A quiet moment at the parties table turned in to something else as without warning Dapples P-dragon started flirting from person to person. Having not a lot of experience with said dragon, Maximus at first did nothing, but Char’s reaction was enough to get him moving.

Oh this is not good
Maximus thought to himself as Char rose from his seat, bow to hand, an arrow nocked, and quickly took stance at the tavern’s main window, looking outside. His shield to his left hand brought closer to him while his right drew the sword from his back to lay across his lap. Maximus then moved his char back from the table to give himself more room to act if needed. Now alert and ready the big ex-gladiator scanned the interior for any signs of danger waiting on a word or deed to send him into action.

“Is there something wrong with your familiar?”............

“Don’t worry yourself about payment Dapple.” Kilgim spoke up, “My cousin Dwan will make sure we are well compensated for our efforts if on nothing but my say so.”

Since Arien had so readily accepted the Council’s proposal (despite the misgivings that Dapple lofted verbally and those that were more subtly emoted by others) Caicher had been practically beaming. With the party’s agreement to undertake the Council’s ‘quest’ came not only the opportunity for adventure – which the bard had found himself wanting more and more the past weeks – but, also, if things went well, the chance to learn more about the Heroes of Freegate firsthand and, as such, the opportunity to immortalize their deeds in song and story…

There are the beginnings of more than one, already, he thought, doffing his hat long enough to push a loose spill of braids behind one subtly pointed ear, his mirthful gaze dancing from one face to the next, and they have been here only moments. There is a veritable symphony written in their faces!
…The hat was sat back in place at a jaunty angle, then, and, reaching for his fiddle as the music in his mind’s ear began to demand accompaniment, Caicher realized that, just as his hunger to play was growing so, too, was a sudden craving for spicy sausages beginning to pang his stomach. Curious, he mused as his fingers curled around his beloved fiddle, I can’t recall ever having craved sausages of any kind before…Why would I suddenly…
“Well good to have you here to help then. How about some lunch then? Can you join us for lunch or do you want to leave as soon as possible? I know that I have a remarkable craving for spicy sausage.”

“Ah yes,” Flynn chuckled, realizing what the sudden appetite was about, “the little dragon. I had nearly forgotten…” He turned, nestling his fiddle under his chin, and caught sight of the little pseudo-dragon that the legend and lore of the Freegate Heroes mentioned from time to time. At first, when the dragonette launched itself from Dapple Moon’s shoulder to Char’s, Caicher accompanied the creature’s awkward flight with an inspired dancing of bow upon strings. Before the pseudo-dragon could take flight again, though, the bard became aware (mostly due to the party’s reactions) that these antics weren’t typical for Sunset…

“Is there something wrong with your familiar?” Relg asked.

…The last notes of Caicher’s abandoned tune dissipated on the air even as Char and Maximus began to move from their places; the bow was relegated to the same hand as his fiddle, and the hand freed by the action now rested at the ready on the hilt of his scimitar. “What troubles you, little one,” Flynn, speaking in the tongue of the gypsies, cooed softly to the little creature… ((OOC: Animal Rapport as appropriate, please, to either help soothe or, as with Char, better understand Sunset’s actions/anxiety.))

Adrian didn't know much about pseudodragon culture and abilties as he would have liked. He would have to learn more later about it and what it was trying to do. Killer had the remarkable ability to find nuts, eat nuts, and... think about nuts. Chipmunks were not nearly as magical of beasts as pseudodragons. And chipmunks pretty much represented 100% of Adrian's animal lore abilities.

Either way the situation became suddenly tense. Valentine brought the trusted armor spell to the top of his mind and rested his hand on the glassteel sword on his back. He would be prepared for anything that came through that door.

"I believe lunch would be best served quickly... we don't want to delay. Forces are at work here that we cannot contend with absent the aid of the priests."

There were times when Dapple wished for the ability to slow time, and this was one of them. Too much was happening all at once, and the little thief was still too rattled by her earlier experiences to take it all in.

Arien had completely ignored her insistence on payment, and that bothered her. To override her and dismiss her concerns was almost to be expected of the high minded noble, but to act as if she hadn’t even spoken was odd. Was he just being more contrary than usual or was there more to it?

