17th Reaping, 582 Tuesday

A month has gone by since the Seekers saved Silverlance and returned from the Dark Woods. In that time they had all gained in their abilities in a variety of ways. They continued their weekly Friday luncheons at the Inn of the Shadows, though no direct offers for their services have been made. Cassandra had learned of a reward being offered over in Narwell for the sucessful solution to a mysterious death, but the four have been too busy training to decide whether they should head over there and look into it.

They had taken up Lwcynda's kind offer of Tuesday night supper. The latter had also become a regular gathering, with each bringing a dish or two. Now that `Runt' had come along, his cooking skills have proved to be excellent!

It was at just one of these Tuesday night socials, when a knock came on the door. Opening it, Runt saw three elves. They were as surprised to see him, a goblin, as he, them. Composure regained, one of them spoke, in common, "We understand that this is the cottage of Lwcynda, one of those referred to as the Seekers, who helped the Unicorn Silverlance, in his time of danger?" Something about their tone made Runt a bit uneasy. Then he recalled that Silverlance's trouble had been brought about by goblins. 'Yes, they all here, all four, you better watch it, they me friends."

At this the elves smiled, "AH, you are a friend. Ok, then may we see the Seekers?"

"I see if they busy. You wait."

Runt went inside, shutting the door, and told the group of the elves' presence and request.

"I doubt elves could mean any harm, " said Cassandra, "might as well let them in."

As the others agreed, Runt was dispatched to bring the visitors in. When they arrived, one spoke for the three. "I am Gleeb Wert, this is Starl Silver, and Jeawel Triffle. We apologise for being so long in coming. but we were away and only learned recently of your bold deeds in the aid of Silverlance. We would like to reward you for your efforts."

So saying they produced 5 arrows, a short sword, a scroll spells [Tenser's floating disk, unseen servant, ray of enfeeblement ], and a vial. "These items, as well as this gold," Gleeb continued, handing over a sack which contained 400 pieces of gold, "are yours as a reward for you efforts. You have shown yourselves to be friends of the forest, and of elves."

He allowed some moments for the Seekers to take in their treasures.

Cassandra reached for the short sword, "If no one objects, think this little beauty will serve me well." She grasped the weapon and began slinking about, moving with stealth, and snuck up from behind the arm chair.

The one identified as Jeawel spoke. "Another woman who knows that the best way to a man's heart is sometimes through his back." She smiled lightly.

"I am sure you will all find something of use here. These arrows will improve accuracy and dammge by two, the spells are no doubt known to the master of magic, and the vial will allow one to change into another animal or creature. It is up to you to decide who gets what."

Gleeb allowed time for each to state his/her choice

"Uh, well, my selection is... mmm, well... uh, rather obvious. The uh, the scroll if none, um, none of you uh, have an um, an objection?" Andremar claimed the scroll for himself.

Lwcynda expressed and interest in the vial, leaving the arrows for Pirvan.

"Obviously the gold is easily divisible." he noted.

Once all had been settled, Gleeb said, "My thanks once again." And he stepped back. The one called Starl steped forward. He had remained silent and rather emotionless during the proceedings.

He spoke in a deep and somber voice. "I have in on good authority that you four were also in some way responsible for helping a village south of here restore its farming ability."

Cassandra said, "That is somewhat true. We found the man who was supposed to get the grain. So I guess you could say that we did have a hand in it, yes."

Starl said, "Then my information is correct. Since you have shown yourselves to be friends of the forest and of the earth, you might be interested to know that an area to the west of here, known as the Downs, has come under difficulty. Rumor has it that a curse has been placed upon the land. Perhaps it is something in your line of expertise, something you four might wish to look into?" There was a slight rise, hope perhaps?, in Starl's voice at the end.

"Fellows, I'm for a spot of, of... mmm, crime solving, so uh, how about um, a quick trip to the murder scene in uh... where... mmmm in Narwell?"

Lwcynda said that she was inclined to look into a 'cursed village', but again she will go with what the majority of the group wants.

Cassandra was also willing to go either way, but wouldn't mind a city visit. "I do like trees, but we have been in the forest for so long. Pirvan, looks like it's up to you, big guy." She grins.

Six, make that seven counting Runt's, pairs of eyes turned toward the brave fighter.

"I would like to see this cursed village, I don't really like cities and am getting used to nature, But I will go along with what ever the rest of you say."

"What about you Runt? Where would you like to go? We are a group of five now and we must include every body in it. And you Cassandra you have not told us you choice yet."

"What about you Runt? Where would you like to go? We are a group of five now and we must include every body in it. And you Cassandra you have not told us you choice yet."

Cassandra said, "I thought I already said that I would not mind a trip to the big city. Never know what I might be able to pick up." There was something more to her statement.

Runt looked about, somewhat confused. He was not at all accustomed to having anyone ask him for his opinion. He weighed the pros and cons of each adventure. He could see that Pirvan and Lwcynda preferred the trip to the Downs, but the `curse' gave him a bit of a fright. Andremar and Cassandra seemed to prefer the city. But, the city, with all its possible excitement, also scared him. Then he was faced with deciding between his four new friends. Finally his eyes lit up. "Me think we should do both. We brave, we tough, we smart, we, er, we, ah, we are four, er, five, we do both."

Cassandra asked Starl, "How pressing is the situation in the Downs?"

The elf answered, "They have got along well enough, just I wish someone would take a look into it."

Cassandra then suggested, "Then let us try this. We will heard to Narwell, look into this strange death. How long could it take? Make a quick reward. Then go over to the Downs. Remember the last ime we went into the forest? We were gone for more than a month. We might go to the Downs and by the time we get back, someone has beaten us to the Narwell score. Maybe Runt has the best idea after all."

The diminuative goblin puffed out his chest with pride.

"Okay Runt, you do have a good idea. I will get my supplies together and I can be ready to leave for Narwell within the next couple days."

To Starl she said "We will go to the village in the Downs as soon as we return from Narwell. Like Cassandra says, 'How long can it take?'" To her companions she said. "So is that agreeable with everyone?"

6 Patchwall, 582, Earthday

A light rain had been falling throughout the morning, and the temperature had risen from the low 50's to the low 70's, making unseasonably muggy fall conditions. The Seekers were at their usual table at the Inn the Shadows, having their weekly lunch. Still no word from those elves about the situation in the Downs. Cassandra suddenly remembered something. "Hey, I suddenly remembered something. We got a package in the mail." She signaled to Heckel to `come over here.'

"I, er, didn't know, that, um, there was mail."

"Neither did I," admitted Drist.

For once, Lwcynda was in the know. "Yes, there is. Seems a cleric in Enstad started a messenger service, something called `Heaven Sent.' HE has connections as far east as Hardby, north to the Land of Black Ice, and south to the Amedio Jungle."

"People in the, er, jungle, um get mail?"

"Yes, they do. There is a city down there, known as Fort Thunder. This Jeremiah has connections down there. He and some members of the Company of Welkwood did some great service down there. Rumor has it that Meriweather of the Welkwood found an important artifact down there."

"Do, um tell." then Andremar recalled the matter at hand. "Now, Cassie, er, what's this about a, um, package?"

By now Cassandra was reaching into Heckel's side pack, something she'd had designed so that her dogs could `pull their own weight' as she put it. "Here it is," she said, as she pulled out a wrapped box which measured 6" x 3" 2". It bore the address "Seekers of Chatwin" in very clear script.

"Bet I know who it's from," she said as she opened it. "Yep, I was right." She pulled forth four metal nubbed, mahogany shafted writing pens. Each had a small bronze piece on the side. An each bronze piece was engraved with the name of one of the four. "Here's one for you Andremar, and Dristarian, and Lwcynda, and mine. Look, it reads, `Cassandra Duske.'" Hers was the only one to contain two names.

By now, they all realized that these were from Jordan, the apprentice of Callery Frickard and man who's murder they had solved some months back in Narwell. Andremar looked at his pen. "Beautiful, um, just beautiful. Still wonder, er, where Jordan, um, got the money, to er, put a down payment on that, um shop."

"Guess he just picked it up somewhere," suggested Cassandra.

They were all basking in the glow of a good deed rendered when they became aware of a slight commotion at the far end of the dining hall.

"Yeah, a big crowd. Somethin to do with a man and a horse."

"Over to the Knight Owl joint!"

"Big crowd. Looks like trouble."

As some customers began leaving the Inn, obviously drawn by whatever this commotion might be, Cassandra suggested they do the same. "We've been meaning to visit the Knight Owl's Inn, might as well take the opportunity."

And so the four of them, with Gork in tow, headed for the door. He distributed `rain blockeees' as he called them. They consisted of a stick about three feet long, with a leather grip on one end, and two crossed sticks perpendicular to the main one at the other. Fixed to the crossed sticks was a piece of oil treated tarp, 'eet block thee wet,' he smiled as each took one from him and headed out in to the rain. Gork fiited each dog with a smaller version, then followed.

The Seekers took the path west along the north side of the river, then hung a right up to where this Inn was. The moment they had cleared Sir Rocco's cottage, they could see the commotion. Right out front of the Knight Owl's Inn, a crowd had formed around a horse drawn wagon. People were shouting and shaking fists at the driver. As the Seekers neared the vehicle, they were surprised to learn that it was not horse drawn; rather, hitched to the wagon was a rather haggard long centaur. This creature seemed to be the cause of the villagers' emotions, and their anger seemed to be directed at the man in the driver's seat.

The wagon's driver was a black-bearded man wearing dark robes. He held a riding whip in one hand, as he called, "Let me pass. It is my wagon, and my beast of burden. Let me pass, I say." Leading the villagers in their, so far, verbal assault on the wagon was an elf, dressed in leather hunting garb, a pair of short swords at his sides. Drist recognized him as Saugus, a hunter and member of the Company of the Unseen Blade. He knew him to be a basically good fellow, though he did occasionally talk to his sword. The centaur seemed dazed and bewildered by the entire ordeal.

