Peace also runs home.  He kisses his wife and tells her that he will be off on task for a few days.  Sami, a human woman is used to Peace going away on missions, having lived with him through his times as the arm of the church.  He gathers his old chainmail and weapon, a metal beam with a pommel, as well as his dusty adventuring gear.  He then heads off to the ranch to meet the others.  

Zeenon is the last to leave Whiskers's office. As everyone begins going hither and yon in preparation to leave, the warforged walks over to a linen closet, grabs a broom, and begins sweeping the newsroom. "Sweep, sweep, sweep," it says in a singsong voice.

Rowan returns to her desk, grabbing her staff -- partly because it might come in handy, and maybe partly because it seems like exactly the sort of thing someone like her should do, when going to see the Wardens. She scoops up the camera, as well, and eventually -- after getting a little distracted bothering some of her co-workers on the way -- heads outside. But she's only partway to the door when she spots Zeenon, in the process of sweeping. "Hey, Zee," she calls to Zeenon, "you joining us?"

There is an old saying in the Eldeen Reaches that stables and ranches are nicer and built better than any of the homes, and for Vadalis Ranch, at least, the saying is absolutely true. Set over four acres at the edge of Varna, the ranch is a sprawling concern with white marble buildings, massive grazing pastures and a full staff of at least thirty people (or so you count) dealing with the grounds, the animals, and customers from all over Khorvaire.

You are tended to by an older human with salt-and-pepper hair, a handlebar mustache and a little soul patch. "Howdy folks." He tips his hat to you, and comes over. His skin is tanned and leathery from being outside, and, although he looks to be closer to the end of his life, he still looks like someone you would not want to mess with. "Can I hep you?" He asks.

Hearing you come from the Varna Free Post, he groans. "Is your boss ever gonna pay down his tab?" With a resigned air, he pushes his homburg hat to the back of his head and scratches his chin. "Let me look in the back, see if we got any of them older Avelignese breeds you lot can have for the wagon."

A very handsome younger human, in his late 20s comes over at the mention of the Free Post and looks you all over. He's got big brown eyes, a pencil-thin mustache and jet black hair that comes down in a single spit-curl in the middle of his forehead. He's very fair complected, and has a few freckles on his cheeks and chin. Most strikingly, though, is the dragonmark that is over his right eye and cheek -- it is the Mark of Handling, indicating that he has Vadalis blood. A ornate scimitar encrusted with jewels hangs at his hip. If it weren't for the Dragonmark, it would certainly seem as though this fellow was a dandy, to use a local term.

"Varna Free Post, eh? I think we can do better than the Avelignese for these folks. They're doing an important service for the Reaches, Elliott!" He smiles conspiratorially at you all as he says this.

"Why sure, Mr. Caldeen, but yer uncle told us to cut back on what we give these folks on credit. Not 'til Mr. Whiskers pays a bit more of his bill."

"Then put it on my tab, Elliott. Give them a wagon and two....no, even better, three of the Valenar steeds." 

The worker looks like he wants to argue but he stops himself and heads over to one of the nearby pasture and starts haranguing one of the farmhands. Soon you see them wrangling three of the largest, finest horses any of you have ever seen.

"There you are, friends. It will make your journey a comfortable and expedient one. House Vadalis is always willing to look to the public interest of the Reaches. Caldeen d'Vadalis. Or rather, it will be d'Vadalis once Uncle Dalin finishes the adoption process. If there's anything you need in the future, do not hesitate to ask." He smiles warmly at all of you, and bows slightly.

Once Zeenon reaches the ranch — accompanied by Rowan, who had to do a little coaxing to get the warforged to leave its regular duties — it marches through, its fingers steepled in front of its round chest, and its head spinning like an owl's as it tries to take in everything. "Horse," it says. "Horse. Horse. Horse," it continues, seemingly counting the steeds it sees. During the interchange between the older human and Caldeen, Zeenon continues to announce each horse it sees as it stands contentedly by.

A large part of Peace's job is liaison with the d'Vadalis house.  He knows that without their patronage, the Free Post would have gone under a long time ago.  "Mr. Caldeen, thank you so much for helping us.  You are, as always, a critical part of our lives."  Peace looks at the horses as they are hitched to the cart.  "These are stunning creatures."

He can't tell whether Caldeen is a real deal Vadalis, but Korvash grins as he finally meets (potentially) one of the reasons why he has a job in the first place. "Thank you, Elliott. You -- and your friend," turning to Caldeen, "for everything." He quickly jots down that Elliott had called his employer 'Mr. Whiskers'. I'll need to tell Whiskers that, he thought. He tries to slip a meager tip of five silver pieces into Caldeen's pocket without him noticing.

