Before breakfast, Forte goes outside. "Well, this one's for you," he says softly to himself and starts running. Staying very close to the village, he quickly tires of seeing the same scenery over and over again, he quits after only about 15 minutes. Now I remember why I hate running, the panting warrior reminds himself. Assuming the household does not have time to draw baths for everyone, Forte takes a quick soap less bath in the river, taking care to scrape any caked blood off his wounds and out of his hair. He then returns to the hall for breakfast.
Rhees distances himself from the buildings in the morning. Half his time is spent in quiet meditation, the other in a wild, formless dance with his spear to an unheard tune. If time permits, he then seeks out the means to bathe, shave, and care for his armor. Shaving proves to be a problem, as the men in Sukiskayn don't appear to do that. No one has a sharp enough knife unless it is used for food preparation, and it would be unseemly to use such a knife on your face. Therefore unless he wants to do it with a war-dagger, Rhees must stay unshaven. A quick bath in the river, though, is accomplished easily, and he finds his armor has been cleaned for him during the night, though the open hole (now somewhat larger) has not been mended.
Waking, the group finds a fine breakfast prepared for them by Darya and Alfana (Tara's wife), very early. Petr seems very enthusiastic when he finds the group is going back out to search some more, and he is equally eager to have them on their way. They find that their horses have been tended, groomed, and provisioned, as well as all their equipment placed readily at hand.
Augustus enjoys a hearty breakfast, and thanks the women for their excellent meal.
The women seem rather surprised to hear the thanks, and stumble "You're welcome," before fleeing back into the kitchens.
Dakath makes a point of trying to obtain a dagger for the one that he had lost on the trail. The clan looks about, as they don't have much in the way of weapons like that. However, Taras, when he hears what Dakath is after, walks upstairs and returns holding a very beautiful weapon delicately in his hands. He hands it over to Dakath, "This is an ancient weapon of my people. It has been handed down for many generations, and is one of the prizes of my collection. I would be proud to have you take it into battle with you," He hands a fine leather sheath along with it, though he seems quite hesitant to part with the weapon.
Dakath takes the ancient dagger from Taras and inspects it (Prof: Appraisal), "Thank you for your kind gift I will treasure it, If I get the chance I will ensure that it's the very blade that kills the instigator of Stephan's capture."
Appraising the weapon, Dakath unfortunately finds it to be practically worthless. It is indeed old, but fragile, and the inscriptions on it are done neither by a professional, or in gilt or anything else to make it valuable. Nonetheless, it does appear to be very precious to Taras.
Tag after procuring a cross bow bolt from the villagers, notices Dakath's new prize strapped to his belt. "That is a beautiful weapon Senor spice merchant. Would you mind if I take a look, it looks like it may be of Venetian design? I'll give it back of course," Tag adds reassuringly. (Bard ability: identify artifact's history).
Dakath pulls the dagger and sheath out of his belt and hands them to Tagilio. "I get the impression it was hard for Taras to part with it," he seems lost in thought for a moment. "I'm never normally that reluctant to accept a gift of such fine quality, I hope Augustus' noble qualities aren't catching?" he winks at Tag. "Let me know when you're done with it."
Tag is able to tell nothing of it worthwhile, though it is certainly not of Venetian design, as the quality is rather poor and the blade is rather weak. He hands it back to Dakath, shrugging.
After eating his breakfast Dakath makes a point of complimenting the cooks on their culinary skills. The ladies seem very happy to hear it, as they are obviously overworked feeding so many (the men outnumber the women about two to one, and you note that none of the men cook). They serve Dakath seconds with joy.
Dakath gratefully accepts his second helping, not knowing when he is going to enjoy his next warm meal. He moves outside and leads the horses over to the doorway for his companions. Once done he remounts Stenu and waits for everyone to ready themselves. Whilst waiting his eyes seem to drift over to Xania from time to time.
"Thank you, my friend..," Augustus says taking Rosinante's reins from him. Patting the mare on the nose, he speaks to her, "Are you well rested, girl? We have another journey ahead of us..." Augustus swings himself into the saddle with improved skill.
Forte thanks whoever took care of his horse. No one readily claims credit for it, so he throws out a general thanks to the various clan members. After a few quick practices with the bow, he retrieves his arrows and then prepares to leave, putting on his chainmail and wondering when he'll have a chance to buy the right supplies to clean his armor properly. And if he only had access to a smith's tools - and several weeks time - he could even try to make some armor for the horses. That will have to wait, Forte thinks to himself, but he's sure he'll have some free time soon. But then he thinks to himself as he mounts his horse, I'll probably need that time to practice my marksmanship, giving my poor shooting against the slavers. "Ready boy?" Forte asks his horse once mounted. He pats his horses head, as he as seen others do when talking to their steeds.
