Stallock sighs heavily, and goes to his backpack. He pulls out a length of rope and goes about tying the prisoners up. "We can take them back to town tomorrow, it will be a minimal disruption hopefully." 

After a short time, he's securely bound all three prisoners.  The boy is awoken during the process and looks about with fearful eyes, but doesn't try anything. During the process, his name, "Martin", is revealed, along with the dwarves name, "Garwall". They don't mention the other man's name, who, with a couple stab wounds, doesn't regain consciousness.  You remove the womans body out into the grass. 

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully as you try, unsuccessfully for a time, to get back to sleep. The fidgeting of the prisoners, and the sound of scurrying of small animals visiting the womans body, plus the adrenalin of the short fight is more than enough to ward off immediately sleep. Stallock's heavy snores from his lean-to don't help.  Eventually though a light rain starts to fall and the sound ushers you each back into sleep.  Watches are kept, and pass otherwise uneventfully and you awake with three cold, wet prisoners who all look pretty miserable. The injured man is awake in the morning, though looking pale and weak. The dwarf looks scarcely better.  The boy's thin body shivers regularly.  

With everything damp, you pack up camp. 

As you bush whack through the tall wet grass you get soaked instantly, reaching the road in a dampened state. The boy, Martin, speaks for the first time since last night, "Um...look, surely we can work somethin out here.  We work fer a fella named Duster. He'd be more'an likely give ya a reward for turnin us in to him, rather than the red plumes. At the least, you'll get a powerful contact in The Stop. Duster practically runs ere'thing there....the red plumes will give ya nuthin but bitterness for giv'in more work."

As his fangs once again met the flesh of the enemy he moved with all of his lupine form strength, trashing and trying to pin down the bandit. It was only when Llwyd noticed an total absence of resistance on her part that he understood she was already gone. It was not his intention to kill her, but considering how her and her group started the whole fight threatening his life and the life of his friends, he couldn’t exactly feel guilty.

When Irmiel spoke asking for him to not change back he simply dropped the dead woman and waved his head in an affirmative. It was easy enough to find the sleeping bandit and the satyr could not help but find it funny that while a mortal battle happened a few feet from him the man slept like a cub. He returned to his friends pulling his find by the collar and crowled showing his fangs to the dwarf when Kris threatened feeding the prisoners to him. The druid understood it was an intimidation tactic and was happy to play his part.

“Normally…” Llwyd starts returning to his original form. “I would say that leaving someone tied in wildlands would mean letting them to be eaten alive or starve to death, but considering how much this Duster fellow values the sleeping mage, it is likely that our bandits friends get back here so maybe we just leave those guys bound here and take anything useful they might had, as compensation for our time and a lesson about their mistake. That or we make the contact at the Stop.”

Irmiel listened to the boy's generous offer without interruption. (By the way, in the morning Osrik was re-summoned as an owl again, Irmiel was true to her word and intention. And used the ingredients from the young mage's pouches)

"In the end crime does not pay." It could sound a bit pompous but Irmiel's tone was only thoughtful. "Your Duster can think himself a crime-lord and owner of the land, but it will end the moment some rival kills him or he becomes a liability to the real powers. We might not get the reward but will not get on the bad side of the guards either. That is quite useful. And who knows, they might have some quotas they have to fill for catching the criminals? Then they could be even grateful for the help. And if you are smart enough, you can use that chance to make Duster forget about you and start your life anew. With your skills, you can do better than these lowlifers."

Sistri listens to her companions, to Stallock, and even to Martin.  The boy's suggestion seems tempting, but clearly these red plumes are the nearest proper lawful authority here.  Yet, it is uncertain that they have much authority here this far outside of town. 

"If we return to the Stop, the only just thing to do is turn you over to the red plumes.  But I'm not so sure those folks have any authority out here.  Garwall? Martin?  Do you think that what my friend here says would be true?  If we left you here, bound, do you suppose your fellows would be back for you?  You have already paid with the life of your companion Miramel. I am willing to let that stand as sufficient justice.  And I hope you might consider our mercy and return what we've given you by leading a better life. But it's your choice there."  

Depending on Martin and Darwall's responses, she would then see what Kris and Irmiel think of the plan. 

Martin looks about, but Garwall is quick to say, "Oh, aye...you've proven yer not to be messed with. Yea, they'll be back fer sure. Just...leave us bound here, and ...we promise." 

