Quillary blinks and returns to the cave from wherever her mind had taken her. She smiles a little wryly, "Drusk is also half an elf, more so than I."

"Your offer is... kind, but I have little enough to do with the Fey Courts, and they me. I would keep it that way. But I am curious how you... how the Sarifal Faithful, intend to bridge the biggest difference between Fey and mortal, that very mortality. I find elves, Eladrin and others, have no understanding of the end of life that is so woven into all other things. If it is not Arvandor then it is reincarnation, after centuries spent in contemplation and trance. How can they understand death, if they have not lived? How can they live if there is not death at the end? I think your task a hard one, Seren, and unworthy of the effort."

This is more insight into Quillary than anyone has gotten in the days you've been together.

Seren talks a bit more about the organization, but you can tell that this soldier admires the ideals and goals, but hasn't thought as much about how to achieve them. She doesn't pressure Quillary to join, and finds excuses to keep Drusk from thinking about joining.

During the conversation, you find out that her son Andras Nailo is the apothecary for the outpost. She is proud of him, although she still sees him as her baby boy.

(OOC: Pascal and Hildigrim have been quiet. I want to check if they had something in mind to do before the long rest, or if they were just waiting for the next day of travel.)

Hildigrim has many questions concerning Fey Courts, the Sarifal Faithful, and Arvandor. Let's just say he talked to Seren as long as she seemed willing to converse (and probably a little longer than he should have, letting his desire for knowledge cloud his ability to read body language). I'll do my own research. Other than that, he's done for today.

Pascal is listening, this seems a very “elf” discussion. However, he is taking notes for Lif. Oh!

”Speakin’ of, Ms. Seren, don’t suppose you’d know some interesting family recipes? See, me and my associate, Lif, are always looking for fine elvish recipes. He’s very proud o’ his heritage an’ all.”

Lif was an elf?

Lif was an elf

For Hildigrim: You have a discussion about the Fey with Seren, but you can tell it is a glamorized, idealized view of the sylvan. (She plays down the dangers and their erratic natures.) The next time you are doing research in an elven library (involving the Fey Courts, the Sarifal Faithful, and Arvandor), you can have Advantage on an ability check, due to name dropping the Sarifal Faithful to the library workers.

For Pascal: She is only a passable cook (scouts doing more foraging than actual cooking), but she does have a few basic "mom" recipes. You are already thinking of ways to improve these recipes, while still leaving their "elvish" nature intact. The next time you are trying to favorably influence elves with Pascal's cooking, you can have Advantage on a related ability check.

(OOC: I will likely forget, so you should add it to you character sheet Notes. I don't have any plans involving either of these ideas, but it might be fun story-telling devices, if the opportunity comes up.)

The party has a quiet night, dry in the cave and warm by the fire. (Everyone has a Long Rest.)... This morning is (OOC: should be?) Nightal 11. Seren: "Happy start of Howldown. It is a fitting day to hunt for whatever malefactors have threatened my son and his friends." She and her steed are fit enough to travel, but have a level of exhaustion (disadvantage on ability checks), so she will Help the group rather than act on her own.

You continue on your journey shortly after sun-up (and after a tasty breakfast by Pascal). It is raining most of the day with occasional lightning, making the trail muddy. The temperature stays a bit above freezing. There is no wind. A thick and ominous fog is always present, and gets denser as you approach Dynnegall (which is on the river). There is scarce to hear but the racket of heavy rain.

------

The chilling downpour has made for a wearying journey. At long last, a few hours before sundown, the sight of an old farmstead marks the border of the outpost. A soggy map tells you that beyond it is a small stone wall outlining the outpost’s core, the storm descending from the sky cloaks its exact location. A flash of lightning sketches the details of the farmstead in blue light, though it lasts but a moment. It looks as if an old paddock is being used as a training ground, where straw men stand undisturbed by rain or impalement. The other areas are less distinguishable from this distance.

Seren: "We can bypass this farm and go directly to the village. But if there is danger, the horses may be a hinderance. The farm has a stable. If there is room, we could put the horses there, and proceed the rest of the way on foot. And perhaps the farmers can tell us if there are any troubles."

Jorin scowls at the cold rain.  While he hails from a mountainous region, and is no stranger to the cold, it rains much less than it snows in the Frost Hills.  He is far more accustomed to the warm, underground heat of Dwarven forges.

