Meanwhile, Back In Olmutz ...

Upon seeing that the rest of the party has safely made it through the gate, much to his surprise, Winnacer quickly straps the plate back in place and takes some of the burden off of Milan. He then turns to speak to his squire:

"Good work, Milan. You've got the courage of a lion. Now keep your wits about you and we'll soon be safe."

Porter, Winnacer and Milan all start to charge away from the area as quickly as possible. Once they have rounded a couple of corners, Porter brings the small group to a stop and he speaks to Winnacer hurriedly:

"Back in the One Elm, you asked why I was qualified to join this group. Now you're going to get your answer, but you've got to just follow me and not question anything I do, or else we'll be dead and we'll just bring the Nyemetz down on all your friends."

Not giving Winnacer any time to answer, Porter continues to run, leaving the LawBringer and the squire no choice but to follow him.

Porter leads the pair of them around a couple of more corners and then sees a scruffy inn. He quickly runs towards it and enters through the door. The three of them charge past some confused looking old-timers enjoying an early-morning pint as Porter heads for the kitchen. Startling the cook as you rush past him, Porter opens up the side door and leads them through it. They continue to run through the streets, deliberately double-backing a couple of times.

Then Porter sees a butcher's shop and grins as he leads Winnacer and Milan inside it. He quickly looks around at the contents of the shop and then, without missing a beat, Porter tosses the butcher a gold piece:

"This good enough for your bucket of offal and your silence?"

The butcher is terribly confused, but nods. Porter grabs the leather bucket. He then takes his knife and stabs the bottom of the bucket before handing it to Milan:

"Right, run around the city as fast as you can while carrying this. Stamp about a lot as well. If you see any Nyemetz, then dump the bucket quick."

Milan looks confused and looks up at Winnacer. The LawBringer nods:

"Do it, Milan, and while you're running around, try and find out horses. Go to the Library when you're done and we'll meet you there."

Milan just nods, and then takes the bucket. As he runs off, blood starts to drip from the bucket.

Porter turns to Winnacer:

"Let's go."

The pair of them speed off again in the opposite direction from Milan. Porter leads Winnacer through a couple more inns and continues to run up and down streets with no pattern to his movements at all. At one point, he sees an old woman come out of her cottage to throw out her washing water. Without batting an eyelid, Porter dashes into her cottage setting the woman screaming.

Winnacer is dying from embarrassment:

"Awfully sorry, just passing through. We aren't going to break anything."

Porter leaps through a rear window and Winnacer does the same.

They carry on through the streets for a couple of minutes longer when Porter sees a furniture maker sweeping the snow away from the front of his shop. As he rushes past him, he grabs the broom out of the man's hand, tossing a silver piece over his shoulder at the man's feet without saying a word. The rogue then lets Winnacer get in front of him and begins to drag the broom behind him, hiding their footprints.

They carry on into the marketplace, which is still teaming with life despite the terrible weather. The pair of them run through the stalls, with Porter dumping the broom as they go. The hundreds of people in the market square have churned the snow up so much that the footprints of the two of them are totally lost. Porter carries on through the market square and leads Winnacer on a zigzag course back to the Library of Kitry.

The pair of them stop around the corner from the square, both panting hard, their breath turning to mist in the cold.

Winnacer looks around the corner at the Library. All seems as normal and there is no one outside it, hardly surprising considering the weather.

"That's my bit done now," Porter says. "Over to you."

Winnacer looks at Porter, nodding his head slightly, obviously impressed:

"Perhaps you may be the right man for this job after all. Let's get inside and ditch our gear and see what the two of us can arrange."

Porter nods and the pair of them cautiously make their way into the Library, checking that there is no one observing them as they do so. The door is open as it is only 10.30 and so they head inside. Everything is as they left it and they see Clarissa studying in one corner of the Library. Faewen'il is all alone on the opposite side of the Library, for some reason dressed in her Witchfinder outfit. Not surprisingly, she is getting some very strange looks from the Librarians, all of which stay well away from her, leaving her to work on her spellbooks.

The sight of Winnacer, dressed in full plate and still bleeding profusely, and Porter also receive raised eyebrows. Clarissa senses the discomfort of the other and looks over her shoulder to see what everyone's interested in. Upon seeing that it is her brother and the terrible shape that he is in, she immediately leaps up from her desk and runs towards him and Porter:

"By Kitry!" she exclaims as she rushes towards him. "You look half dead. What happened?"