Martin looks unsure, "But...it could be hours...they...might not come back, we could get eaten by wolves...."  (he glances at Llwyd)

Garwall grumbles, "Shut up boy. It's not far, they'll be back soon. Heck, could be back any minute, i'll take that bet..."

“Is that an invitation?” He said turning his head towards Martin with a half-smile on his lips. He had no intention to eat the guy, but thought he deserved a little bit of fright. Specially considering how eager to kill his group was last night, while trying to rob them. “Seriously though, you could get some job as adventurers in Suzail. Cormyr have been recruiting companies for exploration jobs and even big companies, in turn, have been recruiting skilled people like you. Just try to avoid anything relating to Netherese ruins, unless you want to cross paths with us again. And fight the Shadovar, they kind of promised death to anyone trying to get hands on the ruins.”

Llwyd even considered telling them about Charlie, but maybe Charlie wouldn’t be able to hire the duo. Besides it should be easy enough for them to find employment. The satyr could easily picture Tanner recruiting them both into the Flaming Fist.

“Our hero is very cute today.” He said to Irmiel pointing to Osrik. “That said, we leave them tied here and get going?” The druid asked his companions, ready to follow them, thinking how it seemed better to take the form of a direwolf over that of a brown  bear, even factoring Barkskin.

Kris has been silent, too busy gushing over Osrik.  But now she perks up.  "He's right, you know.  You could even become a'venturers.  Like us!  Professionals, mind you."  She nods in a very self-satisfactory way, now bolstered by their vast experience in the field.  "Our company is, unfortunately, not accepting applications at this time.  But don't let our demanding lifestyles deter you.  There are entry-level a'venturing positions to be found."

Garwall looks to be all eye-rolls when the recommendation comes to give up their lives of petty theft and become adventurers. Martin's eyes bulge, as if the idea were akin to walking up to a dragon and telling it off.  Maybe it is?  Who can say? Most adventurers aren't known for living long lives.  His eyes bulge further when Llwyd playfully responds to his wolf comment. In general, a good fright seems to have been successfully delivered. At least to the teen. 

Leaving the two tied up in the long grass, the group returns to the road. The morning light is dull and a thin haze has gathered across the grassy fields during the morning sun, leaving everything feeling slightly obscured.  Brushing excess water from the long grass from his clothing, Stallock stomps off his feet, and then heads west down the road. 

A couple hours before noon you reach a wagon trail that heads south from the main road.  Stallock was walking ahead, and has stopped here to consider.  He glances at it, then at the group. "I was planning on taking us south here...it's a path to Myth Drannor, but really winds about and comes at it from the east. I think instead, we should head all the way past Yulath and take a path south from there. It's a bit further, but we'll be traveling on a good road for most of the way, and we'll approach Myth Drannor more from the north, which is what you guys are aiming for."  None of this seemed to be a question....just his own thought processes.  Nodding to himself, he continues down the road. 

The group reaches the ruins of Yulath later that day. The ruins are surrounded by a tall wall...that is backwards. The steps leading up to the walkways are on the outside, and the walksways are likewise on the outside. Red plume soldiers from Hillsfar man the walls, generally all looking inwards, and their semi-permanent sprawling camp is outside the ruins.  Work gangs are hard at work at a makeshift quarry that has been dug well into the ground a half mile from the ruins. Rocks are being loaded onto wagons, along with crushed rock and dirt.  Stallock once again tells a bit of the story of the city. Apparently this city was taken over from underneath, as demons and strange creatures poured up from the Underdark beneath. The current leader of Hillsfar was in charge of the military at the time and managed to fight the creatures back, but the entrances to Underdark could not be closed and so this wall solution was put in place and built over the past year and a half.

The group passes by the strange ruins and its contingent of soldiers and workers, and takes the road west that has a sign post saying "Voonlar".  The road here is quieter even than before and most of the day passes without seeing other travellers.  You pass only the occasional farmstead out on the open grasslands. Eventually Stallock takes a wagon trail that heads straight south. The side road heads directly towards the northern edge of the forest, though it is still miles away.  The dirt path winds lazily down into a wide vale, at the bottom of which rest three modest buildings— homes, from the look of them—and a large barn. Beyond the buildings, the vale widens into a vast plain full of gently-swaying wheat. A thin tendril of smoke curls from the chimney of the largest of the three houses.  As you crest the hill and begin your descent into the vale, you notice a couple spots in the midst of the sea of amber grasses that begin to move towards you. As they emerge from the field’s border, you realize that they are halflings.

