Snake's Demise.

The Man's language was so similar to his own tongue until it wasn't. Peli got the impression he only understood the basic concepts of her speech. "I am not a wildling, kinsmen." Raising his hand to Thallan he signed peace with his palm outstretched as a ward. "My people, we are your people's children, Dúnedain of Efterkommersland, Hildorien." Tyr of course referred to the first age when men and Elf made alliances, his kin were offshoots of the two species interbreeding. It wasn't hard to see, fair as he was, lithe, not the most beautiful of elvenkind but certainly the appearance was there. His grace and posture, even knelt as he was testament to that.

"I am a Free Man from Faro'e." The word in man speech was "Far Away" in Elvish he alluded to an Isle Surrounded by mists. "These lands south here, primitive as they are, hold magics and weapons I may bring back to my people."

He took his meager coin purse showing eight silver coins. "Silwer. Silber." The word was giving him some trouble, his accent seemed to make hard V sounds difficult to pronounce. But he held the coin pointedly. "Silber. I will take gohld but is more work. Maybe you have sick. Or wounded. Man, Elf, or otherwise. The Light Heals all. I work for silber." He repeated with emphasis in The Mannish tongue.

"We not so different, my land is full of contraptions, maybe we trade with Southron Folk. My people respect my word our soil is old, and full of metal. No good for food. But we make well like Dvergr." Showing off the sacred arm ring, he showed brass that was spun, not cast and it had been formed while hot as it was absent any weld lines. Then showing the length of chain and small hammer on his neck, each link had been individually riveted rather than butted. It was not only lighter, but probably much stronger as it had been blued and hardened. The blackness of the steel implied it was ancient, certainly older than the man who wore it. "We learn from The Shadow, the riddle of steel, the secret of silber, the ecstasy of gohld. We use the shadows metal to fight and for years we won. But no food. No babies born. No new men to stand. My land is die. No contraption can save. We need old magic. We need allies. So the Most High One Sent me. To find and bring the light in these troubled times."

It was at that point Thorbjorn, in boredom, lowed, and laid himself on the ground. This woke the sleeping fox who nimbly leapt from Tyr's shoulders to the Bison and curled up in its fur. It stared at Tyr, glared for a moment stamped it's paw and then laid back down again with a yip sneezing before it fell back into its slumber. The Bison was snoring moments later.

Daglin followed the other companions from afar, curious. He was worried for a while that things would degenerate, but reason prevailed eventually. Marked by the last words of the so-called wild man, he can't help but ask: "Have you seen trouble on your way here? Is the enemy approaching?"

Baelrick stood, quite confused. He had been content in the tavern surrounded by jolly folks and drowning in ale. A sighting of a wild man had scared the littlefolk, and he had offered to intervene. But now the wild man spoke in flowered terms, talking about bloodlines and missions from petty gods. His head was swimming! In the morning all would make sense... all that he remembered, anyways.

"If you are to bring light, then the little one here..."- he nods to Peli- "...will have some words for you. We seek to end some troubles that plague this town. Unless that is too far beneath you, my Dúnedain friend." He says the last few words with a condescending sneer. After all, bloodlines meant little... it was the power of the blood, instead, that mattered.

"The Enemy is everywhere." Tyr stated in Mannish.

He switched back to Elvish "The War Machine of The Enemy it does not care about one thousand leagues. If my people fall, these lands will fall in the aftermath." Something about the question made Tyr know these people weren't ready, and because of that they wouldn't believe him. "We should talk of something else. His Spies could be listening. If you have work, and trouble I will help, provided the promise of help in return."

Fylgja pounced from her perch, trying to surprise Bean. But the mushroom had left her uncoordinated. She fell face first to the dirt road and yipping her frustration tried to swipe the dog with her tail. The antics of which had Tyr laughing. "The mushroom has slowed you girl." The words he used were guttural it sounded like Mannish but older, and spoken from the lower pharynx sounded harsh to the ear in spite of the jovial nature of his voice.

