And in that moment, it was over. The javelin pierced the body of the cultist who would scream into the air, his legs giving out from under him. Not far from dead, but very much conscious, bleeding on the ground. Breathing had suddenly become an immeasurably difficult task. And if it came to it, he had seen how these people had slain all of his brethren. They were brutal in their manner, and even someone of as strong a will as him would eventually cave to the demands they would bark at him. And then they would kill him, just like any of the others. The man turned onto his side and raised the machete he was holding against his stomach, slipping it between the leather armour and his skin. "For Tiamat's glory!" the man yelled, plunging the half-orc's machete into his abdomen. Beyond saving now, the man gurgled their last, an unexplainable grin on his blood coughing face.

Not all of the heroes were set on approaching immediately, however. Despite the half-orc eventually seeking to reobtain his weapon of choice, as well as anything else the cultist might hold on his person, but for now he was dashing after the horses. It seemed whatever he had been eating and drinking earlier in the day didn't take too kindly to that however, and he soon found himself out of breath. The animals had won this round. And with them, they would bring the knowledge of the cult's failure to them. Whether that was good or bad news for the heroes would be left to be determined. And likely not known by those heading for Greenest. They still had many hours of travel before them, though thanks to Kyra knowing the area better than the cult likely did, they would manage to avoid further attention.

Come the break of dawn, the rising sun painted the horizon in a much brighter colour behinf the keep of Greenest, no longer only a dot in the horizon but a very real place to reach. A few of the city guard were already out and about, poking through the few charred ruins among the still standing houses, no doubt seeking any signs of those believed missing, or perhaps valuables of the citizens the cult may have dropped in their haste. Whatever their task, many of them stopped briefly to greet the returning troupe, even Torus now in his human form, unable to hang on to the ursine shape for as long as the journey had taken.

Once they finally stepped inside the keep, they were greeted by nobody else but Escobert the Red himself, who would show them to the relative piece of the infirmary, so that any wounds could be seen to and that especially Leosin would not wander off on his own. And with several of his brotherhood present just as well, their master would be forced to stay, were it in his interests or not. Nonetheless, once everyone's wounds had been seen to, they were told there would likely be several hours before the Governor would be able to come and see them himself. Of course, most of this was an act. The heroes simply needed to rest, and like with many members of the guard, they were simply told this so that they would stay put.

Once the long nine hours would have passed and sun would now be shining on the keep from high above, the Governor would request the presence of the heroes on the main gate of the keep, at the scene where Brannor had taken on the threat of the half-dragon. "Heroes. There is no other word we can use for you at this point. We cannot know what would have come out of this all had you not been here to turn the tides, and now even to strike at the heart of the enemy themselves. While any tactical knowledge you may have obtained for potential greater military action, what you have already done is much beyond what we would expect from anyone not affiliated with our little frontier town", the man would speak, though with those words spoken he did realise they failed to address Kyra properly. Many of those present knew her too, and thus she would be welcome to a short paragraph of her own.

"But of course, our own priestess Kyra Shepard was with them all on this journey as well… and make no mistake, she is no less a hero than anyone else of them. In fact, as far as I see it her talent might well go to waste as a simple priestess, but time will tell whether that becomes the truth. Whether she will stay, or seek to bring light to the world in other ways." But with that said, the governor held an open hand out towards Escobert who would lift a heavy pouch onto it. "This is from all of us. From those who could give, and the prayers of those who were less disposed. Collected from those willing, and nobody else. Please, accept it for your deeds." Within the pouch, golden coins and small gems, as well as a ring decorated with semiprecious gems clinked against each other. This was the physical and monetary manifestation of the gratitude of those of Greenest.

After the grander ceremony, a few of the monks would approach the party still in the company of the governor and the castellan. "Excuse us, our master would like to speak with those who rescued him", they requested the presence of those who had just stood before the people. Governor Nighthill would nod at these words, though before sending the adventurers on their way, he mentioned one more detail. "And you, great knight. The matter of the splint mail has been seen to. A local blacksmith, shall we say, received a fair amount of materials and absolutely refuses any payment."

[hider=Mechanics&Rolls]
Orchid strips the Dragonclaw's corpse, retrieving his machete and javelin, as well as obtaining a set of leather armour and Dragonclaw's robes for his trouble.

The party returns to the keep of Greenest arriving close to daybreak and is granted the opportunity to pursue a long rest.

In the morning, Governor Nighthill sees to that they are paid two hundred pieces of gold (200 gp, for the whole party, not each) gathered from those that could spare it within the citizenry, all given willingly. He also has on good authority that a local smith has taken to refitting the splint mail for Brannor, and adamantly refused further payment apart from the Governor providing the raw materials.

Leosin seeks the party out through his fellow brothers, requesting to meet in the infirmary.

Oh, and I decided to forgo using colours in text. It is quite bothersome an operation, and I do hope the identity of the speaker is clear enough from context. If such a manoeuvre is not welcome, do voice said opinion and I will consider bringing it back.
[/hider]
[@Ryonara][@Lucius Cypher][@The Harbinger of Ferocity][@Gordian Nought][@Norschtalen]