The crowd seemed intent on blocking the wagon's passage. Drist called to Saugus, "What is the problem?"

The elf saw the familiar face, pointed to the centaur. "This here's the problem. This `beast of burden' is no ordinary animal. It is, in fact a forest druid, one who once saved me from a bear in the Welkwood. Why this cur," pointing to the wagon's driver, "has him under reins is beyond me." He turned back to the centaur. "Anachraeus, speak to me man. It is I, Saugus. Don't you remember?"

But the centaur showed no recognition; his eyes were dazed and confused.

Cassandra said, "Wonderful. This guy talks to his sword, and now he thinks centaurs are druids."

But the crowd seemed to side with Saugus on this one. There were cries of, "Unseat him!" "Free the beast!" Some were gathering rocks. "Justice, justice, we want JUSTICE," cried some. The noise was enough to wake the dead. No one in the village could not hear the tumult.

Andremar watched with practiced eyes as the bearded, dark cloaked man cast some sort of defensive spell upon himself.

Suddenly a voice came from the doorway of the inn, as a deep tone sounded, "What be this commotion on me doorstep?" At first it seemed a trick, as the origin of the banter could not be seen. Then, having taken a second look, downward, there stood a short, 4ft tall, man, with a rather large nose, shoulder length brown hair, tied back in a pony tail, with tanned and weathered skin. He wore no armor, only a tan tunic and green breaches, with a dagger tucked into his belt.

Realizing the newcomer was a gnome, Cassandra concluded to her companions, "Must be that Grummie, has a small shop in this inn. Pawnshop, I think."

The gnome stared into the crowd with his oak brown eyes, and realized that if he intended to get anyone's attention, he had better gain a bit of advantage. He waddled over to the wagon, and climbed up a wheel. Once atop the wheel, he sighed heavily, put his fists on his small hips, wrinkled his overproportioned nose, and snorted "Now, what be the meanin' o' dis? Tis nay good for me business."

The crowd's attention fell full upon him. The bearded man stared hard at the diminutive interloper.

Andremar used this as a distraction to cast a spell of his own. He scanned the centaur, its trappings, and the carriage and its driver, in a search for things magical. The centaur gave off no glow. The man was another story. Andremar detected that he wore a magical brooch upon his cloak, had a magical ring on the left hand, and had something magical in a thin case which hung from his right side belt inside his cloak.

Lwcynda was somewhat upset at seeing the centaur in this condition and she realized that things could get out of hand. This being the case she attempted a new spell which her goddess had granted her Calm Chaos. Soon, maybe a half dozen of those gathered, the more common folk, were staring in her direction, as if waiting for her to speak.

"You got their attention, sister, now what?" said Cassandra.

Andremar spoke to the bearded man. "So, tell me good, er, Sir. How is it, um, that you, er, an intelligent beast is under reins."

The bearded man spoke. "I am Khielgarn. This centaur is my horse. It is as simple as that. Now, as to his intelligence, does he look intelligent to you? If he is so smart, then why is he pulling my wagon? And, if as that knave there," pointing to Saugus, "claims, then pray explain why he is indeed pulling my wagon. He is a simple beast of burden, MY simple beast of burden."

He turned his attention to the gnome who still stood atop his right front wagon wheel. "I thank you, Sir, to dismount and desist. It will be much worse for your business should I have to use all my powers," he waved his right arm around, "to take what's mine and get out of here!"

By now Saugus had drawn a weapon, a short sword, to which he seemed to say, "Shut up! I know what I know." Then looking up to Khielgarn. "You'll be getting out, but not with him," pointing to the centaur. He stood, along with some villagers, directly in front of the animal.

"Have it your way," said Khielgarn. He picked up his driving whip and prepared to let it fly.

The commotion had attracted people from all over the village. Others were arriving, big one short ones, fat ones skinny ones,

In the face of all the spell casting, Drist could think of nothing else to do, so he waited and watched to see what would happen with all this magic, although he still held his newly acquired long bow just in case. .

Grummie the gnome smirked at the bearded man, and scoffed at his words. He cleared his throat with a nasally grunt, and spit defiantly into the floor of the wagon, near the drivers feet, declaring "Ifen yea wish to raise the militia, den use yea 'powers'." Still, discretion being the better part of valor, Grummie leapt from the wagon wheel.

Lwcynda had heeded Cassandra earlier warning. "You are right, I must now keep these people preoccupied with something other than what's going on. The spell will last as long as I keep their attention. "

"Well, get to it," Cassandra suggested.

Lwcynda tossed that head of flowing back hair, and bated those bay blues at those who had been drawn to her. "Friends. I am reminded of our recent trip to Narwell. When we first arrived, there was, like there is now, a wild crowd scene. Yes, very wild indeed. But in spite of the impending doom, doom I say, ..... " She continued recounting the tale of the Seekers' last adventure to the calmed people. She hoped that the rest of her companions could deal with the man and centaur.

Grummie moved around the wagon to the road side, and turned his attention to the Seekers, about whom he had already heard much. He stared specifically at Cassandra and Dristarian asking.. "Ken nay one of yea speak wid this beast, an ask of it what it wishes?"

Cassandra said, "If someone can change him into a lizard I could, but animals, no, not meee-" her voice raised two octaves as she looked beyond the present situation to the north.

Those who were not in Lwcynda's circle looked as well.

Walking purposefully towards them was a tall, 7'+, 300 lbs, blacked haired, yellowed eyed, er, person, er, being? He wore a chain vest and carried giant mace in hand. Before anyone could react, or dared to, he moved Saugus out of the way, and grabbed the reigns of the centaur. The elf yielded, saying to his sword, "Yeah, but if they fall on me, they'll hurt." He put his sword away and moved about five paces into the road.

The large creature, who resembled an ogre spoke in a steady commanding voice, "Hold on here. There be no need for violence, but if youz all is lookin' fer some..." He scanned the crowd grimly. Most saw his size, and his mace, and gave quarter. Even Lwcynda's attention was drawn to his presence. Beyond his size and sound, she noticed he wore a necklace with a silver lightening bolt, a holy symbol of some sort.

"Looks like there's a new story teller in town," noted Cassandra to Lwcynda.

The large man looked up to Khielgarn, "Good day sir, I am Jutos the Just, Herald of Heironeos. Now, kindly tell me the story of this here...creature," looking the ragged centaur in the eyes.

Khielgarn coiled up his whip, and toned down his voice. He still stood in the driver's area of the wagon, under a canopy. He looked directly at Jutos, but spoke loudly enough for all to hear. "Thank the gods. I am relieved to have someone representing such a wise and learned order, that of Heironeous, to hear the truth. Now, hear me well. I have no idea what that crazed elf is speaking of. I have recently been to the city of Enstad, on the other side of the Welkwood Forest. During my return trip, I was attacked by some orcs. Now, being the masterful wizard that I am, I was able to repel the assault, but, alas, my noble steed of many years, ah, `Brownie' was his name, was wounded and died shortly after. There I was alone in the forest, with this wagon and no way to move it. I thought I might die. Then a kindly ranger, er, what was his name, ah, well, can't quite remember, came upon my small camp. Seems he had not one, but two centaurs, neither of whom were particularly well kept I might add. I offered to buy one from him. He drove a hard bargain, but eventually, he sold me this mottled beast for 300 pieces of gold. So, I bought him fair and square. Now, whatever the elf is rambling on about, well, that is not my problem. My dilemma is that I own this animal, and he serves me well. And, now is my time to continue my journey." At which point, he sat down in the driver's seat.

Andremar readied his magic missiles to interrupt any spell casting which Khielgarn might attempt. He selected his specialty spell for its short casting time, hoping to get the drop on the dark and bearded one.

He suggested, "Perhaps our, er, driver remain a, um, "guest" somewhere secure, er, while we check out this story. Of course, um, lodgings would be free... and, ah, should we validate his story, um, compensation of 50gp for his trouble would be paid."

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the thought of a house guest, "Unless, of course, he'll walk the dogs."

Grummie nodded to Andremar in agreement with his suggestion to "board" the accused, "Aye, Andremar.. I agree with thee, and shall make the arrangements here at the Knight Owl's Inn for his accommodations. Likewise, I shall make sure that the stables will board the ..er.. centaur, and provide for it's care."

Cassandra wiped her brow, "Phew, won't have to clean up those beards trimming after all."

Grummie then glanced around the crowd, and finally towards the bearded man atop the wagon... awaiting signs of approval or disdain.

Drist agreed with both Andremar and Grummie. "You are right Grummie, if we find this ranger and discover that he never had any centaurs, then we will know that he..." Drist gestured towards the man on the cart, "...is lying, and he will then have a LOT of talking to do." Drist now directed his attention to the man on the cart. "So, Sir, if you don't mind staying in an inn for a day or two, we would like to investigate this matter further."

Lwcynda looked about then pushed her way through the crowd to the wagon and the "BIG" man. She asked the man in the wagon "Who was this person who sold you this beast? And will you stay at an inn in town so that we might investigate your claims?"

Khielgarn stroked his beard, his dark eyes, darted around the crowd, weighing his options.

Lwcynda spoke to Jutos, "Sir Big man, by the way, what is your name? You are really tall! And since you seem to have handled this well indeed, perhaps you might consider looking into this matter with us. Since you are of a just order this man might not object. Oops, that is if my comrades agree?" She had apparently been so involved in her own storytelling, that she had missed his pronouncement.

Jutos answered simply, "Jutos. And given the opportunity, yes." straightforwardly

Drist then turned his attention to Lwcynda. "Yes, I would be a good idea for him to come with us to look into this matter. Who knows, him and Grummie might just end up joining our steadily growing group." Drist smiled slightly and waited for something from the others.

