From the moment you unroll the parchment, you can tell that it is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a map. The writing consists of several different languages intertwined, though the vast majority of the writing appears Draconic. Each character has been very carefully scribed with intricate detail. Such careful attention is typical of arcane scrolls, though you would need to examine it more carefully to determine its precise use.

You find your analysis of the parchment interrupted, however, as Ariana shouts out your name, jarring you momentarily. In that moment, the halfling jumps up, grabbing the scroll in his free hand. You manage to keep a grip on it yourself, however so does the halfling, and you find his weight pulling down on the potentially fragile parchment with his feet barely touching the ground.

Taylen places the dagger back in his pack and folds the shirt sleeve in half widthwise. Then, taking the shirt sleeve he wraps it around his calf and ties it firmly over the cut in an effort to apply pressure to the wound and blot up the blood.

After a moment of careful attention to the binding of your wound, your efforts seem to pay off. The pain in your calf subsides somewhat, and though the sleeve inherits a few blood stains, they do not soak it through. Your leg feels strong enough to walk on, so long as you use caution.

Reyolen

The scroll remains intact, as you relinquish it into the halfling's grasp. He drops flatly onto his feet, and appears to lose his balance for a second, but regains it with neither a fall nor a step taken aside.

"Many thanks to you for your courtesy, kind sir," Jean makes a slight bow towards Silvan, "belated though it may have come upon you. Now then, back to the matter at hand. Milady Ariana," he announces, offering the scroll to her again.

[Ara]

"Why, thank you, kind sire," Ariana smiles. She stands slowly and gracefully, placing a gentle grip around the parchment as she rises. She unrolls it with the tips of her fingers, and holds it at arms' length for a moment. "I must say, this is an odd mix of tongues. Draconic and Elven I recognize, with the former dominating the parchment. But these other two styles I do not recognize." She turns to Silvan, carefully rolling the scroll, before holding it out towards him in one hand. "I believe you were correct, Silvan. The meaning of this writ lies beyond my realm of experience. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us?"

[ 11-12-2002: Message edited by: Reyolen ]

Draconic comprises by far the most predominant language in the document. Interspersed with the main body of writing, you find various words and phrases of Auran, and a single paragraph composed of alternating sentences in the Gnome and Elven scripts. If read aloud, each line would fit in a specific scheme of rhyme and meter, though the sentences end mid-line as they would in any prose.

The document makes extended mention of birds, leaves, and of various wind currents. It also refers several times to the concepts of safety, calm, stillness, and silence. The mixed gnome and elven paragraph describes a sequence of mechanical and arcane motions. This definitely resembles a scroll, though the precise nature of its magic can only be guessed without delving more deeply into its nature than your unaided Elven eyes can achieve.

Ara looks down at Jean for a second, then back at Silvan. "Well, that was informative," she says sarcastically. Turning back to Jean, she asks calmly, "Have you found anything else worth taking along?"

"Aye, milady, these orcs have accumulated quite an inventory. Have a look for yourself, if you'd like. There's more here than a fellow of my stature could possibly carry." Jean takes a slight bow, with his arm stretched out to the side, as if directing Ariana through the entrance to some royal court. "And do not concern yourself about the shortfall of our companion's analysis. Just knowing that the parchment carries magic properties gives us reason enough to take it with us, and that is more than we had a moment ago."

Ara sighs slightly. "I suppose you're right," she replies, and begins to search through the open crates, walking slowly in an arc around the tent. She peers into each crate, lifting them, turning the openings towards her, then noting their contents before setting them back down and moving on.

ooc:
In order to accelerate gameplay for the group, I have met in chat with both Taylen and Reyolen. We have worked out the details of their actions, which I have composed below into coherent chronologies.

Taylen stands carefully, keeping his weight on his arms and other leg until he can stand fully. He tests his weight on the injured leg, before walking back over to the dwarf with a slight limp. Well, carrying him is out of the question now, he thinks to himself. The dwarf's axe lies on the ground where it fell. Idly lifting it, Taylen looks over the blade.

