"First of all, repeating that girlfriend line is likely to get you a cuff around the head if it is made within Aleyd's earshot.  Having just restored your tongue, I would hate for you to lose it again so soon after it has been restored.  Raist, your bird was to serve as messenger to deliver a note to Captain Burrall, does that offer still stand?  If it does, I suggest we quickly note our questions and send Sebastian with them now, presumably he will be able to find you on the road, Raist?"

"At your service Utar.     Sebastian."     The Raven appears on his shoulder

Doozey scoffed. "As painfully uncomfortable as it was to eat while tongueless, I think I'll manage without it if it comes down to it again." He replied before looking away muttering darkly underbreath, "Might even set things right... 'fore its too late." Biscuit growls in disapproval up at the mounted halfling, but Doozey huffs and crosses his arms. "What in tarnation -- Don't you go start in on me too! You know darn well what tends to happen to folk that try to circumvent deals, 'specially with dem folk. Or did'ja forget what happened in the forest a few days ago already?"

At that, Biscuit let out a small whimper as he bowed his head. "Yea, that's what I figured, ya goober. Now quit'cha winning and get ta walking. We got crooks to hunt." Despite the insults spoken in jest(?), the mastiff perked up at the promise of a hunt and started eagerly padding along towards the nearest known gate. Though Doozey is quick to correct him as need be.

Utar and Raist reach an agreement. All that is left is for a message to be drafted. Utar looks at the rest of the group for suggestions but Doozey, in particular, seems to be currently locked in an argument with Biscuit. Now mounted, the group begins to move toward the nearest town gate, hoping to finalize their draft before getting too far away from the city.

(OOC: In terms of planning, Rathene had informed the group that King's Pyre is about 40 miles away from Phlan. A generous read on travel paces on horseback tells us that a riding horse can travel 48 miles a day at a normal pace. In other words, it would take you a bit more than 6.5 hours to arrive at your destination. If you'd like to push your horses and go at a fast pace, you could expect to complete the trip in 5 hours. If you choose this option, your horses may gain one or more levels of exhaustion. Please discuss (perhaps OOC) and let me know your preferred approach.)

Neya keeps a lokout for prying eyes in the beginning leg of their journey.

Perception: 20 

@Neya (perception): Plenty of Phlan citizens are keeping an eye on CRAP as you leave town. Your adventuring group has achieved a modest amount of local fame, so walking about town without garnering any looks would require conscious effort. Add to that all the loud, attention-calling horses (which surely had to have been protected from hungry mouths in the city's current circumstances) and the uniqueness of Doozey's mount, and it is basically impossible for your group to not be noticed leaving town in broad daylight through one of the main gates. Some of the stares could be considered suspicious, but that's the kind of danger that comes with the job.

Though there was the possibility -- a small one, but a possiblity all the same of being intercepted by one of the gangs along the way, and no certainty on the timing of the meeting in any case, Doozey cautions against going at a faster pace, least the group ultimately blunder into an ambush. Such recklessness would only open the group up to greater danger. But beyond words of caution Doozey intended to remain quiet and focused on keeping a passive eye out for trouble. 

(OOC: I am basing some of this on the conversation in the OOC channel.)

As the group passes through the gate, Raist and Doozey suggest, and others agree to not push the horses and Biscuit beyond their normal pace, lest you risk them getting tired too soon or even getting the unwanted attention of highway criminals.

Utar drafts the message to Aleyd on the go. Before getting too far from Phlan, and unburdened by the usual 25-word limit on this sort of messages, Utar's draft contains many questions. His draft lists the following questions:

• What is your take on Sahnd Krulek?
• What is your position or the position of the Black Fist on the matters going on in Phlan concerning the Gray Patriots?
• What do you know of the Cult of the Dragon's involvement?
• What is your take on House Cardona and the reason for Sahnd Krulek's fall from the Black Fist?
• What do you know about Walharrow at Grimshakle prison?

The price paid for such thorough remote questioning? Well, the message's travel time is not instantaneous and the reply doesn't arrive immediately. While sending the message onward with Sebastian and waiting for a reply, CRAP continues their horseback ride out of Phlan.

Traveling overland, you brave the Iron Route itself. This is a rugged trail that drives through wild grasslands and along wind-whipped cliffs. Along the way, you pass a dock which Utar, Neya, and Doozey recognize as the one used by Warsh the Boatman to ferry CRAP to “the Village,” where you met and eventually saved Elisande. As you expect, Warsh and his ferry are nowhere to be seen, but the island still looms in the distance, shrouded by mist.