Lwcynda continued to ramble a bit, as those who knew her well, well.... "I wonder if Gork speaks centaur, or if someone could ..... ." Then realized she was so she stopped and waited for answers.

Khielgarn's right eyebrow twitched slightly.

A moment later, the stout gnome continued to say.. "But how shall we do this? We must first find this ranger, an determine his true claim to the beast... Ifen he nae owned it, then he ken nay sell it!"

Again, the dark bearded man looked about. "Er, exactly. That is precisely my point. You cannot possibly expect me to sit around this little village whilst you search the Welkwood for the particular ranger who sold me this particular centaur. Can you imagine how many rangers there are in the Welkwood?" He let this particular mathematical puzzle settle.

Then he spoke to Jutos. "You claim to be `just.' This woman here," indicating Lwcynda, "identifies you as one of a `just order.' Do you see any `justice' in my being detained here against my will?" His tone raising with each new word, "In fact, is there any law that states that a men cannot come and go in this village without being detained, just because some foolish elf is having another hallucination?"

A voice beyond answered, "NO, no there is not. There is no such law." Most eyes followed the sound of the voice. There stood Hawke, the Head of the Chatwin Militia. In his mid-twenties, Hawke wore reasonable brownish garb, a sword sheathed at his side. Next to him stood a female dwarf, slightly splotched with mud. To her he spoke, "There is no such law, is there Zamora?"

The dwarf considered what little she had heard. "From what was just said, Hawke, no there is not. If fact, I would say the situation is absurd. What fool elf is making such a claim?"

The fingers of all the villagers pointed at Saugus, who was standing alone, mid road, hands on hips, in a very defiant pose. He spoke boldly, "Zamora, you know me. I say this centaur is really a druid, and there is no way he would willingly let himself be driven like this."

Zamora now considered this source. "Yes, I do know you, have traveled with you, and fought by your side." She turned to Hawke. "I must give his claim some credence, but there is no law."

Hawke allowed all to reiterate what had transpired to this point, with everyone saying again what he or she `wanted.'

During this Gork piped, "Mee wonder what ceentaur want."

Finally, Hawke addressed Khielgarn. "Sir, I cannot force you to stay. The laws of this village say you are free to leave. But I fear if you leave, or attempt to leave, there will be violence, and that will disrupt my duty to maintain the peace. I see you are a wise man, a thoughtful man, a man of peace and integrity-"

"He's a lying kidnapper, is what he is," blurted Saugus, but a quick stare from Hawke ended his outburst.

"As I was saying, you do see my problem. Now is there something we can do? Some way to work this out?"

Khielgarn stroked his beard, glanced about, and raised his left eyebrow. He said slowly, "Yes," dragging out the word, "Yes, we do seem to be on the horns of a dilemma here, now don't we?" He paused. "Hmm, now, I would like to accommodate you, ..... , but, I do own this beast. I did pay 400 pieces of gold for him. I cannot pull this wagon myself now, can I?" A slight squint of the eye as he continued. "So as upholder of the law and peace in these parts, you would, er, I mean, should, escort me out of this town, especially since you admit that you anticipate violence."

Hawke realized that Khielgarn had a point, and he felt the sting of it. "Sir, you are correct. I will give you an escort, should you chose to leave. Are you sure you wish to do so?"

Khielgarn answered, "I do. I wish for myself, my wagon, pulled by my beast of burden," the emphasis being on `my,' "to be escorted out of here."

Hawke looked around, hoping that someone might have an alternative. Zamora seemed resigned to the action, though she knew Saugus was stubborn enough to try something. "A peaceful solution is always the best, though, " she muttered.

Grummie ran under the wagon, ducking his head, making his way to the Hawke's side, yelling "Wait! Wait! Wait!" Once he had reached the hulking man's side, he waved his arms frantically, and looking up towards Hawke, and he proclaimed in a loud voice.. "Wait! Hear yea not this lie? Did yea just hear it!" Grummie glanced over to Jutos, looking him in the eye, asking "Did yea hear his words? He changed the price? He did say, not a moment ago, that he did buy yon centaur for 300 coin, now he says 400." Grummie looked around frantically at the many who have gathered and listened to this story unfold... "He is LYING!" he sputtered, pointing at the man atop the wagon, with a glare of distrust.

Lwcynda said, "Why yes, I also heard him to say that he paid 300 gp for the centaur. Why would he lie if he has nothing to hide. I think he must be detained or at least the centaur must be detained until we can find out why he is lying. Also I have heard that a ranger can often be in tune with animals. Perhaps Shantyra the Ranger can provide some help. I have heard that she is very good with animals. There may be no law to detain HIM, but I'm sure that cruelty to animals is against the law. This animal needs rest and healing. Hawke, surely you can see that for yourself."

Drist then heard what Grummie said and recalled all the times that the man mentioned how much he got the centaur for. "Grummie and Lwcynda are right," Drist directed this at Zamora, "and now we also have a reason to look into this matter further. If the man DID lie, then he should be questioned, and the centaur taken from him for the time he is not using it, until the facts are told about the creature. If the man just made a slip of the tongue, then I think that we should just find the ranger that my companion mentioned, and let her take care of the centaur."

Grummie nodded again, in agreement with his new found comrades... "Aye, this the best way... Me offer still stands... They ken both board here in da Inn, ifen Hawke ken post a guard or two... " With that, the short gnome smiled up at Hawke from under his hulking nose.

The bearded man stuttered, "Oh, did I say `400?' I meant, er, ah, 300. Yes, that was it, I paid 300. To a ranger in the Welkwood." He paused, and thought for a moment. "Of course, he only _said_ he was a ranger. Come to think of it, he could have been anyone." He allowed this to sink in, then continued, looking at Hawke as he did so. "But who was I to doubt him?"

Hawke nodded in agreement.

Khielgarn continued in a lowered tone. "He offered something I needed, and I paid in good faith. Now with all this fuss, I might have, er, accidentally increased the price. Sorry if I did so. I know what I did pay. It was 300 pieces of gold. Since when is it a crime to purchase an animal, for that is what this centaur is?"

Hawke admitted, "I can see no crime here. Perhaps the situation is unusual, but no crime has been committed." He turned to the crowd, and the more vocal ones, Grummie, Drist, and Lwcynda, in particular.

Then he addressed Khielgarn, "As I already said, I have no reason to detain you. Though I wish the circumstance could be altered."

"There is a way," said Khielgarn.

"What might it be," asked Hawke.

Khielgarn stroked his beard, and adjusted his cloak, placing his right hand on his belt. Andremar could see this as a harmless pose, from a spell casting standpoint. "If these people case so much about this creature, then I am willing to sell it to them. Just give me what I paid, 300 golds, and he's theirs. Then they can `look into the matter' all they wish. And I can leave this little berg. Now does that not sound like a fair compromise?"

Hawke admitted that it was. He began to look around the crowd to see if there was any acceptance.

"But, there is one proviso," drawled Khielgarn.

"OK, tell us."

"I must be able to get a suitable beast, preferably a draft horse, for no more than that amount of money. Is there a livery stables in this lovely little hamlet?"

"Yes, Grimes Lunt runs one. That is where the aforementioned Shantyra works."

"Well then, while these fine souls decide whether or not they will take me up on my very kind offer, if someone would check on the availability of a suitable animal?"

Zamora volunteered to do so. She did so. There was.

Once this assurance was given, Khielgarn asked one and all, "So, do we have a deal? Because, if not, I am free to go, and with this man's escort if need be, am I right, Sir?"

Hawke confirmed that Khielgarn had a firm grasp on the realities of this situation. He, too, turned to the crowd. "Any takers on this man's offer?"

Andremar checked his funds, and on discovering a moderate amount of gold, offered 50gp as a contribution. He looked at his friends expectantly, and also at the accusatory elf... "Uh, perhaps you would uh, you could um, make a, contribution, uh, make a donation towards the, uh, towards the centaural fund?"

Seeing her housemate being so generous, Cassandra chipped in an equal amount. "Easy come, easy go. Besides, Andremar, we always needed another pet. Just think what a great moving target he'll make! Sure will save wear and tear on the trees."

Saugus responded to Andremar's challenge. "Sure, I'm good for fifty."

Lwcynda also offered fifty.

Jutos slipped his massive mace back into his belt, never releasing his grip on the centaur's reigns. With his free hand, he reached into his pouch and produced two good-sized gemstones. "I too shall offer up my wealth as your offer seems fair."

With this, the agreed to price of 300 golds was met. Shortly thereafter, Shantyra the ranger arrived, a draft horse in tow. It took a few minutes to unhitch the centaur and put the draft horse in place. The 300 golds were handed to Shantyra. She thanked Khielgarn, and he, her.

Jutos then looked the wizard grimly in the eye, "Now, be on your way, for I follow a higher law than these 'civilized' people." Placing his hand on the shaft of his mace, Jutos continued, "and by the Gods I shall not hesitate to deal swift justice to those who transgress it!"

Khielgarn merely stroked his beard. "Be careful, large one, for justice in often in the eye of the dispenser." He turned to Hawke, who had witnessed the transaction. "May I leave now?"

Hawke answered, "Certainly. Now, all you people, you've caused this poor man enough inconvenience for one day. Out of his way. NOW!" All the common folk shuddered and moved, most out of the scene.

Khielgarn thanked Hawke for his firm handling of the situation. He took the reins, slapped than rather harshly across the back of his new horse, "Haw, haw, let's get going!" he cried. He and his new beast of burden soon became a speck down the road.

