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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Seravin" data-source="post: 1178766" data-attributes="member: 6783">It’s the Choices That We MakeKellron and his four companions rode towards Milbourne in high spirits.  They had left Kupier’s farm that morning, having overnighted with the older Imperial Scout and his wife, Delilah.  The older couple had treated them with grand hospitality and they themselves had shared the good news that Oleanne was safe.  For the last few weeks the wild-child had been watching tunnels deep in the woods and had been killing any orcs that had dared to come out.Kupier had found the idea of tunnels running from Broken Spire to just south of his farm troubling, but with the orcs contained and the bandits of Broken Spire defeated, he seemed content to leave them alone for now.In the light of the morning sun the only choices that lay before the small group was what were they going to do next?  Lyntern had tried to entice them with stories of the Gleaming Glade in the Hardlow Woods; there were the massive portals underneath the Thornwood itself; there were even the rumors of the lizardfolk still living in the Shrieken Mire.  With the sun full up in the sky all the choices looked to promise adventure.The light-heartedness was soon broken.  Barely an hour had passed since they had left Kupier’s farm and trouble approached in the form of a young man riding a horse.Burrel rode the young drafthorse as fast as he dared, the urgency of his message foremost in his mind.  The young, dark haired man was second son of one of the farmers just outside Milbourne.  He and Da had arrived in Milbourne that morning to pick up some items at Rastifer’s.  Da needed a new bit for his horses and Ma wanted some of the pickled eels that Rastifer always seemed to have on hand.  Da had put the errand off as long as he could, but he had finally run out of excuses.Milbourne was in disarray when he and Da had arrived.  Someone had broke into the church two nights before and the young priest, Semheis, was missing.  Garyld, the old lame carpenter had followed tracks northward to the old mines but had come back this morning with stories of an ogre working with me.  With his old war injuries Garyld had said he we would need help.  Thus Burrel had been drafted that morning and sent eastwards to Kupier’s farm.  Everyone knew that Kupier would be helpful.  Afterwards his orders were to go on to Thurmaster and try and find the mercenaries that had fought the river bandits and had negotiated with the goblins of New Mire – they could be helpful.His mind whirling with all that he had learned, Burrel nearly rode his horse into the five riders coming westward.  Two of the riders expertly moved their horses out of the way though and Burrel passed with a  “Sorry!”  as a hooded woman with an exotic accent yelled out “Watch where you’re going!”Burrel was fifty yards down the road when memory caught up with reality.  He pulled his horse to a stop and trotted back.  “Wait up!”  He called.  “I have a message for you!”The five riders pulled their own horses to a stop and let Burrel ride up.  The young man sized up the riders as he approached.  There was the large man who had easily gotten out of his way who was obviously a soldier, wearing a polished, if somewhat battered, chain shirt.  At his side was a sword and a shield was hanging from his left arm.  The other one that had moved her horse out of the way was a young girl. <No.>  He corrected himself.  <A young woman – pretty too.>.  She was dressed in riding leathers and had a serviceable looking sword at her side and a crossbow secured to her saddlebags.Behind that pair was the hooded woman.  Burrel could just see a strand of white hair sticking out from under her cowl.  Unconsciously the woman ran her hand up replace the stray lock of hair.Next to her was a young man also dressed in leathers with one of those fancy swords at his side.  City-folk was Burrel’s first thought and he moved onto the final rider who was bringing up the rear.The man was an elf.  Or at least a part elf, Burrel couldn’t be sure.  The elf was dressed flamboyantly in leathers dyed black and he had a harp case strapped across his back.  Noticing that he had an audience, the half-elf sat a little straighter and smiled easily at the young man.“What can we do for you?”  Asked the half-elf easily.“You are the mercenaries that spoke to the goblins in New Mire and fought the bandits on the river?”  Asked Burrel.  He was fairly certain they were, but it was best to ask.  The soldier frowned.  “I wouldn’t call us merce…” He started.“Yes.”  Said the small woman next to the soldier.  “We’re the ones.”“Then you have to come quickly!”  Ker Semheis was kidnapped two days ago and Master Garyld needs help!”Kellron leaned forward.  “Tell us what happened.”<So much for a commission.> Was the thought from at least one person</blockquote>

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