Gaer smiles, pleased with how Roxana has appreciated the violets, primroses and hawthorn flowers that he had the opportunity to 'point out': "Thank you dear, knowing how to appreciate the simple wonders of nature is a sign of a noble soul and quick intelligence" he winks. "Not that I needed further proof of that..."

"Even the swamps have their place in the ecology... and a certain charm of their own" the tiefling ranger admits. "But so does finding a room for us, at the moment! And as for choosing the ruins or the bog first... I leave the choice to you. Together with you" he seems to address everyone, but his solid-black starless-night eyes dart towards one person in particular, while his hand confidently caresses the hilt of the magical silver blade that he had obtained from the last adventure "I go everywhere".

Even Darvin seems to be waiting for Spira to express herself; he simply stands by her side, confident, well-equipped, ready for anything... He seems like a bastion of martial determination ready to defend both her and Aedion at any moment. "Yondral, the innkeeper of the Sleeping Dragon Inn, always has a special eye for us guards..." he simply announces "I am sure that, even if I am no longer part of the garrison, he will treat us well. And the Inn is equipped with stables and privies".

A smile curls the lips of the former sergeant, while his eyes run to the tiefling cleric... he remembers well that it was here in Rassalantare that he met Spira again - and that he finally managed to tell her what he had kept inside for too long.

Anita also seems indifferent to the two options, but temporarily stops bothering Rash, curious to find out what decision will be made.

Roxana takes a look over at Rash. "Any thoughts?"  She immediately continues, "We probably should set out lodging first. And get our horses stabled. I don't know that they'd be suited for the bogs. But it does feel like we should look into whatever this preacher was talking about?"  

"Aidwyn, I imagine your purpose was not just blind extermination," the red-haired woman adds. "Are there particular creatures that have been causing problems for the town or farms?" 

“No of course is not. It was his idea though, and I just said that I will go and take a look. Nothing specific, they just talked about rumors and things that could be anything, I think that he was just using the people fears to his advantage, yeah, that’s right, that was I found disturbing but didn’t really put my finger on it until now. To what end? I cannot say, but I have a bad feeling about this… preacher. “ she looks over her shoulder in the general direction of where he was. “Let’s go to the Sleeping Dragon, we can ask there about him after stable the horses and get ourselves some rooms. And.. thanks” she says to Roxana and the rest “Thank you all for backing me on this. I appreciate it. Gods, it’s so good to be with you again.” She smiles to her friends. 

Quspira Inaras smiles broadly as she recognizes Aidwyn, instinctively glances behind her on Feralof’s saddle for Dawnborn, and finds the twice-namefasted tiefling precisely where she ought to be.  The Sergeant of Arvandor has, perhaps not surprisingly, found herself particularly drawn of late to the more ROMANTIC manifestation of the triple goddess she serves.  She drapes a fond arm around Darvin as she mentally checks off another friend-couple safe and intact under Hanali Celandil’s protection.  Her dreams have been haunted of late, and it is with a profound sense of relief that she adds the two whom Lathander Chose to her list of those accounted for.  Then she laughs outright as Aidwyn strides off to address the fire-raising preacher who has been slowly boring his way into her consciousness.  Firstly, because it shows her friend is still the same straightforward, unhesitating crusader she has always been; and secondly because she had been beginning to consider doing the same as the orator's (to her taste) rather overenthusiastic style of declamation started to distract her from her affectionate broodings in a most perturbing manner.

She turns her attention back to greeting her remaining comrades, with only an occasional anxious glance around at the roads leading into and out of Rassalantar.  Coming into town and finding Gaer absent had begun to raise unpleasant memories of the burden of worry for him she carried out of Longsaddle; and when he showed up without Roxana the worry was simply transferred from brother to friend.  But before she has a chance to ask him where she is, the Longsaddlewoman rides up behind the group just as Aidwyn and Dawnborn return from their conversation with the local clergy. Spira laughs again at her question to them and Gaer’s reply.  “I certainly hope they haven’t done anything to that ‘corrupt, evil’ preacher, brother dear.,” she chuckles.  “As the Sergeant of Arvandor it’s part of my orders to keep track of the duty rosters of other good gods in this part of Faerun, and I do believe this village is under the care of either a priest of Torm or one of Tyr himself.  Not exactly the sort of deities Lathander would want his faithful knight to go about provoking, I would think.”  An artful pause follows.   “Oh, but this was your posting until recently, Darvin dearest!"  She smiles at him, savoring the same memories of their reunion that he is.  "Do you remember which god had a chapel here?”  As she waits for his reply, she has a chance to look more carefully at Aidwyn’s face.  And though she may not be able to make out the young Dawnknight’s exact intentions, she sees enough to realize that the situation has unexpectedly gotten more complex.  And once more her eyes darken with anxiety as the dreams intrude into her waking thought once more (albeit in her case, to a most becoming deep indigo blue that sweeps out from her pupils like a misty cloud of late twilight to swirl through the whites of her eyes until all within their wide and liquid ovoids is of the same late evening hue).

