"Oh, I'm sure old Ispin thought of you a lot...I mean being an honoured knight of solamnia and all." The half-elf answers Calitynia with a warm smile and curiously watches as she accepts her gift. The scarf was beautiful, but it likely held some deeper meaning to the white-haired knight. Daryan then nods and smiles to Pelo and Cali, stepping over to his letter and box, starting with reading the letter.

Daryan's letter is a strange one by comparison to the others that have been read so far.

Daryan, I am afraid instead of a gift I leave for you only a burden. Our mutual friend, Par-Salion, has asked that I get this scroll to you. He told me to tell you that under no circumstances are you to read it before it is delivered to Wyhan, a mage of black robes in Kalaman. You're your own man now, though; you'll decide whether that course of action is right or wrong. -- I.G.

Inside the box is a parchment scroll, rolled up and bound shut by cords of three colors: Red, White, and Black.

Shagrin rocks back on his haunches in stunned silence as the shield appears from its packaging. His wide eyed expression reveals just how significant this gift is. The paper the note is written on russels softly as it is dropped from shaking hands.  Shagrin slowly reaches into the box, brushing away the dry straw packed in protectively around the shield. Lifting his prize he delicately examines the shield, almost as if it were made of fine crystal. The grizzled dwarf glides the fingers of his right hand along the shield's metal banded edge. Each divot and dent telling a story.  Shagrin stops at three particularly deep grooves that stretch diagonally from the shield edge all the way across the shield's upper left quadrant. As he traces the three claw marks with stubby dwarven fingers his eyes gloss over as a memory forces its way up into his consciousness. Usually relegated to the dreams of troubled sleep, the scene where he saw the shield for the first time plays out in a blurry vision inside his head.
A crusty, bumpy, slime-covered hand, each finger tipped in a razor-sharp claw, fills his view. Shagrin winces reflexively at an imagined pain long past. The vision flashes to a new scene as he blacks out in the previous one. He blinks as he recalls the sticky warm blood stinging his eyes as it flows across his face and wakes him.  The acrid smell of burning troll flesh mingles with the sweet smell of the freshly churned soil he finds his head resting on. With the images in front of him only a blur, he focuses on the sounds of battle being waged instead. The thud and squelching sound of flesh being cut. Roars of troll pain mix with the grunts and yells of people and dwarves assault his ears. He tries to push up from the prone position he finds himself in, but can only manage to partially prop his ravaged body up on an elbow before collapsing back to the ground. He haphazardly swipes at the blood obscuring his vision, momentarily clearing his view. A green flash catches his attention. The vibrant green, a stark contrast to the deep mottled black greens of troll hide, bobs about in the sea of evil.  The last thing Shagrin remembers seeing as darkness begins to encroach his field of view is a golden oak embosed on a field of green approaching..

In a moment of uncannily bad timing it is at this point that Wilberforce touches Shagrins arm. Stuck in his traumatic recollection the unexpected contact startles Shagrin. Without a thought the shield bearer's training launches him off his knees and into a diving roll away from the kender.  Shagrin snatches up his trident from the floor next to him as he passes over it mid maneuver. The diving somersault propels the dwarf a few feet away. In one fluid movement Shagrin finishes his roll up on one knee and spinning about to face an enemy that only exists in his mind. He snaps his head side to side with a wide eyed wild look of desperation, as he waves his spear about searching for  the threat he assumes must be there. But all he sees is Wilberforce and the rest. The terror in his face is replaced first by one of confusion followed by one of embarrassed horror when he realizes what he's done.

Pelo watches the soldier react to Wilberforce’s touch, the blank look of terror and the realization after. Luckily no harm was done, except to Shagrin’s pride most likely, but Pelo will have to talk to the young soldier to help him through the trauma. In the meantime, wishing to spare Shagrin more embarrassment, he makes quite a show of walking up to Cudgel. He coughs and snorts and tries to draw everyone’s attention to him and away from the suffering warrior. (Performance: 7). He is ready to accept his gift.

My dear friend Pelo, Ispin's letter to him begins, if you are reading this then I am gone, but clearly not forgotten!

What I have for you may not look like much more than a hunk of metal, as yet, but what is special about it is not its looks, but where it is from! While journeying through the Northern Wastes some years ago, a flash flood drove me up to the top of a high plateau to take shelter. When the rains had stopped, I took a look around, and found this, which looked nothing like the light, weathered red sandstones around it. A piece of heaven's vault that fell? Perhaps!

Whatever its provenance, I feel it speaks to me, calling out for a craftsman's hands to show its hidden beauty. And I know no better craftsman than you, Pelo. Your friend always, Ispin.

Inside Pelo's box is a pitted but smooth black rock, around the size of a gnome's head, with a serious weight to it, more like iron than stone.

The white-haired half-breed's eyes goes briefly wide at the eccentric performance of the Shieldbearer, saying nothing, nodding as the other dwarf draws attention to himself. He then quickly studies the scroll before tucking it away in his backpack. He had to return to Kalaman as soon as the business with these killings had been looked into properly.

Wilberforce makes no move to get closer or further away from Shagrin. He looks just over his head and avoids eye contact. He stands his ground and calmly and with compassion says ‘It's OK lad, sorry to have startled you. Completely my fault. Those are good instincts you got there, I bet they served you well a time or two in the past. But they aren’t needed here and now. You good lad or do you need a minute.’