She looks around, seeing only Porter:

"Where are the rest of your friends? They're not ..."

Winnacer groans but smiles at her weakly:

"No, they are all alive. It was bad, but it wasn't THAT bad."

Winnacer starts to give Clarissa more information, but Clarissa puts her finger to his lips:

"Not now." She says. "First we must get you and your friend patched up. You both look as if you could drop to the ground any minute."

"Come through to the back room."

She heads off, with Winnacer and Porter following her. On her way, she beckons for a couple of acolytes to come along with her.

Once all are in the back room, Clarissa starts to heal the pair of them. Clarissa is on good form and, after five healing spells on Winnacer and just two on Porter, the pair of them are close to returning to full health. Two more spells from one of the acolytes upon Winnacer and one upon Porter get the pair of them back to full health.

Clarissa relaxes a little upon seeing that their wounds are fully healed and looks to Winnacer for some answers. With a deep sigh, Winnacer then begins to tell her of the party's recent misadventure at the gate. Clarissa listens on without saying a word, shaking her head and gasping at the appropriate moments.

Not wanting to be reminded of the prior events, Porter takes his leave of the pair of them and wanders back in to the main room of the Library in order to speak with Faewen'il.

Upon walking up to her, Porter smiles, then bows to her and presents her with the Witchfinder's Rod and his spell components as if he were presenting her with a bouquet of a dozen red roses. The magess, having a lot more uses for a Witchfinder's Rod than a bouquet of roses, almost smiles at the gesture.

Faewen'il is also curious to find out why Porter and Winnacer returned and so Porter starts to fill her in on the details.

In the back room, Clarissa shakes her head in horror as Winnacer finishes recounting the tale of the assault upon the gate.

"That's really terrible, Winn, absolutely terrible."

She looks into her brother's eyes and sees the sadness in them. She walks over to where he is sat upon the bed and sits down next to him, wrapping his arm around his broad shoulders and hugging him.

"Don't take it so personally, Winn. Kitry teaches that you often have to lose a battle in order to win the war. Everyone has survived and so there's no permanent damage done."

She pauses.

"So, is there anything that I can do to help you get over this situation?"

Winnacer nods:

"I hate to ask you for any more assistance, as you and your colleagues have already done so much for us already, but there are a few things that can help us get away from here as quickly as possible. I can't leave the others outside too long or else I know that they are going to freeze to death."

Clarissa pats him on the knee:

"I'm happy to do anything to help."

Winnacer nods and then continues:

"Has Doctor Burian been here to look for us?" he asks.

Clarissa shakes her head:

"No," she replies. "I haven't seen him since you all left together."

"In that case, I wonder if one of the acolytes could go to the Hospital of Lechit and see if he has gone back there?" Winnacer asks. "If he has, then could you tell him to come and meet us here before we depart?"

Clarissa looks over at the acolyte who helped heal Winnacer and Porter and smiles at him:

"Could you do that, Yan?" she asks him sweetly. "I would be most grateful."

Yan the acolyte smiles a slightly dopey smile and nods enthusiastically before heading off on the errand.

"I wonder whether someone could also drop off a note at the Temple of Zlodey?" Winnacer asks.

Clarissa frowns a little:

"Whatever business do you have with them?" she asks with a little surprise. "The Library usually stays well away from them and their affairs."

Winnacer sighs:

"Well, it's a favor for your ... for Rowan," Winnacer says, trying hard not to spit the word out. "I promised that I would arrange for a message to be sent for him."

Clarissa smiles:

"I'd be happy to do anything for him," she says.

Winnacer takes the piece of paper, taking a quick look at it as he does so. He hands it to Clarissa, who also glances at its contents. As she reads the quick, scrawled note, her smile fades in an instant and she looks furious.

"The bastard," she says, tossing the note on the bed. "How could I have been so foolish?"

She holds her head in her hands for a moment, tears starting to form in her eyes. She is silent for a while, then dries her eyes on the sleeve and hands the note to another of the acolytes.

"Take it to the Temple of Zlodey," she says bitterly. "Get it out of my sight."

The acolyte, seeing Clarissa's distress, quietly takes the note and disappears.

