Mara's message brings Rose and Pip down from the loft before dawn. Beneath the timber gate, the watchhouse smells of wet wool and lamp oil, with ledgers spread across a scarred table.
Mara sits behind the table, iron-gray braid tight against her weathered face. A guttering lamp throws light over the torn bandit cloth and a fresh message sealed beside it.
Mara
Morning could not wait. A rider came from beyond the old forest road, carrying word that strangers are asking after a holy amulet. Their search has reached Logs Horn.
Pip's claws tighten around his damaged satchel. Mara opens the ledger, then lays Sella's ragged red-chevron cloth beside the message without touching either.
Pip
That sounds uncomfortably close to the ambush. Are these strangers the same bandits, or only people following the same trail?
Mara
I do not know yet. The message names no pursuers, only questions at farmsteads and a warning to watch travelers carrying relics.
Rain taps the shutters. Mara dips her quill, fixes Rose with the same guarded attention she gave at the gate, and turns to a clean page.
✓ Quest Accepted
Determine whether the strangers asking about the holy amulet are connected to the ambush
“Some strange girl- Sella I think her name was, mentioned she was a courier and that she somehow knew the bandits were after a relic. That's all I really know about it, strange why they would be out looking for something in particular unless someone hired them for it. Though, I guess it was peculiar that this courier would know something about the bandit's motives.”
SUCCESS (Good Reasoning, rolled +0)
Rose Thornweald
Sella Reedcloak said she was a courier, and somehow knew the bandits wanted a holy relic. Perhaps someone hired them. It was strange knowledge to have without being involved.
Mara
That is a fair suspicion. If she learned their purpose before the ambush, she may have carried warning from someone else, or overheard the employer's instructions.
Mara writes Sella's name in the ledger, then pauses over it. The quill scratches slowly while rain ticks against the shutters and the lamp gutters low.
Pip
She did draw the bandits away from us. That does not prove she told the truth, but it makes her warning harder to dismiss.
Mara
No, it does not prove it. I will add that she claimed courier's honor, and that she carried the red-chevron cloth. We may need to check both details.
The questioning stretches into another careful entry, costing Mara time before she can send word beyond Logs Horn. Her uncertainty remains, but Rose's account is now recorded beside the warning.
“Well, if that is all you need from us... I could really use a bath. I do not intend to sleep with my fur matted.”
Rose Thornweald
Well, if that is all you need from us, I could really use a bath. I do not intend to sleep with my fur matted.
Mara
That is all for now. The painted basin is beside the kitchen stairs; ask the serving woman for hot water, and take your time.
Mara sands the fresh entry and closes the ledger. She gathers the red-chevron cloth and sealed message, leaving the watchhouse's tense questions behind with the rain.
Pip
I shall remain nearby, then. A clean coat would improve my chances of being mistaken for a respectable traveler.
Pip follows Rose from the watchhouse and up the inn stairs. Morning light pales the loft window, while the kitchen below begins to stir around the promised basin.
The serving woman provides warm water without protest. Steam loosens the damp tangles in Rose's fur, and the simple wash leaves the cramped room peaceful at last.
Pip
There. Much better. Logs Horn may yet prove civilized, despite its gate watch and alarming questions.
The basin cools beside the hearth as Rose's fur dries soft beneath the loft's quiet warmth. Outside, rain continues over Logs Horn, but no one interrupts their rest.
“{During her bath, she had to pull her outfit off, not a stranger to being nude as she also set to work cleaning the clothes to keep them from becoming musty. A casual task as she lets Pip do as he wishes in the room.} Refreshing for the gate questions to be something so easily answered at least.”
The washroom door closes, and Rose sets her clothing beside the steaming basin. She slips free of it without ceremony, then works soap through the fabric until the rain-damp mustiness gives way to clean warmth.
Water darkens the basin as she rinses each piece and wrings it carefully. Beyond the thin wall, the inn stirs into morning, but no urgent voice calls her back to the watchhouse.
