Laethral goes outside to behold the site of the firey building and looks around for the nearest source of water. He is careful not to get too close to the building, but looks around for anything that can supply water . . and a bucket or something to hold it in. He continues to call out to ALL of the people gathered around and tries to get them to form some sort of watering line to put the fire out. All of the while, his mind goes over the thoughts of the scarecrow.
Seeing that a line is already formed and going the avariel takes to the skies, using his race given gift of infravision, he turns his gaze away from the fire below blocking out any light from it with his hands. He allows his eyes to adjust and scans the lands surrounding the barn . . .specifically looking in the
direction of any woods where someone might go and hide. He swoops down low so that he can get a better view of anyone trying to escape . . .so that his vision is not blocked by any trees or other structures.
As the Inn clears of patrons, the two companions make haste to follow, Cord in the lead with Laethral close behind. Rushing from the Inn, the crowd rounds to the rear. As the Stables come into view, flames are seen raging from the upper hayloft. Smoke billows everywhere and Durman can be seen with a pair of Guardsmen leading horses from the lower level. The makeshift fire brigade, already in line, is having little effect on the flames, but the townsfolk stand fast. The Watchmen bark orders for shovels and buckets of earth are readied to cover the flames upon reaching the lower stalls...
Laethral, in the air, sees no sign of the arsonist. Then all hear... and see...
A woman screams from within the flames, and through the doors of the stables, then crowd sees a horrendous sight. A scarecrow, in flames, and carrying the InnKeeper's limp body, steps out of the barn and collapses in a cloud of dust and smoke...
Rushing over towards the stables, Granite sees that several in the crowd have already rushed over to lend aid to the innkeeper. Continuing to the far side of the stables, Granite chops a large opening through the rear of the building with a few rapid strokes of his mattock and enters the lower levels. Looking about, he notices that some of the flames have dropped from the loft and ignited a small fire in the middle of the stable - effectively cutting the building in two. Moving
quickly, he frees the animals on his side of the barn and drives them through the rear opening with a few well directed slaps and curses. Following his charges through the makeshift exit, Granite searches the immediate area for signs of life. With a start, he sees a large winged creature sweeping towards him through the night skies. Just as he is about to cast a hand axe at the approaching shape, he recognizes the form as an avariel elf and breathes a sigh of relief as he lowers his arm and replaces the axe on his hip. Noticing nothing further of
interest, he proceeds to make a report to the guardsmen at the front of the stable and then assists the townsfolk in preventing the flames from spreading to any nearby buildings.
Laethral lands as he upon hearing the figure emerging from the burning building. A look of horror comes to his face as he sees the limp form of the InnKeeper's body and he runs quickly to her side and kneels down beside her. With one hand upon the symbol of the moon hanging at his neck and the other laid upon Jhaele. He murmers some words in Elven.
As he does this, a shimmering lavender light seems to glow into existence, faintly at first and beginning from his chest and then growing in intensity and spreading down the length of his slender, but muscular arms. "Aliakiea ne'tuak anatham si Selune."
He bows his head, feeling the power of the goddess coursing through his body, praying ferverently all the while for the healing gifts to be granted to the woman. A small tear falls down one cheek as the greatness of the goddess fills him. Finally, the light begins to disipate and he strokes back the
hair from her forehead. A sense of inner peace overcomes him and he looks down upon her, his hand still gripping her arm gently.
Sprinting the distance from the inn to the stable, Cord sees immediately that the horses are being rescued from the flames. Having no other options available, the half-elf joins the town people in the fire fighting lines.
As the doors are flung open and the scarecrow emerges with Jhaele, Cord springs forward with knife in hand. Had not Jhaele been in the line of attack the blade would surely have jumped toward the scarecrow, but Cord holds his throw not wanting to endanger the inn keeper further.
After the scarecrow collapses, Cord rushes forward to her side, but Thaal gets there first. Reaching the two, a wave of heat and smoke remind Cord just how close to the fire they still are. Placing his arms under her one side, Cord speak to Thaal. "We're still to close to the fire. Let's move her back to the inn, the healer can tend her there."