Winnacer attempts to comfort her:

"It's OK, Clarissa. He's not worth a moment more of your time. Let me just tell you that his days of dalliances shall be quite at an end with my eye upon him."

There is silence for a moment, and then Winnacer speaks again.

"Errm ... there were a couple more things as well."

He draws 'The Ripper' and shows her the damaged blade.

"One of the many misfortunes to befall us in the battle was the fact that my blade has lost its edge. I was wondering whether any of your 'special worshippers' might know of a weaponsmith able to repair it while keeping its 'special' qualities."

Clarissa looks confused:

"'Special worshippers'?" she questions.

"Perhaps it would be best if Vice Patriarch Nechas was to deal with the matter," Winnacer replies. "If you could just give him the sword and explain the problem and tell him that I would be obliged if he could have it seen to before we return to undertake the 'errand' that he has asked of us, then he should be able to help, I'm sure."

Clarissa takes the blade:

"I shall speak to him about it," she says.

"Finally," Winnacer finishes, "we need to find a way of getting out of the city as quickly as possible and without being seen, as I am sure that the gate guards will be especially vigilant now. I'm just waiting for Milan to return here, hopefully with our horses and supplies, but then we need to get out to meet up with the others before they freeze."

Clarissa shakes her head:

"I'm not sure that we're going to be a lot of help there," she replies. "The Librarians of Kitry have little use for stealth and so it is not part of His teachings. Perhaps your friend, the magess, can help?"

Winnacer sighs:

"If it has to be, it has to be."

He pauses for a moment.

"I think that's all for the moment. Let me go and speak to Fae."

The pair of them head back to the Library and Winnacer leaves Clarissa in order to speak to Faewen'il, who is just finishing her conversation with Porter.

As Porter finishes telling her the details about the events of the gate, Faewen'il smiles at him and rubs one of the smiling faces on her ring:

"Umberto," she says.

As she does so, Porter blinks and looks at the magess before him strangely. Faewen'il smiles at him as she sees him looking at her:

"I be avin ta tell ye tha truth, Porter," she says. "Ye tried ta capture me an so I put ye under ma charm cause I thought ye were goin to try an make off with me. I nae be one tae be puttin ma trust in one so easy, as all mages must be needin to live in fear, an so ye hae been under ma charm for tha last few days. Now I can see tha ye nae be a bad parson an so I ha broken tha charm."

"It be up tae ye what ye think o me now."

Porter has an incredulous look upon his face as the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"You f***ing bitch!"

As the acolytes turn and look astonished at him, Porter shrugs feebly, saying:

"Uh, sorry?"

Turning back to Fae, he hisses:

"You got some nerve, lady, charming me, though at least this explains how we met. That's right, I had you dead bang when you pulled that trick. Although I suppose you're not actually involved with the Blue Marks, considering what we tried to pull off. Of course, you could be playing both sides, but I doubt it. Well, I suppose all's fair in love and war."

He pauses for a moment:

"Although, the Witchfinder's Rod is mine," holding out his hand.

As Porter asks for the rod Fae holds one in her hands.

"Fat lot o good it will do ye, Robin Moore," she replies. "Only a mage can use it... an iffen ye try ta sell it, I will ha' ta come get ye out o some Witchfinder's prison."

Fae then smirks.

"A'sides... ye would make more cash iffen I kept it an we worked another trick. Or be yar sack o coin not enough far ye?"

"I be keepin me ward na matter what ye thin o me... so when ye be ready ta get th' rest o yar 7000, ye let me know. Ye can even ask tha idiot LawBringer iffen I ever broke it a'fore."

Fae slowly turns the rod in her hands, looking at its smooth length and the rune etched upon its surface.

"I be just as interested ta find th' Blue Marks as ye are.... tho far other reasons."

Porter replies:

"First of all, if you think you're cute using my real name, you're not. Nobody knows that name, and it ain't worth a damn that you do. Second of you, I can't think of anything I like less than being controlled by somebody else, so it ain't appreciated. But....if you're going to help me get the 7000, I suppose that's good enough. 'Course I gotta track down this dwarf while you're here studying. If I get the seven out of him without your help, you owe me."

"Owe ye what?" Fae says, the humor gone from her voice and her eyes.

