The Goliath grunts at you when you ask for the barrels, but goes down into the wine cellar and comes back up, easily carrying one under his arm and the other on his shoulder.

They are not so easy to lift as he makes it look. You end up rolling the barrels outside and into the grape arbor. The satyrs are waiting, still hiding behind the arbors.

"You're back!" says Roffles with surprise.  "And you're alive!  And...you've got BEER!"

After you explain the compromise that Amryn Naica has offered, Roffles tastes the beer and says.  "It's not as foul as the other barrel, but it's still crap.  Two barrels of crap is still crap.  But...it's TWO barrels!  And you say that we get the good stuff for honey?  Two barrels...that's sixty gallons of beer for six gallons of honey?  Sounds like a steal. BOYS, WE ARE NOW HONEY HUNTERS!"

Some of the satyrs cheer, some look dubious.  A familiar voice says, "Um...but Roffles..."

"But boss, honey means...bees." says Thistlebum nervously.

"Yeah, yeah, Bees.  But 'bees' is just one letter away from 'beer.' I think..." Roffles counts on his fingers briefly. 'YES! BEES IS ONE LETTER AWAY FROM BEER!" Now almost all the satyrs cheer, drowning out one last weak mumble of, 'But, Roffles..."

"Today we celebrate!" Roffles shouts. "We got the better of the Naicas and we got beer, thanks to the Feylord and his friends! I don't suppose you found Jop, Fip, Skump and Hart?  No?  Never mind, probably too late, they're probably buried in the wine cellar.  Oh, well, we will drink to their memory! Boys, bring the gifts."

A couple of satyrs come forward carrying items.  From one, Roffles takes a small, dirty metal strongbox. "The Naicas never asked us to forage for loot," Roffles says with a wink, "So we never gave this to them.  Ramsbottom found it while digging truffles, and we never managed to get it open.  So it's all yours. And this." He holds up a carved wooden whistle on a lanyard of twisted plant fibers. "Blow this, and any buddies of mine nearby will come running. Only, don't give it away or sell it, because the guys tend to get testy when their partying is interrupted  by unauthorized persons."

"Now let's party! You are more than welcome to join us!" Satyrs cheer all around you.  "Join us!  Join us!"

(Seems you now have the option to spend the night partying with the satyrs.)

Raven takes the box and looks it over, trying to see if it has a lock or something she can use to open it.

Perception:  8

Thieve's tools:  8

Mindartis takes the whistle from Roffles. "I will keep that in mind Roffles. Might I ask though, why do you call me Feylord?"

"Well, you look like one," says Roffles. "You're from the Twilight Realm, aren't you?  Even though we live here, all of our hearts and loyalty and fealty still belong to the lands of the Fey, not the silly Elf Lords, not even the brewery winery ones. Anyway, you have proven yourself a lord by helping us in our misery and bringing us beer and sweet deals."

"Hail to the Feylord!" every one of the the satyrs shouts.

The lock seems pretty rusty, and apparently so are Raven's lock-picking skills.  Maybe she should try again after cleaning up the box a bit.

 Elwin's furrowed brow betrayed his thoughts, as he recoiled slightly at the satyrs. It wasn't so much that they were so quick to dismiss kinsmen... but rather, that he'd expected the opposite from the group, which just added to the surprise.

It also dulled what little interest he did have in celebrating with the fey, which wasn't much in the first place. Still... there was loot! The warlock craned his neck to peek into the box as Raven opened it.

"What, did you fill the lock with mud to try and open it?"  Raven asks with a chuckle, giving the satyr's a wink to show she is kidding.  She knocks some of the dirt and rust off of the old lock and wiggles her fingers a bit to loosen them up. Then she tries the lock again...

Thieve's tools:  22

Mindartis nods, "I suppose I've just never heard that name before. Though you do know it's rude to insult a race when people belonging to that race are standing hear you," he smiles mischievously.

"Hey, someone want to hold this lock steady for me?"  Raven asks, as she nearly breaks a pick off in the rusty thing.  (She is looking for someone to give her the help here...)

Elwin raised an eyebrow at the sight of Raven using lockpicks, but said nothing as he attempted to hold the box steady.