Realizing he will need to somehow drag the dwarf back, Taylen considers building a litter. However, doing so would take time, and he would need to drag it on his own anyhow. He puts the axe down, and grabs the dwarf by his legs. "Well, looks like this will have to do," he says to himself, and begins pulling the dwarf away from the bank. By this method he dragged Khazmon's broken body, through bush and shrubbery, headed back to the camp from whence the dwarf's bane came.

[Silvan, Ara, Jean]

Silvan puts away his rapier again, and reaches into his backpack. He pulls out the handaxe he tucked away before, and begins checking the crates after Ara, following her same path. Looking into the first crate, silvan finds nothing save a few fruit rinds and discarded bones with teeth marks in them. He passes the crate by, and moves on. Next, he comes to a long slender crate, with the side pried open down half its length. Peering inside, Silvan smiles. Two rolled-up parchments sit in the otherwise hollow crate. He pulls them out casually, and tucks them under his vest before walking on again.

Jean pulls a sealed crate out from beneath some debris. Taking his dagger out of its scabbard, he begins to pry the tip into the seam of the crate. "These brutes certainly did well for themselves," he says cheerily, then sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he works the dagger point into the seam, spreading the wood.

The next case Silvan checks holds a pair of shiny metal hooks. He looks curiously into the lidless crate, recalling that Jean had laid claim to a similar device himself. He reaches into the crate, and carefully untangles one hook from the other. Now, where to put this, he thinks, taking off his backpack. He peers into the backpack, then at the hook. He begins to slide the hook in, handle first, when he notices the bedroll strapped beneath the pack. Perfect! he thinks excitedly, and pushes the hook handle into one end of the roll.

Ara finishes checking the last of the open crates, and turns around. She notices Silvan reaching into a crate across from the entrance to the tent. She walks up to him just as he lifts a coil of rope out of the crate, letting most of its length drop to the ground. "Would you mind if I keep the other rope?" she asks, smiling politely.

"You should have grabbed in when you had the chance," Silvan responds firmly, beginning to recoil the rope, "I'll give it to you for something of equal worth to me. What do you have?"

Walking back to the next crate along the path she and Silvan had been following, she asks coyly, "How about a bottle of wine?" Silvan perks his head up. "Wine, hmm?" his tone rises in pitch for a moment, "Bring it closer, please." Ara smiles coyly, and pulls out one of the bottles with care. She carries it over to Silvan and holds it with the label towards him, with one hand under the base and the other grasping the neck.

Silvan examines the label carefully. The words Eusalles Estate, scribed carefully onto the label, remind him of similar drafts served in the courts of Vista. Nonetheless, he decides to play his cards carefully, continuing to coil the rope. "How many are in that crate?" he asks calmly.

"Four bottles, well padded. So, do you agree?"

"One bottle of wine for this rope?" he asks. "That seems rather slight, considering. Or would I get claim to, say, two?" "You can have the crate if you wish," Ara answers nonchalantly. "I've no desire to carry the whole box, and glass makes too much noise." "Then it's settled," Silvan states, offering Ara the section of rope he had already coiled. "The rope for the wine bottles. Here you are."

Ara takes the rope in one hand, and cradles the bottle in the other, offering the neck towards Silvan. He takes the bottle carefully, and walks over to the crate from which Ara retrieved the bottles to begin with. Taking a moment to carefully slide the bottle back into its nest of padding, he moves on to check the remaining open crates. Ara continues coiling the rope where Silvan left off.

Jean, meanwhile, has pulled the crate he opened over near the entrance to the tent. He shifts a few crates aside, and frees a second crate identical to the first, then once again begins to wedge his dagger into a seam in the woodwork. A broad smile runs across his face, and he grows giddy with anticipation. "Who but an orc would leave something of such crucial use to sit idle, I ask you," he says aloud, "who but an orc?"