Then there was Adrian’s theory of what was happening. She’d seen open confusion and bafflement on the faces of some of the others, but she felt as if she almost understood what Adrian was saying. Almost. She longed for the time and privacy to work with pen and parchment, drawing out the timeline for herself, but things were moving too fast. She wasn’t sure what she could do about it, anyway, other than be even more on her guard than usual.

Then there was the bard, Flynn. Bad enough to be foisted with a new “companion”, but this was one was nosy by profession. She was still uncomfortable around Adrian and Maximus, but they’d seemed to at least accept her at face value, and didn’t care enough to learn ‘the lad’s” background. She could already tell by his openly curious face that he’d be pestering them all with questions. There was something he’d said when protesting his ability to defend himself, though…what was it that had bothered her….

!!!!!! Dapple had a moment’s notice to brace herself before sharp little claws scrabbled across skin and leather and the pseudodragon emerged from her hiding pace around Dapple’s neck. Sunset stiffened, sending her claws into Dapple’s flesh, but the thief bore the minor pain, more concerned about the little dragonet’s behaviour. The little creature then launched herself at Char, then Arien, and Dapple again felt a brief sadness at the creature’s obvious difficulty at what should have been effortless.

“Is there something wrong with your familiar?” Relg asked as Sunset returns to Dapple and her hiding place. A brief touch of warm scales and tiny skull horns assured her that Sunset was calming but … vigilant? Listening? Warding?

"I believe lunch would be best served quickly... we don't want to delay. Forces are at work here that we cannot contend with absent the aid of the priests," Adrian commented, clearly wanting to be on his way.

“She’s protecting us, or she was, “Dapple finally responded, speaking more to Char and Maximus, shaking her head at their defensive stances. ‘It’s hard to tell if this is something she’s doing, or done, “ Dapple glanced at Adrian with a raised eyebrow, “or will do. Remember how those demons seemed to know us, but got some things wrong? Maybe that was Sunset.”

Char acknowledged Da'Moon's realization with a slight nod of his shaggy head, but he remained at the window. After all, the little rogue's comment wasn't exactly relieving. Past, present, future, protected or protecting...The ranger sniffed and shook his head as he turned back to the window view. No' tha' a arrow be doin' demo's 'arm.

Arien frowned as he tried to stretch his mind around the mystical tangle that Adrian had suggested. The young knight had more "mundane" experience with magic than most could claim, due to his spellcasting twin, but he could not recall a time that she had caused him to be exposed to any sort of alteration of time and/or reality such as that the former Imperial suggested.

Then again, Arien had never had much of a head for magic. It was entirely possible that Alloryen had tried to educate him to some of these finer points that Adrian discussed, only to have had it all fly over his head. Not that it made much difference to the present situation.

If Adrian was indeed correct, then the party was doomed to death (or fates worse) in a handful of days. The mission from Dwan would fail, innocents would die, and a pair of demonic brothers would run unchecked in the region.

All the more reason to accept the council's quest. To the heir to House Thedell, it was becoming increaingly clear that the priests of Heironeous played some vital part in this play to which they all took part. What that part was - and what part the party would need to play, if the demons were to be stopped - well, those were questions that could not yet be answered.

As for the bard - Arien felt strongly that they would be fools to turn down assistance of any sort. Dapple's protest ran off him like water from a duck's back; Arien was quite certain that the lad would openly doubt an avatar of the gods themselves. What chance did a traveling minstrel have in those eyes?

As for Sunset - it was clear that the little pseudodragon was agitated about something, but what that something might be was beyond human ken. With that being the case, a memory of a leering demon face lept unbidden to Arien's mind, and the knight shivered involuntarily.

"If my friend here is right," Arien spooke, "then we indeed have very little time. Quest or no quest, it seems obvious that the priests are central to whatever is going on, and we would be fools to ignore this."

After pausing to glance momnentarily at Dapple, he continued. "Furthermore, we would be foolish to accept aid offered to us. Unless someone can provide good reason why Flynn - who has the trust of these town elders - should not accompany us, then I say he is welcome to do so."

That said, Arien spoke one final time. "Is there anything else we should know? Any detail left unspoken? Any arcane preperation we should take? If not, I would urge that we leave as soon as possible, lest the demons gain even a moment's extra advantage."

Char looked to Sunset’s action with the years of experience of a ranger in the wild. Birds would do the same – if a mother was caught alone against a predator. Fly back and forth, never stay in one place long and be ready to defend their young. Clearly the little dragon felt protective of the group, especially of Dapple and Char. Her telepathy was uncontrolled at times, but there was no doubt of her feelings when she rested upon your shoulder – at least to Char’s mind. He wasn’t sure if Dapple would let Sunset in or whether Arien was mentally attuned enough to feel her power through his helm.

