay up here with us? We’ll keep you company for a short while. There's a map we'd like you to take a look at a little later.”

The druid nodded and kept pace with the two. Every once and a while Valin would send a short glance Tan’quin’s way. It did not go unnoticed. Tan'quin simply kept his view forward, eager to avoid any confrontation.

A small outpost appeared from nowhere, and the group slowly trotted in taking in this place. Situated in the small clearing was a large structure surrounded by several makeshift cottages. In the center was a well, and next to that was a large communal firepit.

Tan’quin’s face flushed red with anger as he noticed what was taking place here. This camp was a logger outpost, and they were harvesting all the trees they could get their hands on. Even now, there were several large patches of land that held only stumps. Tan’quin pulled his crescent dagger and was determined to find out who the camp’s foreman was. The man would soon get a taste of what Tan’quin Bromatis thought of his endeavors.

He started forward, but Seraph quickly reined his horse in front of the druid. “Settle there, Tan'quin. You wouldn’t want to do something you’d later regret.”

Tan’quin threw the dagger down and it stuck into the ground. “Then you best take that from me before I get my hands on it again.”

[Mind if I butt in?]

Full name: Fionnabhair (pronounced Finn-a-vair) Chant, more often called Finn

Gender: Female

Age: early to mid 20s

Birthplace: the village of Sedgeley in the Blackwode Mountains

Father’s name: Conleth Chant

Mother’s name: Mabina Chant

Race: Human

Occupation: Guide and scout, occasionally a tracker, though she’s only mediocre at the last.

Class type: Ranger

Appearance: Sturdily built, but petite; she’s barely five-foot-three, which is handy in the forest. Auburn hair which, if down, is unbrushed and wild with a high probability of “decorative” leaves; if up, usually escaping from a messy braid. Pale complexion, pale blue-gray eyes. Her face, though it wouldn’t win any contests, is pleasing enough when it isn’t set in its habitual scowl.

Personality: Incredibly willful and independent; the only person she’ll accept the word “no"you saplea from is her brother, and occasionally her father. Luckily for the people around her, Finn also harbors rather antisocial tendencies. Has a wicked tongue and rarely curbs it. As antisocial and caustic as she is, though, Finn also tends to attach herself to others—especially those whom she particularly admires and respects. For these people, she’d do anything short of commit suicide, literally or in a roundabout way (her sense of self-preservation is very much intact). Once her trust is broken, it is rarely—if ever—gained back. Soft spot for music, and though she wouldn’t admit it under pain of death, children. Loathes the very concept of marriage and has never experienced love beyond the filial or fraternal, or even strong attraction.

Abilities:
-- Sneaking. Having to work in the forest, often tracking large, shy game for wealthy hunters from the city, Finn has always had an innate penchant for sneaking about unnoticed.
-- Agility. Again, a must for a guide and scout.
-- Sense of direction. She could find the airts on a cloudy day in a foreign land without much thought.

Weaknesses:
-- Willful to a fault, as mentioned above.
-- Often doesn’t think before acting, especially in relation to other people. This tends to land her in trouble.
-- Distrustful. This especially applies to any man who shows interest in her, as she automatically decides that he’s either been put up to it by her mother or is up to no good. She also isn’t overly fond of authority figures, who she sees as being unacquainted with the “real world.”

Clothing: Eschews feminine styles, much to her mother’s dismay; wears her brother’s hand-me-downs more often than not. Buckskin trews, oversized hunting shirts, vests and muddied boots. She’s particularly fond of a large, floppy-brimmed hat featuring an enormous feather that her father received as a gift once from a nobleman he served. Always carries at least two pitching daggers when she’s away from home, and rarely leaves without her quarterstaff (six feet in length, ash tipped with metal caps).

Spells: She has no magic herself, and no experience with it, coming from such a small town.

Weapons: She’s quite talented with a quarterstaff and a little better than proficient with pitching daggers and knife-fighting. As she’s rarely the one doing the hunting, but rather the one leading the hunter to his game, she found no reason to acquaint herself with the bow and arrow. As a few of her cockier customers found out, she also has a good punch for a man, let alone a woman, and kicks hard.

