The girl studies Archibald for a long moment, then relents. At a wave of her hand, her animals relax, and stop guarding the exit. The one that had been friendly before leaves her side to sniff at the elf's legs, begging for more treats. Amused, she speaks. "I'm not sure what gave you the idea that I want openness from you. If anything, I want just the opposite. Keep closed, Branch, to myself and any who you might meet. Your friend here just bet his life on it. However, I did agree to tell you what I know about... your quarry." Her father. They knew it, she knew it, she did not--would not--say it. 

"A friend of my father's knew a safe path through the forest. She never gave us her name, only a title: Sage of the Black-Wood. I suppose it was a better description of who she was then there could ever be in a name, she knew that forest like a mother knows her babe's cry. A better name for that forest there never was, too. That forest is black, black at its heart, malfeasant and festering. There's a corruption in those woods, like a rot but, cold, you understand? Even rot is a living thing, but this... It's... Not dead, but not alive. Not living, but devouring just the same. I don't know by what manner the Sage of the Black-Wood convinced him to leave us, but I know what for. There's a ruin, you see? Deep in the forest, but not far from here. The Sage told us about it, it's 'ancient,' she said, 'Older than any civilization we knew.'"

"She said, 'It could hold all the answers.'" The girl stares down at her lap, shaking her head. "It would seem all it holds is that rot, just like the rest of the forest. And it--" Her voice cracks as she struggles with the words, "It..." A deep, longing grief threatens to overcome her voice as she continues to struggle before giving up on those unmentionable words. One of the other dogs comes to comfort her. "That thing came back, not him. It was that rot from the forest, in his blood, twisting his body into what it is today. And if you truly mean to track it down, to lay it to rest... Then you need to know..." She takes a moment to consider it one more time, not looking at the party. "Silver. You need silver, a metal of... 'purity.'" She breathes the words, a near whisper. "You can harm it all you like, no matter how grievous the wound, it will heal in time. And not much time." As if to demonstrate her point, she stands, bending both legs with ease, free of the wound that had hobbled her before. "Silver will do it."

"I'm sorry about your father. There's no one else? No family, no friends? Someone to lead us to the ruin?"

Chatcho stares at the girl's leg in awe. And fear. Whatever it is that can provide such a boon must certainly be powerful. Perhaps it was a mistake to gauge the girl's abilities on psionic talent alone.

Or perhaps I had just gotten lucky.

Branch softens her demeaner when she listens to the girls story.  "Thank you.  Thank you for telling us and letting us know how to take down the... our quarry."  She looks at her as she considers her next words. "Yes, we will keep quiet.  Like we said, we have no intention and no connection to anyone in town, save for this elf.  Are you not going to answer my question as to who else was in this cabin before we saw you?  I know there were others.  I just want to understand."

She pauses a moment... "Speaking of understanding, how did you heal so quickly?"

"You know there were others, do you?" She looks around, amused. "Well, I don't see anyone. In any case, I only agreed to tell you what I knew about what you hunted, and I've done just so. So, no. I won't be answering whatever else you want." Turning back to Archibald, she adds. "If you plan to go after the ruin yourself, you'll need to talk to the Sage. Like I said, she's the only one as I know that can get you through that forest alive, or that knows the location of this place." Pausing for a moment to consider, she tacks on, "You needn't worry about finding her, she'll find you. Turn your mind instead to the preparations you need to make, figure out where it sleeps, find some silver to finish the job."

"Hm. It must be hard to trust. I'm sure it doesn't matter for our purpose." 

Archibald's cape flourishes a bit as he turns his back on the girl and towards his companions.

"Brimenthal? This girl has clearly been mistreated, and thus guards herself even against would-be friends, but I hear no lie or malice in her words. We must find silver. Can this be arranged while keeping her secret?"

Branch looks to the girl, annoyed.  But relinquishes.  "Do you have any idea where to start looking for silver?  As I said, we are new here."  But then she turns to the elf, "Maybe you know?"

"I think we met the Sage earlier?" Branch continues to describe the woman they had met as prisoner and lost track of once they arrived here.  

Brimthenel rubbed his chin for a moment, then nodded. "Silver is a vital ingredient in many weapons and concoctions. I have little doubt that I could get some without having to answer too many questions."

The girl waits patiently as Archibald inducts the group into a small huddle. But, with Branch finally breaking the whispered words, she answers plainly, "As you might imagine, we have none. Not even coin. You'll have to go into town, either scrounge up a few hundred coin to be melted down, or see if you can part someone from dear grand-pappy's silver candlestick holder." She shrugs.

Listening to the description of Myrkfithr Chetowa, she nods. "That sounds like her, for sure. Have you seen her apprentice? I don't know him, personally, but rumor around town has it that he's the easier to find, and through him, her." Indeed, Myrkfithr Sveinninn had been around, and in all likelihood was staying with the rest of their crew in what lodgings had been found for them.