"Ye got what ye deserved by tryin ta nab me with yar magic ball contraption! Ye should be lucky I didna kill ye instead..."

Fae lets the last sentence hang chilled in the air.

"AN THEN... I go an release ye from tha charm, tell ye tha truth, still agree ta help ye get yar coin back AN YE HAVE THA NARVE TA ACT LIKE AN ASS!?!?!"

"In ME company ye war none tha warse for tha wear. Thar be thins I could ha done with tha charm an did na do, an ye still thin ta be ungrateful?!"

Fae puts the Witchfinder rod back in her belt.

"Ye can damned well go get yar own money back then, PORTER, iffen this be tha way ye are."

Fae then turns back to her books.

Porter watches the magess' tirade with a bored expression. When she finishes, he turns, calling out, "Bitch" as he walks away.

Fae looks up from her book, a slow smile creeping across her face. Had a person not heard the conversation beforehand, one would have thought the smile sweet and joyful. Her hand then went to the amulet at her throat in order to scan his thoughts.

"Pleasure's all mine," she says, not caring if he heard her or not.

The conversation is interrupted by the return of Winnacer along with Clarissa. The young Lord walks up to her and the LawBringer coughs nervously in order to get her attention:

"Faewen'il," Winnacer starts, "no doubt Porter has told you that we had more than a few problems getting out of the gate earlier this morning. I was wondering if there is anything that perhaps you could do in order to help us get out unobserved so that we can meet up with the others?"

Faewen'il tries not to smirk as she responds. She closes the book that is open upon her desk shut with a bang:

"If I be getting ye two out of tha city ta meet with tha others, will ye be promisin ta leave me alone so tha I may finish off with ma studies?" she asks.

"Why certainly, Faewen'il," Winnacer replies. "We will be gone for at least ten days, perhaps two weeks, which I hope will be enough for you to finish all that you need to do. This is the last that any of us shall ask from you during that time."

Faewen'il sighs:

"Very well then, I shall take the pair o ye an tha lad out under tha cover o invisibility. But I canna be doing naught for tha horses, so ye be needin ta find some other way to be getting them out."

Winnacer nods, obviously looking quite relieved:

"I'm sure that the Kitrians will be able to perform that task for us," he says.

"There was one other thing," Winnacer adds. "We never did find the time to divvy up all of the items that have made their way into your collection. I don't want to deprive you of everything, obviously, but I can't believe that you have much use for that mace and the armor that you retrieved after the battle at the inn, for example. Perhaps there are a few other items that you might like to unburden yourself of as well?"

Faewen'il's response is not quite as positive to this request:

"Ye can be takin tha mace an the armor cause it nae be o use ta me. But I'd rather keep tha other thins for now, as they have not all been identified."

Once the conversation with Faewen'il is finished, then there is nothing to do except to wait for the return of Milan and the acolyte sent to locate Doctor Burian.

While Winnacer sits around patiently, Porter sighs and gets up:

"I'm going out to see what's going on out there and to find out what the Bodyguards' Guild was up to last night," he says. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

With that, he gets up and heads off out.

It is the acolyte that is the first to return, around an hour after he went. He comes to Clarissa firstly and whispers to her and then Clarissa walks over to Winnacer, looking a little disappointed:

"I'm sorry, Winn, but Yan said that the Doctor's not coming here. He met with him back at the Hospital. Doctor Burian wasn't very happy about the exercise at the gate at all. He said that he just can't see how he's going to be able to work with you, as it seems that his Faith's pacifist views are totally opposite to those of your companions and that he can see that only troubles will come if you travel together."

"He wishes you and your colleagues the very best of luck, but says that he will travel alone to Opava."

Winnacer shakes his head:

"Such stupidity has taken place today, for no good reason as far as I can gather. It seems that a talk with Aithne is in order, as she has bollixed this mission rather well so far. Hopefully, I will find the opportunity to apologize to the good doctor one of these days."

Winnacer waits for another 45 minutes and then is most relieved to see Milan return, coming through the side door that leads to the stables. Winnacer immediately gets up and greets him:

"So how did it go, Milan?" he asks. "Did you manage to find the horses and our gear?"

Milan's expression is neutral:

"Some of 'em, Lord Winnacer," he replies. "I found your 'orse, me Lord, an' it still 'ad that gunne thing on it, which was a surprise. I also found one o' the two draft 'orses with 'alf of our gear on it."