Caicher stepped forward and spoke to the dragonet in a soft rhythmic language. Sunset looked at him with fear at first but then as he spoke, she seemed to relax a bit, and then stared deeply at the Bard.

Mental images flooded Caicher’s mind without warning. A life time, from egg to young adult, in the hands of a wizard who tortured and experimented on Sunset, all passed into the Bard’s imagination as if he was the pseudo-dragon himself. Wings pinned to a board for days, cut open and organs removed, watching you egg brother slaughtered for the juices within his body – all seemed to happen to Caicher in that moment. But as well, the saving hand of her, this group of “notdragons” that saved her and cared for her – the love Sunset felt for them also passed into Caicher. No one would harm them! No one would hurt them. Sunset would protect all, especially her.

It happened all in a moment of eye contact but the Bard finds himself taking a step back from the enormity of the exchange. He could only look around the room and wonder who “her” was though, because the party had no females. The songs had mentioned a female sister of Arien and a Barbarian woman at one point, perhaps one of them was “she”?

Lunch is served and you are well taken care of before you head out to the temple. The people here seem relived that you are here and willing to help them out. Still, the odd illusions of the demons, the time shift and strangeness of this day weighs on everyone’s mind.

(Leaving this open for any discussion or questions. If there is equipment you wish to get before hand as well, now is the time)

The road to the temple is more of a path, actually a mountain goat path is perhaps a better term. It is steep in places, overgrown in others and goes up the side on the mountains in a long and winding road. This is the only way up to the temple and the ruin of the castle. The temple has been built into the side of the mountains, seven or so circular structures that jut out from the rock, blocking the way to Zepher’s former domain. To go around would require mad skills in climbing sheer rock and avoiding rockslides. By mid-afternoon, you reach the entrance to the temple. A spares but thriving garden lies on either side of the entrance, with herbs on one side and flowers on the other. Wooden steps go up about 20 feet to the double set of oak doors, bound in steel, that are currently closed. No one is around and the only sounds you can here are the wind, birds and occasional goat.

Char notices something immediately – no recent tracks around at all. The gardens are not weeded, and are becoming overgrown in places.

OOC: Maps are coming! I wanted to get the post done first.

The pseudo-dragon’s initial trepidation was a bit disheartening to Caicher, of course, and, out of respect for the little creature’s fear, the bard had been prepared to back off and allow the dragonet its privacy… “Very well, little one,” he cooed in the gypsy tongue, offering a placating smile to Sunset as he prepared to abandon his efforts, “you keep your secrets as you like, hm?”… No sense in agitating the poor little thing even further, now, is there, he thought, it’s obvious enough that she’s been through a great deal of…
It was then that the creature, perhaps, decided that Caicher was ‘worthy’ of knowing her tale and, in an instant that seemed like a lifetime, the bard saw, heard, and felt everything that Sunset had apparently decided he should know. There were long, anguishing days (Weeks? Months? Years?) of horrific torment and torture at the hands of a wizard who obviously had no respect for life or the natural order. Caicher felt the misery of those days as if he had lived them, himself, in the pseudo-dragon’s form; felt the pain of the ‘experiments’; felt the overwhelming grief at the loss of an egg-brother; felt the all-consuming sadness, depression, and, finally, the numb resignation to the reality of an entire lifetime spent in captivity with the only hopes of things getting better being the ending of that life… Then, when it seemed the darkness of existence had devoured even those morbid hopes and left him with nothing but the promise of more agony, there was a glimmer that sliced through the gloom as easily as the loathsome wizard’s instruments sliced through scaled flesh. A light that shone so brightly that even the hopeless could see a way to find faith and friendship in that darkest of places… and, at the end of it all, guarded like a treasure with all the fierceness of her much larger and more notorious kin, was the love that Sunset felt – and that Caicher now felt, too – for this group of “notdragons”… No. Not quite like that of a true dragon. Much more fierce and dedicated in her love and protection of this lot than even the biggest, most wicked red could ever be for a horde of mere gold and jewels… It was all so very overwhelming, feeling a hope and heart thought to be irrevocably broken in that darkness and then reforged in the light of a love that burned hotter than any dragonfire could ever do…

