Anearis replies. "I am no hunter, but I know my way around the woods. I believe I can help follow him. We should look for horse tracks once we are out of the city and follow them."

“Very well.” Vincent shrugged, as he finished wrapping the reigns of the wagon’s horses. “Well, your GRAND ADVENTURE awaits!” He announced in a manner uncharacteristic, up to this point of having interacted with Vincent.  Likely an attempt at humor and show of familiarity now with the party.

The elvish girl steps forward with the lead horse, even with a semi-confused look on her own face regarding Vincent’s ‘joke.’

Straightening himself, even though his physical stance doesn’t change, he attempts to regain his normal social composure. “Next time you come through Midgar, we hope you come back for all the services the Maiden’s Bossom has to offer.”

Kel listens to the exchange, donning his gloves for the road ahead and completing his armor sans the coif still lowered about his neck. "It is unlikely his horse will be the only one upon the main road since this morning and while it may have some tell tale sign of impression due to his weight, I could not say which or what that would look like."

At Vincents jest Kel laughed. The tiefling stepped towards Vincent and extended his forearm and hand in farewell gesture. "Tudd lygz sy pyyz tafwul, pih hafr ouryw kfrl kruqmzdh."

Atal grins at the terrible joke.  Terrible jokes are his bread and butter, after all.  "Hey, not bad, but you could use some work on the delivery.  Try this one next time," Atal says, gesturing Vincent closer and then whispering something to him.

 "Trust me, you'll be the life of the party," Atal says confidently.  "I'll come back and check on how you're doing with that later, so show us what you've got when we return!"  With that, he hops into the wagon and gives Vincent and the girl a friendly wave of farewell.

Uthal walks over to the cart and begins tossing empty boxes off to the side to make room. Once he's done he climbs into the cart, waiting for the others. 

Uthal Strength: 4

Tossing the empty crates, While landing in a somewhat disorderly manner, few happen to break, and even then just splintering or side panels smashing, but otherwise intact.

While waving back to Atal, Vincent watched as Uthal cleared out the wagon and climbed in the back. “We can store some of your wares if you’d like, but we would have to charge you, and know for  how long.”

Climbing on the driver’s seat of the wagon, Anearis look as Uthal tossed the boxes about. They might need to keep them somewhat intact if they wanted to go back to Cathaan and cross the border. Another thought crossed his mind however. Should they die on this trip, they wouldn’t need the boxes anymore, would they? And it also seemed more sensible to avoid Cathaan for a while longer.

"I do not believe we will have need of them anymore. It would be best if they were disposed of."

Uthal nods. "Use them for yourselves or burn them for wood. They're just in the way where we're going."

Vincent looked at the group quizzically and confused, eventually accepting that they were not supplies but merely boxes that the group was tossing onto the street.

”Very well. I’m not sure what it’s like where you come from, and I appreciate the offer, but you can’t just toss your trash in the street. Especially a series of crates, on one that we use regularly.” 

The elvish girl, still holding the lead horse, also displayed a look of near bewilderment, likely at the party’s actions of just tossing what they didn’t want, into the Midgar streets.

Watching as the boxes were tossed aside, Kel gave a glance and a shrug toward the doorman, unsure why they had empty cargo but not really caring either. Moving to the front of the wagon where Anearis was, Kel looked up at the elf. "I will stay on foot until we exit the city proper, just in case." He moved forward to the horse pulling the wagon and gave a soft 'sush' as he approached, patting its shoulder. He looked out over the streets and began thinking of the few traveling songs he knew, likely to keep to a low hum.

Uthal looks exasperated at all the rules of 'civilized' society. "Very well, where do I put things that are unwanted? And I think it's quite easy to tell that I come from the northern mountains." 

As the party members loaded up one by one, the elvish girl kept anticipating passing the reigns of the lead horse off. However, to this point she resided to standing there quietly until instructed otherwise by one of the group, or her employer.

While Vincent shared Kel’s ‘uncertain but uncaring’ attitude towards the lack of contents in the crates, in the matter of their presence outside the Maiden’s Bossom, he wanted them removed from the street.

”Well I’m sure there are plenty of traders or shopkeeps who could find use for them, but I doubt you have time to wander and ask around. Just outside the wall, north of the Northwest Gate, or the Southern Docks. You’d find storage and construction areas in both, that no one would look twice at unloading crates.” 