Grummie had a look of concern on his face. He expressed a regret. "Well, I nay have much coin, since I hav openned me pawn shop. Mayhaps I should summon the stable hands o' the Inn, an see ifen they ken feed and groom this creature." Grummie quickly waddled around the backside of the wagon, and made his way to the door of the Inn. He stuck his head in the door, and shouted to someone within "Summon forth the stable boys, to care for a centaur." The gnome then returned his attention to the parlay in the roadway.

Gork the Runt had quietly approached the centaur, warily at first, more of Jutos than of the horse man. Saugus saw his hesitation and said, "His name is Anachraeus. He used to speak and smile, but now, I don't understand."

Gork began to stroke the animal's flank, "Mee like heeem, Heee seems nice. Wonder what hee wants?"

Shantyra examined the creature. She did, after all, run the village's veterinary clinic. "HE seems to be in good health, though his back has been whipped a few too often." She suffered a silent regret at selling that horse to the bearded man, but, it was Grimes' business to sell horses. "Wonder why he can't talk?"

Saugus added his own concern. "I wonder why he does not recognize me. He is, or at least, was a druid. He helped me deal with a bear. Healed a wound I had. There is something very wrong here."

Andremar said, "I, er, took the liberty of, um, detecting magic earlier. He has no, er, spell currently running upon him. That is, er, not to say that, um, something cast a while back, er, could not be still affecting him."

Cassandra asked, "So, is he, or is he not, under the influence of magic?"

Andremar hesitated, "Er, um, ah, well, um, maybe, um, and, er, maybe not."

"Good, I'm glad we settled that one. Now let me get this straight. We have shares in a centaur who used to be a druid, but is now no more than a man horse, who may or may not have been spelled in some way, but does at least have a place to stay other than our living room?" As she look around beyond Andremar, she saw that pretty much everyone had left save for Saugus, Grummie, Jutos, Lwcynda, Drist, and Gork who was still petting the centaur.

Grummie confirmed that there was room in his stables and two young boys appeared to take the centaur inside. Gork asked of Lwcynda, "I can stay with heem? Yes?" She knew better than to say `no' for now. He ran gleefully alongside of his new friend.

Cassandra then asked. "OK we own a centaur. Now what the heck are we to do with him?"

Jutos strode forward, his gaze shifting the rapidly departing horse, to the centaur, then resting on Cassandra, "Why, we shall set him free, of course. Else, for what did we denounce his enslavement?"

Grummie looked up... way up... trying to speak with Jutos, and replied.. "Aye, but be not hasty. Having trained in the ways of the woodland ranger, I fear for the safety of this baffled creature. Ifen there be somthing amiss, then we shoulds't try and undo whate'er is has been done first. Mayhaps we should seek one which ken peer into its mind, an' unveil the events of its past. To release it in this condition woulds't only open it to be victimized by another foul enslaver, or worse."

Lwcynda said, "I must agree with Grummie. This centaur is in no condition to do anything on his own right now. We must find out what happened to him and help set him straight. Then of course he can go free. After all we are the Seekers and we seek the truth." Lwcynda looked at her companions for support.

Cassandra agreed with Lwcynda, but asked, "How do you propose we set about doing this? How can we find out what happened to him? He is in no shape to tell us, though this one," indicating Saugus, "says that he once could. Where, or how, should we start?"

Drist looked at Grummie. "That is true, but who knows how long it might be before we find someone who can read its mind, If their is anyone at all who knows how to do that. I've not even heard of such a magic as to read one's mind, although, I recall someone back in my homeland attempting to do this, but he failed."

"I agree," replied Jutos, modifying his earlier pronouncement. "Simply turning it loose is not the answer, at least, not until it is ready." Looking down at Lwcynda, Jutos continued, "Truly, we ought to discover who or what is responsible for the poor creature's plight, if such is possible. As it is a sylvan creature, perhaps we would be best served seeking elven aid."

Grummie replied to his companions, as he reached up to try and pet the centaur lightly along its flank.... "Well, I have nae been in town for long, but I suggest that we start by seeking the advice of the many mages, sages, an wizards in town. Quite a few very powerful magi have taken residence here. Tis why I dids't decide to start me shop here. Ifen that nae work, den we shoulds't try more divine intervention. Mayhaps a priest or priestess reside within this fine town? And ifen that nae work, then we had best find a druid, for they may be the only one who ken unleash the mysteries locked within." Grummie shrugged his shoulders and glanced around at the others. "Nae matter what yea decide, I would be honored ifen yea woulds't allow me to join yea in yea ventures. I am in much need of new merchandise for me shop, an I would offer me services as a wee little woodsman to yea, for a share of what yea find along ye travels. Alas, I must admit, I'm somewhat of a joker, and a clutz... which makes me'self the brunt of more a joke than I intend."

Lwcynda said, "Well I guess we all agree we must do something. So as Cassandra says where do we start? Well Grummie, I think you may be correct in thinking that the sages and mages in this town might help. They know a great deal and have seen much. And if we get nothing from them what about those elves that came to see us a while ago? They may know something. Did they want us to go to the Welkwood for some reason? Can't seem to remember exactly. Anyway, if all else fails we could always go back to the fairy queen and ask her. Also, I hear that the Druid of the Welkwood is quite powerful and knowledgeable and if something were amiss in the forest she would surely know about it. ... Oh here I go again, I'm sorry but sometimes I do get carried away with my thoughts."

Then she added, "Oh Grummie, I don't mind if you want to join us and maybe you'll accompany me on my runs sometimes." And looking `up' to the big guy, "What about you Jutos? Do you wish to join us too?"

Then to all she said, "If you want we can split up and visit different mages, sages and clerics in town and meet back at the tavern later. Anyone else have any ideas?"

Grummie smiled up at Lwcynda, "Aye.. Tis a good idea. Let us team up in pairs, an seek out the aid of the resident elder sage folk. But I hab one question for yea, m'lady.. what be these 'runs' yea be talkin' about?"

Cassandra smiled at Grummie. "Klutz? Not to worry. We've had our share of klutz ups. Hey, remember the time you," looking at Lwcynda, "dragged the head of that thing we killed over to Andremar, so he could faint again? And, you wonder what `runs' are? Well, the flowing haired lady here will show you some morning."

"Yes, It would be a good idea to split up. We will cover much more of the city that way. Maybe it would also be a good idea to assign an area of the city to each group." Drist looked around for any more suggestions.

Since Andremar was a student of one of Chatwin's mages, the one known as Loren the Sage, he volunteered to speak with his mentor and, "get a reading, er, of sorts."

Saugus was pleased that the Seekers were accepting the challenge. "Now, speaking of druids, you are correct, Lwcynda, there is one true druid in the Welkwood, the one known as Meriweather. She is of the Company of the Welkwood. But I have never met her, and little has been heard from her since her famous quest to stop the trees from wondering some time back. Course, one could visit her, but her home is very hard to find. And, it is clear the other side of the woods. Now the only other druid, an initiate of the seventh level, of which I know, save poor Anachraeus here," indicating the centaur, "if the one known as Mantis. He has a glen on this side of the Welkwood, and I have a good idea as to its location. Should you decide to visit him, let me know, and I will direct you. For now I must take my leave." And Saugus the Hunter did so, heading towards the Unseen Blade.

Shantyra added, "It is odd, but there are no druids living in or about Chatwin. Guess the Welkwood is too big a lure. Well now, other than his disinterest, this centaur seems healthy enough. I'll be heading back to the stables. If you need me any further, that is where you'll find me." And she, too, left.

Cassandra said, "So, Andremar will visit Loren. Don't think I'll tag along, Loren has never cared for me, though I can't imagine why."

"Er, because you said, um, his house, would be a cinch," Andremar reminded her.

"Typical mage. No sense of humor," the rogue went on. Now that you two mention it," referring to Lwcynda and Jutos, elves. Yes. What ever happened to those elves? They did want us to go to the Welkwood, the Downs as I recall. Think I'll check my sources and see if I can't get a line on them. Now who else is going to visit whom?"

Lwcynda said. "I would check with a superior cleric, but there really aren't any in this village. Only Myrinda the Curer. Guess I could speak with her. Maybe she could examine the centaur."

"Sounds good. Now what about you three," Cassandra looked at Drist, Jutos, and Grummie. Will any of you be accompanying Lwcynda, or are there others in this village who might have some knowledge. Come to think of it, someone should speak to Artemus. He always seems to know something. Course, we're all going to meet up at the Inn of the Shadows, and that is usually a good place to find him. Guess he can wait. So I'll hunt up those elves, if I can."

Jutos replied, "I shall accompany Lwcynda. This Myrinda must be of the most noble sort, and I would enjoy meeting her." Then, turning to Lwcynda, he continued slowly, "If you will permit me, my lady."

Lwcynda looked at Jutos, "Why of course and perhaps on our way you might tell us what brought you to this fair town."

Drist looked from person to person. "I think I will join Lwcynda, if no one else minds. Since I am still new to the village of Chatwin, I do not know any of the Mages or clerics. This will give me a chance to look around."

Grummie rubbed his chin a bit, then got a thought, and with a look of momentary delight, he said.. "Ah ha. I know. I shall attempt to find that lad I heard of, Fitzwilly, something-er-other. I know not much of town, being new here myself, but I hab heard rumors dat he knows much o' the Welkwood, and may be of help. Also, I may try to gain audience with Sir Rocco. He and his followers may prove of use."

7 Patchwall, Freeday

Based on the plans they had made the day before, and with Anachraeus centaur safely in the stables at the Knight Owl's Inn under the watchful eye of Gork, the Seekers, old and new set about visiting various members of the village. There ability to do so was somewhat effected by an early storm , which dumped a quantity of wet snow in the region.

Grummie made his way to Hadrian's Tower, where he had learned, Fitzwilly lived. Try as he might, he could gain neither entrance, nor audience. The one door was locked, and the other merely repeated the phrase, "Not today, Thank you," over and over, and over, and over ... till he'd heard enough. He contemplated climbing over the wall, but he saw a certain sizzle as the snow flakes hit `something above the wall. He settled for leaving a note in the basket at the locked door, and left.