Silvan peers into the last of the boxes, and his face sours a bit. "Oh, bother," he grumbles, staring down at the small blue bird that not long ago made a nest of Ara's wig. The bird appeared hardly larger than the powder puff from a lady's compact, nestled in one corner of the crate with its feathers fluffed. Deciding not to bother with the crate Jean was working on a moment ago, he selects a crate away from the others. With a steady hand, he sets the blade of the handaxe into a narrow gap between two sides of the crate, and begins to press down on the back of the axeblade. The blade totters at first, but he manages to keep it steady, and after a moment the crate's lid comes loose.

"Ariana, have a gander at this," Jean huffs out giddily, as he carries the second crate towards her. It too has now been pried open, and a small metal point sticks out from among its half-unpacked contents. "There's boot tips, and pegs; it's all here!" Ara looks at the halfling with her head tilted slightly to one side. "So it has boots, what's the big deal?" "Don't you see?" Jean replies, "This is great! They didn't just have ropes, they had everything here. What a marvelous adventure we could take with these," he carries on.

Taking a moment to listen in on Jean and Ara's conversation, Silvan soon turns his attention back to his own task. Boots and pegs, that manchild has no sense about him, Silvan thinks, letting a small "pff" escape his lips. Then he notices the contents of the crate he had opened. Definitely silk, the words come to his mind, as he sets down his axe and lifts up the corner of a small bundle of fabric. As he lifts it out of the crate, he realizes that what he found is, in fact, an elegant gown, of a quality oft seen at social events in the royal courts. More fabric still fills part of the crate, enough that more similar garments may lie underneath. He decides to put it away before the others notice. Now then, he ponders, realizing that he hasn't had much practice at refolding ball gowns, how to get this thing packed away without damaging it. Perhaps a spell would help me. Yes, I suppose it would. Get it tucked away nice and neat, and no one will be the...

"What's that?" Ara asks from a few feet behind the elf. Jean sighs, unable to keep her interested in his own find, and begins work on yet another matching crate.

"It's a silk gown," Silvan replies, laying the waist of it down into the crate from which he pulled it. I can't let her see that there's anything else in here, his mind races.

"May I see it?" she asks, taking a step towards her elven companion. Silvan picks the garment up again, holding it by the shoulders, and begins walking towards Ara. As soon as the two meet near the center of the tent, Ara, or Ariana as she now appears, reaches down to lift up the hanging part of the gown. "What are you doing?" Silvan blurts out, "You said you wanted to see it, not take it!"

Taking hold of the base of the gown by both sides, Ara holds the gown up, spreading it horizontally. She puts as little tension on the gown as possible, trying to keep it from tearing. "Oh, it's just lovely!" she gasps.

Silvan, losing his composure for a moment, says, "Do you really like it?"

"Like it? Silvan, how can I not? I could kiss you! Well, um, that is..." Ara blushes. Silvan gets a bit embarrassed, but says, "No need for that just yet. You can have it, if you want. What would I do with a gown?" Ara smiles, and reaches under the waist of the gown. "You could always pretend to be me," she replies, grinning.

"Well, I'm glad you like it. Let me get back to what I was doing." Silvan's voice is resolute, though he keeps himself from sounding angry. He relinquishes the gown to Ara, then returns to the crate to see what else lies within. Ara smiles, "As you please," and begins carefully folding the gown. As he reaches back into the crate, Silvan realizes that a loose piece of cloth lies in the crate. He removes it, and carries it back over to Ara, "You might need this." Ara looks over her shoulder, and takes a second to free up an arm before reaching for the cloth. She hesitates for a second, "You're not giving me this gown just so you can get under it, are you?" "Umm... of course not. Err... I'm just doing it to be of assistance." Silvan sounds unsure and embarrassed, trying not to let any hint of sarcasm sneak out.