He then looks a little sad:

"I couldn't find Nainie, or Maire or the other draft 'orse though," he says sadly. "I reckon someone must 'ave nicked 'em."

"Not to worry, Milan," Winnacer replies. "With the horses belonging to Tadeus and Aithne still in the stables and a couple of spare mules, we just need to get three new riding horses and tack and replace the missing half of the equipment."

Winnacer then puts a paternal arm around his squire:

"You made a good showing today, Milan, no matter what your nerves may have said. You came through for all of us when it looked like this whole operation may have gone sour. I'm proud of you."

Having calmed down now, Milan's face reddens a little from the attention and then he grins a wide cheesy grin.

"But don't forget how close to death we often must walk," Winnacer continues. "Soon it will be time for you to come into combat to fight at my side. I think you are almost ready."

"If you think so, Lord Winnacer, then I reckons I must be," Milan replies, "what with ye bein' so clever an' all, Sir."

"Let's just wait for Porter to get back and then we can quickly obtain the missing items and be on our way," the young Lord finishes.

They wait for another half an hour and then see Porter returning. He seems to be a little relieved:

"I'm glad to say that it's just the Nyemetz that we have to worry about," he reports. "We obviously weren't the ones that the Bodyguards' Guild were after last night."

"The word on the street is that a couple, a man and a woman, tried to do over the vault at the Temple of Obkod yesterday evening. They nearly got away with it as well, from what's being said. The Bodyguards' Guild have a contract with the Temple of Obkod and so it was the two who tried robbing the vault they must have been looking for."

Winnacer grimaces:

"Well that makes a lot of sense of things. That Rowan is a true bastard. It seems that he and a female accomplice are waiting until the heat passes from their recent job. I think you and I know who tried to roll over the Temple of Obkod. That thieving, lecherous bastard is going to repent for his sins, as Justice must be served."

Winnacer pauses, remembering whom he is talking to:

Although somewhat in agreement with the LawBringer, a broad smile is now upon Porter's face, despite his attempts otherwise. He shrugs in response.

"He's going to be more trouble than he's worth, as the Bodyguards' Guild will soon associate him with the rest of us," Winnacer continues. "The Bodyguards may not be looking for us now, but there is no guarantee for later."

"That bastard...."

Porter answers:

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to keep this info to ourselves for now, as I prefer to bring it up at a more opportune time. Oh, by the way, I told you before, I'm a Manhunter. I don't rob people."

He pauses, before saying:

"Unless, of course, they owe me money."

Winnacer nods:

"Perhaps it would be best for us both. This Rowan would not be worth any money to you now, would he?"

Porter's eyes light up at the comment, the thought evidently not having occurred to him previously.

"It seems that we both could have a use for this arrogant fop," the LawBringer continues. "With the loss of the good Doctor from the expedition, we'll certainly need his sword if we are to survive what lies ahead of us. The greater good is served by leaving him at large for a while. But I would have no qualms in seeing Rowan in chains for his crimes, nor would I see a problem in your profiting from it, as long as Justice is served."

Winnacer chuckles a bit:

"I bet some time in the stockade would wipe that arrogant smirk from his face."

Porter shrugs:

"That may be true. However, I've never been asked to bring someone in who I've fought alongside before. True, it's only one battle, and quite frankly, the man's more than a bit irritating, but we shall see. Currently, I have bigger fish to fry, and if Rowan can help me fry them, then perhaps someone else will have to bring him to justice."

"Criminals tend to have a hard time restraining their activities," the young Lord replies. "He'll have to keep a clean nose, fighting comrade or not. Do not be fooled into quick loyalty for one using us to help him escape this town. His true worth will soon be evident."

Porter shrugs again:

"We'll see. I don't go out and just arrest criminals, you know. I HUNT people, and they're not all necessarily criminals. And I only go after criminals if someone's paid enough for it, although Rowan may have a sufficient price upon his head."

"If you don't mind my asking, Porter, how did you find yourself in the bounty hunting business?" Winnacer asks. "Especially considering the troubled times the Nyemetz have brought for all Bohavians?"