When she hears what the priest of Torm has actually requested it takes her a moment to reorient her train of thought.  Then she nods slowly.   "I think you're right on this too, Aidwyn.  Not least because if we don't do as your preacher fellow asked, he'll just finish making a mob of those poor villagers and go do it himself.  By the way, did he mention if he expects to come along with us or send one of his people?  That could be a little awkward ... especially if the swamp creatures turn out to not exactly be what he's making them out as."

"Of course, dear!" Darvin states calmly and confidently "How could I forget this place, where I found the one I was looking for so long!?"

"There is a chapel dedicated to Torm, in fact, here in Rassalantar" the ex-sergeant remembers. "It's just beyond the Sleeping Dragon Inn".

"I remember that this is the place where you found each other again!" Aedion exclaims enthusiastically, in Common, a language he has now learned, addressing mom and dad, fluttering above the heads of the two "That's why it seems like the most beautiful place in the world to me!"

Gaer smiles at the fresh and naive vitality of his 'nephew'... 'Despite his winged snake appearance... And his incredible magical powers... He's just like a real child!'

Rubybreeze's predatory eyes are looking in the same direction... and they have a tenderness that one wouldn't expect in a predator! It seems the Blood Hawk is sharing the emotions of the tiefling ranger.

Darvin leads the way confidently along the Long Road, to the well-known Sleeping Dragon Inn.

The inn is equipped with stables, so you are not forced to look for separate accommodation for the horses. The interior is comfortable, the main fireplace is on the west wall. A bar with high stools runs halfway along the northern wall, with a rare large mirror behind it. The kitchen is on the east side of the building, accessible through an archway. The east wall of the main room has cloak pegs, crates, barrels and stairs up to the upper floor. Up against the southern wall there are nine long tables with benches, and the middle of the room is filled with round tables and chairs. The upper level consists of a short hallway with doors to seven rooms, and windows overlooking the entrance.

The innkeeper is a Shield dwarf (some of the heroes are already in this Inn and remember him), dressed in neat and elegant clothes and with an impressive volume of hair, most of which is gathered behind his head. He is quick to welcome you: "Oh, welcome my esteemed guests! The name's Yondral! Yondral Horn! Oh, sergeant Nolaras is back!?" he smiles "Glad to meet you again. My boys will take care of your horses right away! While I am at your disposal to provide you with everything you may need! Breakfast? Something to drink? Rooms for a few days? I'll provide always the best, for the sergeant and his friends!"

Rash is onboard with beating up some swamp-things... as long as they're genuinely evil. But he isn't entirely sure what to make of the preacher and/or whatever Aidwyn has said about the conversation.

"You know... I'd really like to know what's in that bog now," he tells Anita slowly. "These people might need help with a serious monster problem... but I think we both know how zealots are. That preacher might just be trying to start a witch hunt against some innocent hedge witch or something. So we'd better not let ourselves get too caught up in the spirit of this whole thing until we know a little bit more about these 'monsters'..."

"I can't stand zealots either!" Anita agrees with the Wrestling Wizard "What do you say, Rash? Next time he gives a sermon, we could hide somewhere and ridicule him with magic! If everyone makes fun of him instead of listening to him, he won't be able to do much damage anymore..."

"Excellent, so it seems we're all agreed to investigate," Roxana says. "And I certainly agree we should learn more of any potential 'monsters' before we get too involved with any sort of eradication. But first, to the Inn."  

She follows Darvin as he leads the way there. The enthusiastic welcome is very nice, and Roxana makes sure to introduce herself to Yondral. "I wouldn't mind a refreshing drink, but I think I'm fine otherwise. Though I don't speak for the others."  She looks around at the rest of the group. "I think we have the time if any haven't eaten yet." 

She does take a moment to step outside to be sure that Snowshine is properly settled in the stable. Then she quickly comes back in to see about that drink. 

”Thank you my friends. I am feeling more confident now to look into that bog. I have the feeling that there’s more that a ‘simple’ infestation of monsters there. May Lathander’s light shine upon the truth so we can find it. But in the meantime, let’s get ourselves some rooms and food!” 

