Chapter 7: Forward Scouting Thread

The scout team departs the farm village and heads west, skirting the low hills to the south with the intention of avoiding Hara itself not far to the north. They pass a few scattered farmholds and small villages, all of which seem to be in various states of abandonment. The countryside is quiet, and the team sees nobody on their road. Off to the south, from around the crest of one of the grassy hills, there is a wisp of smoke curling into the grey sky, possibly from a campfire or chimney, but that is the only direct evidence that there might be anyone nearby.

As the day moves on toward the evening, one farmhouse they pass has a tiny shrine in front of it, a low pile of dark stones artfully arranged into semicircular wall about a foot high. There is a small wooden box closed with a metal clasp lying in the center of the shrine, the scattered remains of dried flowers soaked by spring rains about it on the ground. The house itself seems to be in decent shape, a small barn the only outbuilding still standing. Given the hour, this might be a decent place to set up camp for the night. A roof overhead would be welcome insurance against the weather, in any case.

As the group stops to evaluate the farmhouse, Verrian looks at her companions. "Shall we knock at the door and see if they will permit us to camp here overnight?"

Swan nods and slides off his horse. He pats outs neck add checks the right front forelock for tenderness. Satisfied, he moves to the house. Checking that his companions are ready, he points at the windows them approaches the door, knocks firmly three times then steps back.

Dismounting, Verrian hangs back and discreetly scrutinizes the small shrine.

Have I seen any other shrines like this while travelling?

The shrine is simple, and has the faintly clumsy look of being built by inexpert hands, rather than magic or careful stonework. Without opening the box, it's impossible to tell what it might be a shrine to or for. Neither Verrian nor Wil have any guesses, based on their examination.

Swan waits patiently near the door after he knocks, but no one comes to the door. A gust of wind blows through the yard, bringing a faint bite of cold, but that is the only sound.

After waiting a suitable amount of time for an answer to Swan's knock, Verrian approaches the front door and has a look around the front of the place. "Just let me make sure there's nothing hazardous before we let ourselves in."

Verrian sees nothing of particular concern. Unlike so many of the buildings that you've seen lately, this one appears to be in fairly good shape, as though it was recently lived in and cared for. But for all Verrian can see, it is a perfectly mundane, boring farmhouse.

Looking at the bard and shrugging, Verrian opens the front door. "Hello? Is anyone home? We're just travelers looking for permission to camp in your barn overnight."

If nothing happens and there is no answer, she'll walk inside.

Wil does not draw his weapons, but he is keeping his hands close to the hilts.

As the small group walks inside, they're struck by the homey feel. There are clean curtains at the windows. Two comfortable-looking chairs in front of the stone hearth. The small kitchen in the corner has cast iron pans hanging from stout wooden pegs on the wall. There's a small square table with two chairs nearby that has a simple linen tablecloth embroidered around the edge with tiny red and yellow flowers. A narrow staircase leads up to the second floor, but judging by the outside, it can't be much more than a sleeping loft given the constraints of the building's size and shape. Everywhere you look cries domesticity. It's clean and neat and someone -- two someones, by the looks -- cared for this place very deeply.

As they walk through the little home, Verrian feels a pang of sadness. "Looks like no one has been here for a couple of months. Since it's obvious that they loved this place, they must have been forced to leave by someone or something."

She doesn't have to say "or they were killed," as that possibility hangs in the air already. She bears witness to the love and care the owners bestowed on their little nest, then goes to the back door and opens it to step out back.

I am sure people who kept such a wonderful home would also have been welcoming of visitors. I think this would be a good defensible place to stay.

He looks around.

We have to leave it like we found it, maybe even clean up a bit as thanks for giving us shelter.

He follows Verrian out back.

I guess we should check the barn as well.

Zhaar’s voice comes out like a peal of thunder, feeling out of place here.

"I’ll come to the barn too." He grimaces at the way his voice fails to match the somber nature fo this place.

Verrian leads the way out the back door of the little house and looks around. If nothing interesting is visible, she proceeds to the barn.

Swan leans against the door tho the house, listening and watching the surrounding area. When the others priced to the barn, he follows. "Months you say? It's in pretty good shape for months."

The barn is not very large. A milking stall for a cow, a hayloft, other signs of a small farm. There are no animals here, but also no signs of violence . The doors to the barn and the stalls are wide open but intact, suggesting they were opened and left that way. There is one fleece-lined jacket hanging from a hook, sized for an average human man, and a pair of worn leather boots on the ground beneath. The jacket has been patched many times: there are as many patches as there is jacket.

Does it make anyone else nervous that people just up and left?

Surveying the small barn, Verrian turns her attention to the jacket, looking through any pockets and searching for anything that might be of interest.