"Considering that good citizens have gone missing and this - whatever it calls itself - has frightened the children, the children!, only a fool or a child would rush out unarmed without knowing the circumstances.
Point a finger at me again halfling and you might find yourself with one less."
Thallan puts his arrow away and unstrings his bow.
"Stand down friend, ignorance is only a danger to itself," he says to Baelrick. "Let's get another pint. Besides I've got to pay my tab as well..." he turns and heads for the tavern.

Baelrick nods. One more pint, and then restful sleep. After all, tomorrow was when they were to depart.

Tyr pondered the meaning of the villagers going missing. Without walls to secure them he wondered if the enemy might have some designs involving townsfolk. Or perhaps it was the Wildlings they spoke of.

Unable to sort out any tactics that had been used against his people he decided to go talk to those who ran the community. "Girl! You are extremely helpful, do you speak Elvish?" Tyr looked at the Halfling pointedly and touched her shoulder to break the trance she had fallen into examining his effects. He asked her in Elvish which added a certain more gravity to the request. "We may learn more if we talk to the Elders of this Village."

"Information if you have it. Who do I talk to if I want to learn more about the disappearances?" Tyr offered the Elven merchant a silver coin figuring a penny for his thoughts just wouldn't do.



The Bison snorted, then lowed as the two pups at play were disturbing His sleep. Slowly the Bison kicked at Fylgja, but far to slow to even touch the intoxicated She-Fox as she hopped away.



"Eeen!' She said and looked over to Tyr expecting him to intervene on her behalf. Losing her balance she fell on her side and was now victim to Bean's egress. Tyr plucked the She-Fox upright. She stood on shaky legs and laughed at Bean assuming she was safe.

Daglin shrugs at the exchange, and decides to follow Baelrick and Thallan back to the tavern. He will need to make arrangements: people disappearing are bad for business, so he is willing to help solve the mystery.

Upon (re)entering the tavern, this is where many see their first display of magic. After all, there's no other explanation for how Baelrick got a stein of ale, drank half, and led the entire tavern in song with such speed. No possible way at all, expect magic.

"...I want to see the towers of Men
that rise up to the sky,
and see the dells where wood elves dwell
and give dwarf beer a try!

I was not made for hearth and home
I’ve known this from my youth.
I’ve a restless soul with no fixed goal
if you wanna know the truth.

So let’s all drink till we are drunk
let beer flow like a fountain–
I’ll soon be gone–travelling on,
o’er hill and dale and mountain…"

"Oi! Baelrick, twas a fine song! Tugged at me heartstrings...you are truly amazing. A few coppers and silvers for the Bard here! He deserves it lads! Here, here!" says Thallan and encourages one and all to tip Baelrick.

Daglin discusses with the tavern owner to arrange for his mule and merchandise to be taken cared of while he is away investigating the disappearances. He also books a room for the night.

"I do not think those two realize how rude they are." Tyr said to Peli as the rest of the people cleared the street and headed for the tavern. "Where I am from rudeness to a stranger, however unwelcome, is to curse yourself." Using the iron point of his staff he scratched a rune into a nearby rock. An upward pointing arrow. Muttered a prayer in his own tongue and considered Peli. "Won't your parents be missing you?"

Tyr just laughed and shook his head. It bore no fruit to tell such a man the true nature of all men. "It is alcohol. It makes a demon of the best of us. Fermented fruit and grains are poison as much to body as spirit. Besides rudeness is a symptom of fear. I do not mind being fearsome." Tyr offered with a shrug. "It is the blessing I think of being so old." Tyr did not appear to be an old man but he did speak like one. He had only the slightest appearance of facial hair and such youthful glow, and vigor to him that it was a wonder he was even out of his village. In contrast to his youth, the Dúnedain bore dozens of scars. Some from animals, most from blades. Though they had almost completely disappeared as if time had healed them long ago.

"Thorbjorn, vække, vække!" Tyr pushed the Bison's shoulders with his foot.

The Bison growled in frustration having only just fallen asleep. But lifted itself up. It was obvious the trio was weary from the road.

"Well friend Baelrick, I've had me fill. Thanks for the comeraderie. Early, we'll set about hunting that which hunts these good folk."
Thallan heads to his rooms, humming the ditty Baelrick sung earlier.