While Dawnborn walks with the others inside the inn, Aidwyn sees that Feralof has proper space inside the stable, he usually needs the bigger box and she just love taking care of the horses,specially her beloved Feralof.

She comes in with Roxana after she checked that Snowshine was settled too. 

Yondral wastes no time in seating the guests at a large table and bringing them something to drink... or even something to eat, if they ask.

Anita actually decides to order some eggs and bacon, asking Rash if he wants to eat some with her ("Better to refuel... Who knows what awaits us, in the swamp!?").

Gaer limits himself to a cold beer, while Darvin prefers a glass of whiskey ("Just to prepare myself for the strong emotions that surely await us... One for you too, dear?" he asks Spira "No, Aedion," he then responds smiling to a question that must have been asked telepathically "maybe it's a little early for you to start with stuff like that...").

Dawnborn, clearly relieved that, this time, she and Aidwyn will not be alone in facing the danger, doesn't order anything and seems serene as it is.

At a certain point, however, someone approaches the table. It's a Woman, dressed like a popular, with tanned skin and very black and thick hair (which suggests an ancient Calishite heritage). These characteristics, together with her gentle features, give her an ageless appearance. It is clear that she is a mature woman, but it is difficult to guess her actual age and she is undoubtedly an attractive and fascinating woman.

Her light brown eyes, almost amber, look at the party with anguish and concern, while she says: "E-excuse me if I dare to disturb you, but I heard... I mean... Y-you are... the heroes, right? Are you the ones who plan to go to the swamps?"

Spira smiles at Darvin's suggestion of a drink.  "I'll certainly have one if you recommend it dear, though I doubt it can even come close to the most intoxicating spirit I ever found while passing through Rassalantar."  She winks and smiles at him in a way that makes clear that his is the "spirit" she's punningly referring to.  When Yondral  brings their drinks, she makes sure to express her appreciation for the way he has looked after Darvin and the other guards posted in this town, happily segueing into a long recitation of the story of their past relationship and reunion ... just in case he doesn't remember their sitting up all night in this very inn for said reunion.

At the Calishite woman's approach, the tiefling priestess feels old instincts stirring from her own days on the Watch.  While her impression of the newcomer is generally positive, the direct approach and clear emotional involvement also raise several questions that slowly swirl in her mind as points to be checked in the course of carefully crafted random conversation.  She smiles and waves invitingly to a free seat ... on the OTHER side of her than Darvin is.  "My goddess teaches that we are all heroes in our own way.  For instance, it looks like it took you some courage to come and ask us that.  It must be something very important that moved you."   As she speaks, she watches the other woman with friendly-seeming curiosity, trying to divine her motivations at the same time she assesses her general capability.

=========

Insight 7

Darvin laughs heartily at Spira's pun... and hugs her affectionately as she recalls the pleasant past.

As the newcomer shows up, she agrees, uncertainly, to sit down: "Thank you! But more than courage, what moves me is desperation! My son! My only beloved son! The reason for my life! A few nights ago, he inexplicably left our home! He was seen heading towards the ruins of Rassalantar's Keep! I..."

The woman hesitates, apparently unsure of how to continue - while Spira has had the chance to examine her. To the Sergeant of Arvandor the emotions she is transmitting seem genuine... This one from the clothes and the awe she has towards the 'heroes' seems like a common peasant - probably an inhabitant of the hamlet. And she actually seems to have no other thought for now than her concern for her son whose behavior she cannot understand.

"..I would like you to look for him" the woman finally seems to have decided how to continue. "To find him. To bring him home! He has just come of age... You will recognize him immediately! He has gentle features that inspire confidence! He is such a sweet young man! He has thick, wavy brown hair, a well-groomed brown moustache... He shines when he smiles! An always has those vivid, curious green eyes..."

"I know I ask a lot..." the woman lowers her eyes "The ruins are dangerous! All know this. But so are the swamps... And you want to go to the swamps, I am told... So I thought... Maybe you can go to the ruins first? And find my son, my Mival? I will do anything you want... I am the village cartwright! I will give you all my savings and always fix the wheels of your carts for free, if you will do this for me! I..." her eyes seem to be about to moisten with tears "I beg you, I implore you, by all that is good and holy in the world: bring me back my Mival!"

The woman doesn't know what to think of the long moments of silence that followed her words... is she really asking too much?

Her eyes are now already moistening, as she forces herself to try another appeal, her voice broken by tears: "Please... My Mival... Go look for him... Maybe one day you too will have children... If they were missing, wouldn't you think it important to at least make an attempt to find them?"