Two halflings wait on the roadside just outside the edge of the wheat field and chitter amongst themselves, clearly excited.  They have what appears to be a small wooden platter with some cheese, and bread on it, and the other holds some stacked wooden cups and a water skin.

One of the halflings steps forward, "Greetings! My name is Garkin!  Welcome to Harl Farmstead!" 

The other looks to him and whispers, "They're not even human, do you think they're Hillsfarian?"  

Garkin pointedly ignores this question and says, "Please accept a small snack as a gift from the farmstead. We have more cheese for sale if you enjoy it sufficiently."  

"I am human, as a matter of fact," Kris replies, a bit testily, as she approaches.  "Not that I can understand why everyone in this area seems to concerned about whether a person is or is not a human."

She can't ignore the gurgling in her stomach, however.  It has been some time since she's enjoyed a proper high tea service.

Her tone brightens.  "But, I might quite enjoy some nice, fresh cheese, thank you.  What varietal is it?"

Osrik stoically tolerated attention, slowly blinking at the cooing crowd. Irmiel lovingly stroked his feather and sent the bird to the air. "Seems like we need wings and a proper alarm. Those bandits would not sneak on us so easily should we have a double watch with Orsik's help."

For the first two or three miles, the little spirit indeed was keeping 30ft ahead of the party, reporting every suspicious move in the surrounding underbrush, but everything looked so peaceful, that eventually Irmiel called Osrik back and the rest of the way he made perching on her shoulder.

"A mere wall against a potential demon attack?" She looked at the wall (from a distance it looked particularly flimsy, considering demons) a bit skeptically. "Hope your leader knows what he is doing." She shrugged and did not push the subject any furder. As a guide, Stallock was not that bad, even if points of interest were definitely not his thing.

By the time the group met halflings, the idyllic surroundings completely lulled her sense of danger into the slumber. Irmiel was watching halflings only with curiosity about the local traditions and nothing more. "How lovely! I am sure we would love to buy some more of your wonderful cheese. Do you allow guests on your farm? I mean, if we ask you for lodging would it be possible?"

The other halfling looks to Kris, then points at her, "Ya...you're right! You're human! And pretty too!"  He stops, realizing he was speaking out loud and turns beet red.

Garkin rolls his eyes, then looks back to the cheese "It's smoked cheddar. We use the peach tree wood from the farm nearby, so it has that faint peach tang to it, quit delicious!  As for lodgings, we don't have any rooms for let, but the barn is dry and warm if it rains, and we sometimes let travelers setup camp in the yard. There's a nice big fire pit and plenty of good company."

The other halfling forgets his embarassment and practically shouts, "We could have a PARTY!" 

Garkin looks back to Kris, "We don't mean nothin by it. Just, folk outta Hillsfar, they mostly human and don't treat halfling so well, so...just...watchin out for ourselves."

Garkin shakes his head, and sighs, and begins walking about the group handing out cheese and sliced bread.

As the party leaves Garwall and Martin behind, Sistri hopes that they have made the right decision in leaving the pair behind.  She guessed they would likely make no change to their life of banditry.  Martin seemed close to this Duster, and she doubted he would just leave him at the moment.  For the first part of the day she spent a great deal of time walking along quietly and offering prayers to Mielikki for the pairs safety and that they find guidance in their lives. 

As Stallock comments on their choice of route, Sistri is about to say something.  But she realizes he's not looking for input and just lets it go.  As they run into the farm, she casts him a look again.  Quietly she asks, "I presume you intended to come by this farm?"  Hopefully he would catch her implication that perhaps he knew of these halflings and knew they were worthy of their trust. 

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you all," Sistri says to Garkin and the others. "A dry warm spot in the barn would be more than welcome.  And certainly a bit of that cheese sounds delightful. My name is Sistri Runeswallow. Also a human," she adds with a grin. 

"Why, thank you!" Kris says graciously.  "My name is Kris, and you are Garkin, and...?" She looks to the other halflings.

Accepting the cheese and bread, she takes dainty bites, savoring the peach wood smokiness.  She compliments the cheesemakers. "Absolutely extraordinary!  And, you know, a party isn't a terrible idea, is it?  Surely we can spare just a little time for a social event?  We haven't abandoned all civility, have we?" She looks pleadingly to her travel companions.