Rhune eats her breakfast quietly and then proceeds to get ready. Once she has bathed a little and put on a fresh tunic and pants and her armor she goes back to the group, "So which way do we go from here?" she asks them. "Maybe we could talk to some of the rowers first. They may know which way they headed."
The rower that spoke before indicates that he heard something about them going to one of the goblin-homes, though where that is, or which tribe for that matter, he has no idea. He does not know why Stephan was separated from the slaves and taken along while the rest were sent to the camp.
Tag watches the party's preparations with interest, particularly Rhees' dance. He washes his hands and face, eats sparingly and cursorily looks at the volume he presented to Xania. Knowing that he cannot read such a tome, he puts it away, a bit frustrated. Then he puts on his armor and ask the villagers if he can purchase some crossbow bolts to bring his tally up to twenty and also trying to get some bread, more wine or mead, and some fresh fruit, cheese and dried meats.
Unfortunately, the villagers are strapped for provisions, and their own meager store is running out quickly. They are not all the familiar with Tag, and thus beg forgiveness as they refuse. However, they tell him they have plenty of crossbow bolts, and one is quickly fetched for him to restore his full case.
He goes to speak to Rhune and Dakath. "We should cross the river again, si? That was where the enemy escaped us. It is a shame we cannot track these evil men better."
"That may be the way to go, yes. As for tracking them. Yes I wish we could track them better, but we can't," Rhune says with a sigh.
Ullar, breaking in in the situation, wonders out loud: "Well.. I'm not sure about that. Why should we be at the same side as them? Are we going to track them? Or what?"
Dakath sits atop Stenu as the others get ready, the hood of his cloak pulled over his head, hiding his face as he strokes his mount's mane. He spares a glance up at the sky and shakes his head. "From what we know, Stephan was sent to the south, however when we came back to the river crossing the ferry was on this side of the river and I found new footprints on the other side. We could do worse than conclude that someone had come back across the river to this side and then traveled south."
He shrugs "We should move back to the river bank and travel south parallel to it. Any objections?"
"None from me, mi amico," Augustus replies, "Lead the way."
Ullar shakes his head.
Rhees approaches Dakath, "I see that you have taken charge," Rhees continues on, stopping any protest, "I know, only a fool would be bold enough to proclaim himself leader of this independent crew; however, at this time, you have taken the lead. Yesterday, you suggested I take your fallen comrade's horse to speed our return to the village. I should need a mount if I am to travel with you today, but I would not want to presume or give offense - I do not pretend to take his place, nor do I want to assume possession of his belongings. With his friends' blessing, though, I would borrow his mount and take up his quest."
Dakath sits in his saddle and smiles at Rhees "Leader eh? I fear you're mistaken, con-man, thief and rogue I may be, but leader I am not. However, I believe I am merely voicing the opinions of the others in my statement. You are welcome to take a horse, perhaps you should discuss the best arrangement with Forte and Ullar?"
Dakath turns Stenu ready to go stopping a moment he turns back to Rhees, "I'm sure he'd be happy to see you championing his cause."
"I have no problem with that. Is that o.k. with you, Ullar?" Forte asks, wondering if the warrior might be more comfortable on the larger warhorse Leslie had ridden.
Noting that Leslie's horse is quite a bit larger than the other riding horses, Rhees looks about abashedly, "I'm sorry, I did not even notice. Certainly, I should not be the one to ride a charger - one of you more heroic sorts should ride him. A smaller steed, perhaps a little more timid, would suit me just fine."
"Well.. I don't have a problem with you taking a horse, but I wouldn't mind trading mine for that war-horse," Ullar says, glancing over to Leslie's horse.
"Anyone familiar with the beast's name?"
Ullar switches horses with Rhees, taking Zephyr, Leslie's warhorse, and Rhees taking the unnamed riding horse that had been burdened with Ullar's weight up until now.
At that Dakath begins to ride towards the riverbank.
Xania nudges Noir with her knees and follows.
Rhune pulls her horse next to Asif and touches him lightly on the shoulder, "Let's go. I just hope that Stephan is alright when we find him," she says in a low voice, smiling at him.
"By Aten Efendi I am happy to give your "Stenu," his head and follow him. Options are indeed few, these tracks you describe are as good a lead as any other. May 'Stenu' and 'Kharrt-as' bring us quickly upon the heels of our foe. I know that Rhune and I are already saddled up, the rest should be ready very soon."
Dakath turns and grins "You and Rhune? Is there something going on between you two then??" He winks at Asif before chuckling and moving off. "It's a comfort to know you and Rhune are ready."