"By the eight, this cold rain is terrible"  He pulls his fur lined traveling clothes tight over his head to try to keep some of the freezing moisture off his face. "I could use a warm place, let us stable the horses and perhaps this family would let us warm our bones by their hearth before we continue."

As the group is packing up in the cave, Hildigrim prattles on about Howldown. "My mother's brother, Uncle Seversteel, always dresses as some fiend or another for Howldown. The first I remember, he dressed as a goblin with two enormous ears made of paper that were so heavy, they hung down the sides of his head. Of course, he chased my brother Fort and I around the house for hours. My father says they laughed until they couldn't breathe. He's dressed as a mad mage, a wolf, a demon, a vampire ... " The halfling talks until the rain and cold really settle into the group's bones, and he finally falls quiet as well.

When they reach the farm, Hildigrim pats his horse's neck and nods. "Let's get these noble beasts under some shelter. At least half of us should be able to escape this miserable weather for the night." He then puts a hand to his stomach as it emits a low growl.

As you step through the veil of fog, the features of the farmstead become more apparent. Straight ahead, the wagon trail leads to a covered well with a bucket. The trail continues on to the village. (To circle around the farm would have required a longer path to Dynnegall.)

To the left is a pasture, with a low fence around it. Somewhere in the fog of the pasture, a horse whinnies in complaint, protesting the elements it has been left to withstand. Inside the pasture, next to the trail, is a paddock (60' by 40') lined with racks of training weapons, neglected in the storm. No footprints from drill or discipline can be seen in the muck, likely washed away by the pooling rain. Inside the paddock is a stable (20' by 20').

To the right is a farmhouse (40' by 20'). Despite their age, the farmhouse and stable both appear in sound repair.

Other than the horse somewhere in fog of the pasture, there are no signs or sounds of life.

"Hello the house!" calls Hildigrim.

Quote from DirtyDogP >>

"Hello the house!" calls Hildigrim.

The horses get skittish as the group approaches the house. Seren offers to hold the reigns of the horses outside, while the Road Enders enter the farmhouse.

Entering the farmhouse, you find a scene of unrest before you. Shards of silvered glass coat the front hall, as if the entryway mirror has been thrown against the opposite wall... The sound of a door closing echoes throughout the house. Perhaps your entrance did not go unnoticed...

(OOC: What do people want to do? Include a d20 roll, in case a check is needed. Also someone can make a suggestion for Drusk: 19 )

Hildigrim immediately draws his rapier and motions for the others to hang back a little. He then stealthily moves into the house, following the sound of the door closing, but keeping his eyes open everywhere as he moves.

Perception: 9

Stealth: 11

Ready action: If anything threatens him within melee range, he'll attack with his rapier.

Additional d20: 18

Attack if needed:

Pascal prepares to bite anything suspect! Let them come!

d20: 8

Quillary will hold in the entry, as per Hildigrim's instructions. She will pull out her club, and tap it on the cat skull, imbuing it with the power of nature's twilight (she'll cast Shillelagh).

Edit: my d20, sorry: 16

Jorin draws his twin axes and stays put after Hildigrim puts his hand up.  Though he is comfortable staying back, trusting in Hildi's scouting abilities, he will ready a dash action if he hears the sounds of battle.  If any sound less that stealthy occurs, he'll rush in towards it, axes at the ready.

D20 just in case: 12

The kitchen has the only other external door (besides the main hall). The dust on the floor indicate this room hasn't been used in days, probably more than a ten-day. That is also confirmed by the coating of cobwebs on the cooking utensils and on the door.

The doors to the other two rooms are closed, but unlocked. You open them, but do not see any occupants. The main bedroom has been converted to an office. The desk is covered with parchments and scrolls. The other room is being used for storing office supplies, and as a larder for the kitchen. (The dry goods are still palatable, but the fruits and vegetables are starting to shrivel from age.)

Despite the sound of the rain on the roof, you hear the creaking of the floorboards in the main hall. The party rushes back, weapons ready, but there is nothing in the hall or the kitchen. Bursting out the front door, you see that Seren is still calming the horses. She gives you a quizzical look, as nothing has come out of the house (besides your party just now).

Jorin scowls, "What in the nine hells...you heard that too, right?" he says to the group.

Quillary looks more closely at the farmhouse. Is it built with a basement, or just right on the dirt?