“You think it is too much?” The druid asked of the wizard soon after her comment about the inverted wall. “I would say that there is no such thing as too much preparation, but I have no experience with enemies from the Underdark. Don’t know if this wall would be enough or even useful against them, let alone if it is an exaggeration.”

He was mostly confused about the elf’s words. The bandits didn’t sneak on them, but he had no need to point what sounded as a misuse of words. Rather, he focused his attention on the travel itself. After some hours they found a farmstead and stopped to what the satyr thought an unexpected welcome.

“My name is Llwyd and no offense taken, Master Garkin.” He said to the halfling in the most gentle tone he could muster. “We have been to Hillsfar during our journey and experimented its hospitality well enough. Your prudence is well earned but as you can see few of us are humans and even fewer are locals. As far as I am concerned any individual is worth of respect until proven otherwise by the actions of said individual. Species hold no factor on that.”

Llwyd would never understand the concepts of taking pride or having prejudice against one’s species. Not truly. It was simply not like survival worked, the forest had taught him as much and beyond any doubt. Maybe, he pondered, that is one of the simpler truth people forgot while living in their cities. They had the time and comfort to seek causes for infighting.

“Is it too early for us to stop?” He asked Stallock.

Stallock gives Sistri a nod. The other halfling gives a short bow, "M'name is Zaldon! And....oh my...Garkin....look at 'im...it's Stallock!"  Garkin does a double-take at Stallock, "Look at that crap on your face boy. You tryin to look like a man?! I didn't even recognize you." 

Stallock gives a meek smile to the party and then steps forward, "Garkin, Zaldon, nice to see you both. How is Grennil and the family?  How has Reidle been? Is he getting about much better?" 

Zaldon become animated, talking quickly, "Ya ya, they're fine.  Reidle's been happier, which is so good...."  He turns and begins walking towards the farm as he talks, and Stallock shrugs and follows him.  "Arhace left the farm though, a month back, said he had to go find himself. I told him like, twenty times that he was right there, but he said I didn't understand. I think it was him who didn't understand, cause you see...."  

The verbose halfling proceeds to talk Stallock's ear off, with Garkin giving a disappointed shake of his head as he follows along.  The farm's fences and fields are well tended to and soon enough you come upon the cluster of buildings. Many of the adornments are smaller than average, such as chairs, and tools, and so on, but otherwise it's a rather lovely farm. Chickens scatter about clucking under the strutting watchful eye of a rooster, while the snorts and snuffs of pigs issue from a large pen.  The occasionally whiny of a horse can be heard from a fenced run behind the large barn.  The place smells like a farm, all earthy, but with that undeniable tang of manure. 

Three halflings, one a woman, are standing on the deck to greet you. The woman shouts to the group, "My word, is that Stallock?  Oh, what a lovely surprise!"   Garkin says, "Stallock and 'is friends here want to stay the night."  The older male halfling on the porch nods, while scanning the group with an appraising eye. He seems pleased by what he sees and says, "Our pleasure. Welcome to Harl farm. My name is Grennil Harl. Make yourself comfortable." 

Then Zaldon leans back and shouts, "WE'RE HAVIN A PARTAAAAA!!" 

The younger halfling on the porch smiles, along with the woman, while several curious faces appear from different doors and windows about the place suddenly, another half dozen halflings who come out at the call of "party".  Grennil raises his voice loudly and says gruffly, "WORK first...when the work is done, we can talk about this 'party'."   The halflings all stop their progress, then, crestfallen, return to their work.  Zaldon stands there smiling broadly.  Grennil looks very firmly and pointedly at Zaldon.  Zaldon eventually catches the look, with a bit of a start, and then nods quickly and rushes off. 

Stallock turns to the group with a smile, "Camp or barn?" He glances at the sky.  "I think we're done for rain for a bit, so it won't be wet, but up to you lot. We should be safe here either way."

Sisti can't help but smile at the thought of a party. While maybe not as enthusiastic as Kris, it does sounds like it would be fun.  She tries to get everyone's names and introduces herself to the various halflings.  To Grennil she offers, "If there's some work a novice farmhand might help with, I'd be glad to assist." 

To Stallock she says, "I think the barn might be good for tonight. We can take advantage of a bit sturdier shelter while we have the chance.  What do you guys think?" she asks of Irmiel, Kris, and Llwyd. 

 "Barn. Just for the romantic sake if nothing else." Irmiel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to show its sharp obviously non-human shape (if it made halflings more comfortable - wy not?), asked Osrik to give a soft sound (to add more cuteness to the picture) and followed  Stallock. Life on the road suddenly began to feel far more entertaining than it promised.