He had better success with Sir Rocco. His knocking was answered by well dressed man, with dark hair, who ushered him into a parlor. The room was comfortably decorated with sitting chairs, and a variety of nick-knack's. Once seated, Sir Rocco and the woman known as Redux, entered. She sat in there chair directly across from Grummie and never once took her eyes off him while he was there.

Sir Rocco was dressed in basic robes, though his person was dotted with seemingly expensive jewelry. He seemed very relaxed, soft-spoken, and interested in the gnome's presence.

"We don't get many visitors. Come to think of it, the last one was that troubled young man from the cemetery, Eden. Wasn't that it, my Dear?"

Redux answered, "Yes, that rather rude young man. I didn't like him much. Now this one ... ."

"Never mind." said Rocco. "Now, my diminutive friend, what is it that you think I can do for you?"

There more the gnome talked, the more the elf listened and offered.

Grummie made a polite inquiry, explaining the situation about the centaur, and how he came to be a part owner. Rocco was extremely interested when the being's total lack of `mind' was mentioned. "Now that is odd. I am not an expert on centaurs, mind you, but I always thought they had certain human qualities. From you description, either he is sick, or," he paused and a small gleam appeared in his eyes, someone has played with his mind."

Grummie inquired... "You mentioned the possibility of the centaur having taken ill. Know yea of any particular illness that might bring on such loss of mind? And more importantly, know yea of a cure for such illness?"

Sir Rocco answered, "No, nothing in particular. It was just a suggestion. I am not much of a healer, nor do I know much about medicinal ways. Sorry if I gave you that impression. My field is magic."

"Played?" wondered Grummie.

"Oh, that does sound a bit harsh. I didn't mean to sound that way. Perhaps, `cast a spell upon,' would have been a more correct appraisal. There are some spells which can blank the mind, destroy the mind, weaken the mind, and even remove the mind." At this moment, he looked over at the man, Jaylock, who was standing silently by the door. "In fact, I once knew of a school where they taught such spells ..." As this phrase dragged on, he absently twisted the small ring on his left pinkie. Redux did the same.

"Oh, sorry, wandered off there a bit, did I?" He was not embarrassed, so much as amused.

Grummie sensed the tension, or strange secrecy; therefore, he inquired, trying not to offend... "Yea mentioned a school of teaching such a sort of magic? Ken yea enlighten me on it? Ifen not the exact school, then perhaps ken yea tell me of this type of magic, at least what it's called? Then, I may be able to find someone of higher power (as yea suggested) to assist in it's removal."

Sir Rocco took a pause, then a breath. He looked at Redux, who took her eyes off Grummie. She nodded in a positive motion. Rocco said, "The school I refer to was an actual school. It was known as the School of Neckros. I had occasion to, shall we say, visit it some time back."

Grummie wondered if he and his friends could visit this school.

Rocco smiled, then turned the stage over to Redux. She proceeded in a calm voice. "He's trying to tell you is that I was once a student at this school. It was center of the necromantic arts, run by a brother and a sister. There were many students in this school, and it was dedicated tot he dark arts and death. In fact, as part of the course of study, a student must die, and then be reborn. Fortunately, I never got close to graduation." There was a sound of relief in her voice. "Rocco here, and those who were with him, put an end to the proceeding."

"Yes," he laughed, "we canceled classes, so to speak. Fired one of the professors. Gave him early retirement." He continued to make light of the situation until Redux added ...

"Yes, but his sister, the full professor, is still around somewhere," at which time the elf shivered.

"True, but she hasn't found me yet. She has reeked some havoc in Enstad, but hasn't come anywhere near here. ... Yet." He then looked back at Grummie. "So, what I'm suggesting is, if there is no medical reason for the centaur's lack of intelligence, I bet it's magical, and if I know my magic, it's probably some sort of necromancy. The main problem with necromancy, and why I lost my taste for it, save on rare occasions, is that is not easily dispelled."

"Well, if that is the case," the gnome persisted, "what we probably need is someone who can reverse or remove the spell then, right."

Rocco's eyes widened, brightened, he seemed eager to agree. Then his shoulders sagged, "Actually, probably not. You did say that there was no magic on the creature at the present time, didn't you?"

Grummie couldn't remember if he had, or had not, given this information, but admitted it now.

"Then the spell is likely of the permanent variety, which can only be removed, or the intellect restored, by very high level magic. Much higher, I dare say, than anyone in this town can supply."

Grummie asked about druids

"While it is true that I have ventured in the Welkwood on occasion, I have yet to encounter one, be it human, centaur or otherwise. On that count, I can be on little help."

"Is there anything else?"

When this encountered finished, Grummie returned to the Inn. There was a message awaiting him. "Fitzwilly will be in the Inn of the Shadows at noon on the 8th," is all it read.

Meanwhile-------

Lwcynda, Jutos, and Drist made their way to the cottage of Myrinda the Curer Behind the cottage, an iron kettle gave off steam over an open fire. The door was opened by a where they met a kindly, somewhat stout woman of perhaps 40yrs living in this small abode. She wore matronly garb and a full apron. "Just going about my cooking. How can I be of help to you fine folk?"

Drist looked at her a moment then said, "We are looking for Myrinda the Healer. I take it you are her?"

Her cherubic face beamed, "Yes, that would be me. Though I'm more commonly know as the Curer. What brings you to see me, and don't say `the smell of the stew.'

Drist continued. "We needed to ask a favor of you. You see, we have just aquired a centaur that might need some healing. It is bad shape. Its previous 'owner' used it as a horse, to pull his wagon. We were wondering if you could look at it for us, since none of us know much about healing."

"Oh nice to meet you Myrinda. I am Lwcynda and these are my companions Drist and Jutos. As Drist has mentioned we are in need of your help and any information you might give us. You see Saugus has said that this centaur we have acquired used to be a druid. Now he seems to be ill, the centaur that is, and does not seem to understand anything. Do you know of a centaur Druid in the Welkwood? Or perhaps you have heard of something happening to upset the forest creatures? Or do you know of anything that might affect his mind and if so can it be healed? Can you help us? Oops, perhaps my companions have other questions or insights?"

Myrinda headed off to her open air kitchen, where the cauldron was stewing. Talking as she went, "A sick centaur? Hmmm, they are usually hearty beasts. What does he say is wrong with himself?"

Lwcynda and Drist clearly related the events and the symptoms of the centaur.

"Oh, lost his mind, has he. Well I best take a look see then." She checked her kettle once again, gave it a thorough stir, and added a log to the fire under it. She then accompanied then back to the barns at the Knight Owl. Along the way she confirmed that she knew of some centaurs in the Welkwood, and the there were some who were druids, but she did not know them by sight or by name, "Though, neither man nor druid would allow himself to be used to pull a wagon. Not unless he was up to something."

Once at the stable, she examined the creature from head to hoof, to hoof, to hoof, to hoof, to tail. Then she concentrated on the creature's eyes, waving bits of straw in front of them, shining a light, and otherwise testing his vision. When she had finished she concluded. "No, don't think he's sick. At least not in any conventional way. He acts like the horse part of him, as if he's forgot he's also a man. So, either he's absentminded, or someone or something's caused him to lose his memory, or his mind."

Jutos then asked Myrinda, "Do you know where we should likely look for this 'higher magic' you speak of? Or perhaps," he continued, "you could direct us to such a part of the Welkwood where we may meet some of his kind and seek their help."

Myrinda pondered this question. "Since you wonder if this fellow here," indicating the centaur, "might be a druid, I can offer this possible lead. Now I'm not one to spread rumors, mind you, but I have heard tell of a special group in the Welkwood. Whether they be clerics or druids, or a combination of the two, I wouldn't know. And where exactly they might be found, well, again, just something I've heard over the years. See, there are supposedly a `lost' group out there somewhere. And, since they're `lost' can't say where exactly they might be."

Then she added, "Now I do know that the highest known druid in the forest is the one known as Meriweather, she being the leader of the Order of Welkwood, and she being the one that got the trees to stop moving. Whether she knows anything about the `lost ones' or not, it's hard to say. Course, she's somewhere over in the western forest, a fair piece from here."

Myrinda pondered some more then closes with, "Yes, that is about all I can suggest. I wish you well."

Drist thanked Myrinda for her help and then turned to his companions. "When I heard Myrinda say that it might be in some kind of shock, I thought that maybe the centaur was captured when he was normal, then after being in captivity for so long without talking or thinking for it self, its mind might have been reduced to one of a horses, making it like this. Maybe If we do what the Curer suggested, bringing it back to the Welkwood, it's senses might kick in."

8th of Patchwall, Starday

The morning broke like an earthquake. It was a sound that brought many citizens of Chatwin early from the beds, scrambling to their windows, praying to their gods. The village rumbled with untold tremors as ... Lwcynda, her black tresses flowing in the wind, her footfalls soft on the four inch bed of snow, led Cassandra, puffing yet game, across the west bridge. The commotion which rocked the town [as Brian Adams rocks the house!] occurred when Jutos the Just hit the wooden rampart a few steps behind them. The boards bellowed their disapproval at the half ogre's prodigious feet. The bridge swayed, almost buckled, for it has never been asked to endure such a test of its construction. Perhaps in answer to the villagers' prayers, it held. This was repeated with the central, and later the east bridge. Rumor has it that an emergency council meeting will be held to discuss the issue of running in the village!

Grummie woke early, but not for a run, whatever that was. He had spoken with the others the night before, asking to get in his meeting with Fitzwilly before they headed to the Welkwood.

