3rd Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj

About ten minutes had passed.

Elrohir had retrieved his helm, the silence spell finally having worn off. He then walked around the perimeter of the room, Gokasillion in hand. It looked to Zantac as if the ranger was divining for water, but the sword instead led its wielder into the kitchen's interior, to the bodies of the fallen hobgoblins. The party leader would rifle through their belt pouches, then inevitably stand up in disgust, throwing away the few copper or silver coins he found within.

The red-robed wizard sidled up to him. "Elrohir?"

The ranger looked at Zantac, saw the question in his eyes, and then glanced back to his glowing blade with an almost embarrassed grimace. "My sword. It can detect the presence of precious metals within ten feet or so. Gold, silver and such."

Zantac's eyebrows rose. "Seems an odd ability for such an ambitious weapon."

Elrohir blinked, then turned back to regard his blade. After a moment, he returned his gaze to Zantac, his face neutral.

"I've learned it's best not to try and argue with it."

Elrohir continued his searching while Zantac returned to his and Talass' joint examination of the dead humans who had transformed into the horrible wereboars. The wizard and priestess spoke softly to each other, not wishing to be overheard by the others.

Aslan stood by himself near the on the south end, off to the west. He was preparing to search the room beyond, but he wasn't feeling very well. The paladin had taken a number of swigs out of his waterskin, but it just wasn't helping to quench his thirst. He felt hot, and tired.

Come on, he told himself. You've got a job to do.

Cygnus guarded the open door by which they had entered, but the tall mage occasionally glanced around at his fellow party members.

Ten feet away from that door on either side were other doors. The one on the east side had contained the quarters of the wereboars. The party had known this beforehand, since they could now hear the squeals of the trio's enraged pet boar from outside. Five warriors stood ready to meet the animal however, so when they had opened the door and it had charged out at them, its lifespan had been measured in seconds. Nothing of value or interest was found in the room.

The lone door on the west wall was locked. Elrohir had ordered it be left alone until they had all regrouped. He was certain this was the door that would lead them to Markessa.

Nesco wasn't so sure. Of the two rooms off the east end of the kitchen, she had given the 10' by 20' larder little more than a cursory examination. It was the adjacent storeroom of equivalent size that she was more interested in.

This was the room that the female hobgoblin had run into.

There was no sign of her.

Cynewine wrinkled her nose at all the shelves filled with dirty pots, pans and dishes. There was a mixture of odors emanating from them, all of them unpleasant, and the whole was worse than the sum of its parts. She began to search for a secret panel, or a switch, or something.

A short scream brought her running back into the kitchen.

"Damn it!" Aslan yelled, appearing in the doorway he had gone through moments before. As the others watched, the paladin tossed the body he was holding in his arms onto the floor.

It was a male half-orc, clad in the same type of hide smock the female hobgoblins had been. His right hand still clutched a kitchen knife.

Aslan shook his head, disgusted with himself. "Servants' quarters," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. There was nothing in there. He must have been hiding under one of the beds, and jumped me when my back was turned. I didn't think, I just-"

The paladin looked at the others. "Sorry. He was probably our best chance for information." He glanced over at Talass. "Say, you haven't-"

"No, Aslan, I have not yet mastered that prayer," the priestess cut him off in exasperation. "You'll be the first to know when I do." Talass then returned her attention to her examinations. She was removing the belts that the wereboars had worn, finding them inlaid with gold. She had just finished showing them to Cygnus when she felt Argo tap her on the shoulder.

"A moment of your time if I may, good lady," the big ranger whispered.

Talass stared at Argo in confusion for a moment, but then handed the belts off to Cygnus and walked with Bigfellow, who steered her towards the fire pit.

Argo pointed at Icar's body. "If I might beseech you to search for any magical auras you might find."

Talass frowned again, thinking. She glanced towards her husband, but Elrohir was now standing about twenty feet south of the locked door, his back to her as he peered intently at the wall. She looked back at Icar. Just checking wouldn't hurt, she thought.

Argo watched as she cast.

"The katana is magical," Talass murmured, her expression deep in concentration.

Bigfellow nodded. "No surprises there. Anything else?"

The cleric nodded. "A faint abjuration," she said quietly. "From the armor- no, not the armor." She pointed. "His left hand."

The ranger looked her curiously. "Abjuration?"

She eyed him steadily. "Protective magic."

Argo held her expression, then smiled his famous pained smile at her. "I'd be pretty stupid to try pocketing items for myself after asking you about them, don't you think?"

He went over and knelt down beside the samurai's body, then began pulling off the left gauntlet. "Fear not, my good lady. I know of the traditions regarding the samurai swords. I won't touch them." He looked up again, his auburn eyes meeting those of the priestess. "But this man was standing in the middle of a raging fire when we got here, and if that's part of the standard samurai training, Tojo's never mentioned that to me." Argo grunted with satisfaction, and then held up an iron ring between his thumb and forefinger. It looked to Talass to have a reddish tint to it, but she didn't think there was any rust on it. Perhaps it was just from the red glow of the coals.

"We'll let the others know about this, my good lady," Argo said, pulling his own gauntlet off and slipping the ring on his finger while rising to his feet. He turned away from Talass and faced the fire pit.

"But first, a brief stroll to find out if I know what I'm talking about for once. Healing at the ready, please. I tend to be wrong more often than-"

There was a bloodcurdling yell.

Talass screamed.

Argo Bigfellow spun around, to see Tojo's face again distorted in a primal rage.

And his katana was coming full-speed right at Argo's neck.