Sleight of Hand: 14

"Wow,” Rowan breathes, without even realizing it, when the horses are brought it — the man clearly wasn’t delivering a line when he suggested they be brought fine steeds. They’re magnificent creatures; Rowan finds she can register little but awe. She heads toward one, attempting to slide her hand along the creature's flank. “You’re a god among men, Caldeen!” she calls back to him.

The man who introduced himself as Caldeen d'Vadalis nods with pride as he presents the beasts and wagon to you all. They are magnificent, big and muscular, with sky blue skin that glows ever so slightly, dark blue hair and yellow eyes that sparkle with an intelligence you have only rarely seen in creatures. The Valenar steed that Rowan attempts to touch clomps away just out of reach, politely neighing and shaking its head as if to say "No thank you."

Caldeen watches all this with amusement, and does not seem to notice Korvash slipping something into his coat. "Yes, my warforged friend. They are horses. Very special horses. A Valenar steed will work harder than any other type of horse. But you have to earn its respect. They have ties to the fey who run through the woods near the Twilight Desmesne. The d'Vadalis family...my family, have been studying them for decades. The big thing you need to know is these creatures know when you lie. And they don't like it."

As if to underscore the point, one of the steeds snorts and digs its hoof into the dirt, anxious to get underway. 

"Yes, well. There you are. Unless there is anything else, I bid you good luck on whatever public service you are undertaking. And do make sure the steeds are returned. I don't even think being the heir to the house will save me if you lose these creatures." He winks and laughs good-naturedly, slapping Zeenon on the back.

(The journey is relatively straightforward -- four of you can fit on the wagon (two up front, two in the back), and the fifth can ride one of the steeds. Someone, either whoever is driving the wagon or the rider will need to make a check to see if they can keep on the trail -- either animal handling, land vehicles, nature or survival).

Never once in his life had Breyten seen something so majestic, and in a strange way he felt connected to these beasts. "Thank you Caldeen, we'll protect them with our lives" he smiled at the man while looking over one of the steeds, d'vadlis had been a great benefactor, but this was the first time he'd ever been treated to such kindness; he made a mental note wondering if Caldeen knew more about their story then he was letting on.

"I have some experience in handling animals" Breyten said to the group as they made ready. "I'd be happy to take the reigns"

Zeenon begins making a flat hitching sound which its coworkers know is its interpretation of a laugh, but it sounds more like a mule complaining about something. It watches Caldeen for a second before turning back to gaze further at the horses. "Look at the horses, Zeetin," it says. "Pretty horses."

"Ah, that'd be great.  I'm going to sit in the back and take a nap. Let me know when we get there."  Peace makes himself comfortable in the cart and leans back, propping his cruciate (maul) up beside him.

Korvash takes a minute or so to admire the horses, then makes himself comfortable in front of Peace in the wagon. He sharpens his shortsword - it's been nearly three years since he's used it - and then uses the rest of the ride to stretch, meditate, and relax.

(The great part of blunt weapons, no need to sharpen them! :p)

Rowan steps back when the horse refuses her, her significant respect for the creature far outweighing anything else -- she's always been better at taking guidance from animals than humans, really. "All yours," she tells Breyten, finally returning to her senses from admiring the horses. She plans to take a spot in the front of the cart or a spot upon the horse itself -- whichever position Breyten doesn't plan to steer from. "You got good taste, Zee," she adds to Zeenon, as the warforged notes the horses.

The journey to Havenglen is actually fairly relaxing for all of you. Its the early fall, a beautiful day with only a slight breeze to remind you of the cold weather coming.

The five of you have only socialized a little bit, on the rare occasions that Whiskers treated the staff to a round at the Brewer's Droop, so you all enjoy getting a chance to talk about each other -- or at least as much as you are able to share without the Valenar steeds revealing that you're lying.

Just about two and a half hours into your journey, you see Havenglen in front of you to the north. But you also see in the distance, about twenty to thirty minutes to the West, another small encampment.

(Can Rowan, Breyten and Zeenon make Perception checks? Or one of you can make a check with advantage to speed it along.)

Rowan gently strokes the horse's neck, delighted by the entire journey -- just the promise of chill in the air, the beautiful animals before them; she spends a large portion of the journey humming a series of lively tunes. It's not until Havenglen comes into view that she also spots something else, in the distance -- she peers a little more closely at it, interested.

(If no one minds, Perception with advantage: 21.)

Rowan, you see a line of riders traveling from  Havenglen to the encampment you all see to the west. It's difficult to make out many details, but it appears there are 4 or 5 Havenglen riders, they are traveling quickly, and they appear to be carrying torches.

Breyten follows Rowan's glance, "What is it Rowan, what do you see?" his hands instinctively pull the reigns to slow the horses down in case they needed to shift directions quickly. 

Peace, noticing the sudden slowing of the horses, wakes up from a nap, "Hmm, are we there?  What's going on?"