Brief history: Her family is small and comes from an equally small town, where her mother Mabina makes dyes and her father Conleth guides hunters and travelers through the mountains. Her brother, Liam, apprentices under the village’s blacksmith, while Finn has followed in her father’s footsteps—and seems to be well on her way to surpassing his skill, as she has a natural talent for woodsmanship. She has had little in the way of formal education, but a few of father’s more regular customers have paid him in books, and she has a natural intelligence that, if it had been cultivated, could have been formidable. As it is, she’s merely a clever girl with truly awful speech patterns. Some might consider her life to have been lonely, as she has very, very few people she would call friends, but Finn has almost always found the company of her family enough. And though she’s trekked the Blackwode Mountains up and down many times in her young life, she’s never felt the need to leave them before. Lately, though, she’s had the worst case of wanderlust…

Alignment: Chaotic neutral.

It wasn’t that Finn hadn’t been happy in Sedgeley. Really it wasn’t. Her family had been there; she’d had a lucrative career as a guide through the Blackwode Mountains for hunters and travelers. Of course she’d had to deal with hostility from most of the village for her “queer ways” and her mother’s fruitless and irritating attempts at “civilizing” her and marrying her off to some farmer with three brats from a previous marriage…. But her father and brother were there. She really had been content.

Contentment wasn’t enough for the strong-willed young woman, though. She settled back against the felled log that was serving as a backrest and pillow and, drawing out one of her pitching daggers, proceeded to cut another fine line into the wood of her quarterstaff. Another day. That made six since she’d left Sedgeley, and two since she’d left the mountains.

She looked around her at the stump-stubbled clearing and the surrounding forests. It was too flat, that much was for certain-sure. Not being able to see for miles in any direction was disconcerting. Not that it was so bad….

Oh, stop tryin’ to convince ye’self and jest get on wit’ the journey, gehl, she thought crossly to herself, laying her quarterstaff across her thighs. It had been her choice to leave Sedgeley, after all. Wanderlust had finally won out over comfort and her mother’s pleas, and with her father’s blessing and her brother’s well-wishes she’d set out to explore the Wide World. Of course, she had no idea where she was going or what she’d do when she got there… but as Finn figured, either something would find her, or she’d cross that bridge when she got there.

As it was, she had planned on enjoying the unwitting hospitality of the logging camp for the night and possibly earning a bit in the way of coin by doing a bit of what her mum would call “housekeeping” in the morning. She wasn’t much for cleaning, cooking, and laundry, but men needed it done—and from the general reek of the humanity contained within those cottages, these men needed it done badly. And since her need for coin matched their need for womanly skills… well, it was a necessary evil.

That is, that had been her plan until she realized just why they all smelled so badly...

They were dead. To a man, they were dead. At least they'd left their fires burning. It was so obliging of them. Good thing Finn had never been the queasy sort. Still, she fastidiously avoided the corpses and found a gore-free spot to settle, still within the light of the cabins.

After a bit of genial, sleepy stargazing—and finishing off the last bit of dried meat and fruits her mother had sent with her (she’d have to procure more sometime soon, as she was no great hunter and scavenging only got a girl so far)—Finn loosened the dagger in her hip sheath and curled up with her back to the massive log. Her drooping eyelids glowed dimly a burnt umber with the firelight emanating from the nearby cabins.

She woke suddenly as something—several somethings—passed between her and the cottages, throwing shadows across the insides of her eyelids. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, Finn sat up, her dagger close at hand. The group was an unusual one, that was for sure—a few in fine clothes, a few in rags, more than one recently injured, with at least four species represented that she could make out in the dark…

Still moving stealthily, Finn moved amongst the logs and stumps until she was nearer to the group. One of the men nearest to her pulled a dagger for some reason and another one—one of the nobles, dripping in fine fabrics and metals—had to stop him. The first man (who much to Finn’s befuddlement, appeared to have completely black eyes) hissed something back before throwing the dagger into the ground with a thud not far from where Finn stood.

She shrunk back behind a stump quickly, stifling a sound of disgust as she nearly tripped over a corpse. Really... was all of the Wide World this gory? She turned her attention quickly away from the man's mutilated head and towards the conversation going on nearby. This band of mismatched adventurers must have something big going on, to have been put together in the first place... maybe this was what Finn had been waiting for.

She lifted her head a little to peer out from behind the trunk at the group.

Sirloaz walked quietly down the path ahead of the rest of the group, scouting ahead. Slowly entering the small lumber clearing the stench of rotting flesh was thick in the air. Upon reaching what seemed to be a quarry, the source of the horrid stench had become clear. The half eaten mangled bodies of the laborers strewn about, faces of agony and horror residing on their cold blood spattered faces. The heads of what seemed to their escort staked to the ground. Tranleen's emotionless face gave no hint of the turmoil of the mind within.