This is just about the time you might consider stopping for a lunch break for yourselves and the horses, if you so wish. While considering this, also please let me know if the questions above are ready to be considered the finalized version of the note to Aleyd.

If asked for his opinion on the subject(again?) of the message Doozey simply shrugged as he had nothing more to add to it. But within such a moment he would caution Utar carefully scrutinizing any reply, yet otherwise refuse to further elaborate on why.

When the group later happen upon a familiar dock it is the only time during the journey in which Doozey purposefully turned a blind an ear to his surroundings and instead could be overheard mumbling to himself something along the lines of "fix it later." But then came the matter of lunch time, and the stoutling in his "infinity" wisdom encouraged getting at least few added meters at bare minimum away from the dock area; only really relenting if questioned on or denied the request.

".... Why?" Doozey later asked practically out of the blue as everyone was eating lunch. And at first the questioned seemed a directionless thing. But soon after, the stoutling looked directly at Utar with same conflicted yet frustrated seeming look as earlier that same day and said, "I... I just gotta know, Mr. Utar. Was there a particular reason why ya chose to risk jepordizing the work we put in -- the sacrifice /I/ made on Phlan behalf to keep a certain forest inhabitant off folks back? Or did it honestly not occur to you it was remotely at risk?"

(can't think of any more questions for Aleyd)

Upon Doozey's insistence, the group rides a while longer as to leave the fated dock behind before stopping to eat a meal and give the horses a rest. The party had left Phlan a few hours ago, and Sebastian had left to deliver the note to Aleyd while the party was still within Phlan's vicinity. With some luck, Aleyd would have a chance to sit down and write an reply right away, but there were no such guarantees. For now, Sebastian remains away as CRAP rests.

(OOC: I'm interested to see Utar's response and where this RP is going. There is no rush here.)

Utar had been quiet in the saddle and Doozey's question put the Orc into a more taciturn mood. Upon their next stop, he has mulled his chastisement over and is ready to talk once more.

"In truth, Doozey Redfoot, I cannot truly say why I performed the spell I did when I did it. In my heart, I felt guided, almost possessed to put the wrong done to you right. I believe Torm oversaw your act and felt it was not just. Jenny o' the Woods extracted a price, one she thought permanent and she delighted in the idea of hobbling you, seeing you continue to live while not being whole. Her price was paid, she has your tongue, and I believe the contract still stands.  That you were restored through divine grace was allowed under the contract as it did not specify you could not be healed or restored or aided in future by arcane magics, also, I think, your voice is somewhat changed since the spell, no? So is it really your tongue, or another which has been placed in your mouth and simply answers your commands? Something to ponder perhaps?"

Utar is silent a moment longer, then gives a solemn oath. "I do not believe Torm would act in such a way as to jeopardise the bargain you struck, Doozey Redfoot and I offer this vow; Should that not be the case, I stand ready to pay any price required to restore the contract from either  Jenny o' the Woods or Lord Witchthorn. Any. My Lord has seen something in you and he requires that you have a tongue in your head."

Utar let's his oath ring in the air for a moment, "Now, let's focus on the job at hand."

Doozey listened with rapt attention. No. Not just with rapt attention, but rather with squinted eyes he scrutinized the half-orc's almost every word in the beginning as if genuinely trying to find some fault in them. And perhaps that was the intent to some extent, as there were moments in which -- to the insightful, at least -- the stoutling either didn't want to believe the words or would clench his jaw in dissatisfaction over parts of the given response. But when made to question his own convictions with a few soft-ball questions of Utar's own, if albeit incidentally so, Doozey's expression softened into a more ponderous one.

He then glanced over to Biscuit as if intending to get a second opinion, only to find the mastiff sitting at his side blissfully chewing on something. With a sigh and a small shake of the head, Doozey turned to regard Utar once more, but stopped short after an absentminded attempt to finish eating his trail mix bar led only to him eating empy air. "What in the-..!?" He muttered before upon being hit with a sudden epiphany, he looked to Biscuit with a weathering stare.

"... I suppose since technically I wasn't aware of either you or your lord's intention at the time, there's also no fault on my part on trying to circumvent the deal either too. Though -- *sigh* -- the next time your lord or /you/ get any funny ideas of the sort, maybe you at least figure out a way to run it by folks first? Rather than leave'm stressing out like that?! I know most times I come off chiller than that first sip of ice tea on a hot summer's day most times, but even I get worried 'bout stuff. 'specially when it comes to faffing around wit'em fair folk. A'right? Y-ya don't have to swear by it or anything, mind'ju. Just, uhh, ya know..." Doozey trails off there letting out a big sigh of relief. "Also, uhh.... thank Torm on my behalf... W-when you get the chance." He awkwardly added before scrounging around in his pack for lunch.