"Alright then," Ara smiles, and takes the cloth. She sets the cloth down for the moment, and resumes folding the gown. Silvan once again returns to the crate. He peers inside, then carefully reaches in, slipping his arm underneath the second wad of cloth which fills the remainder of the crate. As he lifts it out, he notices that this garment appears very similar to the other, though the color is different. Cradling the gown over one arm, he reaches in again, pulling out a second small piece of cloth. Laying the cloth out with one hand, he sets the gown down on top of it, and folds the corners over, with just enough slack to tie the tips together into a small knot. Ara finishes folding her own gown, and sets it on the cloth Silvan handed her, wrapping the first gown in a similar fashion.

Not wanting to reveal the second gown to Ara just yet, Silvan opens his pack, and sighs slightly. His pack is practically full. It's so hard to part with things I might use later, but this could sell for a lot more, he thinks to himself, removing the torches from his pack that he had gathered from Khazmon's belongings earlier in the morning. He stuffs the end of one torch into his belt, and sets the others aside on the dirt floor of the tent. After compressing the remaining goods in his pack, he has just enough room to slide in the gown without crushing it.

As he stands again, slinging his pack over his shoulder, Silvan notices Jean and Ara conversing again. This time, Jean has a parchment unrolled in his hands, which he keeps holding at odd angles, and another rolled one tucked under his arm. Ara is also looking at an unrolled parchment, with the wrapped gown tucked under one arm. Silvan checks his pockets, and lets out a small sigh of relief when he finds the two parchments he'd stuffed in his vest still present.

"Silvan, take a look at these," Ara says, not looking up from the parchment. "I'll be right there," Silvan replies, gathering his wits. He takes the scroll case out of his pack, and carefully slides the two parchments into it, along with the one Jean found earlier on, and the four blank pages he keeps with him. He then walks over to Ara, who hands him the scroll she'd been studying. She continues looking at Jean as Silvan begins to examine the page.

The scroll Silvan now holds is written in a mix of languages, though Draconic composes the vast majority of the writing. Written in alternating lines of eight and six syllables. Each pair of longer lines rhymes, as does each shorter pair. Occasional words and phrases in Elven make reference to rainbows, while the Draconic speaks heavily of surprises and bewildered audiences. This looks... familiar, he thinks, and tries to recall the early lessons his father taught him about his craft. Then it came to him. "Color spray!" he announces, then continues more flatly, "This is a magical scroll for the spell Color Spray."

Ara spins around, and Jean looks up. She opens her mouth, but says nothing. Jean speaks up first, "Aye, quite a find it is, I should think. We've others here as well. Care to take a look at this one?" He offers the scroll in his hands to Silvan, who takes it casually, and holds it up to read it. This time, however, the scroll seems to bewilder even Silvan's knowledge. Though written entirely in Draconic, it is extremely cryptic, and the words wrap at all angles around the page. He continues to peer at it for a moment, with a dour expression on his face, before rolling it up with the Color Spray scroll and slipping them into his pocket. "I can't quite figure this one out. My apologies. I guess I'm just not trained enough for this. Ara opens her mouth to speak again, but Jean speaks up first. "Not to worry. I'm sure we'll figure it out sooner or later."

"Any more scrolls you wish me to look at?" Silvan asks without looking up. "Just this one," Jean looks up at him, "though I'm not sure if it's any good." The halfling takes the scroll out from under his arm, and offers it to Silvan, who quickly takes it. He sets his scroll case down, and unfurls this latest scroll. "Did you find it this way?" he asks, holding the scroll up to the light. The writing, though carefully scribed, is so smudged that he can barely make out half the letters.

"That's why he had it under his arm," Ara answers before Jean can form his own response. "Well, it's too smugged to read. Here, take it with us, if you want," Silvan half-grunts, hands the scroll back to Jean. Jean passes the scroll off to Ara, who takes a scroll case out of her pack and easily slides the smudged parchment inside.