'Ah, curse of curses', Thaal thinks as he quickens his pace to a fast jog. 'Me with a heavy purse and so looking forward to a fine tanker of Shadowdale ale and a cut of Jhaele's finest beef', his mouth watering at the thought. 'And now this, The Old Skull in flames', he observes from a far and his thoughts turn to Jhaele. Yes, they have had their differences in the past and she has thrown him out by the ear more than once, but she is still a dear friend. Thaal breaks into a full run.
As Thaal draws closer he is somewhat relieved to see that it is not The Old Skull that is ablaze but rather the stables next door. He also notices something else of interest. In the skies above the stables is what appears to be a large bird. 'No, it is not a bird it is a birdman', Thaal observes. Thaal has heard of such men, or rather elves, but has never came across them in his travels. 'Elves with wings! This truly is a wondrous
world', Thaal ponders to himself.
Finally, Thaal arrives on the scene.
"Aahhh", a scream. A woman's scream from within the inferno. Through the doors comes a …? A scarecrow, on fire, carrying the limp body of a woman on its shoulder. The woman is Jhaele! Thaal's eyes open in shock, and then he is to action. He moves quickly to where the two bodies lie in front of the stables, removing his heavy cloak as he goes. Seeing that the
scarecrow is still ablaze, he raps the monstrosity in his cloak in the hope of smothering the flames. The flames go out, but as to the condition of his patient Thaal is not sure. Moving back to where Jhaele lies, he kneels down to check her condition. Her breathing is slow and labored. "Healer! We need a healer!", Thaal yells as he grabs Jhaele's hands. "Jhaele it is me Thaal. Everything is going to be alright", Thaal offers with a serious
look of concern on his face. "Besides you can't go anywhere. Not with me finally ready to pay my tab", Thaal notices a faint smile on her face at this remark.
Scanning the crowd, Thaal notices the beleaguered look on the faces of the townsfolk. More so than one would expect as the result of a stable fire. Further, none of the townsfolk are offering help to the scarecrow. In fact, the four men near the scarecrow are men-at-arms with swords drawn. They seem to be protecting it. Or maybe they are detaining it? Whatever,
the case there is more to this scene than a common stable fire.
Laethral looks up at the Thaal with his strange violet eyes. In them is registered understanding and heartfelt concern over the woman they mutually care for. He holds one palm outward toward Cord in a silent motion not to move Jhaele just yet.
He looks upon Jhaele's face, again smoothing her hair back in a gentle motion, continuing to murmer words of comfort in his native tongue. Laethral waits and continues to pray for the gifts of the goddess and that Jhaele may open her eyes and be well.
As the chaos of the situation rouses the town, several move quickly to aid the call to assist...
The townsfolk, joining the bucket brigade, pass water and sacks of powdered earth to the men-at-arms, who brave the flames of the stables. A Dwarf, chopping his way into the flaming structure, frees many of the steeds through the side of the structure...
At the Innkeeper's cries, Thaal and Cord rush to her side, just behind the arrival of the winged-priest. Laying on his hands, a blue energy pulses from within, passing on to the dazed and weak Jhaele. She tries to rise and walk, but falls weakly to the ground. Durman, of the Tavern, pushes his way through the gathering crowd and lifts her limp body, carrying her away from the flames...
The scarecrow slowly smolders in flames just outside the doorframe to the Stables...
Seeing that Jheale is somewhat revived and certainly out of immediate danger Thaal turns to the elf that healed her. "It seems that I am in your debt", Thaal offers with a respectful nodd of his head.
Looking over to where the scarecrow lays, Thaal realizes that the his first attempt to put out the fire was not fully successful. The blaze has re-ignited itself. Moving quickly to the scarecrow Thaal again attempts to smother the flames with his cloak. 'What type of creature could this be?' Thaal thinks to himself as he drags the creature to a safe distance from the burning stables. Turning to again to the winged-priest Thaal asks, "Good priest, do you have any more miracles in you this day?"
Laethral nods silently at the man, more in acknowlegement of his words than accepting their actual meaning. "You owe me nothing . . . it is the goddess that has blessed Jhaele this day. I am merely her humble servant, through which she imparts her gifts."
A subtle smile of thankfulness crosses his face as he watches the woman carried to safety. He turns back to Thaal and follows him to where the figure of the scarecrow lies. Laethral kneels down and with one hand, he removes the burlap covering that poses as the scarecrow's face. IF this is a humanoid
being, he looks up at Thaal and nods, again in recognition of his words and THEN calls upon the gifts of the Goddess Selune to heal the injured person before him.