Raist sits watching the exchange.  Not offering up an opinion but just watching. While scanning the surrounding area.   Then he pipes up. "A deal of this type relies on the specific wording used.  I think if healing wasn't mentioned then it doesn't violate the arcane bargain. And this...hag was it?   She would know the rules of it. I believe that is how it works if it's the same as with the lower planes"

"I think-..." Doozey started to say around of mouthful of lunch but paused to finished eating before trying again. "Mn. Way too sweet -- but, uhh, yea, uhh...Basically, yeah you have the right of it, Mr. Raist. But here's the thing about the fey, or what tends to be the case so long as you ain't messing around with the Unseelie, there's a certain degree of... I hate to use the word respect, but more or less it's expected and even accepted for some deal weaseling to go on to some extent. It's why I bother to risk making do speaking in other languages as best I could or wrote down stuff to communicate. Because at the end of the day I was not only honoring the agreement after a fashion, but more importantly I was suffering for it." Doozey grimaced at the admission, but after taking a moment for a steadying breath he continued.

"Just how dem hags like it. But when you not only go completely over their heads, but effectively try to render the deal moot as well -- whoo boy! Don't 'xpect to be living for very long much after!" Biscuit "Boof"'d and nodded along in agreement at Doozey's side. "And unlike residents of the lower planes, those of dem adjacent ones -- like the fey for instances -- tend to have an easier time to come and make sure you get your come comeuppance!" Doozey then held up a halting finger. "Thankfully, or at least so far, she's settled for a less, uhh... 'permenant' punishment for only some incidental wriggling. But that said, not sure who's tongue I got now, but hopefully it was someone who ain't needed one no more anyways... But then again, considering this one seems cursed to make most everything taste sweeter than a bowl full of honey and sugar, maybe they'd consider it a blessing in disguise... Uugh!"

(OOC: Great interaction! Heroic Inspiration to Utar, Doozey, and Raist!)

As the group works through their understandings of fey deals and varied angles on faith and sacrifice, the hour of rest advances. Despite the moment of respite nearing its end, it would seem that more time is needed before CRAP hears back from Aleyd. Either she needs more time to write a proper response or Sebastian needs more time to deliver the note to the party.

Any thoughts on the remainder of the journey ahead, at least for now, only result in general takeaways: the Iron Route skirts around the sea, so CRAP and their mounts must follow the shore for many miles still before reaching their destination. Somewhere between 2-3 hours should still remain of your horseback ride.

Doozey at some point had taken to watching the skies for any signs of a familiar bird making their approach. But when none is forthcoming after a time he turns to the others and said following an exasperated sigh, "Well my friends, I think its time we get moseying on at this point, if only so we can at least have some time to scout out the area if nothing else. Though just so we're clear, uhh... our goal is to bring as many of'em in alive, right? Maybe even talk him down from all this banditry nonsense? Ask'n now cause I'm realizing that I... don't think we rightly talked about it. And with Mr. Raist here being new to the group, best we don't be surprising him none expecting'em to adapt on the fly."

Doozey then gave Raist an apologetic look. "No offense meant of course, but... ya know. With how Ms. Cassra was talking a day ago, well..." He trailed off there giving a hapless shrug.

While the group's conversation shifts to planning ahead, CRAP begins to passively take in some additional details about their surroundings. In the distance, you can see the beginnings of a rugged cliff face. Gorse and sage scrub covers the cliff-side. Judging by the marked location on the map, King's Pyre must be located somewhere along that cliff. That said, CRAP still needs at least a couple of hours to reach their destination.

(@Red: Please give me an arcana check to help determine when Sebastian may be back with the note.)

Hehe he.  (+14)

Arcana:   25

Utar rubs a hand on the back of his neck and admits that "Uh yeah... I am not super clear on what our aims are either.  Stop the Cult of the Dragon joining together with the Grey Patriots? I assume bring them back to Phlan alive, but presumably Sahnd is likely to be executed and I am still not 100% on what his crime actually was other than being a convient scapegoat.  Breden seems like a nice enough fellow, but what do we know of House Cardona?"

He shrugs, "We could move at a walking pace for a little while, talk it through?"