Silvan opens up his scroll case once more, and slides out all the pages inside it. He tosses one of the blank sheets aside, then starts sifting through the others. Jean goes back to prying crates. Ara watches as Silvan pulls out the two parchments he found before, and begins to read one of them. Ara looks at him curiously, and tips her head a bit, "Is that another one?" "I'm just looking over what I found before," he answers flatly. "Yes, it looks like another scroll."

Along with the typical Draconic wording found in each of the parchments the three of them had found so far, this one had a significant amound of what Silvan presumes to be Dwarven words. Though he recognizes the lettering from Gnomish writings, the words don't make any sense to him. The draconic talks a lot about protection and crafting. There's a reference or two to "air metal" among the various phrases. This looks like something I should know, Silvan thinks to himself, but I just can't put my finger on it. Hmm, Ara said she knew Draconic, maybe she'll know Dwarven as well. "Do you know how to spreak Dwarven?" he asks.

Ara smiles, and answers him in Dwarven, "Ich auch, Ja."

Silvan blinks. "Alright then. What does the Dwarven part of this say?"

Walking around behind Silvan, Ara leans over his shoulder. "They're rhymeless poems. That one," she reaches over his shoulder and points, "compares the sun to a golden shield." She points to another phrase further down, "This one's talking about walking through a rain of arrows." "It's most likely a spell," Silvan thinks aloud. "Shield or Mage Armor so far as I can figure." "I'd say Shield is more likely, with these references," Ara replies, turning her head a bit on Silvan's shoulder to look at his face from the side. "I'll take your word for it," Silvan answers, "thank you." "My pleasure," Ara smiles back at him, and gets off his shoulder.

Switching to the other new scroll, Silvan lets out a sigh. This one looks a lot like the one he just saw, but not identical. The Draconic poetry is more grim, and speaks of the troubles of mages in battle. It, too, has Dwarven writing. Silvan asks Ara to return.

"More Dwarven? I'll have to teach you how to read it if this keeps up." She leans on his shoulder again.

"I'd like that," he says in a half-whisper, then after a second of silence he hurriedly adds, "Erm...to expand my knowledge, of course!"

"Of course," Ara snickers. "'Lighter than an anvil's craft, stronger than elven garb, mages need fear no more, the charge of axe or sword or spear.' There's a few odds and ends about metal in here, but nothing else sounds important."

"Mage armor, no?" Silvan asks, "Or would you know?" Ara quirks an eyebrow at him, "I thought mages didn't wear armor." She then walks over to where Silvan found the grappling hooks, and pulls out the last one before heading towards the box Silvan pulled the gown from. She wedges one of the points on the hook into a seam in the wood, and begins to pry at it.

"It's a spell that grants a mage invisible armor around him/herself," Silvan answers.

"Doesn't that get in the way?" she asks, pulling at the hook handle.

"No, it's simply to protect a mage. I, myself, don't use the spell. My methods are slightly different..." he pauses for a moment, then adds, "It's not really armor, just a shield of magical energy."

"Wasn't the last one a shield?" Ara replies, giving the hook a yank. The crate pops open.

"Yes, but that creates a specific shield in front of the caster to protect from missle attacks and force spell attacks like Magic Missle."

"Is a missle like an arrow?" she asks, sliding an arm down the edge of the crate.

"Yes. Like an arrow," he answers, then goes sifting through his collection of scrolls again. He pulls out the first one that Jean had been holding when his sword speared the fellow's berret. Clearing his throat, he begins to read it, in all four languages. When he finishes, he looks up, "Any idea what it means? I'm thinking on it, and I still can't decide."

That was beautiful," Jean sniffles. Ara doesn't turn around, "It might've helped if I understood all of it."

Silvan begins reading again, translating as much of the scroll as he can into Common, and the rest into Elven. The translation proves difficult, and it breaks both rhyme and meter, but eventually he finishes reading. "Hmm, this is difficult. Still, any idea what it means now?"

Jean stares at the elf for a second. "That was a mouthful," he answers, while working at a crate with his dagger, "but I'm afraid it's not in my particular line of work." Ara has gotten distracted by the crate she was delving into.

