Other than a few scuttling bugs and the odd rat or two, the party and their horse companions were the only living souls in the barn for the night. The night passed without event, giving those on watch plenty of time to clean some of the mud off their belongings.
Arachne slept a little late the next day because of her new spot in the watch schedule. When she arose, she prepared herself for her scouting mission.
Still wearing the light blue sleeping dress, Arachne got the loft doors open some. (Probably enlisting the aid of Maisar, since he was awake and on watch, but there wasn't anyone she wouldn't ask to help if they were awake and looking in her direction.) She then seated herself crosslegged on the loft floor in front of the view of the mire. She clasped her hands against her chest, elbows out, gazed out, and said nothing. For some minutes, the gnome remained there. She was still, but not exactly motionless. It was more as if her skin crawled. Slowly and uncertainly at first, but then with more speed and definition, her form melted and then almost blossomed with feathering. The bird was a fairly large hawk, her plumage a pale bluish gray. She walked uneasily to the edge of the loft entrance, then backed up...
The little gnome transformed herself into a bird; as she had said earlier, even a small gnome made a pretty big bird. After a few quick stumbly starts as she grew accustomed to her new form, she soared up into the clear morning sky, heading north....
...the hawk cawed something that might have been "Haunt slayer" but probably wasn't, and jumped off the loft ledge.
Although Aloysius seemed rather melancholy throughout Gala's ceremony, he did seem very interested in watching Arachne's transformation. After she flew off, however, his melancholy returned, and he sat down on a haybale in the corner. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out what appeared to be a thick roll of beef jerky and began gnawing on it. He would occasionally take a drink from a waterskin that also came from his pack.
After he finished gnawing and drinking, he let out what for him was a relatively quiet belch, and stood up and stretched. After scratching himself for a moment (and yes, that WOULD be where he scratched), he looked about. "Well, naught to do until Arachne doth return. Methinks I'll review this place to see if a privy be present. If need of me have any of thee, I'll be passing dinner." With a demeanor that indicated an intent to go for a calm springtime stroll, Aloysius opened the barn door and walked out, in search of the ever-elusive outhouse.
Close to half an hour elapsed before Arachne the Hawk reappeared. She was flying from the south but not following the creek back, exactly. Instead, she was somewhat to the west of it, flying over ruined fields. She raced up to the barn, then realized that she needed to lose some speed and banked up until she stalled. Spiralling down, still a little faster than she would've liked, she found a pile of mouldy hay -- useful stuff! -- and came to an ungraceful halt in that.
The transformation back to a small gnome in a pale blue shift was much quicker than becoming a hawk had been. Arachne lay on the hay, panting. "The flying itself is pretty easy," she remarked, between gasps for breath. "It's the takeoffs and landings that require practice. Fortunately, almost everything around here is somewhat soft. I comforted myself with that thought when I was feeling tired. And when I was wondering how I was going to land painlessly. Anything happen while I was gone?"
While Arachne was on her flight Pug paced back and forth constantly, removing stitches from his hat and sewing it back together the whole time. "Are you OK?" Pug stammers after Archne changes back. "I mean, that doesn't hurt or anything does it?" Pug seems a little shaken by her performance.
Arachne smiled at the other gnome. "No," she said. "Becoming a bird for a while doesn't _hurt_." A bit slowly and carefully, she got to her feet, brushing the clammy, moist hay off herself. "Unless I land badly, but that's secondary. Mostly, it's tiring. The becoming itself is wearying, but so is flying. Flapping wings -- even simply holding them out and gliding -- that is a lot of work. I'm fashed." She looked around at everyone else and then at herself. "I need to dress," she observed. "If we are going to go anywhere, you'll be waiting for me right now." She headed for the barn.
"I didn't see anything remarkable near here," Arachne announced regretfully.
"But it was a glorious flight. (You all saw me at my most awkward.) But
if anyone else paid me any mind -- and no, no arrows came my way -- they
saw just a royal hawk (I think) progressing across the sky. It is _such_
a rush. Tiring, too.
"There's more farms and cottages along the brook south of here. They
also looked abandoned, longer ago than this one. Just when I had to turn
back, though, I saw a cabin along the stream that's still occupied. There
was a boy. He was very intent on something in the brook, so he may not
have noticed me. I think we should go visit there. Certes, I didn't see
anything anywhere else that merited a followup inspection."
"If everyone is ready to go, I'd say lets visit the boy. How far do you think it is on foot?" Pug said seeming overly anxious to get moving.
Arachne stopped. "Well," she said thoughtfully. "I'm guessing but I think that birdlike, I can get about as far in an hour as walking people --unslowed by small gnomes -- could get in a day. I pretty much followed the creek; I think the cabin might be about four or five miles upstream? Mind you, between here and there, the vegetation gets worse: More vines and swamp growth and the ground most likely getting soupier and soupier. The going could be pretty awful; it may take us the whole day to cover what I flew. We might choose to take shelter in the other abandoned buildings along the way, maybe." She glanced at the impatient Pug. "I'll get ready to go as quick as I can." Arachne scampered into the barn and up the ladder.
"Aye," Aloysius concurred. "There be many different types of birds and lizards to . . . ." He looked around for a moment, somewhat embarrassed. "I mean, maybe the lad has knowledge useful to us." He quickly changed the subject. "What are we going to do with Puddle Jumper and . . . .our other equine accomplice? Doubts have I that their hooves be suited to such soft terrain, and leaving them here unattended seems unwise as well."
