//Central Village
_@Xaltwind
Decorative horns?

“Oh, so that’s your deal!”

MacKinnon didn’t care all too much about who got there first or second or third in the end. If the lady was gonna share rabbits, and if the big man was going to cook them up, then she would happily partake in the meal, as someone who had subsisted off basically just water and desert weeds for the last leg of her journey to this little, abandoned hamlet.

Well, also kinda meant that she didn’t necessarily have anything to bring in terms of food to add to the soup. Her eyes briefly glanced over to the chicken, wondering just how long it’d take before it started pooping out eggs. And then there was the subject of rice as well. They’d probably all be dead if they were just waiting for rice to grow, but that too was something nice to think about in the future.

Maybe she should try some treasure hunting in the forest tomorrow. Surely it was an easy enough task, to come across mushrooms and berries and freshly-dead-but-not-half-eaten animals? Maybe…

“Mm, lemme know when you’re heading out tomorrow then, lady! Plan on heading out to the forest tomorrow and seeing what treasures I can find there, and if there’s something big out there…well, I’ll give you a shout and we can split the find.”

MacKinnon plotted out her future as she continued to clean up her finds for the day. With the dust and dirt of ages revealed, the painted vase looked pretty nice, even! And the silverware definitely glistened in a way that was almost mirror-like! It’d take a lot longer for her to beat the dust and wring the water out of the carpets, but even now, they possessed a pleasing geometric pattern! She whistled a cheery tone, lost for a moment in current finds and future discoveries, only to spot movement in the distance again.

Huh.

She had kinda expected Victor to stick around with his grandkiddo, least until she was feeling better. Or maybe Sheryl’d have played anxiety-mom like she did when she first saw MacKinnon. But, ugh…………

The treasure hunter cleaned up her last batch of goods, briefly considered tossing the blacksmithing tools into the well, and then shelved that thought before she sauntered over to the wagon where Wilma was. Peeking her own head over the wagon, MacKinnon’s eyes creased into a grin when she spied the child.

“Heya, kiddo,” MacKinnon said. “That was pretty scary, wasn’t it? I think you were pretty brave though, y’know? A real tough girl, honestly.” Her chin propped up onto the side next. “Cause when I was your age, stuff like that’d have made me pee myself!”

She tilted her head to the side, a gesture of doubt.

“You didn’t pee yourself, did you? They’re making food soon, so…”

---

---

"Your outburst was unnecessary." Akitsugu picked through the fragments of wood and tile left behind in the wake of all the looting. The problem was not as bad as he had feared---but in addition to having only three walls, the interior area that should have been the smith's actual house now had a gaping hole in the roof, under which seemed to be a fallen bookcase. All in all it took up an entire corner of the space, which was cramped enough to begin with. Akitsugu prayed that it wouldn't rain before he could patch it, otherwise the building's interior likely would not be repairable afterward.

But, though bereft of tools now, at least the furnace was intact.

"So was cutting off that little trollop's head!" Miyusahime's hilt clicked against the scabbard like someone clicking their tongue. "Maybe if you'd just slapped her, I wouldn't have said anything! But what if all those other people turned on you, huh!?"

"...So be it. I was in the right. She is a thief." The redhead spat the words, and tossed a broken and splintered plank back into the corner. "And if she does not return my tools, it will not end here."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I had intended to cut more firewood before dark fell. But now I fear leaving my claim," the blacksmith snorted, "unattended." He picked up another plank of wood, noting that this one had split in such a way that one end of it was quite sharp. Holding it over one shoulder, he headed back outside...and then slammed it down, pointy-end first, into the dirt right at the edge of the road in front of the smithy. Standing in front of it, he took a deep breath, then put his hand to his sword once more.

"Hey! I'm not a whittling knife!" He ignored her protest, and for the first time drew the gleaming blade. The afternoon sun cast ripples across the steel, revealing a pattern in the curvature like dunes in the desert. "Do NOT swing me at that rotten piece of lumber!"

"I won't." Akitsugu answered, instead placing his palm against the back of the blade just a few inches from its tip. Carefully closing his hand, so as not to get too many fingerprints on her otherwise immaculate surface, the smith placed Miyusahime's point against the wood. "Just bear with me."

"Hmph!" replied the sword as the scratching sounds began. "You couldn't just use that hatchet of yours for this!? I know the phrase goes "Master of Sword and Brush," but that doesn't mean we're interchangeable!"