"That's alright. I didn't really expect you to know. I must take this with me, then," Silvan gathers the scrolls from his hands and his pockets, and slips them all into the scroll case, which he then slings over his shoulder by the small attached string which serves as a carry strap. move within speaking distance to Jean and I say, "So, what was in the boxes?"

"Oh, nothing special," comes Jean's reply. "There's some lamp oil and candles. Not sure what's in this one yet."

"Candles?" Silvan asks. "Do you think you'll need them?

"I dunno. There were a lot of them."

"Would you mind if I took some? Say, 3?"

"Take all you like. They're right over there," Jean points to an open crate.

Silvan walks over to where the halfling pointed, and peers inside. The crate is filled with plain wax candles, roughly five inches long, and an inch or less across. Pulling out three of them, Silvan slips them into the space where he had kept his scroll case. Then he peers over at his axe. This may be a problem, he thinks to himself. I can't put that thing in with the gown, but if I don't, I'll have to leave it behind. A sigh escapes his lips, as he reaches into his backpack, and pulls out the gown he'd tucked away. As he walks over to Ara, trying to think of a way to present the gown to her, he sees her cradling all of three gowns in her arms. "I see you found more of those," he smiles weakly, "would you like to complete the collection?"

"Silvan, you're a doll," Ara answers, holding out the stack. Silvan carefully adds his own gown on top of the others. "Just glad to see you enjoying them. Perhaps we can have them taylored once we reach Destindeterre." "That would be lovely," Ara answers. "I hope I get the chance to wear them." With that, she turns and walks out of the tent. Her own grappling hook hangs out of her bedroll in much the same fashion as Silvan packed his. "Creative way to store a hook," he comments. "You flatter yourself," Ara answers, pushing her way cautiously around the tent flap. Silvan follows suit, after picking up his handaxe and putting it into his pack.

Jean, who has busied himself this whole time opening every last crate in the tent, follows after them, dragging two identical open crates behind him.

[ 11-22-2002: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]

ooc:
I'm bringing everyone up to speed. Since there have been so few posts, I will not allow any interruptions of the actions in the NPC post above. Anyone who can't think of something to do at this point needs to rethink his or her character's motivations.

Twin Moon has long since nodded off in your arms. After a while, the boredom begins to bother you, but you stay put nonetheless. Finally, as you begin to nod off yourself despite the daylight overhead, you spot Taylen not far off, headed back towards the orc camp, with the dwarf's body in tow.

Taylen

Dragging the dwarf's body through the underbrush proves tiring, and your injured leg makes the effort even less pleasant. Finally, as you travel a distance that should have brought you back to the camp, you realize that you've gone a bit off course.

Falaanla, Drakkenmaw

After a long wait, there is finally some motion in the camp. Ariana steps out of the tent where she and Silvan had gone, with the elf following a few seconds behind her. In her arms, Ariana carries a folded stack of richly colored fabrics. Jean follows shortly after, dragging two small boxes along the ground behind him. Your wings are getting a bit tired from hovering, but it's nothing you can't endure for a while longer.

Reyolen

As you emerge from the orc tent, it seems that your companions have busied themselves doing a whole lot of nothing. Despite all the time you and your sticky-fingered friends spent dividing the orcs' ill-gotten goods among yourselves, Aust and Drakkenclaw have hardly moved at all. Taylen and Freya are not in sight, and you don't see Saeessira standing about either, though who can say where a winged girl would disappear to.

Twin Moon awakens slowly, nuzzling in against you. She isn't used to being awake at this hour. After a few seconds, she takes a sidestep away on the branch, and looks up at you. Her beak quivers slightly, and she coos. Below you, Taylen looks around himself idly. You've seen him do this before, though not often, when he's trying to find his bearings.

Taylen

Since you've already lost your bearings, it's hard to get a frame of reference on which way the camp might be. You could probably head north towards the trail or west towards the stream once you determined which way was north, but finding the campsite without more information would prove difficult.