Porter answers:

"Well, I used to be little more than a hired thug. I wasn't well-educated in my youth, nor did I come from any money. I have a knack for some things that others find ... shall we say, distasteful. I had a number of employers who needed muscle with a stomach for up-close-and-personal meetings. I somewhat stumbled into bounty hunting when I was asked to "talk" to a fellow named Gvendebuk, who owed the Guild a bit of coin. Well, Gvendebuk got a sucker-punch in on me in a bar when I wasn't looking. Determined to maintain my reputation, which is very important in my line of work, mind you, I went after him. Well, he turned out to be a big pussy, as I had to run him down over about three cities before I finally caught him, broke all ten of his fingers, and brought him back to the Guild to ah, shall we say, 'atone' for his transgressions. Impressed by my ability to find Gvendebuk, I was given other, similar assignments by the Guild. Eventually, I went out on my own, and I've worked for quite a number of employers now in Bohavia. The last one went a little sour, however, and that's how I got hooked with Fae. But that's not important right now."

"Ah. It sounds as if you have seen your share of hard times," the LawBringer responds.

Winnacer then considers Porter's words a bit.

"It sounds like your dwarven friend has given you a bit of trouble."

Winnacer nods:

"I overheard Faewen'il before, for all she is, she certainly is not quiet. It sounds as if you are going to need help with reining in this dwarf. I could perhaps make things a bit easier for you in your pursuit, if you were to tell me the fine details. The truth has trouble hiding from the eyes of a LawBringer. If Justice is served in tracking down this felon, it would be my honor to assist once things with the Nemotz have been silenced."

Porter looks at the LawBringer, considering the offer. Hanging around with a paladin was an entirely new concept for Porter, although he was beginning to see some definite advantages. With Fae's charm gone, he had considered dumping this crew and going back to working alone, but Winnacer was being awfully accomodating.

Winnacer then shakes his head.

"And if what we saw at the gate is par for the course with this new group, with suicidal charges and pigeon cavalry, we may be in a bit over our head. My prior companions never had any problem disassembling such a small group of Nyemetz nor did they place themselves into danger when it could be avoided. It may be a real problem. May Spravedelna watch over us."

Porter almost sneers:

"Well, we could have taken the gate without much a problem with a moment's worth of preparation. If Aithne wanted the Witchfinder dead that bad, I could have done it for her. You see, occassionally I have the job where they just want the person dead, as opposed to dead or alive. But anyway, that was a total clusterf***, and Aithne needs a little education about her tactics."

Porter then pauses:

"Apart from the business at the Temple of Obkod last night, there's not too much else going on," the rogue continues. "The news about our assault on the gate's all over town, as you would expect, but it seems as though the Nyemetz think that probably all that's going have gone out already and so they're not searching house-to-house or anything. Still, they've reinforced all of the gates, just in case."

Winnacer nods:

"Very well, it's time for us to go shopping now, as it's after 1.00 already and we need to meet up with the others before it gets dark."

Porter agrees and the pair of them head off out towards the market place. For the next hour and a half, they replace the missing items, purchasing three average quality riding horses plus tack for a total of 285g.p., plus two more large tents, cooking equipment, plus four weeks of dry rations for one person and packs to keep them in that totals another 100g.p., which Winnacer pays for.

It is nearly 3.00p.m. by the time that they return to the Library and they know that it will only be an hour and a half until it starts to get dark. They enter the Library via the stables and leave the horses and provisions with Milan in order that he can prepare them for an immediate departure. Winnacer and Porter enter the Library and meet up with Clarissa:

"We have been able to replace all of the lost mounts and equipment, Clarissa," Winnacer says to her. "We need to leave immediately now, so as to reach our colleagues before darkness falls."

"I'm afraid that I have one last favor to ask of you," the young Lord adds. "Faewen'il has agreed to escort us out of the city under the cover of invisibility, but it will not be sufficient in order to enable us to take our horses out at the same time. Would it be possible for one of your colleagues to take the horses out for us?"

Clarissa nods:

"That shouldn't be a problem."

She hails the same acolyte that went to locate Doctor Burian:

"Yan, you couldn't do me another favor, could you?" she asks sweetly.

The acolyte with the dopey smile is only too happy to oblige.

Faewen'il gets up, closes her books and comes over to join them:

"Are we ready?" she asks.