Arachne leaned out the loft window. She had already changed to a ragged-sleeved green tunic. "Certes, nobody's going to be able to ride," she said. "But I'd say it's entirely up to Jana whether Dammit comes with us. As for dear Puddlejumper, my guess is that this barn is safer for him than anywhere else outside of Milborne. Safer doesn't mean safe, but we are going to be venturing into a mire without benefit of a blazed trail. Puddlejumper weighs more than any of us --" She paused to consider Aloysius and Azrun. "-- No question. And Aloysius is right: Hooves are more likely to sink in deeply than boots. Puddlejumper will be most at risk if we stumble into a quagmire. "_I_ think that Puddlejumper might be better off remaining here with a supply of fodder and a full water trough. The dangers we know about -- brigands and novel orcs -- might steal Puddlejumper if they find him here, but they'd be less likely than that to slaughter him. The mire would be less flexible."
Azrun nodded his head in agreement and looked to Jana, "I guess your mount should stay here also."
She disappeared briefly, then returned, buttoning a soft leather jerkin over her tunic. "And I could fly back to check on Puddle," she offered, a trace of reluctance in her voice, "if you wanted to leave the real scouting to Kaileer or Pug."
"I don't want to endanger my horse unnecessarily," Jana said agreeably. "We would need to find some fresh hay. This stuff," she said, kicking at the moldy hay she'd refused to let Horse eat, "would probably make them sick." Jana looked around for hay or other feed suitable for the horses.
Shortly afterward, wearing a skirt that matched the jerkin, Arachne staggered out into the barnyard bearing her crowded little backpack and purse. Since the party was not that instant departing, she dropped pack and purse and fell on a hay bale to rest a little more.
Azrun looked at Arachne worriedly,"Arachne, would it be possible for a few us to help carry your supplies for a while. You do seem quite winded and negotiating this marsh will be difficult even for us with longer legs." He thought for a few moments and looked at Pug, "You may want too keep that rope of yours handy in case someone fall in deep water, mud or worse. If anyone else has rope I suggest getting it out too."
Pug gets his rope out of his backpack and Wraps it around his torso.
After returning from his trip to the loo, Aloysius took his robe and hat off and put them back in the loft. Dressed in a simple blue shirt and brown pants, he looked even stranger than usual given that his hair was still purple and he still sported a collection of cheap earrings.
"Gifts were they from my mentor," he explained. "No since soiling them needlessly." He reached back and untied his pony tail, allowing his shoulder length purple hair to spread along his shoulders. After withdrawing a second length of string, he proceeded to part his hair in the middle and tie his hair into 2 pony tails after quickly securing both sides into quick, make-do braids. When finished, he strongly resembled the Valkyrie of Norse legend, except his hair was purple and he wasn't nearly as muscular.
After making sure that his bandolier and belt were well secured, he rubbed his hands together and looked about. "Well? Let us find this boy and whatever else lurks in this muck." Looking over at Gala, he continued, "Walk with me, gentle one, methinks I heard a purple-breasted thrush while in the privy . . . . ."
Gala smiled at the purple one. "Really? Where?..."
"If it were possible, I would have no objection," Arachne replied, remaining prone. "Indeed, I'd be very grateful. Of course, all the rest of you have packs and supplies and weaponry and armor of your own to carry. If anyone could manage to carry this thing also, I'd be glad of it, but I can understand if we're all already bearing a heavy burden."
Much impressed by Aloysius's preparations, Arachne nevertheless asked, "You're aware that the boy may be a brigand in training? And that it was yet early in the morning and his more dangerous confreres may have been still snoring -- uh, sleeping -- inside the cabin?"
Aloysius smiled at Arachne. "Small one, thou be a treasure! The boy may be a brigand, or the lad may be a lycanthorpe. The child might be a chimera, or the kid a ki-rin! Howe'er, likely 'tis that he be just a boy. If brigands there be, then into the river go they." The magic-user placed one his Brunhilde-like braids in his mouth, but continued to speak. "Metinks it bes if we depar afore we all go mad awai-ing the fog's re-urn." The fact that a goodly portion of his own hair was in his mouth somewhat compromised the purple man's ability, but not willingness, to speak. However, the PAINFUL SMILE FACE that he displayed upon responding to Arachne was just as, well, painful, for the others as it always was.
Arachne (sighing): Whatever. She grumbled to her feet. "Flying is nowhere near as exhausting as certain enthusiasms..."
Kaileer walked out of the barn, closed his eyes, and smelled the air. "Not like muck." he said, lifting one boot out of the ground to watch the sticky soil drip back to ground in wet clumps. "Horse not be good walk, sink." He shouldered his bow and started off in the direction Arachne had gone, almost wincing at the loud sucking sound his boots made as he pulled them out of them mud. "If boy is brigand, then he not live long." He stated, stopping to wait for the others.
Aloysius chatted with Gala as the others prepared their gear. "Admit must I that my doubts abound about thy 'remedy'. In sooth, 'tis true that many herbs do affect sleep, but unfamiliar am I with any that do silence the sleeper . . . .er, lest it permanently? Trusting that be not thy intent, mayhap a combination of sleep root and something from the delfraxi genus as an anesthetic? Just a thought."
Gala smiled at Aloysius as he began to discuss herbs in earnest. "Actually, this is something I used on my brother Gareth back in Waterdeep. My Aunt showed be the recipe, but it tastes foul. Gareth hated it.
The magic-user scanned the tree tops of the Mire. An excited glow once again arose in his eyes. "Aye, Galaret! Many a bird and slithering creature await us this day! 'Twill be most memorable!"
Arachne, the tiniest member of the party, was unaware how appropriately her benediction echoed in a completely different world and season when she declared, as the group was setting out on its expedition into the mire,
"Gods bless us, every one."