Quickly crouching low to the ground as to not be seen, he slithered around the bodies as to identify how they were all killed. Then after a few minutes analyzation he drew a blade and dashed back to the group as if the devil himself were hot on his heels.

"ambush" he urgently told valin and lord belfast, as the druid went looking for his knife which the thief had stolen while the dwarf just laughed and drank his beer.

"Wait, what?" lord belfast replied confused.

"The entire lumber camp was attacked, by a few scores of Goblins and imps. The bodies are only a few days old which explains why it wasn't noticed earlier. Death hangs around that camp and for all who venture into it."

"Is it possible that the party of imps we encountered were the same beasts from the camp?" belfast asked.

"No, the ones we encountered was a much smaller group, possibly a large scouting party; and if so we must move with haste, for the imps will be on their way to give word to the main host." replied Sirloaz. "I suggest we take a side path I found around the path of the humanoids to avoid further casualties." sirloaz said while making a quick sketch in the dirt with his dagger. "the raiding party is most likely to be here" he said pointing to a large bend in the river. "We must cross that river, and that point is the only bridged area, the rest is un-explored." He said turning his head to stare Finn directly into the eyes, then quickly looked away as she paled and shrank behind the trunk further.

"Good, take the druid with you and try and mark a safe trail."

"I will find another crossing point, the humanoids are upwind of us at the moment, so they do not know we are here; but a storm is coming and it may not be too long before we are found out." tranleen said ending the conversation and starting off quickly dagger in hand marking the trees for a safe or unsafe direction.

*Ursa, aka Podgy*

I stretched out in front of the fire, close enough to be warm and far enough not to have my fur singed and flaming. Which, if you know what I mean, is a very bad thing. Burning bear does NOT smell good.

Alden, being the dope he is, stumbled his way to me. If you haven't seen a gryphon stumble, you're missing out on something. It's a mixture between an eagle losing coordination after a high speed dive and running into a thatched roof building just over a pig sty, and a lion with arthritis.

"Look what I got!" he said, waving a worthless trinket with his beak. I'm not quite sure how he spoke with that silly thing in his mouth, but gryphons ARE supposed to be magical.

"Alden, I have a question," I said, very professionally. Alden sat on his hind legs, looking too much like an alert doggy to really be threatening.

"Yes?" he said. The trinket was still in his mouth.

"Are these people idiots?"

Alden looked at them for a second before turning back to me. "Why do you say that?"

"Well..." How do you put it for your stupid gryphon friend? He looked at me eagerly, expecting the question. I sighed. "Don't they find it strange that they don't really care that I'm a big bear?"

He laughed at that. "You're not that big! Just a little fat."

I raised my eyebrows. "Alden?"

"What?"

"These people are idiots."

"I don't think so. They just like you. They liked me, didn't they?"

Now they were cleaning off the blood off their hands. Barbarians. I had cleaned off the imp blood and the fish blood when I had caught myself a fish ages ago. I sighed.

"I don't trust them."

"No, you wouldn't. But they're really nice! And they have lots of honey cakes.They just want some warriors. And you're the best." He pulled out another shiny trinket -- this time a piece of foil -- and played with it. "Don't worry about it. They won't hurt you."

I sighed.

Well, at least gryphons never lied...

I looked to Valin as Sirloaz jogged away, marking a tree with his knie as he went. "I don't know what in the Nine Hells to do with that thrice bedamned bear, I have a feeling that nothing short of killing it will stop it from following that...griffin."

"Don't get started on Alden. Remember Thaden? You liked him!"

"I was also a child."

Valin laughed. "True enough!" he admitted.

I shook my head and sat down on a stone.

"These people are fools Valin...without you keeping your eyes open, they would have been killed tonight."

"Maybe not, my friend...the dwarf seems alert enough, and Henry isn't so bad--he's just not great with a sword is all. You gotta admit...it's good to be back on the road though."

I smiled and clapped my old friend on the shoulder.

"That it is, Valin...that it is. Too long have I been busying myself with the army running exercises and negotiating trade with the Easterners."

"Well...glad to see your skill with a blade hasn't been dulled."

I smiled again. "Nor yours, it seems."

