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-----He kept his eyes on Jules, but his hands now moved with surety, drawing forth the shortsword at his side, as well as his whetstone. He began polishing out the nicks accrued during the night in Kulendra by touch, felt the blade shiver in a soft surussus, accompanying the rasp of stone on steel.
-----In between strokes, he spoke. "It... is... them." Though he knew it was his imagination, he heard the whisper of leaves in the stones' stroke, and steels' answering song. "Now... patience... wait... for... friends. Watch... town." With that, he lowered his gaze to the sword's blade.
-----Jules exhibits a reproachful expression as she turns to seek her own rest. “Warn me ahead of time before you decide to go after them,” she says, “I have spells I need to learn.” With that, the woods turns quiet as the young mageling curls up on the ground.
-----The morning passes peacefully, though an air of uncertainty hangs about the woods. Whisper notices that once again the trees here and the other flora seem not disturbed . . . but vacant. Occasionally the sun peeps out from behind the clouds and its golden rays seek to warm the small forest. Much of the great tree limbs seem to hang limp as well as some of the undergrowth. Whisper can see that where the sun successfully finds the vegetation the leaves remain dark as if in shadow and unresponsive to the golden warm.
-----During this morning no sound is heard from the trail road as well as the surrounding countryside. Still there is something in the radiance of the sun that seems to offer hope. Whisper looks out across the land from behind the trees and sees the vast plains dotted with small fends and occasional woods and hills lit with the still rising sun.
-----The next day seems to begin early as the sun finally peers through a partly cloudy day. The morning feels comfortable as a gentle breeze stirs the trees around the village square and a last quarter moon hangs in the southern sky. The first few people stir around the village quietly as if disoriented by the sunlight.
-----Sol starts the morning off with a quiet walk through town, checking on the townsfolk at random, before starting to look for breakfast.
-----Sol notices that some of the warriors among the freed peasants have taken up a guard around the inn. A trio of them holds makeshift spears as they stand outside the front door. Although some of the citizens seemed joyous the night before because of the gold, the few that Sol sees in the village square seem cautious and maybe a little fearful. One man in the square stands to one side by himself facing the east with his hands on his hips. Even though he wears the rags of one who worked the orcs’ mining operation, there is something proud in his bearing.
-----Another group of men cluster together huddled with clubs in their hands. They cast dark glances about them watching those that pass them.
-----Sol approaches the man standing alone, nodding a greeting as he asks, "How fare, ye this morn?"
-----“Stand ye back, young one,” the man says with a disrespectful tone, “I have little time for small talk.” He turns and glares at Sol with darkened eyes. Even though his lower face is covered with a thick wooly beard, Sol can tell this one has been scarred with torture.
-----“Yonder lies our doom,” the man gestures to the east, where beyond the nearby fields surrounding the village a column of smoke rises. “Tis surely the stench of Ravenhold returned to claim its gold!”
-----"We do what we can, th' rest is in th' hands o' th' gods. I'll leave ye t'yer thoughts." Sol slowly moves on, not particularly bothered by the man's grim words or manner. A discerning gaze lingers on the watchful group, before he turns to move on.
-----As he turns, the Gorian is suddenly aware that Jeilin is standing nearby. The Star Priestess’s attention is focused on what the first man said to Sol.
-----"Morning priestess. Did ye sleep well enough?" Sol asks, glad that at least someone in their group might be getting a full night's rest.
-----"The stars were hidden," Jeilin replies, somewhat downcast . Resting on her walking stick, the priestess glances briefly at the gesturing man. "What is this doom he speaks of?"
-----"Not sure. There was smoke out that way yesterday from some hunk o' ore that came from a hole in th' ground. I am unsure whether th' smoke rising now is the same lot. Doubt it. I was intending t'find out this morning though." replies the Gorian as he eyes the priestess appraisingly.
-----"Smoking ore?" A spark of interest lights up in Jeilin's eyes at the mentioning of geological oddities. "Hmm, it does deserve having a look at."
-----After a moment she seems to remember something. "Some of the villagers think there might be more captives being held, maybe in the swamps. We found naught but the tracks of a small group, though. Of orcs."
-----Sol slips his backpack off his shoulders and sets it carefully on the ground. After digging around for no more than a moment, he pulls out a solid looking object and holds it out to Jeilin, "Here, have a look. This is the ore that we found."
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