There was no silver mine in town, and by order of the born banamathr, no trade by which to import it. The only silver that existed in the town people's small world was that which they brought with them, and had been passed down through the generations. Coins, mostly, sometimes a trinket, here and there. It wouldn't be trivial to locate, and less so to convince whomever possessed such trinkets to relinquish 'grand-pappys silver candlestick holder,' as the girl had put it.

There were methods, of course. Sir Brimthenel was well respected with the militia, and they were very wide spread in the community. Of course, The party had soured their reputation somewhat with the militia, so it mightn't be the best course of action. The knight did carry some weight in the larger community as a whole, one of the few long-lived races living here. And of course, there were the other so-called 'elders.' The sparklebraids, a family of gnomes, had thrived and grown wealthy. They, surely, had some collection of silver, and better yet, they'd already met one--the owner of the farm they were staying at.

We should check in with the tek/pack/crew of the Berronar. I don't doubt Alfried has established some sort of rapport with the local traders and it would give us an opportunity to speak with the Myrkfithrs.

Branch nods to Chatcho's thoughts.  "Alfried probably has silver for us to use as well."  She looks to the dogs to make sure they aren't going to suddenly charge as she inches out of the cabin.

And so the party left, unharmed, from that not-so abandoned cabin in the woods.

As it would turn out their crew was not far, put up in the farm much like their own, just down the road. The crew was out and about, helping out on the farm, while Myrkfithr Sveinninn was content to sleep the day away in their workhouse. The merchant, Alfreid, was sitting on the porch with a pair of elves, sipping tea and chatting the day away. An upstanding member of the community, and an elf himself, Brimthenel recognized the two instantly. Lendinrian and Elbthalrod. Somewhere in their fifth centuries, now, the two had been inseparable for as long as the young elf had known, but only this past summer did one of them finally gather the courage to be wed. The ceremony was not too far off, now.

Brimthenel quirked an eyebrow. Lendinrian and Elbthalrod had been familiar sights for as long as he could remember, but Alfreid was another outsider, though obviously a friendly one. Suspicion and stiffness came too easily to the knight, a fact that he reminded himself of as he approached. Besides, giving the merchant trouble would be downright hypocritical given recent events. 

He bowed his head toward the other elves, and greeted the merchant with a nod. "Lendinrian, Elbathalrod. Pleasant day for tea. Me and my companions are in need of all the spare silver that can be gathered." This was a fairly typical showcase of Brimthenel's skill at small-talk, or lack thereof.

Chatcho's antennae stiffen. He turns to Brimthenel and psychically links the rest of the party. 

I was under the impression all of the Berronar's passengers were strangers to this land. These Elves are natives?

Native to this village, not this land. We founded the town shortly after finding each other. He was aware of the hypocrisy, that a town of strangers and wanderers can be so hostile to the unknown. But what could be done? When danger reared its ugly head, all the elves had to turn to was each other. They were a pack of dogs in a kingdom of wolves. This land is not a safe one. Barely a year passed before the Born Banathir began their raids. It behooves us to be cautious.

Branch approached with her group and wondered what the merchant was discussing with the elves.  Before having a chance to talk, their new knight friend cut right to the chase.  She rose an eyebrow to him, wondering if this was his typical way of doing business, but then held back and waited to see what was said.  She was very curious about what they were discussing...

Archibald looks at the new elves and grimaces a bit in proxy embarrassment. "I think my friend meant to explain: we are hunting a monster disturbing the town, and find ourselves in need of silver weapons. A weakness for monsters. Why, I cut the paw off a monster and found it had fully healed by the next day. Silver is this monster's bane. Do you have such, or know someone who does?"

"A pleasant day indeed. Though, I suppose not-so for yourself, Kellem." Lendinrian mused over her cup. "But how rude are we, to converse without making the proper introductions." The two of them rise, the elf woman curtseying as her companion bows. "Lendinrian Ousseamitore--"

--"And Elbthalrod Ousseanddare, at your service."

Alfreid, for his part, lets them sit before standing himself, offering a hand to shake the knight's. "I've met the others, but you, I've not. Alfreid's the name. I've no family worth mentioning."

"So, you're hunting monsters, now?" Elbthalrod teases good naturedly. "What foul beasts dare stand in the way of Sir Brimthenel The Mighty? But if it's silver you require, I dare say you're barking up the wrong tree, unless...?" He turns his gaze to the merchantman the party had brought into town, who simply shrugs. "I keep a certain amount of coin on hand. I'm no smith, so I can't say as if it'd be enough, and you'd have to pay fair price for it. And not for the coins, either. If silver is so rare in town, you'll pay by the mark."

Branch looks to her friends, "I don't know about you guys, but I do not exactly have a way to pay for things.  Maybe the farmer where we stayed will be willing to give us some silver in order to take care of the beast problem?  What do you all think?"