Chapter 1: A Wizard's Amulet

There is very little of value in the house itself. There are two lanterns, and various dry goods. A large bed sits in one corner, while two smaller sit beside it. Hanging above the mantle is an old short sword. The mantle itself is still warm, as though a fire had been burning recently.

"A weapon!" she calls.

Not taken up in their defense…

Ryenne had spent many nights under a roof such as this; due to the kindness of the followers of Thyr on her travels.

She steps heavily across the floor, listening to the wood for hollows beneath, and then tosses over the beds. Two of the most common hiding places, though easy enough to determine.

Monny reverently removes the old short sword from the mantlepiece and examines its make with his keen Dwarven eye for craftsmanship. After giving it a thorough once over, he stirs up the ashes in the fireplace and rams the poker up the shaft of the chimney, just to make sure no secret bundles have been stowed there.

Nebbleshuven is too distraught to search the house or the barn. After he finishes with the graves, he keeps watch.

Beneath the larger bed, Ryenne spots a plank that seems to be warped slightly; likely the result of it not being nailed down. Beneath is a pouch that contains 22 silver coins and 45 copper pieces. The savings of this poor family.

Meanwhile, Monaghan discovers that the blade of the sword is far finer than the hilt and scabbard. It holds no runes, but the blade does seem to catch more light than he would have expected. It is quite sharp, and would be easily fit to a new hilt later down the road. In the fireplace and chimney he finds nothing.

"They weren’t killed for their coppers." Ryenne remarks, holding up the pouch.

"Nor their rations." she says, sifting through the stuff.

"There must be something else. Thyr show me." she closes her eyes to mutter a prayer.

"Why didn’t they use the blade?"

Faionn looks away from this atrocity. She doesn't have much experience among the "civilized" folk of Reme (as non-druids liked to call themselves, though Faionn is always quick to point out that "civilization" is only a matter of perspective). As such, she struggles to come up with a culprit.

Finally, "Who could have done this? she asks no one in particular. "Bandits?" Even to her, that seems unlikely. The livestock didn't look hurt or spooked, and the house didn't look looted—at least not from the outside.

Sighing in frustration, she looks for tracks in the dirt, trampled grass, anything that gives away how many people were here.

After his initial check to make sure the buildings were unoccupied and the surroundings secure, Olaf helps Nebble with the burying. It's a sad task with the children especially, and he claps a warm, consoling hand on the other man's shoulder as he sobs softly. Afterwards, he lets the others search the buildings, instead sticking with Datura and Faionn as they search for the fiends responsible.

He shrugs at the question of who might be responsible. "Bandits, aye, or savage half-men. Gnolls, even, or goblinses or troglodytes. Seems strange nuffin' was taken, though. More like this family was marked for some reason."

Amongst the general traffic of footprints and hoofprints, Datura and Faionn find two sets of heavy prints that lead around the homestead from and back into the woods nearby. Though she is no tracker, the druidess recognizes the print of armored boots based on the indentation they leave behind.

Inside the house, Ryenne finds no more answers from her god. Whatever she had found was the answer to the drive. And to those who had inspected the poison that slew the children, no answers are to be found.

Corian stands outside as the others go about their work. He wrings his hands together as he looks around nervously. "Perhaps we should away ourselves, and rush towards Fairhill. We are close, and I would prefer the safety of the town to whatever dangers lurk about out here."

The gnome runs excitedly into the house and shouts

"I found tracks that go into the woods! Armored tracks..."

"Yes," Faionn concurs with Datura. "Two sets, by the look of it."

Upon hearing that Datura and Faionn found tracks, Nebbleshuven purposefully heads off to where they were found. He stops and stares down at them, then looks up to see where they came from and went, trying to glean their origin. He waits for the others.

"Take the weapon, and use it to avenge the people here."

That was justice, Ryenne knew. Beyond right and wrong, there was a cosmic balance to things. The villagers could never be brought back, but their steel could end the threat.

She steps back outside, and watches as the others look set to creep off.

Olaf hovers near the women as they examine the tracks, then he joins Nebbleshuven as the man poises to take up the chase.

"Are we following these?" he asks, "Or pressing on to Fairhill?"

"Hm, better that, I suppose, than letting it rust on the mantlepiece. May this blade find its rest in the wicked hearts of the monsters responsible for this tragedy!"

Monaghan joins with the group by the tracks and casts his vote for pursuing the ravagers.

"Such evils cannot be permitted to persist while old Monny MacDuff draws breath!"

Ryenne follows MacDuff back to the group, eyeing the sword and wondering on its purpose.

"Agreed. At least I will go that way, if others won’t." she says with a shrug. "The Lich’s tower will still stand strong tomorrow, believe me. Another dwelling like this…" she casts her hand up at the ruined home "… may not."

"We have to chase those bandits down in case they took any hostages!"

Datura is ready to go before she finishes her sentence.

"I cannot agree more," Faionn adds. "It is the only right thing to do."