No one will harm them! No one will hurt them. Sunset will protect all, especially her.
…So overwhelming, in fact, that Flynn, as grateful as he was that the pseudo-dragon had shared her tale with him, was almost as grateful that she chose that moment to stop. The bard sucked in a gasping breath as Sunset slipped from his mind and, finally, stumbled back a step or two as he blinked away the tears of sorrow and joy that had welled up and comingled in his eyes. “Gestena (thank you),” he whispered to the little dragon as his gaze flicked quickly from one Freegate Hero to the next and he wondered who this ‘her’ might be, “she mandi dal kekke na brigaki (no harm will come to them from me).”

‘I believe lunch would be best served quickly,” Flynn heard the former Red say, “we don't want to delay. Forces are at work here that we cannot contend with absent the aid of the priests.”

“She’s protecting us, or she was,” Dapple’s voice came next, drawing the bard’s eye back to the young thief and the tiny dragon that perched on his shoulder…

“Especially her,” Flynn murmured half under his breath, still trying to make sense of whom the ‘her’ might be… Thedell’s sister had been with the troupe at one time, if the songs were to be believed, and so, too, had there been a barbarian woman amongst their numbers, but neither was with them now (nor had they been for a while)… Were it one of those that was so special to the creature, he mused, why would Sunset still be with this lot.
“…It’s hard to tell if this is something she’s doing, or done,” Dapple glanced at Adrian with a raised eyebrow, “or will do. Remember how those demons seemed to know us, but got some things wrong? Maybe that was Sunset.”

“Doing, done, or will do,” Caicher repeated softly, smiling a knowing smile at the dragonet and the dour-faced youth upon whom she perched, “My guess is all three, lad… with great determination and good cause… All of you are her life, you must realize, and her reason for being. She loves you deeply and will ever do for you what you have done for her.”

((OOC: Room for any sort of back and forth, interjection, etc, here… Flynn won’t make any mention or ask any questions as to whom the ‘her’ Sunset mentioned might be (not yet, anyway… not here…) but will certainly join the crew in lunch and won’t be shy about falling into conversation, etc… Got a bit more for the bard in the works but figured I’d post this much, now, as it’s a decent place to pause.))

The Hevlorn Council certainly offered up a considerable repast for the Freegate Heroes, Caicher noticed. The great table was laden with the finest food and drink the town had to offer; serving staff bustled about ensuring that cups never emptied and that empty plates never sat too long in front of their guests; and the Councilmen were so gracious and accommodating towards the adventuring troupe that one might have expected that Relg and the others were running for office and desperately trying to secure support from these new constituents… Perhaps they’ll offer to build a statue of them before lunch is finished, the bard chuckled to himself at one point as he pushed another empty plate away, or proclaim a Hero’s Day. Not that I would be one to blame them, mind you. Even if the legend of this lot is only half the truth – and I’m fairly, certain, already that half isn’t the half of it – it’s likely not a stretch for the Council to imagine the ‘quest’ as all but done.

Would that it were as easy to craft a song or a story from naught but expectation and excitement, he mused, his gaze wandering the faces around the table as he took another pull from his bottomless flagon. A smile split his lips when his emerald eyes came to Dapple and he watched the lad poke a bit of food into the folds of his shadowy cloak where the little pseudo-dragon, Sunset, anxiously awaited the next mouthful. There is, perhaps, enough here for a prelude, Flynn admitted to himself, then, or an intro and opening verse. I have the feeling, though, that there will be a much larger composition to come from all of what’s ahead, though… and an epic to be made from all that is yet to be revealed…

Who is this mysterious ‘she’ that the faerie-dragon referred to, for instance? And what is this sudden talk of demons when, before, it was a fiction of vampires and missing cattle that had Granitecrusher dispatch them here?

…Ah, yes! Layers and layers of the tale are yet to be uncovered, I think, and, should all go as well as Fistele and the rest already seem convinced it will, there will be much more to follow this little expedition to the temple, won’t there?
That prospect alone excited Caicher Flynn enough that, despite having finished a single meal larger than the two he had eaten yesterday, the bard could no longer keep his seat and linger around the table when there were preparations to be made. “Well,” he beamed, thunking his finally empty flagon down on the table as he pushed away from the table and got to his feet, “I suppose this is the part where I would say ‘I’ll see you on the morrow’ but, as we’ll be taking the road out of town before that, I’m afraid that such a salutation would leave me out of the fun, hm? And, since I would truly hate for such a thing to happen, I’ll simply excuse myself to go and collect my things and leave you with a song and a tenna’telwan (until later).”