Pip
I shall remain in the loft and keep watch over the drying clothes. Not that anyone here seems interested in stealing them.
Pip settles nearby with his marked parchment and damaged satchel, giving Rose the privacy he can while occupying himself. His claws make a quiet, orderly rhythm against the floorboards.
Rose Thornweald
The hot water is a better answer than another guarded question.
By the time the clothes hang near the hearth, the last chill has left them. Steam curls upward, and the loft returns to its gentle quiet, with Pip content to wait.
“{Rose moves to lay on her bed with a yawn, nude as she lazily flicks her tails.} Well at least you aren't a prude. Do you not intend to wash up as well? I've heard from more then one... 'acquaintance' that scales are quite hard to clean if you let the... 'gunk' sit as it were.”
SUCCESS (Mediocre Persuasion, rolled +1)
Rose settles onto the bed with a broad yawn, lazily flicking her three tails while her freshly washed clothes hang near the hearth. Pip remains on the floor beside his parchment, carefully keeping his eyes elsewhere.
Rose Thornweald
Well, at least you aren't a prude. Do you not intend to wash up as well? I've heard from more than one acquaintance that scales are quite hard to clean if you let the gunk sit.
Pip's claws stop their orderly tapping. His ears angle back, and the private ease of the loft gives way to a small, unmistakable silence.
Pip
I am not a prude. I am cautious. There is a difference, and I would appreciate it being remembered.
Pip
Still, you are right about the scales. I will wash, but only because remaining dirty is less dignified than accepting your advice.
Pip gathers his soap and steps toward the basin, granting Rose the answer she wanted. His cooperation comes with a firmer reserve, as though her teasing has spent some of his trust.
“I've never heard accepting my advice as undignified before- Well, no that is a lie. Well- fair enough. I think I'm going to take a nap, when I awake perhaps that gate guard will have found any answers into the bandits.”
Rose Thornweald
I've never heard accepting my advice called undignified before. Well, that is a lie. Fair enough. I think I shall take a nap; perhaps Mara will have answers about the bandits when I wake.
Pip
A nap sounds wiser than inventing further contradictions. I will wash, then keep quiet enough for you to sleep.
Pip turns toward the basin, his reserve settling back into careful routine. Warm water and soap soon make a soft, unhurried sound behind the partition.
Rose sinks into the bed as pale morning light gathers at the loft window. Her clean clothes hang near the hearth, and the inn's ordinary stir remains distant below.
Pip
If Mara finds anything, Rose will hear it soon enough. Until then, quiet is the best protection either of us has.
Sleep takes Rose without interruption. When she wakes, the basin has cooled, Pip's parchment is stacked neatly beside him, and the loft remains peaceful, awaiting whatever Mara learned.
“{As she awakens, she quietly yawns and slinks from the bed, walking up behind the kobold quietly before leaning against the back of his head, both hands settling themselves on either side of him while he works. her breasts inches away from his head as she is still completely nude.} Morning- or, evening- whenever it is. What are you working on? {Her eyes scan the parchment he has set aside.}”
SUCCESS (Great Stealth, rolled +1)
Morning light has reached the loft when Rose wakes. She slips from the bed without a sound and crosses behind Pip, who remains bent over his neatly stacked parchment.
Rose Thornweald
Morning, or evening, whenever it is. What are you working on?
Rose leans lightly against the back of Pip's head, bracing both hands on either side of him as her eyes pass over the parchment. Lines, symbols, and small careful annotations cover the page.
Pip
Morning. It is still morning, unless you slept through an entire day. I am comparing these marks with what I remember from the missing map fragment.
The parchment shows a rough woodland boundary, a crooked stream, and three charcoal circles near an old stone waymarker. One circle has been crossed out twice.
Pip
The fragment was not a complete map. It showed a route toward something marked beneath the forest, though I never learned what. These notes may tell us where the missing piece fits.