"Aye, that's so. I've been in constant training since I returned to Tor Arcana..." Valin trailed off suddenly, hesistating. Seraph had a look on his face that just screamed "Out with it" and so he continued. "Well, see, when I first got back to my Aunt and Uncles, after I found out my unlce was indeed alive, I went to the temple of Isha. The preist there took me into the Inner Sanctum and told me something. He told me that there was a prophecy of "this day" for millenia. That in the twilight of the Elves, there would be an Elf who would be deposed, but then rise again to reunite the Elves to their former glory, and he seems convinced its me, that I am the one the Prophecy refers to. I don't know if it is or not, but I sure wish to accomplish what the prophecy fortells, but I'm not sure If I'm the right Elf to do it," This was a HUGE omission from Valin to anyone, let alone someone not of Elven heritage, although Valin considered Seraph a trusted freind. "Only time will tell, though, so I have been training, and reading, and learning all I can on fighting, diplomacy and all the old ways...improving on what I already knew and learning new things at the same time"
"Well, I'm sure when the time comes, you will be more than capable of leading...and I will gladly join your side, if need be"
"Thank you, Seraph," Valin said placidly. "Now lets have a look at that bag"
Seraph handed the bag over to Valin, who examined it.
"Well, it does indeed appear to be part of a map, a very old, ripped map. There is nothing much else here, except for this mountain range here," Valin said, pointing. He further examined the contents of the bag. "By Isha! Here, however, is the real doozy. See these teeth, Seraph?"
"Yes" Seraph replied
"They are teeth of Halflings, ground up they make a good thickening agent for poisons. And see these leaves?" Valin asked, withdrawing a handful of thin, silvery-black, leathery leaves.
"Yes," Seraph again said.
"These are leaves of the Ymama plant," Valin replied "It only grows in the Eastlands...very expensive. But also very deadly, if ingested, it could kill a man sized creature within hours. It is the primary ingredient of one of the most deadly posions known to this world...Black Venom, also sometimes called Witches' Bane. A weapon coated in Black Venom is lethal, no matter what kind of would--even a graze would kill within minutes. Thank Isha that those Imps hadn't had it on their daggers," Valin said.
"Agreed. Falthyr was indeed watching us this day," Seraph agreed, rapping Valin on his back "I sure am glad we are on the same side--I would not wish to meet you on the feild of battle, Valin"
Valin took that as how it was meant, as the supreme compliment from Seraph Belfast Wyrmsbane. Suddenly, though, he saw movement in the brush. He inspected it quickly, and after a minute or so, he was certain of it--a human woman, petite, pleasant-looking but indeed no beauty, with auburn hair with leaves stuck inside no doubt as some kind of pitiful barbarian "camoflauge". Valin quickly motioned with his finger to Seraph for silence. He conveyed, nonverbally to Seraph that he saw someone in the brush and was going to investigate. Seraph nodded.
Valin stealthily sneaked behind the girl and the log she was perched behind. Silently, he sneaked up on her until he was right behind her, then he kneeled down right next to hear and whispered in her ear
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to eavesdrop on people? Its rude" clutching her by the arm, and dragging her into camp.
(OOC: I'm trying different POVs, tell me what you think. Also if anything is out of place/wrong let me know and I'll change it)

I like it, it flows better.

"Let go of me!" A high pitched voice said.

Alden turned to see Valin clutching a girl by the arm.

"What's going on?" Alden asked.

"She was eavesdropping on Seraph and I."

"Alden?" she said.

"You know him?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Ursa said.

"Podgy!" Ursa winced as she said that.

"Hello Finn," he said.

"Finn's a ranger, we've worked before on other things. She's also one of the better trackers of these woods."

"The best!" she said, indignant.

"Debatable" Sirloaz said.

"Enough!" Seraph said. Everyone went quiet.

"What are you doing here and why were you spying on us?" Seraph asked her.

Wasn't sure how to continue the conversation exactly, so I've left it open for Fand/someone else to respond.

Henry had hung back since the fight, sneaking into the shadows of the party, ignoring the others. It was what he was used to. Besides, none of the others seemed socially inclined and he as being relegated to a low status -- only the arrogant elf and man were trying to lead the ragbag of adventurers, and Henry thought it wasn't worth forcing a confrontation just yet.

When Valin and Lord Belfast caught the young woman called Finn, Henry was leaning on a thin trunk, crunching into a bitter apple. Adrian and Cyrus were beside him, being similarly taciturn.

It was then he realised the druid was nowhere to be seen.