Still smiling, the troubadour bowed with a flourish, and, as he rose from that bow, the battered fiddle once more found its place nestled under the half-elf’s chin. The song that Flynn coaxed from the instrument as he began to dance a lap around the table was decidedly upbeat… given the rather glum (if not altogether out of sorts) disposition of the heroes since their arrival, Caicher decided that it couldn’t hurt to at least try and inject a bit of levity into them before they left…

You, you never looked so good
Sippin’ life down like I wish I could
But these sober tears are all that's left to shed
Sank his soul now made of lead

Face down beneath the rubble lies a man
Tales of the future already in the past
And of himself, well he hasn't much to say
But wake the Gods, it's Judgement day

He said, "I left my home where the dead never rose
But the streets of gold I’ve yet to find
And at the end of the day all you can do is pray
Without hope well you might as well be blind, yeah be blind
Tomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soon"

Angel, sweet angel of my youth
Where have you gone? You flew away too soon
The brick I built now builds a higher wall
See it crumble, hear me fall
There hangs the fool, who once had it all
By the beginning of the second refrain Flynn had made a complete circuit around the table, stopping to fiddle briefly beside each still occupied chair before moving on to the next, and, as he reached the seat he had recently abandoned, he whirled around, winked, and smiled before he danced towards the door, still playing and singing…

He said, "I left my home where the dead never rose
But the streets of gold I've yet to find
And at the end of the day all you can do is pray
Without hope well you might as well be blind, yeah be blind
Tomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soon"

And though the road has yet to rise
On these hundred years that passed me by
And the blood with the river flows
Through the crimson field never sewn
And no never sewn

He said, "I left my home where the dead never rose
But the streets of gold I've yet to find
And at the end of the day all you can do is pray
Without hope well you might as well be blind, yeah be blind
Tomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soon
Tomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soon"

Ah well you, you never looked so good
The song had danced him halfway across the town’s square before it ended and, as caught up in the music and the promise of pending adventure as he was, Caicher couldn’t help but play on as he continued on his way through the little hamlet towards the tiny cottage where he had been boarding with a lovely Sueli girl and her adoptive mother. As he went, he smiled and nodded to those who stopped to listen and, as often happened when Flynn strolled through the streets singing and dancing, had gathered up an impromptu audience of children who skipped along at his feet, requesting favorite songs and stories… They had followed him into the small shop where, for the price of a bawdy limerick and a handful of coppers, he acquired a deck of cards that could be used for fortune telling (he hadn’t actually told a fortune, himself, in some time, but his encounter with Sunset gave him cause to believe that the skill might be handy at some point) and, also, into a small butcher’s shop where (again, with thoughts of the little pseudo-dragon in mind) he traded a song for a string of spicy sausages that he would add to whatever other provisions he might set out with. Only when they reached the garden in front of the Sueli girl’s cottage did his apple-cheeked audience disperse in a hail of giggles and thanks and ‘G’bye, Caicher’s’…

The gypsy-bard smiled happily as he watched them go, promising new songs and stories when he returned, then, after they were gone, disappeared into the little cottage. For a short time, while he was gathering his gear and giving his thanks for the hospitality of his hostesses, the fiddle was silent but, when the front door of the house opened again and Flynn stepped back out into the day with pack, provisions, and professional gear at the ready, the bard’s music once more swelled in the air of the town just as excitement and expectation for the upcoming adventure swelled in his heart. The music, of course, followed him back through the town as he went to join up with his new companions and waned only after the party had found themselves outside of town and on the goat-path that led to the temple.

((OOC: And I guess that’s as far as I’ll go for the time being… I’ll wait for others to chime in before I add anything else… kind of like Caicher; standing in the garden (the fiddle held in one hand while the other rests on the hilt of the scimitar), observing his new ‘friends,’ making mental notes, and marveling at the temple before them… Also, thanks to Flogging Molly for the song/lyrics used in this post.))

With no immediate threat materializing and Dapples P-Drag back inside the lad’s coat Maximus began slowly to relax once more. Then lunch was served and gear gathered and before too much time had passed the group, along with an out of tone Bard, at least to Maximus’s ears, singing, was headed off to the troubled temple.