Uthal gets out and throws the crates back up into the cart before taking the reigns of the horse from the poor girl and handing them to Ander. He then begins walking to the location designated by Vincent. 

Atal watches the transfer of crates on and off of the wagon with a look of idle curiosity, not really offering to help with either their loading or unloading.  He does give Vincent an apologetic look when the tiefling protests to the litter, though.  When Atal notices the others - namely Kel and Uthal - walking alongside the cart, he shrugs and looks over at Anaeris.  "Well, that was productive.  But if you're expecting me to be good and walk like the others, live with disappointment.  My feet hurt just thinking about the journey ahead."  He grins and makes himself comfortable on the wagon seat, calling out with a cursory "Hey, thanks for taking care of the crates!" to Uthal.  "I'll, uh... help with the unloading at the construction area.  We should probably keep at least one crate, though... I can't imagine that Solomon's seal won't be useful at some point in the future," he adds.  "Especially since we can stuff this crate with whatever we want."

People still fill the streets, but generally politely step aside whenever the wagon passes through any tight spots in the street, due to the larger stalls set up, or occasional street performer drawing in a crowd. One such was a sharply dressed (in the sense that the shoulders and trim of his long coat came to straight points) was juggling orbs of seemingly fire and ice.

Arriving, at a slow, but steady pace, the party passes through the open Northwestern gate. The general area was no longer cordoned off, as it had been earlier that morning. But a series of ropes restricted movement around the rubble of the burnt Northern Barracks, and there were two guards positioned in front of it, simply standing guard.

Outside of the gate, there were quite a few number of guardsmen, mostly of North Midgar, all on the south (left) side of the road. For the first time since hearing of it, the entire party had a view, now, of the Priory.

It was an older stone building, with a wooden shingles roof. The closed windows around the building gave it the appearance that it had two floors, but it still had some additional height in the walls. Perhaps from intentional vaulted ceilings of both or one of the levels. The ground around it was grass, with a single stone path leading to the only door. The building itself was likely about 60 feet by 60 feet. And between the building itself and the road, was a cemetery. However, between the road and the cemetery were bodies.

Covered in off white colored sheets, many of the guards were standing as a barrier between the bodies and any citizen who might have ventured too close. Some of the covered corpses were being loaded into a covered wagon, but with a lack of manpower and likely the general grim reality of it all, it was a slow going process. As they were lifted, the occasional skin of a hand or foot was visible from beneath the sheets. Some of the sheets were even inked in fresh blood. All in all, the signs pointed to these bodies having had met rather recent deaths.

To the north (right) side of the road, however, were two large storehouses and several wood and stone structures being developed. It would be anyone’s guess what the structures would become when finished, but for now, they were still mid development. Building materials lay everywhere, in a near orderly manner.

Atal watches the progress with the bodies with a slight frown on his face.  Somehow, he knows that not all of the guards are terrible people; that he should be feeling sympathy for them, or even trying to help them.  But the sting of human mockery, the cynical review of their telling of the events, the seeming lack of regard for the dragonborn who had sacrificed so much for the city's defense, and of course the mad clerk's behavior were making it hard for him to muster up much sympathy.  Finally turning away from the spectacle, he scowls.  "Let's get this over with.  The sooner, the better."

The sight of the Priory and all the bodies laying about disturb Anearis. He knew things had been bad over there, but seeing it was entirely different. The elf tried to turn his gaze away and focus on the road ahead. Once this expedition was  over, it would either end this desolation, or they would be added to the pile of bodies...

As they reached the storehouse, Anearis turned to Uthal. "We should leave the crates there. What do you think?"

Uthal stares at the bodies in silence. At Anearis's suggestion he begins throwing the boxes out again, taking more care to stack them this time.

Vincent’s assertion was apparently spot on. As the crates were unloaded and stacked, they blended in with the order materials laying about. With the exception of the Archmeister’s stamp on the wood, they looked like any other stored materials. 

In addition to the guard on the South side of the road and few citizens watching, several individuals and groups passed by, leaving the city along the western running road. Even when any noticed the group unloading the crates, none seemed to give it a second thought and continued about their own business.

After only a few minutes, the empty crates were unloaded from the wagon, and with just one or two crates, there was enough room for the rest of the party to ride, without sitting on top of each other.

Uthal climbs into the wagon. "Time to go. We've wasted enough of a day."