The group of them head out to the stables. Faewen'il goes over to her mule and takes out the mace and the suit of bright chainmail and hands them to Winnacer. She then looks over at the horses, noticing that Winnacer has the ratmen's gunne hanging from it:

"Ye better be carryin tha with ye while we're invisible," she says. "Tha Witchfinders'll be very interested in it if they were to see it."

Winnacer goes over to the horse and take out the gunne and Milan and Winnacer carry it between them. He then has another check over the contents of the horses' packs to make sure that there are no other magick items there. Once assuring himself that there are not, he speaks to the acolyte:

"Hopefully, you won't have a problem getting through the gate. Keep walking down the road slowly until you get out of sight of the gate. Once you are, then stop and we shall identify ourselves to you."

The acolyte agrees and then heads off out of the stable leading the horses with him.

Winnacer turns to Clarissa:

"This is where we say goodbye again. Hopefully, we shall not be back for the best part of two weeks."

Clarissa gives him a hug:

"Be careful, Winn, and I hope everything works out from now on."

With the farewells over once more, Faewen'il walks over to stand in the center of Winnacer, Milan and Porter and produces an eyelash encased in gum arabic from her pouch. She then starts to cast and the group of them disappear from view. They set out from the stable together, with the four of them staying tightly together in order to avoid one of them stepping outside the boundary of the spell. As they walk towards the eastgate, Porter whispers instructions to the magess, telling her where to walk so as to hide the trail that they are making in the snow. After 20 minutes of careful and slow walking, Faewen'il leads them to the eastgate. As they all see the sight before them, they are very glad for the spell, as it seems as if half of the Nyemetz garrison is camped around the gate, patrolling up and down and scanning the area for clues.

In order to get around the guards, the foursome has to move very carefully in order to avoid bumping into any of the orcs or goblins milling around the area, but after 20 minutes the group has managed to find a way through and are outside the area. There are another three companies milling around outside the gate also, but these are fairly easy to avoid. They carry on down the road for another 20 minutes until they are out of sight of the city and its guards. Here they see Yan the acolyte obediently waiting with the horses, shivering as a result of the cold.

Winnacer, Porter and Milan emerge from the cloak of invisibility, startling the acolyte. He calms himself down and hands over the reins to Milan. Winnacer thanks the acolyte for his help and he starts to head back to the city. Porter shouts his farewells to Faewen'il, but there is no reply, as she has already started upon her return to the city.

The three of them mount up and then start to make their way further down the road to get to the meeting point. It is getting dark now, not to mention the fact that it is freezing cold. They reach roughly the point where they had agreed to meet up with the others, but can see no sign of them. Then they hear a screech above them and they look up to see Yaz' owl, Gertrude, flying overhead. Once the owl has seen that she has been spotted, she starts to head off in a northerly direction, flying around in circles in order that she does not lose them.

Winnacer, Milan and Porter ride after the owl. They ride the mounts through the icy, but shallow, water of the River Bystritze and continue to head northwards towards the forest to the north east of the city. As they get to within a few hundred yards of the trees, they sees gray smoke curling upwards a short distance inside the wooded area. Upon seeing Gertrude heading for the smoke, they guess that this is where the others have holed up for the afternoon.

The others have continued to wait through the rest of the afternoon, getting increasingly worried as to where Winnacer and Porter have got to, not to mention the fact that they are getting colder and colder despite the fire that they are sat around.

Dusk began to fall, without any sign of the others return and they start to wonder how to spend the night if they don't show up. Just then, Aithne's ears prick up:

"Someone's coming," she says, reaching for her bow and getting up from the fire.

Before she can check, there is a rustling among the trees and Gertrude flies down to land upon Yaz' shoulder.

"It must be them," Yaz says casually. "If it were the Nyemetz, then Gertrude wouldn't be so calm."

Sure enough, they see a rustling in the trees to the south of them and see that Winnacer, Porter and Milan have returned. They see that Winnacer is riding his heavy war horse, still badly injured from the fight and one of the draft horses looks familiar, but the other horses are all new, with a couple of mules replacing the second of the draft horses.

Winnacer rides up to the group, chatting quietly with Porter until he comes within range of the camped party members. His face goes from relaxed to tense as he rides up to the group:

"We should be supplied enough to make the trip now."