Now the ’road’ the group found themselves was in truth no such thing but a goat path that had seen better days. Steep in many places and overgrown in the rest the trip was not fun but finally they had climbed what seemed miles upon miles to reach the temples front door. With a small but thriving garden to either side of the entrance and wooden steps going up about 20 feet to a double set of closed oak doors, bound in steel. With no one around and the group for the moment unmoving it was easy to hear the only sounds of wind, birds and the occasional goat or two.

Looking to Dapple and her mini Dragon, Maximus waited for the little thief to go first and check the door for traps.......

"Hrmph… Hnnggh… Pooh…." It wasn't the first time Kilgim was sorry about something he'd done. But he had certainly never cursed himself for eating a fine meal such as the one the Hevlorn Council had offered him and his companions. But like Flynn had so nicely pointed out, one usually got to sleep a night over before needing to endure a physical exercise like climbing a mountain. This time however there had been no possibility for a proper rest. It was quite obvious the priest had over eaten, which under normal circumstances would not have been a problem. Now… Now, Kilgim found it difficult to get a breath and felt like the last bowl of rosemary potatoes and the goose leg were trying to make their way out… at the wrong end.

Having the bard follow them along was not a problem for Kilgim. Sure, he wasn't too keen on being sung about. The bald, orange-bearded and tattooed dwarf didn't really enjoy attention too much. But with his looks, it was fairly difficult to avoid any when troubadours insisted on making him a part of some tales they liked to sing by the fires of inns and taverns all around. Fortunately it was the likes of Arien that people, especially kids and women, were interested in and a dwarf - Dwan's cousin or not - was often left into the background or even ignored. But still, in every town Kilgim passed through, there usually was one or two kids who recognized the twin axe tattoo on his forehead or the black battle axe hanging from his belt.

Back at the meeting with the Council, the dwarf too had noticed Sunsets strange behavior. He had half expected the little dragon to jump on his shoulder as well, though he new better. For some reason it seemed to prefer Dapple and Char over the others and Kilgim couldn't blame the creature. He wasn't too keen on Sunset himself either. It had been of great help earlier and would no doubt be of use later on as well and that the dwarf could easily appreciate. It was the fact that he didn't quite understand the pseudo-dragon's nature and motives well enough, which kept him wary of it.

Yet others had spoken before the quiet dwarf had a chance to - as they usually did. There had been little else to say about the matter, so Kilgim had kept his mouth shut. The moment of connection between Sunset and Flynn had not gone unnoticed however. It seemed a bit strange that the dragon would befriend a stranger so quickly, but Kilgim had passed the fact with a shrug. What did he know anyway… Maybe they both liked the same type of sausages…

The climb was finally over halfway through the afternoon as the group reached the entrance to the temple. It was very quiet and no sounds carried from the inside either. There was no one in sight which made the situation somewhat eerie. Kilgim caught himself nervously lifting the Black Axe an inch or two from its leather hanger to loosen up the weapon in case he needed to draw it quickly. He had been expecting to see someone waiting for them outside the entrance - if not a welcoming committee, then at least a serf to hold the door open for the knight and his group to enter. But there was no one around and that made the dwarf uneasy. Something was not right. It took a considerable amount of will power for him to stand back and wait for Arien to do the honors of knocking on the door. The young man was their leader of sorts after all.

Backpost When the bard had reached out a hand and spoke to Sunset, Dapple narrowed her eyes and palmed a dagger, ready to launch it if it appeared that he was trying to bewitch the little dragonet. She felt Sunset tense on her shoulder, and similarly tensed, beginning the wrist flick that would ruin the bard’s sight when he himself suddenly froze, eyes wide as if struck between the eyes.

Just as it had started, it ended: Caicher blinked and staggered a little and Dapple smothered a nasty laugh. Sunset was perfectly capable of defending herself, and it served the bard right for trying to charm the wild creature.

She dismissed the matter from her mind and told the others what she thought of Sunset’s “warding” behaviour, when the bard spoke up as if she’d addressed him. “Doing, done, or will do,” Caicher mocked her uncertainty, smiling smugly at dragonet and Dapple. “My guess is all three, lad… with great determination and good cause… All of you are her life, you must realize, and her reason for being. She loves you deeply and will ever do for you what you have done for her.”

