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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 465171" data-attributes="member: 2292">Monday, August 14th, 518 AF, Continued Xoad is chased off by Taranos outburst, his already unstable faith in Heironous further shaken by the ranting of the dwarven cleric.  There is a clap of thunder in the distance, and Yip's tail twitches as he can smell rain on the air.Warwind looks at the trio standing expectantly around his hut.  Eventually he invites them to stay for a meal, none-to-pleased to be sharing his food with the smelly dwarf and confused kobold.They are midway through the meal when the rain starts, tapping against the rooftop.  There are far fewer leaks than the night before, although the walls still contain numerous trails of water seeping through cracks and soaking into the ground.  After the meal, they sit on the huts dirt floor and watch the lightening flash through the window.Late in the afternoon, a cloaked figure appears at the doorway."Greetings," a deep voice calls.  "I've brought you some blankets."The man who walks into the hut is tall and red-haired, dressed in a suit of battle-worn armor.  He hands a pile of blankets over to the surprised warwin and hunches down beside the small fire the four vetrans have built."I'm Elmo," he says.  "Head of the town militia.  Heard you folks were new in town and thought I'd stop by."There is a brief round of introductions, then an expectant pause while everyone waits for Elmo to speak.  No-one trusts that this is a friendly visit."I'll be blunt," Elmo says, looking at their expantant faces.  "I'm not happy that the Empire is farming off vetrans to the smaller towns.  Nothing personal, but what are you folk planning to do now you're here?  Hommlet's a small place, know what I'm saying?  The people work hard, and everyone does there bit to keep things that way.  The towns had a hard past, and we don't want anything disturbing that.  Especially not a bunch of bored vetrans with little cash and fewer skills."Elmo pointedly eyes the haphazard patchwork job on the ceiling."So, now that you're here, do you have any plans?"There is a general chorus of confusion.  None of the vetrans had expected the war to end, becoming acostomed to the unending years of battle.  "Well," Elmo grins, "people aren't as comfortable with idle warriors sitting around the town as they once were.  It's not like the Temple's still looming over us and we need the spare blades.  Now the towns more peaceful.  I was thinking, if you want to earn yourselves a little goodwill, might I suggest doing something for the watch?  Just a favor, no payment, but it might help get some of the locals on side..."Durhon is all to eager to agree, responding before anyone else has processed the offer.  His voice is eager and hungry."You got something fer us to kill?""No, no," Elmo says.  "Well, probably not.  See, I've heard a couple of rumors about strange folks in the hills, robed people heading out to the old Moathouse to the east of town.  It's probably nothing - robed strangers have traditionally been bad news for Hommlet, but normally they head straight out to the ruins and don't bother with the minor strongholds.  We figured anything worthwhile in the moathouse had been picked clean years ago anyway.  But just in case, well, if you've got nothing else to do you might want to go check the old mouthouse out.  Just to put my mind at ease, help everyone in town relax a bit."The four vetrans look at one another.  Yip is hunched down, nodding eagerly at the chance to do something to help his new home.  Maybe, if he's lucky, these robed strangers would be thives and he can hunt like the old days.  Warwind and Taranos are less eager, but can see the logic in earning some goodwill from the town.  Durhons already on his feet and shaking hands with Elmo as the others make their decision."We're on it."  He grunts.  "Find 'em, check 'em out and kill 'em if they're up to no good.  Been looking for some action anyway."Elmo beams.  He bids them goodnight as they start making plans, then walks out into the rain wiping a smear of Durhon's grime from the palm of his hand.</blockquote>

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