"Aye," Jutos had replied, one hand absently rubbing is huge chin. "I believe we ought to arm ourselves with all the knowledge we can about the Welkwood before we enter. I've heard many a tale of the dreaded place, especially of vile humanoid raiders," and as he had said this his hand gripped his great mace so tightly that the others could notice the knuckles of his hand turn a pale white.

"I also agree. We do not know what we might run into in the Welkwood. But Lwcynda is also right. We might what to find the elves that sent us here in the first place, or sent them, at least." Drist had nodded.

Grummie was delighted with the agreement. "Aye, let us meet with this Fitzwilly fellow, and see what he knoweth o' the Welkwood. Mayhaps he knows o' these elves of which you speak. Then, we should make haste, and be on our way."

Lwcynda agreed. "Maybe this Fitzwilly has heard of problems in the Welkwood as well. Let us ask him and when we are ready let us be off."

Grummie had all night to reflect on what he had learned from Sir Rocco. He placed great importance on the meeting with Fitzwilly, so he arrived an hour early, to not take a chance on missing the elf. He did not.

Minutes before noon, Lwcynda arrived. "No word yet from Cassandra or Andremar." She was quickly joined by Jutos, his large face rather read, and Drist.

At around noon, the gold haired elf entered the Inn. He stated in a firm voice, "Be there a Grummie here?"

Grummie waved him over. The elf strode confidently to the table. He wore woodsman type clothes of elven green, and moved with a practiced grace and silence. The hilt of a beautiful long sword protruded form a sheath at his left hand. Light flickered from the top of the blade. As he approached the table, he made a careful study of the four who sat there. Then, he sat down, and stared at Grummie, "Sorry, from across the room, I thought I might know you. I've only met two gnomes in my life. Hadrian, my employer, and the one known as Padeirkan. Thought you might be he in some guise, wouldn't put it past him. Haven't seen him in some time. So, why did you request my presence?" His tone seemed all business.

Since Grummie had arranged the meeting, he was allowed to conduct it. He concentrated his inquiries about the Welkwood, Druids therein, druid centaurs, and the oft-mentioned Meriweather.

Fitzwilly was rather forthcoming, though the topic made him [and the DM] wax nostalgic "The Welkwood. A grander forest there is not. There it was I made my bones, some years back, maybe five by now. We were a carefree and audacious lot. I used to follow a monk named Thelonious, who recruited me from my clan. We were to delve deeply into the forest to investigate reports of bandits. Course, `strange' in the Welkwood is a relative term." He stopped for a chuckle. "See, found the old underground prison. I can still the sight of the illusionist, Magnus, riding on the back of a giant turtle cross an underground pond towards a huge treasure chest on the other side. The turtle got halfway across and swallowed old Magnus whole! Just lucky that our cleric, Jeremiah, had a potion of polymorph so he could turn himself into a similar turtle. Quite a fight ensued. Finally did manage to cut Magnus out. Magnus, chaotic as he was, promised to become lawful in Jeremiah's honor. Wonder if he kept that oath? Haven't seen either one in years. Hear they both live in Enstad. Oh, well, those were good times. "

He paused, and ordered a pitcher of ale. "All this remembering `bout adventures makes me as thirsty as being on `em. Join me won't you?" He proceeded to pour drinks for one and all.

Grummie tactfully directed the conversation back to the topics at hand. Fitzwilly continued, "Yes, that forest can be a danger, specially if you're not prepared. But, you lot look good. I've heard good things about the Seekers. Now, I suppose there are many druids in the Welkwood. I know of two for certain. The nearest one is Mantis, has a grove just inside the eastern fringes. There he lives with a rather strange priest name of Scavenger, and his companion pet `Fat Cat.' Not sure what kind of feline creature it is. But I now it's huge. Mantis is a strange one. Has a death wish from what I've heard. Very head strong, impulsive. I could give you direction to him if you wish.

"Now the other is my friend Meriweather. I was there when she gained her encampment. See, after the old prison we encountered this Meriweather for the first time. She told us something about her being sent to find out what was causing the animals of the forest to react poorly towards people. Our party took a few changes. Jeremiah and Magnus left, some others joined. We eventually came upon a log encampment where we discovered, much to her chagrin, that the druid Eronious, had gone off the deep end, and was turning the animals against all comers. We dealt with him all right, and Meriweather replaced him."

"Some months later I helped her defend against all enemies. Was the last time I saw Thelonious. He rewarded me with this sword." He grabbed the hilt of his weapons and drew it about six inches. Small flames danced about. Wonder what became of him?" He paused at his own question.

"If you ask me, she's more of a crusader, always involved in the big picture. I know she's traveled to the ice of the north, the Grand Kingdom, the Amedio, and the Sea of Dust. She lives way cross the forest, with her entourage. I could head you in her general direction, but she'll find you long before you find her." He winked at this little joke.

"As far as centaurs and druids, I have heard of such a thing, just never met one. So, I know nothing about what kind of effects one might have on the other. Don't see why there would be a problem, though. Course, when we dealt with that Eronious, he sure seemed to be imbalanced. So, maybe there is something to it. Human or centaur, maybe being with trees all the time gets to you, you know?"

Jutos interjected the notion of the `lost druid' as mention by Myrinda.

"Oh, so you've been told of them, eh? The `Lost Ones'? Well, I suppose they exist, at least in someone's imagination. Can't say that I've ever seen evidence of them, though rumors abound about them. Supposedly this side of the forest, but more near the center, and maybe the north. Now there's an accurate placement for you! But, things happen in that forest that have no explanation. So, won't say they're not out there somewhere. Then again, that Meriweather never told us `who' had sent her, or how she `stumbled' upon us. Hmmm, maybe, just maybe... ."

In closing, Grummie subtly and carefully broached the subject of necromancy.

Fitzwilly just smiled. "The `Dark Arts'? Me? No way. What magic I know is strictly from hunger. Just to open a door here, find an aura there. See, when I was adventuring, we always had a mage or two, like the great Lady Nottingham or Raela, to cast the big spells. I knew I could never compete with them, so I learned the lesser ones, but still the ones that come in handy. None of us ever went in for that strange stuff. Fact is, only practitioner of those arts I know of is the fellow that care takes our graveyard. That Eden fellow. After seeing what that practice does for him, well, I really not tempted." He shivered at this thought.

Lwcynda mentioned the elves, the ones who had spoken to the Seekers some months before, 'Something about a problem in the Downs?"

"Yes, I know of them, though I did not speak with them. I heard something to the effect that there Downs is under some sort of a curse, but again, you can't believe everything you now, can you?"

By now Fitzwilly had gone through a second pitcher. "Seems the afternoon is passing. I best get back to the tower and my job, such as it is." He gave the group a wistful look. "Boy, to be going to the Welkwood for adventure, now there's the life." He had to wipe his right eye. "SO, unless there's something else, I'll be on my way. Sure was a pleasure talking with you. Let me know how things turn out."

When Cassandra finally arrived, Lwcynda asked her if she found anything about those elves.

"No luck. No one has seen or heard from them since Reaping. Maybe whatever it was is fixed. "

Lwcynda said, "That may be true. However, they seemed to feel there was a problem in the Welkwood and these two incidents may be connected. Since you haven't found them, then maybe we should get ready and start out for the Welkwood. We do know that the general vicinity the elves spoke about was "the Downs". Maybe they will meet us there."

Cassandra agreed.

As the Seekers prepared for supper in the Inn, Andremar made his appearance. He reported that he had consulted with Loren, his mentor and Sage of Chatwin. He reported that Loren had used his powers of divination to attempt to determine what might have happened to the centaur-druid, if he was one. Loren had not been able to make much of the situation, other than to suggest that if the creature was a druid, he had somehow lost his mind, memory, senses. He did make one suggestion. Loren knew of another sage, who lived west of here in the Downs. His name was Delon. Perhaps he could help.

Drist nodded slightly. "It looks like our best choice would be to go to the downs, since we need to find this Delon, plus we are supposed to look into this 'curse' anyway"

Jutos continued with his third meal, eating as if he had not yet even dented his amazing appetite. Tearing the last bit of meat from a roasted chicken leg, he swallowed it and followed it up with a healthy gulp of ale. Surpressing a belch, which nevertheless rumbled like an oerthquake, he cracked a smile which barely revealed his two fanged teeth. "Well," he said, placing the chicken bone on his plate, "it seems we are drawn to this place called the downs. Perhaps there we shall find answers." Then, after ordering another meal, he continued, "Or at least we shall be closer."

Scratching his huge head, he suddenly looked up. "I just had a thought," he explained, looking around at his companions. "What shall we do with the centaur?"

Grummie finished a hearty meal, and the majority of the brew, oddly enough for such a wee fellow. Strangly enough, he took great care while dining, not to tarnish his clothes or ruffle his nose. He carefully tapped his mouth with a hand towel, then folded it methodically, and placed it gracefully atop his plate. He then inhaled deeply, clasping at his gullet, as if to help digest the feast, and spoke saying, "Aye, this true, the Downs be our destination. Then, shoulds't we need to visit Mr. Fitzwilly's friends in the 'wood, we can seek direction of him, when he is't not so busy." Grummie then responded to Juto's inquiry, saying... "Ah, the centaur. Well, 'twould be safe here within the Inn; but mayhaps we shouldst take it with us. In case we find something or someone, they most likely woulds't need to inspect or enspell the creature directly." Awaiting the comments of the others, Grummie began to arrange his dinnerware, as if it's layout were a masterpiece of artwork.

Lwcynda finished her meal, "Well I think you are all right -- to the Downs we must go. But I think we should bring the centaur with us in case we find a cure or something. Both Shantyra and Miranda said he is in good health and it is only his mind that is affected. Nork will look after him."

"I agree with the others," answered Jutos between bites. "The centaur would seem best served by coming with us. It may well be we shall finds its cure on the road. One question, however," and he turned to Lwcynda, "who is this Nork?"