Irmiel could be not the best at party preparations or cooking, but a few simple magic tricks, that prestidigitation allowed could make any gathering more lively and planned to do so.

Stallock seemed to take his questions as something rhetoric. Maybe it was the way I spoke, Llwyd considered. That or the moment. The so-called civilized people read context in a way that he still couldn’t quite grasp, too focused on hierarchies. Maybe the guide had taken his words as an order or maybe he just ignored the satyr. Either way, the human answered with actions and their stop was all but certain.

“Shelter is good and we can give a rest to the equipment so I say barn.” He said after his friends. The decision seemed basically an unanimity. “Just… What is a parta?”

He asked with visible and genuine curiosity. As far as his was concerned the word seemed like the name of an animal or plant, although he knew neither with such herb or beast. It can be a ritual too, he considered. But the halflings didn’t see the formal, religious or spellcasting sort. The druids always taught him that one should never be led by appearances alone. Maybe Harl Farmstead was a center of worship, or the family was a clan of mages. Dos this mean their cheese is magic? Llwyd considered while taking a bite. As far as he was concerned, it certainly tasted good enough to be magical.

Sistri and Stallock both offer their hands to the work, which Grennil does not turn down. A couple of tall and strong folk around can help save time in some remarkable ways.  The next couple of hours are spent with menial labor around the farm. Irmiel meanwhile helps out in the house as they indeed prepare a moderate feast for the evening. Kris is left to set up the camp in the spacious barn, finding a 2nd floor full of hay that will do quite nicely for everyone.  The animals below look up rather suspiciously at her, but don't voice any dissent.

Soon tables are dragged out into the yard.  Food, covered in cloths, begins to appear laid out. Llwyd watches all of this with a bit of wonder, curious as to when the "parta" will appear. 

The work is put to an abrupt halt at some point in time that only Grennil can identify and people head to a small shed to wash up. Then the halflings head off to change for dinner. Sistri and Stallock both find their gear in the barn and also take a moment to change into a fresh shirt that isn't soaked with sweat. 

Eventually Llwyd is witness to everyone gathering in the yard. Before the food is fully revealed, Grennil says a few short words of prayer to Chauntea, the goddess of bounty and cultivation. Then the cloths are pulled off to show fresh baked ham, toasted buns, mashed yams, fried brussel sprouts and roasted potatoes. Irmiel looks proudly on the big meal that she helped create as everyone digs in.  If this is a parta, thinks Llwyd, then it's not bad. 

Dinner is delicious, the air warm and the environment friendly as the group finds themselves in a surprising but not unwelcome distraction on their long journey. As dinner wraps up, Llwyd is delighted to find that a 'parta' also includes music, dancing, and other pleasant distractions around a fire pit in the yard. Several of the halflings bring out some music while the rest start an uproarious dance. The sky grows dark, the fire grows larger and the 'parta' goes on for several hours until eventually the long day and hard work remind people that they're very tired...and people begin retiring for sleep.  Stallock seems quite at home here and in his element. As things grow quiet he says, "We should enjoy our rest tonight. We go into the forest tomorrow. Though it's not naturally malevolent, it is full of all manner of creatures that eek a hard existence out a ruthless environment. I will guide us, but the forest is not naturally friendly. With little to no elven patrols, it has only grown more wild and dark. Get a good sleep."

The evening on the farm turned out to be surprisingly good and so ... normal(?), so idyllic even, that Irmiel suddenly felt homesick. Not for long, though. After all, they were on a grand adventure (much over their heads, in fact). Still, it was good to get one last glimpse of normality.

She gladly helped with cooking and almost proudly demonstrated a few innocent tricks. There are many low-level magicians these days, and no one gets awe-struck at the mere use of magic. So, the trick with the tricks (so to speak) is a good imagination. Between "unseen servant", mage hand and prestidigitation, one can practically become a one-man circus.

 Osrik, who diligently played his role of a cute little owl, later change it to the no less diligent watching, when the time came to go to sleep. Irmiel took Stallock's word on it (or, better say, trusted his relaxed behaviour here) that the place is safe, but just in case, left her familiar to guard the group.

"Why did the elves stop patrolling the woods? Is not it still their territory?" These were the last question Irmiel asked before falling to sleep. Not that the answer mattered much - the group would go into the woods anyway, but it was the last spark of curiosity after the long day.