There is a bit of noise from the trees above you. It sounds like a few local birds may have begun their springtime courtship rituals.

"There is no mark of a maker, no sign of an artist, no flaw on the stone to give a hint as to its origin."

He rummages in his pack, finally pulling out a long strip of dried meat - the origin unidentifiable. He slides down the side of the rock, coming to a rest in a cross-legged position, and begins to slowly consume his meal.

"It makes no sense. I thought all those this powerful left markings on their creations."

"What arrrre, you doing?" She says when she reaches Tay.

[ 11-24-2002: Message edited by: Aanile ]

ooc:
Sorry, Aani. You need to try for more description and less assumption next time.

In your haphazard leaping from branch to branch, you manage to lose your footing. Thrice along the descent you slip, and though you catch yourself with your hands the first two times, the third results in a short unhalted drop, before your waist lands against a large branch, causing you to double over. After a moment, you come to, and find you're within a short enough distance to the ground that you could simply drop, so long as you did so feet first.

Taylen

In response to your whistle, you hear a heavy rustling in the trees above you. The rustling appears to be your companion, leaping like a scared frog from branch to branch. Part way down, she drops suddenly, landing bent over a branch twice your own height off the ground.

"Usually those who mark their works do so because they want to be known," Jean points out, coming to a halt not far from the group, and setting the two crates on their ends. "If you were helping orcs, would you want people to know your name? I'm sure the orcs themselves wouldn't care about such trivialities as names." He then turns around, and walks back into the tent from whence he came.

[Ara]

Ariana kneels down, propping one knee forward, and sets the stack of gowns on her thigh. She takes the coil of rope from her shoulder, and begins to wrap it around the cloth-covered garments, winding it around them several times in both directions. She then makes a series of small loops before tying off the remaining coil with a triple-braided knot. After giving the rope a few quick tugs to make sure it won't come open, she slips her forearm through the loops. "There, that's better," is all she says for the moment.

[Aust]

Aust looks over at Silvan, and thinks for a moment before speaking up, "I wonder why this stuff heals orcs, but it doesn't heal us. Now, we could try putting on rings ourselves, but those things looked like they weren't meant to come off. I wonder..." he trails off into thought again.

"Are you the same as an orc, inside? Or are you different?"

"What?! How dare you even insinuate that I could be the same as an orc?! An orc! I should have expected that from a lizard, but I was starting to think you had more sense than the brutes whose race you had the misfortune to share." Aust broods for a moment, before continuing, "My point is that a healing potion will heal any creature native to this plane, be it elf, man, dwarf, or even beast. So why does this fluid heal the orcs and not us? There has to be something else involved."

[ 11-27-2002: Message edited by: Reyolen ]

"It was said that this 'adventurer's shortcut' was used as a base, upon which many magics were built - much as the same herb may interact with people in different ways depending on what other herbs they are paired with."

He takes another bite of his dried rations, before speaking again.

"I've seen the temple healer use blood in his mixtures, but it was blood of the grey lizards of the rock cliff. Never anything else."

"Maybe orc's blood is used in one of the magics of this shortcut, and the magic is made inside the orc. If you are not the same as an orc inside, it would not work the same for you."

[ 11-27-2002: Message edited by: Drakkenmaw ]

ooc:
It's been way too long since Falaanla posted.

"Oh. Well then, that's different." Aust looks around at the two orc corpses near the construct. "Well then, I suppose we should put a ring on one of the orcs and make some more, eh? So, who's got a ring?"

[Ara]

Ariana turns to Silvan, and puts on a tone of mixed haughtiness and sarcasm, which melds eerily well with her elven accent. "Didn't you have a circlet, dear Silvan?" she asks.

[Jean]

The halfling emerges again from the tent, dragging two more identical boxes, and sets them by the first two. "Hmm, now where is the woodsman, I wonder. Surely he would appreciate this spectacular find we came across."