Pelo is not surprised at how well Ispin knew him. He is overwhelmed with emotion. He begins to tear up again. With this ore, he has a chance to make something truly worthy of his friend's memory. Something that might outlast them both. He is honored to be entrusted with this and humbled by Ispin's generosity. He immediately begins assessing how much of the ore he has and what could be made with it. The whole world around him fades away as he gets lost in his plans. (What should I roll? Perception? Nature?)

(Let's see, I'd say Investigation, Nature, or Arcana could all be relevant.)

Shagrin regains his composure and with chin up and shoulders back he takes the few steps back to where Wilberforce is standing next to both the new shield and the old. As the others receive their gifts Shagrin bows his head to Wilberforce in a gesture of contrition. "My heart felt apologies." He says to the kender. Then a bit louder he addresses the room. "Apologies to all of you for my uncharacteristic actions. Ya see Ispin was there the day this happened." The dwarf turns and waves a hand past the side of his head indicating the scars and missing ear. "And well, I guess the last couple days have me thinkin' about it more than usual. Ispin was the one who nursed me back to health on top o' savin' my life. I guess I just got a bit overwhelmed is all at the sight of the shield that helped save my life." Shagrin retrieves his former shield and attaches it to his pack. After a couple of adjustments the oak emblazoned green shield is snug on his arm.

Ori looks tearfully at the music. She can almost here Ispin's voice warbling out the melody and she pulls the music against her chest. She promises herself that no matter what it takes she will finish this piece, and vows to herself that it will be the best piece she ever writes. 

As she is deep in her thoughts, she is shocked out by the battle maneuver by Shagrin. She looks around the room to make sure that everyone is alright, and smiles warmly at Shagrin, reassuring that all is well and safe here. 

The white-haired elf watches the scars and the missing ear bearing witness of the old battle. "Nothing to apologize about shieldbearer, you should be proud having fought alongside Ispin, I have only heard the stories of your bravery." Daryan says with a friendly smile. Ispin's old friends seemed to be a capable lot, no surprise, he wondered what cause would make them take up arms again, or if the shieldbearer already had seen his days of glory.

Wilberforce walks over to Ori and says 'You doing OK lass? Would you like to meet Greeny?' and he holds out the plant. 'I'm not sure what type of plant they are. Apparently the Black Robe in Kalaman might be able to tell me how to look after them better. Ispin did his best, but I think Greeny needs some special help'.

Ori smiles at Wilberforce, grateful for the older Kender's well timed words. With a sniff she gets herself under control again and bends over to take a look at the plant. 

"They really are a very pretty plant aren't they?" Ori reaches out almost as if to pet the plant. Not sure quite what to do she awkwardly pats the plant gently on it's "head" and stands up, flashing an awkward smile at wilberforce. "I'm never really sure how I am supposed to act around plants" She admits gingerly 

The plant closes its jaws when patted; possibly a defensive mechanism. It soon opens when Ori stops patting it.

Cudgel speaks to you all. "Well then. I guess you all could go catch the festival, if you wish. There's lots to do... But. I'm kind of thinking with what the kender told Becklin, she might have some other use for you, and I know some of you seemed eager to offer your service. So hum. You can wait here or not, it's your decision," she says. "Are there any more of those hand pies left in the bag, by the way?"

Wilberforce removes a pie from one of his pouches, picks off a feather and returns it to his pouch, and then gives the pie to Cudgel with a ‘Here you go Cudgel. Thanks again for the advice on Greeny’. Wilberforce still doesn’t trust Becklin, but he is happy studying Greeny and makes no move to leave yet. Wilberforce does look around for anything that could serve as a nicer and more sturdy travel pot for Greeny, even if it needs some work, and to check that no-one is coming to arrest him.

Perception 9 (Game log)

"Say Cudgel, I'm more than willing to remain and assist you in this issue but I would ask that Lady Becklin send word to the watch commander requesting I stay. I'm sure they won't mind loaning my services but we need to keep it official." Says Shagrin. He takes a seat to wait for the lady's return.

Pelo says, "There is danger about. Let the people have their fun. We would do best to track these scaled monsters."

Regarding the ore, he carefully puts it in his pack. He'll give it another lookover once he is back in his wagon. Then, on a whim, he takes it out again and looks it over closely.

Investigation: 3

He sighs. This will have to be the work of more than one day. He returns it to his pack.

Calitynia stands near the back, rather distracted. She glances up at Shagrin's startled reaction. But as she sees him recover and apologize, she relaxes again.  She vaguely notes the parchment to Daryan and the big rock to Pelo.  'All quite thoughtful, meaningful gifts,' she thinks. 'Except the stupid scarf. What's it supposed to mean?' 

She's still a bit lost in her thoughts when Cudgel brings up being to service to Becklin.  She nods as both Shagrin and Pelo agree to help. "I will certainly help as well. Much like Shagrin though, I ought to get word back to my commander in Maelgoth if I will be detained long."  The scarf is no longer in her hands, having been stuffed quickly into one of her pouches. 

"I'm happy to arrange a rider to head out those ways," Cudgel says. "Who are your commanding officers? Would be hard to get word to them without a name."