Asif's eyebrows rise slightly beneath his turban, not exactly sure of Dakath's body language, or the inferred pun. In a totally straight face he replies: "Yes we are ready."
Dakath reigns in his horse and waits until Asif's horse moves alongside his. You can see Dakath is struggling to stop from laughing out loud, he pats him on the back, "Asif, my friend, whatever happens don't ever change. You're outlook is as refreshing as a mountain stream."
Rhune blushes somewhat at Dakath's words, "What do you think?" she says and then quickly adds, "Don't answer that."
Dakath grins "That's the spirit Rhune. I hope whatever it is you're ready for won't diminish your abilities, that goes for you to Asif, I wouldn't want your true aim to be spoilt because your eye was resting on Rhune instead."
Augustus interjects with a jesting tone, "You know, if it is desirable, I can perform a marriage ceremony, and that way you two don't..," The priest pauses blushingly, "um, have to put off the inevitable..."
Rhune looks sharply at Augustus, "Marriage? Ah....hmmm...I...ah..," she stops flustered as she looks sideways at Asif. She wonders if her face is looks as red as it feels.
Ullar starts laughing out loud. "Ha Rhune!"
"Now you know also how it feels to be a tomato!" adding a big wink to that sentence.
Rhune sighs and gives up. She winks at Ullar.
Looking to Asif you see that it appears to be suddenly so very distant and far away in his thoughts. So cheerful and light of heart, not 10 minutes earlier, some grim hand has dragged him from the present back to the torment of his past. It takes some time for his attention to be aroused to what is being spoken.
Augustus chuckles heartily, a strange sound as he does not laugh all that much. "Oh, I thought I was the only one who turned that color..." The priest stifles his laughter and says, "Rest easy, you two...I was only having a little fun. But, it is obvious even to one such as myself, having been cloistered away for such time as I have...that you two share similar feelings for one another."
"I merely wished you to know that I had such services to offer," he winks at Rhune with a bemused grin.
Sighing just a little she winks back at him and smiles. The blush slowly receding from her face. "Thank you then. It is nice to know that," she replies a little more in control of herself now.
"I know several suitable wedding marches," Tag adds, trying to be helpful.
"Signore, that is perfect!," Augustus says to Taglio with a wink, "We could make an aisle in the main hall, and decorate it with wildflowers and greenery from the fields nearby...and with your accompaniment on the lute, it may be as grand a ceremony as any held in the Cathedral Notre Dame."
Rhune looks toward Asif as if for some help. She is not used to being teased like this and is not sure what to do. She can feel her face getting warmer.
Amongst all this banter Asif remains silent. He stares straight ahead upon the path of march. His thoughts distant. His heart racing for the first time since that fateful night so long ago when he had so briefly been in the arms of another. What of the future?. His mind is tormented by questions. What of the princess, had she forgotten him as soon as he had been dragged away in chains. She had begged for his life then, as her brother's sword had been poised above his bowed neck. But what of now, had she now forgotten him. He now after all was a declared outlaw, a lordless and penniless Faris under a sentence of death if he returned to the holy city. What hope now lay there. Deeds he may do a plenty, during this exile but was it enough to be granted an audience with the Sultan, to try and ask for her hand? Fate too could be cruel, had Prince Salim succeeded him too?. The Sultan was old and wise, his son and heir less so. Rhune by Aten's holy light, inflamed the same passion he so recently had felt for Princess Drina. What was he to do?
Rhune seeing Asif's distant looks wonders what he thinks of all this bantering between them. She knows that he does not fully understand the ways of the Italians, even less than she does. She reaches out tentatively and places her hand on his shoulder, "Asif, my friend, are you alright?" she asks in a low voice. "They are just teasing if that is what is bothering you," she adds softly.
Asif turns to face Rhune, a weak smile crosses his face.
"The words of our companions worry me not. It is the ghosts of the past which haunt me."
She tries to smile at him, "Anytime you wish to talk, just let me know. Or anything else for that matter," she whispers to him softly.
The rest of the group does as Dakath proposes and crosses the rivulet and then immediately turns south, along the western bank. The rivulet, traveling south southwest meanderingly, gradually loses current until it is merely a stream, though it flows along well, mostly from the efforts of the clouds above, which have almost unceasingly. Added to that a very strong and very cold wind, and your comfort level is almost as low as when you were forced to seek shelter in Misha's cabin. Everyone is shivering and miserable by noon, when the stream comes to an end, or rather a beginning, among the trees. It is a rather inglorious end, as instead of channeling itself, the water just sits in puddles scattered about. You see the very slight elevation that must result in the water flowing downstream, but wonder that it could go from that to such a fast-flowing, impressive river not fifteen miles north of here.