Roxana had listened to the woman's plea, taking in the information and turning it over in her mind. As she is seated at Spira's invitation, she looks at her, finally speaking up. "It is quite interesting that you wish for us to look into Rassalanter's Keep. We had all come here to investigate those ruins. And now, just as we were perhaps changing course to look into the swamps you bring an urgent reason to focus back on the ruins." 

She is quiet just a moment before continuing. "I think we could probably help. We might need a touch more information about Mival, so we can recognize him. Perhaps height? Any distinguishing marks?  You say 'mustache', so this child must not be too young." She grins, thinking of how this woman had described a young man, but seemed to be doting over him as though he were small.  But then again, perhaps most mothers would be the same. "And he left three days ago? Do you know his intentions in going? Were there others with him?" 

Once again she pauses, this time shaking her head. "My pardon though, I've not introduced myself. I am Roxana Raincrest. I don't believe I caught your name?" 

"Oh, yes, of course, how rude..." the woman blushes slightly "I forgot my manners because I'm worried! I'm Kara Sashar, but almost everyone in town calls me 'Tarsakh Flower' - it must be because I was born in the month of Tarsakh..."

"And Mival, no, he's not a child..." Kara shakes her head "Perhaps I spoke of him in a too 'motherly' way. He has just come of age, he's 18... He's about 5' 9'' tall... His gentle features and his curious vivid eyes are his most distinctive features... he has no particular markings on his body. The best description I can give you of him is the one I just gave you a moment ago".

"Yes, he wandered away from home, leaving late at night while I was sleeping... I didn't notice anything, until morning" the cartwright lowers her head, saddened. "He was alone. The two people who saw him from afar heading towards the ruins didn't see anyone else with him. And I haven't the faintest idea why he behaved like that. Whatever it was that troubled or worried him, he could have told me about it... Why go away? And right to the ruins! Why go there!? Sure, I raised him telling him about the deeds of the great Rassalantar, the hero to whom we owe the very existence of this small but welcoming community! But I certainly never pushed him to become a... ruins explorer! And Mival has never shown any particular inclination to do so! Mival is a sensible boy, he would know that he has no hope of surviving in the midst of monster-infested ruins, he, a commoner with no special training or equipment! He is not stupid, my Mival. Curious, caring, sweet... but not stupid. And so..." she concludes disconsolately "even if I would like to know more, I really don't understand. I have no idea of ​​the reasons for his behavior".

Rash was more than happy to share a hearty meal with Anita... she didn't need to ask twice!

But as the woman, Kara, told the story of her son's disappearance, Rashugri's brow grew more and more furrowed with concern. He scratched his head occasionally, trying to decide what they were actually dealing with.

"That doesn't sound good..." He says at last. "Ma'am... Are there any rumors about people or creatures near here who could have the power to charm and lure your son towards the ruins? If there are... well... just tell us everything you know about them so we know the best way to beat some sense into them."

"A charm?!" Kara opens her mouth wide, now more amazed and more worried at the same time "I hadn't thought of that... but of course! Here's the explanation! An evil magical creature has cast a spell on my Mival!"

"Unfortunately, I don't know anything about these things..." she takes a small tambourine from a large pocket and begins to manipulate it, almost unconsciously, to relieve the tension "I only know that the ruins are infested with monsters - everyone knows that. But I don't know which monsters! Or what powers they have".

"It's nice to meet you Kara, though I wish it were under better circumstance," Roxana says. She listens to Rash's questions and then the responses. "We understand you don't know a lot about what happened. No need to start imagining things which may be worse than what has actually happened," she adds in a calming voice, hoping to allay her fears. "It's possible, he just got lost and only needs someone to guide him back. But if we're willing to help out..."   She lets the words trail off as she scans the room to see which way the others seem to be leaning. 

She continues on. "In any case, could you tell us who these two were that spotted Mival heading towards the ruins? I know it was at distance, but if they could help us with the location and perhaps anything else they saw, then we could start to track him down." 

"The two who saw my Mival?" Kara thinks back. "One was Onthar Poole, a young man of Mival's age, who was returning to the farm after a night of drinking here at the Inn... The Poole farm is right near the Keep Woods... But if you want to find Onthar, you'll have to look for him in the pastures nearby... He'll be out tending sheep now."

"The other was old Bran Whitkin, who woke up and came out of the farm for a moment - bodily needs, you understand" she continues. "The Whitkin farm is also near the Keep Woods. And Bran, the head of the family, is mostly home - or at most sitting in the yard looking around".