The Priest bends forward to remove the burlap covering from the scarecrow's face. As he pulls at the material, the head comes off in his hands. The straw is badly burned, and the ashes are picked up by the breeze and scattered around. There is no humanoid within...
The town guard, along with the common folk, still struggle to subdue the flames of the stables. "GET BACK", calls someone as the roof falls in. The flames still lick at the lower level, but the animals have all been freed. Slowly, the brigade abandons hope of quenching the flames, and the crowd simply watches the structure burn. There is nothing left to save. "Go on home", the Guardsmen order. "Nothing more you can do."
As the crowd dissipates, Durgo, Jhaele's son, approaches the two by the remnants of the scarecrow. "Twas my own hand that built that scarecrow. It stood in the fields for more'n three harvests. What manner of sorcery would do such a thing?" It's a rhetorical question. His expression is that of confusion and fear. His eyes are glazed...
Cord stands near the scarecrow, silently watching the fire burn the remains of the stables. His mind wanders over the very question which Durgo has quietly voiced. **What matter of sorcery indeed.**
Stepping up next to the smoldering form of the scarecrow, Cord nudges the separated head of the figure slightly with his boot. Ignoring any guards who might attempt to usher Cord away, he crouches next to the head and slowly picks it up from the melting snow. Turning it slowly in his hands, Cord stares at it intently. At several points he holds it up near his face and appears to be smelling the straw and material.
As he finishes he takes a clump of straw and a piece of the cloth head and tucks it carefully into one of his belt pouches. Rising quietly, he steps back from the burning stables. Cord remains quietly watching the burning structure as many of the others are dispersed by the guards. Cord's eyes seem to take on a haunted look as the light from the burning building shines across his face. Laethral knows that it is caused by Cord's childhood, a remembrance of when Cord lost his family.
Laethral also knows from their years of companionship not to bring the subject up.
Rounding the corner of the still smoldering remnants of the barn comes Granite, whistling a tune and seemingly quite pleased with himself. Apart from a few singe marks and ash on his travelling cloak he appears quite unperturbed, especially after he discovers that the innkeeper is not seriously wounded. Overhearing Durgo's remarks and then watching Cord examine the scarecrow, he walks over to the group and introduces himself:
"Good evening, permit me to introduce myself. I am Granite
Stonecutter, of the Stonecutter Clan, and glad I am to see that no one was seriously injured."
After waiting for the others to make their own introductions, Granite continues: " You'll forgive my prying, but I couldn't help but overhear your discussions on that animated scarecrow. Although I am no scholar of the magical arts, I have heard of similar spells from an acquaintance of mine who is well versed in all things magical. While I cannot be certain, I believe that the scarecrow may have been animated by the same
spells used to create golems. Enough of this dark talk however, what say we retire to the inn and carry on our conversation with some refreshments. I am parched after fighting that fire and would love a tankard of the famous Old Skull mead of which I have heard so many tales."
The Avariel stands silently next to his friend and only briefly lays one hand upon Cord's shoulder. He nods briefly at the one who introduces himself as Granite, but somehow at this moment, he is at a loss for his own introduction. *Indeed, what matter of sorcery is this?* he thinks, upon hearing the boy's
words and as he looks at the emptiness behind the mask he has uncovered. After long moments, allowing Cord uninterupted thoughts, he says. "Come... let us go inside. There is nothing for us out here."
Turning to Granite, he finally replies his own introduction. "Laethral Armaet, Priest of Selune. Well met... only I wish it were under better circumstances." The Avariel, glances again at Cord, allowing him space to deal with the
spectres haunting him. He does, however, remain nearby and wait for the half elf. He looks over at Granite and nods again at him. "Yes, let us retire to the Inn, although I do not feel much like refreshment . . only seeing that the lady, my dear friend, is well."
It is obvious that Laethral is rather a serious sort and the events of the evening are worn heavily upon his finely featured face. He glances up at the moon, whispering something in his native tongue as he holds the amulet he wears in one hand. Slowly, leaving Cord to follow when and IF he wishes, he
walks with Granite back to the Inn.
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