Dapple snorted derisively, her hackles up despite her determination to remain cold and detached. “Sunset knows she’s not bound to us, she’s free for the first time in her life. And as for love….” She bit of her words and turned to stalk away, hiding a grimace as pain gripped her chest and belly. As she did so, the dead voice within rebuked her.

Shut up, little monster, a bard’s words are his weapons, and you give him yours to use against you. As if anything could possibly love a soulless monster like you! Ignore him and he’ll forget you. A well-heeled noble to line his palm with silver will divert his attention soon enough….
After that, Dapple did her level best to be unnoticeable. She didn’t speak unless spoken to, and sometimes not even then. (One town elder, trying to make small talk, retreated into embarrassed confusion after being stared down by cold grey eyes surrounded by obvious, if fading, bruises. The others ignored her.) She ate with a single-minded purpose of a teen boy with a hollow leg, pausing only to offer tidbits to Sunset curled in her usual place around her neck. When she couldn’t possibly eat more and still be able to stay awake (and indeed, Sunset whiffled dragonet snores against one ear), she slipped out of the room to stretch her legs and breathe freely away from the eyes of others.

Present time The journey to the temple was accomplished with no further incident, and Dapple slid off her horse as soon as the creature stopped, preferring to be on her own feet after such a difficult ride up. Dapple was an experienced rider from her previous life, though she took pains to hide it, but even she struggled to not fight her horse’s head on some of the trickier parts. She looked back at Kilgim’s sweating face atop a cross pony and grimaced in sympathy.

The doors loomed above them and with no sign of the priests coming to greet them, Dapple sighed to herself.

“No, everyone, don’t stir yourselves. Let me do it,” she stated drily, and began to make her cautious way up the steps. Each riser was taken only after it was scrutinized carefully and gingerly pressed to assess both its strength and its absence of traps. The doors themselves underwent a similar, careful scrutiny before a small, well wrapped bundle of tiny tools was laid out. Tugging off her gauntlets and tucking them safely into her belt, the little thief crouched at the lock and began her careful work, using ears and touch more than eyes.

Backpost
“Sunset knows she’s not bound to us,” Dapple had snorted in derision when Caicher had interjected his own thoughts on the little dragon’s actions, “she’s free for the first time in her life…”

The bard blinked in the face of the thief’s disdain and, looking into the cold slate of the lad’s eyes for a moment, raised a quizzical brow. Did I say something to indicate I thought otherwise, he wondered, or, perhaps, did the lad just mistake my meaning?. “Of course she is,” Flynn conceded with a faint nod and a grin, “As she should be. And, like the rest of us free folk, she chooses to be free with those she…”

The lighthearted smile was, once more, melted from the bard’s lips when Dapple interrupted his interruption; “And as for love…”

Caicher held his tongue, waiting for the dour footpad to finish whatever conclusion that the lad’s obviously angry heart had come to in regards to love. Dapple seemed to reconsider, though, and, with a scowl more grim than it had been, swallowed whatever words he had been prepared to speak, turned, and stalked away…

There’s more ire, there, than just that borne of a life in the shadowed streets, Flynn thought as he watched Dapple Moon skulk off, an anger directed as much inward as outward, I think. Story and song had painted the lad’s picture well enough – dark, skulking, acerbic and bitter as wormwood, and both a scrapper and sneak-thief of no small distinction – and so Flynn wasn’t off-put by the lad’s manner. In truth, he had expected nothing less. Something in the timbre of Dapple’s voice when he had spoken those last four words… or, perhaps, it was something in the hardened expression or the subtle bristling of posture… something made Flynn wonder what the songs and stories had left out about this one… “Love is many things to many folk, Dapple Moon,” he said after an instant, smiling a bit as Sunset shifted and rippled beneath the fall of the retreating thief’s cloak, “and takes more forms than many folk might imagine… I’d be a minstrel sorely lacking if I didn’t know at least that…”

There was just a hint of sadness in the bard’s bright smile when he turned to face the others and offered a bit of a shrug. “Poor boy-o,” he sighed, “I don’t suppose telling him that, with all that out there, there’s plenty a piece for him whether he thinks it or no, is there?”