Lwcynda replied, "Well actually his name is Gork, my mistake. He is a goblin we sort of adopted along the way. He has learned gourmet cooking and is quite handy to have around. Come to dinner later and I will introduce you to him. He still hasn't mastered the common tongue to perfection yet, but he is improving slowly. He was around earlier today, but I think he hid when he saw you."

At the sound of the word "goblin" Jutos' lips curled up ever so slightly in a barely perceptible snarl, briefly revealing the tips of his fangs. He checked his reaction quickly, glancing around the table to see if it was noticed and hoping it wasn't. "A goblin, eh? Well, I kin see why it kept hid from me," he said, supressing a deep chuckle. "But you know," he continued, "they are a notoriously fiendish race. That one accompanies you is truly amazing, and suspicious."

Cassandra took exception to the last remark. "My rather large new aquaintance, I must disagree, at least as to the suspicious nature of our comrade. Gork, and his brother Nork before him, for he died in our service against those of his own race I might add, have proven themselves to be excellent companions. I'm sure one of your stature has met more than his share of `suspicious' glances, if not outright reactions, because of, how shall I put this so as to offend the least, let me say, his ogredness? I for one, would put the centaur in Gork's able hands, have him bring the poor creature along, as Lwcynda suggests." Then she couldn't help but add, "cause I , for one, don't want to have to worry about him." She took a swallow from her mug.

After Cassandra's last remarks, Jutos stood up from his chair and bowed deeply before her, an action which, considering his large frame, seemed more humorous than humble. "I am truly sorry, my lady," he replied. "You are correct," he continued, a look of remorse and perhaps pain spreading across his boney face. "Yes, I have seen my share of suspicious glances, and that usually from those who most accepted me." Looking away from his companions, he continued in a whisper barely perceptible to them, "aye, I do know." Turning back, he continued, "Yes, Cassandra, you are right and I am sorry. At times, I let my own dislike for my kind cloud my judgement. Thank you. I should like to meet this Gork. Perhaps we may yet have more in common than I thought."

Cassandra answered, "That's OK, once you meet Gork, or the Runt, as he is more comonly known, I'm sure you get to like him." She hesitated, as if about to say more, to let out a secret, but then, she just smiled, and the moment passed.

She continued to all, "So, it seems a trip to the Downs is in the offing. I guess we best make some preparations. Now you there, Grummie, you mentioned something about directions? So, guess you'd be in charge of getting them. I've always been in charge of torches, never know when they'll come in handy." It probably seemed a silly item under these circumstances, but the original Seekers were in agreement with this one.

Cassandra turned to Lwcynda. "Seems to me, last time we were in a forest, on our way to the fairy realm, there was something else we forgot. Can you recall?"

The dark haired cleric struggled with her memory, but could not remember.

Andremar could and proclaimed, "Er, food. We, um, forgot the, ah, food."

"Yes, that was it. OK, then Lwcynda will be in charge of provisions. Now who else, and for what, and then we'll be off."

Lwcynda agreed, "Alright, I can be ready by early morning. How about the rest of you? We can meet at the stable and pick up the centaur and be on our way. Anything else?"

Grummie appeared befuddled a bit, as he made a sideways face whilst scratching his head in thought. He then looked at his companions and says.. "I must rush off and find Mr. Fitzwilly. Now where did he say he worked?" He wondered if the elf ever mentioned the exact location and occupation. As Grummie began to stand and depart in search of the answers, he turned to the table and said "Oh, and don't forget provisions for the Centaur as well? ... Errr.. What do they eat?!"

Grummie dashed off, heading towards Hadrian's Tower, for it was there that Fitzwilly lived. Luckily, he caught the elf before he had got inside the well protected walls. Grummie got directions to the Downs, as well as a good idea where Mantis' grove could be found. Others made their preparations, and by morning, all would be gathered at the stables of the Knight Owl ready for departure.

10th of Patchwall, Moonday

It took the Seekers and their new companions an day to get ready, but by early morning on the 10th, they were off at the speed of feet. The weather was still unseasonably cold, though most of the snow had vanished. Steeled against the inclement weather, they marched westward. Gork the Runt guided the centaur. The meeting between him and Jutos had been low key, though the Runt seemed to keep an eye out for the big fellow, and always seemed to be keeping to the opposite side of the centaur. The others walked along, a pack mule and Cassandra's dogs carrying basic provisions and cold weather clothing and camping equipment.

Finding The Downs was not all that difficult. They followed the spur of the Jewel until it hit the main river. There, at the village of Monpelone, they crossed the river via the rope ferry, and continued on towards the southwest. The sun was setting as they approached the Downs, a lovely vale farmers had claimed from the wilderness long ago. The fading light of day did not disguise the curled and withered leaves hanging lifelessly form the trees. Rotted fruit rested upon the ground, blackened and soft. Dry, brittle grass broke underfoot. Where one might expect huge piles of hay waiting for baling, there were small mounds of withered reeds.

Though scattered farm houses had been seen along the way, there were but four buildings in the village proper. One seemed a general store type, two were obviously farm houses, back from the path which served as a road. The fourth bore a welcome sight: the wooden sign, The Happy Farmer Tavern. As the group made their way to the front of this building, the door swung open and a hefty, brown haired man, wearing an apron over rough clothing stuck his head out, "Greetings, Travelers, seen you approaching. If it's a hot meal and a break from your travels yee seek, well you've found it."

There was little need for discussion, and the group soon themselves inside this simple building. There was a large main room, and stairs led up to another level. It was wood warm, dimly lit, and fairly empty. The place seemed well kept, and pleasant aromas filled the air. There were a number of long tables with stools, but no customers could be seen. "Sit wherever you like. More people will be here soon enough. I am Milos. I own this place. Now, how can I serve you?"

Drist looked at the man and said, "I am wondering if you could help us with something. We are the Seekers and we have heard about some sort of curse on this area. I was wondering if you knew anything about it."

Upon hearing from Milos that there was, indeed a curse on the Downs, Drist continued to his companions, "I suggest we should stay here for now and decide what we should do next."

Grummie glanced around a bit, and wanderd over to a chair... He climbed on the chair, trying to gain what any height advantage he could. Then he smiled with a goofy grin to Drist, and interjected.. to the owner of the establishment... "Aye, an know yea of any druid or elven activity in this here wood?"

Milos responded. "Druids? No, and that is our problem. Many say we need the help of a druid. But we don't have one at our beck and call. Now as far as elves go, the people in this area are humans. Nothing against elves, mind you, just that they don't do much farming like us folk. I do know of some in the forest."

Lwcynda also interjected, "Yes and we are also looking for a sage named Delon who may live in these parts. Do you know him or perhaps where we might find him?"

Milos smiled, "You have come to the right place. Why Delon will be here this very evening. See, we're having a gathering in my little establishment. Many of the farm folk will be here. Like to discuss this curse. And Delon will be conducting the meeting. So if you'd like to stay?"

Consensus was that the Seekers would stay, and room upstairs were arranged for the night. Cassandra made arrangement for the groups `horses' in the barn out back of the tavern. Milos offered to help with them, but she insisted that she could handle it. "I have some dogs, too, and they don't take quickly to strangers."

Once this was done, Cassandra slipped out to inform Jutos of this lucky turn of events, and that he could bunk down in the barn with Anachraeus if he wished.

Milos served a hearty meal, and offered several glasses of ale to wash it down. The tavern gradually became crowded, as a town meeting had been called. Sometime near 8, a noticeable old man entered and everyone became silent. The old man was bent and gnarled by time His hand shook as it clutched a walking stick. He wore clean, well- mended robe embroidered with a few colorful moons and stars.

"Hey Andremar, is he your father," Cassandra asked her friend.

"Ah, no, er, why do you ask?"

Cassie just looked at her friend's hat, adorned with stars and moons, and rolled her eyes, "No reason."

Some people looked in annoyance at this interruption. The old man cleared his throat. "My friends, you know me, Delon. I have lived happily in the Downs my whole life, much longer than I care to remember. I have seen it grown from a simple farmhouse to an entire community. Crops now grow where long ago none grew, and fruit trees have blossomed where only the Welkwood stood. But, times are changing for the worse. I see crops withering in the fields. Fruit falls from the trees before ripening, black and rotten. The livestock are not healthy - they now sicken everyday. A blight lies upon the Downs. We have been cursed by the gypsy witch who passed this way. Had we given her the silver she wanted, or let her rest a while and gather strength, these ills might not have befallen us. "

The silence was broken, as some began saying, "No, no, we could not give in to her." While others suggested they should have been more cooperative.

Delon raised his hand, and silence became the order once more. "I see the land turning against us, and I am helpless to remove this curse. My powers are too feeble to spare the land, but perhaps I can hold the curse at bay long enough to gather what is left of the harvest. What we will do next year, I do not know. If only I had the powers of a Druid, I could help." He shook his head sadly. "I am old, I cannot travel. None of you may leave because crops must be harvested, families cared for, and small businesses tended. It is a difficult undertaking, but perhaps some will come to our aid. Some months ago, I sent elves to the nearby villages, but they as yet have not returned. I no not what became of them." At this moment, Delon took time to catch his breath. Milos brought a pot of steaming liquid to the old man.

Drist stood up and spoke to Delon with a calm but firm voice, "The elves that you mentioned are most likely the ones that sent us," he looks at his companions, then continued "here. I am Dristarian, they are Cassandra, Lwcynda, and Grummie. I believe these elves you speak of sent us here to help with this curse."

The old man slowly smiled. "You have seen them? I had given up hope. They left here some months ago and we have had no word, no word at all," his voice trailed off at the end. He took a drink from the cup.