He reaches to the back of his horse and grabs a set of bags, tossing them to Yaz:

"Milan was able to grab these for you, Yaz."

Winnacer levels a look as he expects Yaz to say something.

Yaz catches the bags clumsily by one strap, which causes one side to promptly open, spilling pounds and pounds of Nemotz cigarettes on to the snow between himself and Winnacer. The druid curses, then bends to pack them back in the bag. While he's doing so, he looks up at Milan:

"Thanks, guy! Wouldn't have wanted to lose these...!"

Winnacer's eyes open wide as Yaz' saddlebags turn the ground into flavor country. He cannot help but to shake his head:

"You'd think that having your arm almost rotted off and being wracked with contagion after contagion by the Nemotz would have taught you something. This time there'll be no cleric to save you when you melt your lungs. The good Doctor will not be joining us anymore, as he is rightly convinced that some of us are mentally unstable lunatics after the most recent fiasco. So enjoy your smokes."

Seeing the cigarettes, Porter steps up, saying:

"Heeeyyyy! What have ya got there?"

Yaz looks up at him hesitantly:

"They're, uh... tobacco smokes," he replies. "You uh... want some?"

He finishes packing the bag then stands and holds it open for the man to take some.

Porter examines the cigarettes for a moment before taking a couple of packs, saying:

"Tobacco smokes, eh? Well, I'll try just about anything."

"So what's your story, anyhow?" the druid asks, while he's got Porter's attention. "You're, like, Maire's friend, aren't you? That's rare; didn't think she could make friends... how'd you manage that??"

Porter looks puzzled:

"You mean Fae, right?"

He then snorts:

"More like 'how'd SHE manage that.' Damn sorceress pulled a fast one on me. Of course, I did attack her first, but that's really not the point."

"We should mount up and put more space between ourselves and the city," Winnacer says, interrupting the conversation. "We can rotate the lead between Yaz, Aithne, and myself. The darkness should not be such an obstacle this way."

"Yeah, let's get as far as we can away from here tonight," Yaz agrees.

Aithne shrugs:

"Fine, I'll start," she says shortly.

She turns and begins to lead the way, on foot.

The others decide to take the horses instead. Yaz throws snow onto the fire in order to extinguish it, and then mounts one of the three new riding horses that Winnacer and Porter brought with them. Rowan does the same and then they all set off in order to put some more distance between them and Olmutz, just in case the Nyemetz manage to pick up their trail.

The snow has now stopped falling but, as darkness continues to fall, the temperature falls along with it and it's starting to get very chilly to say the least.

Despite the fact that Aithne does not take a horse, she seems content to jog along ahead of the rest of the party and does not seem to tire despite the fact that her breath forms a mist as she keeps a few paces ahead of the others. As it is, it is impossible for any of them to move terribly fast, as they head northwards through the forest, having to guide the horses through the trees, which is hard work due to the darkness, the nearly full moon and stars being covered by cloud.

They continue through the fringes of the cold forest for much of the evening, the only sound audible being the breathing of the horses and the wind rustling the branches of the trees. Some time around 9.00, they see that the forest before them is petering out to the north, although it continues in a northeasterly direction towards the foothills of the Jeseniky Mountains. Although they are only some seven or eight miles away from Olmutz, the majority of them are getting tired now, not to mention cold. The fact that half of the group is also still bearing some serious wounds from the encounter in the morning also makes them look forward to resting for the night. As a result, they decide to rest here for the night, on the fringes of the forest, before continuing their journey across the open plains the following day.

Rowan peers out through the trees while the others make camp. He comes back a couple of minutes later:

"I can see quite a few lights from down in the valley, about a mile from here. Looks like a town or something."

Yaz screws up his face:

"Naw, let's stay here. I've had enough of all that Civ crap for a while."

Aithne nods her head in agreement with the druid.

They all help Milan take the tents from the back of the draft horse and mules and start to erect camp while the squire lights a fire and proceeds to start cooking up a meal for everyone. Once the stew is cooked, Milan starts to ladle it out and you eat his concoction. It might not be up to the standard of the inn food that they have become used to over the past few days, but at least it is warm.

The events of the day have been tiring for all, and so shortly after they finish the meal, they arrange a watch rota and then head for their tents, where they try and fall asleep, fighting off the bitter cold.