((OOC: Couldn’t resist the ‘invitation’ to banter with Dapple, Van… Carry on or leave it lie at your discretion, of course… I figure Caicher’s turned and is heading towards ‘lunch’… ))

Present Time
The trek up the mountainside had been as perilous as Caicher had been led to believe it would be and there had been more than one time along that winding path that the bard had almost lamented volunteering to bring up the rear… The ride up the mountain would make a good, suspense-building bridge between bits of a story, of course, but each time one of the horses ahead of him set hoof to and staggered over a loose patch of stone or one of the riders leaned precariously over to avoid being swept completely out of their saddles by an outcropping of rock or an overgrown limb that thrust into the path, the bard couldn’t help but think what an awful ending it would make to the tale should just one mistake be made and they all go toppling to their deaths before even reaching the Temple of Wee Jas that blocked the way to the ruined castle where Zephur once reigned… Despite the anxiety that those moments brought, though, Flynn still managed to find inspiration in the views afforded his eyes along the path and the thrill of finding himself at the start of a new adventure of his own and, as such, the half elf could often be heard humming, whistling, or singing along the way.

Even as the party reached the gardens that flanked the entrance to the temple Caicher was humming softly, his eyes sparkling as they took in the variety of herbs and flowers in their overgrown plots and studied the inspired architecture of the temple itself. Quite a magnificent sight, he mused over the tune he was humming, the priests of Wee Jas are an industrious lot, to be sure, to have maintained this and their relationship with Hevlorn with just the few of them that occupy – or is it now ‘occupied’ – the place…
“No, everyone,” Dapple’s dry sarcasm plucked Flynn’s attentions from his perusal of the place, “don’t stir yourselves. Let me do it.”

The bard’s tune was interrupted by a soft chuckle as he swung in his saddle and watched the thief make a cautious and deliberate advance on the temple doors. As the lad was creeping whisper-silent up the steps Caicher’s eyes watched him with the intensity of a story-teller capturing the minutest of details so that the tapestry of the tale would be as reach in the retelling as it was in the firsthand experience. When Dapple reached the top of those steps, though, and set to work on the doors, the bard’s attentions became more wary of the thief’s surroundings that the thief himself. Though it continued in his head, the tune Flynn was humming disappeared into silence as he took his bow from where it hung on the saddle, set an arrow to the string, and made ready to cover Dapple’s advance (or retreat, as the case may be) once the doors came open.

Adrian spent the majority of mealtime scribbling furiously, trying to remember as much as he could of his study sessions with Jal's notes and trying to recall as many of his abstract ramblings as possible. He had some crazy things in his mind... perhaps one of them related to time travel or illusions or whatever was going on.

Hopefully his messenger would reach Freegate in time.

He much preferred traveling at night, under the cover of darkness. Valentine the Nocturnal some of the pit fighters called him. Not that he minded the vampire references and other musings. Better they think he was a vampire than a runaway mage.

The mountain path passed by him almost in total oblivion. His mind was racing with questions to ask of the priests, things to remember to do at the Temple, and of course ways to defeat the demon brothers should they meet again. As Dapple approached the door, Adrian drew his glasteel sword and prepared for anything. Although from the looks of things, there would likely be nothing here...

(OOC: I know I know, famous last words)

Arriving at the temple, Char was immediately aware of the manner in which the construct was kept. It looked barren to him, abandoned, and without the touch of a human hand in some time. He'd been through a great deal in his life, from following war camps when he was younger, to actually participating in the field scouting, and he'd seen a good many hamlets, villages, and keeps lost to the ravages of war. This did not look like such an event had taken place; it looked instead as though the priests who had resided here had just packed up and left in the middle of the night...through a back door as there were no tracks about the gate.

"No activi'y in some time," he intoned as he lifted his eyes from the ground to the walls. "Li' dey jus' up an' flew 'way..."

With the recent impressions he'd received from Sunset, the demon brothers dream, and the strange turn of events surrounding their quest, he wasn't going to approach anything without caution. He had deigned to leave Northwind at the village for care, making the remainder of the journey on foot, affording him with less to worry about. As he drew near the steps, he unsheathed his khukri reflexively giving them both a twirl in his hands, scanning the whole of their surroundings once more looking for any sign of an ambush.

"Mayb' Da'Moon an' I go look 'bou' 'fore we commi' t' de insi'," Char looked over at Arien and Kilgim, his loose, unkept hair blowing across his face and catching in his scraggly beard. There wasn't likely much that the two of them would find, but he didn't relish the thought of possibly leaving clues--or an enemy--in their shadow.