The satyrs look uneasy at Raven's question. One finally whispers in her ear, "They say the hags are moving again."

"Are you guys gonna make me drink this all myself?" Roffles shouts, and the satyrs run off to grab some beer, with relieved expressions.

(ooc Lemmet is the one 'of no account' who is missing)

It seemed clear (to Elwin at least) that the four satyr and the young Naica rebel were taken out as punishment for slipping away with the beer. Which, harsh and wrong as it was, was pretty much their own fault. The hags seemed interesting--perhaps Raven might need assistance investigating--but other than that, the satyr clan was becoming more of an annoyance than a help.

He shook his head as they ran off, wondering if kicking their keg over might shock them into seriousness--or if, ultimately, it would just be a waste of time. Even the other missing people would probably be better uncovered by asking anywhere but here.

"Bollocks! We can stay here to look into those people, Quent, but I'm not planning on sticking with this lot!" He pointed at the satyr who had run off toward Roffles.

"Is that the plan then? Or were y'all still wanting to head to the academy straightway?"

"Or maybe to the fens?" he asked, turning to Raven.

"I say we head on to the academy." Raven says, troubled at the news of the hags potentially moving again.

As the party walks away from the satyr celebration, they hear shouts of thanks, the beginning of panpipes playing a cheery tune, and Satyrs cheerfully toasting the memory of Jop, Fip, Skump and Hart. Roffles gives a small eulogy, recalling all the trouble the rascally scoundrels got into.

By the time you get back to where you disembarked from the coach, the sun is starting to get near the horizon, and your shadows stretch out before you. As you  move on, you notice signs on the side of the roads, in Elvish, common, gnome and sylvan.  They say: DANGER: EXPERIMENTAL CROPS. These fields are planted and/or treated with magic by the students of the Agricultural Division of the Thamasaille Simul. Stealing, damaging, trampling or eating these plants will be punished by karma, as you will be left to enjoy whatever unexpected side effects your vandalism has wrought.

Earlier you saw people standing around in the roads and working in the field. Now those you see are gathered around a makeshift desk of piled crates, where a gnome is handing out coins and signing papers offered by the students standing in line. Others are loading crates full of empty jugs onto a pony cart.

As you approach, the gnome calls out, "If you are here about the job, it's over for today.  Maybe forever," he adds gloomily.

"What is the problem?"  Raven asks, moving over and giving a friendly smile as she glances to the gnome and then to the fields.  "is there something wrong with the fields or the plants?"  She brushes her midnight hair back behind an ear as she nods to the assembled students.

Persuasion just to be friendly... 18

"Didn't realize that karma could happen that suddenly," Mindartis says, inspecting the sign.

Elwin read over the sign, a bit surprised that anything more would be needed to prevent people stealing and eating the plants beyond "experimental crops."

As it was approaching dark, he'd already donned his shield onto his left arm, and was using his spear as a walking stick with his right hand. He stopped and turned toward Raven as she made her inquiries. While he was also a bit curious about the situation, he wondered if her interest went beyond mere curiosity.

(Oh, almost forgot--CONGRATULATIONS!  You have made allies of the satyrs and restored peace to the Naica lands! (At least for now!)  You may all go up to level 2! )

The gnome smiles back at Raven.  "Oh, nothing wrong exactly.  This area is where the agricultural magic students test out their experiments and do their assignments. I think the signs are meant more to scare people off from messing with our work than anything. Still, you never know when a spell or potion gone wrong will do something...odd. There's a half-orc I've seen in the Agricasting lab with six ears. His cantrip to increase corn yield had sort of a backlash.  I shouldn't talk about him  behind his back because he can hear things now...way far away."

"Nothing magical happening in MY field, though," he says, gesturing to a large plot next to the road.  It's covered with tiny, but healthy-looking little seedlings. "We've been pouring my experimental plant growth potion on it for two days now.  Those radishes should be big.  More than big, they should be tremendous, brobdingnagian, FLAMUNGOUS! But look..." He pulls one of the baby radishes up to display nothing but a string of root with a faint pink blush in the middle. The gnome sighs. "I'll NEVER get into Prof Engo's advanced class at this rate."

An odd-looking elf saunters up--his hair is dyed pure white on one side, blood red on the other, and jet black down the top, the three colors divided and woven into a long, tricolor braid down his back. "Give it another day, Beezger. Sometimes magic works in threes. Anyway, you're bound to get in eventually.  You have the stuff."

"Easy for you to say, Teydaar," says Beezger the gnome, gesturing at a field full of unseasonably mature plants some distance over on the other side of the road. "Your All-winter-long Potatoes look great.  You'll make it in, no problem."

"They may LOOK good," the elf scowls. "But I've had people poking around the roots all afternoon.  No potatoes at all.  A chipmunk couldn't survive the winter on that field."

"Well, at least we'll be repeating Basic Agri-alchemy together!" says Beezger, cheering up a little.

Quentin lets out a loud sigh and mumbles to himself, "This is not exactly what I was hoping to find at the academy. Magical plants...if I wanted that I'd have become a druid." 

"Oh, there's much more than the agricultural division," Teydaar assures him. "Nearly all of Simul lands are covered with various school buildings."

"What sort of magic were you interested in studying?" Beezger asks. "The Necromancy lab is still in dispute--protests all around the building, still-- but there's classes and labs for just about every kind of magic you can imagine.  Were you thinking of enrolling?  You can get an application form at the main office."

Quentin clears his throat before saying, "I am Lord Quentin Adiyodi of the Ellantar Court. I was sent here to attend the school and further my study of the arcane arts. Transmutation is probably the best school to describe what I want to learn."

Beezger looks a little nervously at Teydaar. Teydaar smirks a little, steps forward and seizes Quentin's hand, shaking it wamly with both of his farm-dirt-stained hands. "Welcome to Lomalos, Loooord Quentin," he says. "I am Teydaar Simul.  And I don't need a title for people to know who I am."

"You are being rude," Mindartis says. "I dont like rude people."

"I beg your pardon, I suppose I am," says Teydar, looking amused. He walks away without looking back.

"Sorry," says Beezgar. "He's usually okay, really. Anyway, can I help you with something?"

Quentin forced a smile on his face as he was touched with those filthy hands. I mean really! Could he not have presidigitated them clean. Quentin thinks to himself before using the cantrips to clean his own hands before answering the gnome, "We're looking for transportation to the free city after out initial cart had a skunk problem." 

Beezgar says, "Oh, no problem.  Keep following this road, and you'll come to the coach stand, at the main plaza.  You ought to be able to get there before the evening coach leaves."

A young elf woman approaches Elwin shyly and says, "Excuse me, you look like you could use a healing..."

"Do any of you know anything about what is going on in the fens of late?"  Raven asks as she finishes watching the interaction of the gnome and her companions.  "My father is there and sent me a letter to stay away this summer."

Del, who feels like he is good at everything now, tries to catch up Teydar. My Lord, if you'll forgive the formality, Galanodel Tosh - Del will do - a word? We've just come from the Monkey's Butt and in the short time there we keep hearing about people gone missing. Heard that people in the Free City are talking about it as well. Folk seem oddly dismissive of their missing kin. Would you be aware of any such? 

One of the elves loading the cart approaches Raven.  She has the typical look of an elf of the Court of Whispers--dark hair and dark, haunted-looking eyes. She has a tattoo on one cheek, a twist of thorny twigs. "Yeah, I was told not to come home this summer, either. Nobody seems sure what's up. But a lot of the small fey seem to be clearing out of the fens. Not that there were ever many there, but the pixies and sprites who used to be there are gone, now. Whatever scared them off can't be good news."