[Saeessira]

"I could look for him," Saeessira smiles, hovering over towards the rest of the group. "But he was still here when I followed his fellin friend. Which way was he headed?"

Aust turns 'round to look at Saeessira, "I think he headed back towards the road. He didn't really say much about it, just told us to wait here for him. We really only need the orc rings at the moment, so if he's busy then just get the rings from him and bring those back, okay?"

[ 11-30-2002: Message edited by: NPC ]

"What arrre you doing out herrre.." She then notes the dead dwarf "With that?" She points to him.

[ 11-30-2002: Message edited by: Taylen ]

She goes back to the tree and seeks the marks she left to lead the way back. "This way.."

OK, I'll go see if I can find him and bring the rings back here...how are we planning to make more of these rings, though? I highly doubt the orcs would be very compliant...

Sae then shrugs.

I'll be back, just tell me when I get back, ok?

Sae then flies off towards the road to see if she can find Taylen...

The remainder of your descent gives you no difficulty, as a simple drop suffices. Nor do you have any difficulty finding the marks you made on the trees not long ago to mark your path for those who would wish to follow. Now, the marks lead you back the way you came. Your only delay is the speed of your companion, who cannot keep pace with the dwarf's body dragging behind him.

Taylen

Freya checks the nearby trees, before locating a tree with three streaks of clawed-away bark. "This way," she says to you, as she begins pacing away southward.

Falaanla

You don't have to go very far to find Taylen. As you hover off towards the road, you see the fellin woman returning. A distance behind her, the elven man trudges through the shrubbery, dragging something large, floppy, and pale behind him.

Hey Taylen! How are ya? How's the weather? Why ya draggin dead bodies around? Huh?

Oh hey...still have those rings from the orcs? Are ya headed back to the camp?

Sae smiles

Without warning, a bright-colored blur drops towards you from above. Dragging the load and watching your companion's path has put you off your guard, and you barely manage to get your arms up in time to shield yourself... from what turns out to be a very soft and giggling impact on your shoulder.

Then the cheerful flitting mass settles down, and as it begins to chatter to you in Common, you realize that it is in fact one of your traveling companions. Saeessira has taken your shoulder for a perch, and has begun bombarding you with questions.

Falaanla

As you drop down towards Taylen, he puts his arms up as if to catch you on your way down. As you settle in on his shoulder, his grasp softens your landing, and his load slumps on the ground behind him.

[ 12-03-2002: Message edited by: Taylen ]

Once your encounter the daysprite girl, it takes only another moment's walk to reach the camp. Twin Moon has not accompanied you. As the two of you emerge into the clearing, fellin first, then elf with passenger and burden, the others all appear to be waiting near the center of the clearing.

Reyolen, Drakkenmaw

After the daysprite's departure, only a few brief moments pass before all of your companions return. The fellin woman emerges first, poking head-first through the dense foliage surrounding the clearing. The elven man follows in his companion's wake, pressing his way clear of leaf and branch. The small girl perched on his shoulder comes as no surprise, however the cargo he drags behind him may be less reasonable. With a heave, Khazmon's body breaks through the foliage behind Taylen, its dwarven form deathly pale (for obvious reasons), and stripped bare of cloth or cover save for a torn and battered pair of pants.

"You're back!" Jean calls out as the two woodland folk reenter the camp. "Come, take a gander at these. I figure you would have more use for such utilities than I." With that, he picks up one of the crates in two hands, and carries it over towards Taylen.

[Aust]

At the rustling of the foliage around the camp, Aust turns. "Ah good," he says, looking over towards those returning, "I see you found them. Now, Taylen, have you the rings with you? We have been talking amongst ourselves, and have an idea what might get them to work."

[Ara]

"Signets?" Ariana frowns. "I thought those were the orc rings. You can keep your little trinkets," she smiles, "at least for the time being. There are more than enough prizes among the spoils we found to fill all our arms for the the rest of our journey." With that, she turns to watch the new arrivals.

[ 12-05-2002: Message edited by: NPC ]