(( He's got proficiency in Sleight-of-Hand and with Thieves' tools, so he should be able to give her advantage. ))

I've got some experience as Del gets out his own set of Thieves Tools 14 (advantage if Raven helps?)

Privately to the team so as not to offend the satyrs I don't think partying with the satyrs is the best use of our time, or likely to lead to much information - except I do want to find that voice of reason that keeps being ignored

Del tries to find whichever of them keeps saying "umm Roffles" Insight 11

(You must have loosened it Sister, maybe someone else can find the smart one)

 

"Thanks."  Raven says and opens the box.

Inside the box are 100 tarnished silver pieces and 25 gold--someone's forgotten secret stash from long ago.

Del doesn't have much trouble finding the lone dissenter--the one gloomy face in a crowd of partiers.  "Oh, don't mind me.  It's a good deal," he says hastily.  "Only...the pixies usually claim the wild honey.  They won't be happy to find us taking it.  Still, it will be a while before we can collect honey anyhow, and maybe the sugar situation will be sorted out by then, and they'll all be full of cupcakes and lemonade, and won't care that much. The way things stand right now...I would NOT want to try to take honey from a pixie. Not right now." He shudders in horror at the thought.

Quentin raises an eyebrow at all of this and just lets them party while he joins Del in finding the one lonesome face. "It's probably why they want you to do it. But perhaps you can talk to them fey to fey. However, I am still interested in your missing family. Care to tell me a little more about them and what happened when they disappeared." 

Raven splits the money evenly with her companions, everyone getting 20 silver and 7 gold. She hands the empty box back to the satyrs.  "Maybe you can put some of the honey in that when you are able to collect it." She says, seeing the box as too rusty and old to try to haul along with them.

Elwin nodded in thanks; from holding the box he knew it wouldn't contain much, but it was a start. He thought back to the flask; Quentin had said he'd need quite a bit in terms of spell components to cast an identification spell. Well, they'd spend a bit tonight for lodging, but perhaps they'd fare better near the academy. Anything that pulled in coin couldn't hurt.

Pocketing his coin, the young man looked around, not particularly wanting to take part in the revelry. Spotting Del and Quentin talking to one satyr--had he been the one to protest the terrible decisions their "boss" made?--he decided to head their way.

Precisely, Lord Quentin. And you should also know that there are folk missing all over. Young elves from the Free City, and my friend here heard the Naica's mention one of theirs missing too. Lots of people are ignoring lots of missing people. Lord Quentin Adiyodi Del nods, and I am Galanodel Tosh - and you?

I fear they are linked (Del continues after satyr answers and Q gets a chance to follow up) but there are also concerns about happenings in the fens. And creatures from the Shadowfell and Lower Planes. And the gnolls raiding. There is a lot to get fixed before beer quality (and life in general) is back to normal.

Quote from DragonDenn >>

Raven splits the money evenly with her companions, everyone getting 20 silver and 7 gold. She hands the empty box back to the satyrs.  "Maybe you can put some of the honey in that when you are able to collect it." She says, seeing the box as too rusty and old to try to haul along with them.

 (5 gold each, isn't it)

A satyr thanks Raven, but thinks that empty moonshine jugs will work better.  "And they're a gallon each, so we'll know exactly how much we have."

The gloomy satyr--he tells you his name is Stickthorn-- says, "Well the boys were always full of wild ideas and plots. They didn't confide in ME, of course, I would probably have tried to talk them out of whatever they were up to, but everyone says they were whispering together a lot, and were spending a lot of time with Lemmet Naica. He's okay, a young guy--well, for an elf. He would come out and party with us now and then.  Sometimes he even sneaked away a bottle of the tavern's best wine to bring with him. Oh, he said not to tell, so forget I said that."

"Do you guys happen to know what is going on in the Fens?"  Raven asks the Satyrs.  "My father lives there and sent me a letter that it was too dangerous to travel that way..."  She brushes her midnight-black hair back from her copper face as she looks between the satyrs.

“I don’t think I talked to that one unless he has a full name he goes by with his family.” Quentin replies with a curious glance, “Perhaps staying the night will be good.”