Slipping away from the heated calls of Seraph and Finn, who was defiantly proclaiming he had no right to interrogate her, Henry snook into the shrubbery behind the party. Adrian was thinking to himself and Cyrus was keeping a close eye on the proceedings, so nobody noticed him go.

He moved back to where Tan'quin had thrown his dagger down. It was no longer stuck in the rough ground, but it had left a mark. Henry carried on through the cut tree trunks, past the dead bodes scattered around the loghouse. He crouched behind one corner and peeked his head round to see the black-eyed druid kneeling down, holding his hands to the sky, tossing what looked like small herbs into the air. Henry could hear a faint whisper on the wind, and realised Tan-quin mus be performing some sort or druidic ritual to the fallen trees. The thought amused Henry so much he almost laughed out loud, but he suppressed the urge.

Henry walked out from his hiding place.

Tan'quin stood up, reaching urgently for his dagger as he saw the movement, but relaxed as he saw it was Henry coming along. The druid nodded in greeting, thought it was a little restrained.

"Shouldn't be out on your own, mate," Henry said, biting once more into the delicious apple. "There's bad things about."

"I can take care of myself," Tan'quin said, suspicious of the small thief.

"Those Imps are buggers though, 'specially when they pair up n' all. Wouldn't want ya to die by the 'ands of them lot," Henry replied. "One of 'em took a bit of me with 'em," he added, indicating the dark blood stain on his trousers.

Tan'quin looked at him in concern. "Did anybody look at that wound for you? I have herbs that can help it heal."

"Nah. Maybe later, though. So what were you doing 'fore I interrupted?"

"Helping the forest to heal itself after the damage those men were causing."

"You make it sound like the forest is alive," Henry said, smiling.

Tan'quing sighed. "It is, and that's what those idiots never understand. Nature is a balance, and when people like that come and tear down trees without returning the favour by planting more, the balance is disrupted."

"Right ..." Henry said, wondering what he had go himself into now. "We better get back anyhow. Otherwise tha' Elf Lord and Belfast the bloody Almighty will be wonderin' where we got to."

Tan'quin gave a half-smile at Henry and the two walked back toward the others.

Snoink, tell me if I've misjudged Ursa.

Cyrus sighed, staring as Alden, Seraph and Valin argued with Finn; who seemed to be protesting her right to freedom. Strong minded lass, that one, he thought. He couldn't really focus on what was happening though and he hadnt been able to do so ever since that damnable bear arrived. Never before had he seen such a thing, it made him glad he had decided to come along afterall.

Cyrus thought about it, mind wrestling with the oddness of it all. Finally, he decided to approach the bear. Ursa was lounging about, some way away removed from the argument with Finn. The giant bear watched as the dwarf approached.

Cyrus eyed the huge form warily. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it and opened it again. Irritated, he clmaped his mouth shut. Suddenly, the bear started roaring and snorting. Yelling, Cyrus jumped back Bright Star at the ready.

But the bear was merely laughing. "I'm ... I'm sorry." He said, eyes watering and gasping for air. "You just looked absurdly like a fish!" With that he roared again with laughter, rolling around on the floor.

Cyrus' mouth twitched. Slowly, unwilling, a rueful smile appeared. "Aye, I suppose I would have at that." He waited, as Ursa'a mirth subsided. "How is it that you can talk?!" He finally asked, expelling the question that had been on his mind ever since the battle.

The bear stared, all traces of mirth gone. "How is it that you, or Alden or anyone else can talk?"

"Well, ah, that's different ... cos, ah ... bears dont talk! Well, at least they usually don't."

"Well this one does." Ursa replied casually, seemingly at ease. "I'm magical." That last, sounded suspiciously sarcastic what with the rolling of eyes and all.

For some reason, Cyrus was disappointed. He didn't know why, but there seemed very little magical about this creature. "Oh and can you shoot firecrackers out of you arse?"

Ursa stared, nonplussed.

"Well then, there's precious little magical about ya!" He decided firmly. With that, he left the bear and hobbled toward the dying embers of the camp fires lit by the long dead loggers. Grunting, he kicked a corpse of its perch on one of the logs and cleared some space for himself. He opened his bottle of Lorae and splashed some into the ember's; with a roar and many a snap and crackle, the fire came to life. Nearby there was heaped kindling; still silent, he threw some into the voracious flames.

Evidently; Alden, Seraph, Valin and Finn had reached an agreement for they too were silent now, moving about and clearing away bodies. Not that he cared too much for them, they seemed to care for little other then themselves, a bag of useless crap they had found and this mission. He couldn't see what Sirloaz and Adrian were upto, nor did he turn to look.