Grummie nodded and smiled slightly at those around him, whose attention had been drawn by Drist's proclamation. Nonetheless, Grummie chose to not speak, but await, and hear the noble words of this village elder, with respect for the local forum that was being held.

Lwcynda stood and said, " Yes, what my companion Drist has said is true. The elves have asked us to come here to help you. Please tell us more of your tale."

Delon took another drink, then placed the earthen cup on the table. He clutched his walking stick and pulled himself up to his feet. "People of the Downs, these fine fellows and ladies have come to our aid." A murmur of approval and wonder wafted through the crowd. Slight smiles crossed the faces of some; others remained grim.

Delon addressed Lwcynda in particular, and the other new faces in general. As he did so, they could all feel the inspective stares of the farmers who sat around them.

"Some months back, late spring it was, a gypsy train entered our area. A woman among them asked us for silver, I cannot even remember why. but it had something to do with needed coin to buy something back that she had taken from her. We saw no reason why this should be our problem. She claimed she would place a curse upon our lands if we did not help her. We still would not give in to her demands. So she cursed us and left. We took little note of it, till the early crops started coming in, some smaller than usual, others not at all. No doubt as you have ridden through the Downs, you have seen the lack of fruits of our labors, now that the fall harvest is upon us.?"

He took a moment to sip from his cup, and allow the Seekers to acknowledge that they had seen it. Then he continued. A few months ago, I consulted the stars to find an answer. I was foretold of the need for druids. Not just any druids, but very powerful ones, that might be able to help us. The existence of the Lost Druids came to me, like a vision or a dream. I commissioned some elves to find bold adventurers who would go into the Welkwood in search of the Lost Ones. It would seem to be our only hope. Though what they could do for this harvest," he looks about glumly, "I do not know."

A rather negative, low murmur riffled through the crowd.

Grummie nodded again with a silly grin across his face this time... He leaned in toward his companions and whispered, so as not to disturb the meeting in general. "Aye mates, there this the rub.... Tis this gypsy who dids't smite our friendly druid centaur with a curse. Mayhaps the centaur was a victim of the curse, or mayhaps the direct method if it. For to betray the wood of it's druids would betray it of harvest."

Grummie rested his chin upon his palm for a moment, tapping his fingers on one cheek, as if in great thought. Then, as an idea struck him, his eyes widened, and with a clumbsy jerk, his chin slipped from his palm, causing a bit of a commotion. Some of the farmers looked over, er, down at him. Grummie blushed brightly, his disproportionate nose simply glowed crimson. Now, instead of finding stools and chairs to gain height, he took advantage of his stature and hid amongst the many legs, dress skirts and chairs that fill the room. They soon lost sight of him.

Once he composed himself, he mustered the nerve to finally relay his idea to his comrades. In a whisper, he said "But wait my friends... er.. tis a most powerful Gypsy indeed, ken thwart an entire forest, aye? We has't best be very wary, or meet a similar fate will we."

As usual Lwcynda couldn't keep herself from asking, "Delon, this is most interesting. You say you took little notice of this gypsy. You did not perchance notice where she went? Also you speak of the Lost Druids. I am afraid I know little of the Lost Druids. Perhaps you might tell us what you know of them and where in the Welkwood they were known to stay as the Welkwood is very large."

Delon looked a bit hopeful, now that someone was showing interest in the cause. "The gypsy and her entourage headed north, maybe into the forest, maybe along its eastern boundary. We payer her little mind at the time. Guess I should have known better." A few offered the customary, "we were all to blame," and "How could you have known," but he did not seem appeased.

He drank the rest of his tea and then asked for a refill before continuing. By this time Cassandra had returned. "You ask of the Lost Ones, or Lost Druids as some say they are, or at least were. Legend has it that they were once in this very area, that they protected the Downs and the land east of here to Narwell. But, others came, more farmers, more adventurers, and even more druids. New and young druids. Gradually the old ones felt lost and decided to retreat into the forest, to live out their days. I could draw you a rough map as to where they might be found. Perhaps if they learned of our plight, they might have a way of helping us."

Lwcynda was innately anxious to see such a map. She got Andremar to supply parchment and lent Delon her Narwell pen. "Its baptism," she chimed.

Delon looked admirably at the pen. "I think we are in good hands," he offered to his fellow villagers. In a slow rough hand, slightly shaking at times, he drew a map. As he drew, he spoke. "If you were to head east out of the village, you will be on what we call the new wilderness road. It bends to the north as it hits the edge of the Welkwood. You must follow it, but keep your eyes pealed, as the Old Wilderness Road spurs off it into the woods, and it is this you must take. Once in the woods, this Old Road wanders generally to the north west. You'll pass Quiet Lake, and eventually reach the mountains. Think there used to be an inn there, but can't be sure. Then you either go over or under the mountains, cross the Wild River, and somewhere beyond is were the Lost Ones are said to have gone. No telling how long this might take, but we'd really appreciate if you'd try."

Drist watched Delon make the map, slowly memorizing it so they would not get lost. Drist decided not to speak, though, so he wouldn't interrupt the old man.

Still a bit flustered by his clumsiness, Grummie tugged vigorously at Lwcynda's leg, trying feverishly to gain her attention. He then conferred to her in a whispered voice, "He dids't say the Gypsy left wid her 'entourage', did he not? Ask him ... ask him what he meant by that. Ifen there be many in her company, then whe shoulds't know it now, better then later."

Lwcynda turned to Grummie and smiled, listening carefully. To wit she comforted, "Don't worry overmuch my friend. We shall not go unprepared. Do not forget Jutos for he will be with us. I am glad he is on our side."

Then she said to Delon, "You say this gypsy had an entourage. How many people were there in this entourage? Also what do you know of gypsy magic and curses?"

The old man contemplated for a bit. "If I recall correctly, they had about three or four wagon. At first glance they appeared as a traveling troupe of sorts, entertainers, jugglers. Maybe ten of them in all. I assumed they'd put on some sort of show, take whatever coins they'd be offered and move on. But, alas, turned out to have a different agenda altogether. And, till this recent encounter I knew nothing of them and their vile magic." He still seemed to me blaming himself for what had happened, and drifted into silence.

Lwcynda gave Delon time to catch his breath before asking, "Have you ever heard of some kind of magic that blanks out the mind?"

Again he thought for a while. "Certainly, there are many spells which can to just that, from something as simple as ~forget~ to something as complex as ~mind blank~ and there are plenty others in between."

Many of the villagers had begun to file out of the building, as they would rise at dawn to harvest what they could, however little it might be. Delon noticed this, and also saw that even Milos was starting to nod off. He said to the companions. "Since you have shown interest in our cause, why don't you all come to my house for the night? There is plenty of room, and we won't be keeping anyone up while you ask whatever else might be on your mind." He got up, intending to lead them to his house.

Cassandra said, "Yes, that would be wonderful. Just, er, except that, um ..."

Andremar noted, "She sounds, er, more, um, like me, ah, everyday. Guess I'm, er, having a, um, good effect, er, on her."

Cassandra stared him down. "It's just that we, you see, we have another companion, he is, shall we say, shy? He prefers barns to beds." She turned to Milos, "Would there be any of that stew left?"

He said that there was still half a cauldron. Cassandra said, "Or friend is mighty hungry, you don't suppose .... ?"

Milos looked confused, but Delon said, "Milos, don't really no why, and we don't really have to, just give her the pot and put it on my bill. The rest of you will come with me?" As Cassie hefted the pot Delon said, "When you finished with your, er, `friend?' my house is just across the road to the right."

She nodded, and lugged the pot out the back door.

Cassandra dragged the pot out to the stables, where she offered it to Jutos, told him of all the details, asked if he had any imput, checked on Gork, and set out small amounts of stew for her dogs.

After Cassandra filled him in on what was discussed in town, Jutos nodded and agreed with the others. He then told her that all was well with the centaur; in fact, he had been enjoying a nice rest while they were gone. He had foraged and found some blackberries which he and Runt were snacking on.

"Well you now have some stew," as there was still half a cauldron to go. "I think it will tide you over. Maybe. Sleep well, the three of you." And she left.

Apparently Jutos tried to engage Runt in conversation. Unfortunately, the little fellow still seemed a bit shy, and philosophy was certainly not his topic.

******** Not that there were any witnesses, but it probably went something like:

Jutos: What is you deity?

Gork: To-day

Jutos: Not day, de i ty

Gork: Not ichy today, me have bath.

Jutos: Are you familiar with Heronious?

Gork: Heroes are us? Yes wee are Heeroes, weee solve mystery.

Jutos: No, not he roes; Her o nious.

Gork: Her is not here. We be heees, yes?

Jutos: Say goodnight, Gork.

Gork: Goodnight, Gork.

Jutos: close enough. *******

Meanwhile, the other Seekers found themselves in the friendly warm confines of Delon's rustic house. Wood framed, roofed, reasonably furnished, plenty of rooms.

Delon showed everyone around, offered tea, cakes, and "Questions or sleep. I know you'll want to get a fresh start in the morning."

When Cassandra returned, Lwcynda asked her how Jutos and Gork and the centaur were doing.

�Oh, getting along like three peas in a pod, `cept one�s green, one�s yellow, and one�s stringy.�

Lwcynda had no idea what that meant. She turned to the group. "So what's the plan. Drist you are good in the forest and probably already know that map by heart. I can't say the same for myself. There are just some things that don't come easy to me. Anyway, do we try to find the Lost Druids or the gypsy or are they in the same general direction? Maybe the gypsy group found them. I don't know; I'm a little tired. Best rest and get a fresh start in the morning. Perhaps Jutos will have some ideas too."

The realization hit all that the gypsies could be anywhere, and tracking them, their trail now perhaps five months old, was not feasible.

�A map in the hand,� said Cassandra.

A good night�s sleep was had by all.

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