[b][u][center][color=forestgreen]Galen Derricson[/color][/center][/u][/b]

Gale had a number of oddities about him, but a fear of water was certainly not one of them, in fact he loved to swim in the river. That didn't make Gren's trip through the dirty ponds, no doubt filled with submerged plants and hidden rocks, at all appealing. No, Gale wasn't going through the water, but he rather thought haste was important, so he started after the other two.

He didn't even get that muddy.

He was last to reach the door though, and he listened to the Demund's observations curiously. When there was no answer to Alph's knocking, Gale took that to mean no one was home, yet given its recent appearance, someone must live here.

But that was wrong. Some strange part of him just utterly disagreed. Whoever lived here was dead. They were dead and their treasure needed to be found [i]right now[/i].

He pushed lightly on the door, but there was a lock on the inside.

Oh well.

In two short motions he drew his axe from his belt loop and smashed its blade straight into the center of the door, cutting a deep gash into the wooden face. Then he followed the move with a kick that finished splitting the door vertically in half. It caved in on its hinges, the other half hanging on to the frame only by the lock that had denied him entrance the easy way.

An air of seriousness hung over the group, the pull that reached out to them was close, yet the home was nearly bare. A sack filled with blank parchment was knocked over the floor, littering the far side of the room with loose papers. The only furnishings were a simple wooden cot cushioned by an odd green material, soft to the touch and yet reminiscent of the texture belonging to leaves, and a stone desk was shoved against the wall by the door. A wooden chair was broken beneath it.

On the desk was an inkwell, long dried out, and a couple quills that we're drifting away as the breeze from the doorway swirled around the room. More interestingly was a small leather sack, the size of a pocket, that appeared almost like a coin purse. It actually was a coin purse, a handful of silver and copper coins within; not an especially rich haul, but more than any of the village boys were likely to have.

More important than that however was the letter.

(Refer to the first post of the OOC.)

Gale surveyed the hut for a moment from his position in the doorway, and then slowly made his way into the room to investigate the letter, still holding the axe loosely in his right hand.