After a few moments, Henry came by and sat near the dwarf. Silently, Cyrus handed the Lorae over to him. The thief looked surprised, then gratuitous. Taking the flask, he had a swallow. Then gasped, choking. "Tha' there, sure packs a punch," he said gasping.

Cyrus chuckled. "It'll make a man of ya, sure enough." They settled into companionable silence, waiting for the others to do the same. "Now where's that blasted druid? I have a wound needin' tendin' to." He yelled.

"Gone to catch up with that tracker, Sirloaz, or 'owever you bloody pronounce it. To find a safe track or summit. Bit of a strange pair, those two, both with fnny eyes n' all," Henry said, his throat and voice still raspy from the Dwarven draught.

Adrian, who up until now had been pretty much silent, broke his usual custom and came and sat down by Cyrus and Henry.

"Still holding back all yer best cards?" Cyrus joked, referring to their first conversation.

Adrian's face didn't change. "You definitely didn't hide all yours in that battle, Master Dwarf. I saw many Imps strewn about you before the end," the Paladin replied with an assured speech. "And I wanted to thank you ... Henry, is it? That crossbow shot saved me a lot of unwanted trouble."

Cyrus and Henry gave him grins and the three settled down into conversation, murmuring on about nothing in particular. Adrain offered to look at Cyrus's injury in place of the Druid and fixed it up with ease.

The morning was fully upon them now, the sun rising into the sky, thought there were far-off clouds that looked like that might threaten later in the day.

The rest of the party, finished with clearing the bodies and the rest of the destruction, came over. They were a amusing lot, Henry thought to himself -- a strangely-dressed lion-bird (as he liked to call Grpyhons), a fat bear, a defiant young woman, and two fnely-dressed warriors in Valin and Seraph. Henry didn't think even a God with a wicked sense of humour could have put all of them together.

Seraph strode over, his features giving no sign of emotion.

Cyrus piped up. "So what now, Lord Belfast?" the Dwarf said, with obvious sarcasm.

If Seraph was bothered, he didn't show it, his finely-cut goatee staying still. "We waitfor Sirloaz and Tan'quinto return, and then we leave as soon as possible. It is not wise to stay here too long."

"Too late for that," Henry muttered.

"Excuse me?" said Seraph, with more than a little threat in his voice. "If you're going to say something, try saying it out loud."

"I'll say it 'ow I want, thanks," Henry replied, returning Lord Belfast's stare.

There was a discernible tension that was broken only by Alden stepping in.

"Who wants a drink?" he said, and everyone sat down for a brief rest.

Just a note; try to keep Finn's speech patterns, k guys?

"Wudden mind one," Finn grumbled, collapsing to the ground next to the fellow they called Henry. She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before shifting a few inches further away. "An' there en't nothin' wrong wit' dis site," she said, addressing Seraph, "b'yond the obv'ous." She jerked her head towards the spot where they'd disposed of all the bodies. "Been 'ere... cor, a'most a day an' half, come sun-up, an' nuffink bad's 'appened." She looked around at them and thought about that statement. "'Cept possibly runnin' inta you lot. Where's ye all 'eaded, then, an' what nutter in 'is right mind put th' lot o' you in the same group?"

She surveyed them again, taking a headcount--rich humans, ragged humans, dwarf, elf, gryphon, talking bear, blah, blah, blah...--and shook her head, snorting as she accepted the alcohol from Henry.

"'Z it strong?" she asked him skeptically. Cor, but that boy needed to take a bath.

"Nothin' much for a tough gal like yourself," Henry said, winking at Cyrus. The girl was okay-looking, not much on the pretty girls of the city, but what beauty she possessed was regularly marred by scowling.

Finn took a deep swig of the liquid, and for a moment, looked she was fine. But then her cheeks turned crimson and she spluttered half of it out onto the ground.

Henry clapped her on the back. "Good stuff, eh?"

The rest of the group downed some water from various flasks and bottles from their packs and belts. Most look tired. The night-battle had interrupted their sleep and deprived them of any energy.

There was a rustle in the bushes in the direction that Sirloaz and Tan'quin had headed. Seraph and Valin stood up instantly, scanning the horizon.

They breathed a sigh of relief as the grey-haired tracker clad in his dark green cloak walked out from the cover of the bushery. He was quickly followed by Tan'quin, who had dirt all over his clothing.