Candlekeep

Wirrow doesn't look particularly comforted by Runeson's attempted defense. Aiming her eyes anywhere where there isn't someone to look at, she very slowly takes her black satchel off and moves to open it herself with a nearly-not-trembling hand.

"It should just be cold magic..." she offers, in case their divination wasn't clear enough for them. Her voice sounds as about as hesitant as she is to hand it over. If the Avowed let her show them, it merely holds ten small, opaque flasks, most of them full of a probably-red liquid (it's hard to tell entirely), sort of similar to the potions Stella was given.

No weapons, no implements that could possibly be construed as suspicious... Please, just let us go already.

Sheemish feels something large in the loincloth pocket. Cold, and hard. Metal. Cylindrical in shape, with... handgrips affixed to the long sides. Blunt ends... It feels like some sort of portable ram."...yes, I can tell it's cold magic. But why?"

Ulraunt waves his hand and mutters a word, conjuring a spectral hand to pluck up one of the flasks in Wirrow's satchel and bring it over to him. He reaches out and opens the flask, sniffs it, then pours its contents out onto the flagstones.

It's just water.

"You're that desperate for a cold drink? How much did this enchanted satchel cost you? Nevermind that." Ulraunt taps his nose, watching as the other Avowed finish looking through the bags. "Bah. I suppose there's no reason to keep you all here any longer. Go, then."

The mage hand returns the flask to Wirrow's satchel, and then the Keeper of the Tomes and the Avowed move on, heading for the Pillars of Pedagogy.

Keggruk lets out a held breath. "Alright. The sooner we're gone, the better. To the gate!"

Upon finding out that Wirrow was the target of the attack, she looks horrified and rushes up to the girl.

"Araleth's eyes! Wirrow, are you oka—?" she looks over Wirrow, her the stars in her violet eyes blackened with fear. Yes, she certainly seemed okay. Not even a scratch. She bites her lip and nods. "Good." She purses her lips and stands next to her friend, taking her hand for support, except for when Wirrow is pulled aside or if she otherwise pulls away.
"Leaving?! But—" her protests are cut short by Keggruk's stern gaze and Aiwë's quick response. She drops her gaze and glances briefly toward Wirrow. "Okay..." she relents quietly, star-eyes shifting to a subdued, icy blue.
"Oh, uh, alright then..." Stella has her indigo-bound tome, a huge stack of paper in a simple sleeve, general traveling and scribing supplies, navigator's tools, and an herbalism kit.

In addition, however, she has an array of possibly questionable herbs and flowers. "Oh, these...yes, these are for medicinal purposes. No, they aren't used for poisons, as least not in these doses, as far as I know...You could make sedatives, I guess?" she tries to explain.

She glances over at Wirrow, trying to keep her own nerves down.
What was that? Wirrow wasn't an alchemist...was she? Or maybe...Hunter's Bane? Was she a blood hunter like others in Kuldihar? Stella had only done minimal research on the stuff...she preferred substances that didn't permanantly change one's being.

Stella could claim to have spent more time with Wirrow than anyone else she knew, aside from Wirrow's own mother, but that still wasn't much.
"Ah...I think she's prone to heat exhaustion, sir," Stella explains, remembering Wirrow's earlier dizzy spell from the caravan-recovery trek.

Aiwë closes her lyre case with a careful but pointed snap, barely missing the fingers of the Avowed pulling away. She tucks it into her pack quickly, then puts it back over her shoulder. Seeing that Keggruk is close to Wirrow, Aiwë takes point to help lead the group quickly through the gate.

Rift is so confused. Something has obviously been going on, but he has no idea what. Assassination attempt? Searching persons? He grips his lock picking set in his pocket. He didn't have anything else of value with him.

Thankfully no one seems interested in him, although he will admit to himself that it hurts his feelings just a little bit. Was he really so unthreatening? He flaps his wings a few times to make himself feel better. He'd show them that he could do things. Someday.

"I saw the commotion with the Keeper of the Tomes and realized you must be leaving. So…" She rubs Tulco’s nose. The horse is properly saddled and outfitted. "So this is goodbye, until you both pass this way again. Farewell, brave knight and noble steed!"


The party passes through the gate and into the shadows of the Lion’s Way.