"I have neither brush nor ink. Besides," Akitsugu tilted the sword at a different angle as he continued to mark the piece of wood, "I think the carving leaves a better impression than plain words." Finally, he withdrew Miyusahime and examined her point, blowing away a bit of sawdust. "Moreover, there's no danger of rolling your tip when it's already this soft."

The plank of wood, marking the property like a gravestone, now read:



"There. Now she has no excuse." the redhead growled as he sheathed his pouting blade. "And neither does anyone else."

"I still don't know why you're choosing to stay here." Miyusahime grumbled. "We don't know if we can trust any of these...these weirdoes!"

"I feel that Yingmei, Myrr, and Brom mean no harm, at the least. And Master Darryl, along with his wife, seems to be willing to go quite far out of their way for others...even if they don't deserve it."

"Even though he pushed you around to protect that thief?"

"My hope is that he only wished to preserve the peace." The smith tugged his mantle closer around his shoulders as he turned away from the house, and headed towards the workshop. "At least he didn't make a long winded lecture like the old man." He frowned, because thinking about the elder reminded him of the man's granddaughter. He hadn't even realized she was standing behind MacKinnon's leg when he'd started arguing with the woman. It had not been his intention to scare the girl at all---nor for her to even be involved in the matter. She had nothing to do with it. The young smith sighed.

He cleared away a few crumbling pieces of brick from the furnace's mouth, and looked closely to be sure there wasn't a rat's nest or something else waiting to bite him. Then, he carefully placed his foot on the brick body and chimney, lightly applying pressure to be sure there weren't any remaining weak points that would bring the whole thing down. Once satisfied with that, he set his shoulder to the large, cracked anvil and pushed it into a position from which he could climb atop it and peer down the short, stout chimney of the furnace. Like the mouth, he was careful in case any little critters happened to be waiting in the dark, hollow tunnel.

"_{Most of the detritus that's gathered should burn away fairly easily...but, I need to patch a few holes in it to avoid pressure pockets.}" Thinking aloud, he ran his fingers over the bricks and mortar of the structure. "_{They probably used a slaked lime mortar. Either there's a limestone deposit somewhere around here, or maybe...skeletal remains from animals or monsters?}" Bricks would be easy enough to make with fired clay, but for that he would need a separate kiln, and of course more wood to use as fuel. Not actually all that difficult, but a very time consuming process. Again he sighed.

"And on top of this, I now have more repairs to do." He hopped off the anvil, and used his frustration to help him shove it, in starts and stops, back to its original position. "Miyusahime, I'm going to return to the others, if for nothing more than a meal and a cot. You shouldn't speak any more unless it's an emergency."

"Like, if you're about to run someone through again?" Akitsugu did not answer her, but his eyebrow twitched.

@Xaltwind

---

"...eh? Miss Clucky is that special?!" Yingmei held up the hen, gazing into its eyes. "D-did the gods answer my prayers finally? H-have I made it? Aaaah, divine spirits thank you for this great bounty!" Yingmei pulled Miss Clucky close to her, nuzzling her cheek against its feathers. She hadn't a clue to what it was doing here, but this was her friend now and an obvious indication that yes, coming here was the correct choice!

"A-ah...ahem. I-i mean, thank you erm...Victor was it?" Yingmei blushed furiously out of embarrassment as she'd lower the chicken and try to reign herself in. "I don't suppose you know how often they lay eggs? Or if they need anything special...?" She wasn't one to work with animals, usually so any information on how to properly raise this chicken was a good idea. "Maybe we could hatch more, too?" It'd be a decent source of food, if they could. As Victor would make his reply, though, a bit of movement from his wagon caught her attention. Ah, the little girl.

"Uhm...would it be alright if I let Wilma play with miss Clucky a bit? It might cheer her up. She's harmless! P-probably..."

A missive came forward, from the back of her mind. Some audio had been decoded. Someone had mentioned cooking food nearby, recently. The root elf bundled her bundle back up, carefully so, with the steady motions of a confident hand. She turned her attention to the old man, Victor, and Yingmei, as she got to her feet, “it’d be great if we could find ourselves with a rooster, too. I wonder if the chicks are very distinguished, as well?” She was certain they were going to be cuter still than this bird, but they’d need that rooster to even have a chance of finding out.

At any rate, Niara carefully slid her sack of goodies over her shoulder again and went to go track down the voice that had mentioned cooking. Aah.. there! He’d just been handed some rabbits. Niara approached, calling as she did, “hail, there, good sir. You’ll be cooking, will you? Maybe you’d like to have a look at these. We’ve got tea and a, uh, grain that’s very closely related to rice.” Yes, that was a fine summary. “I’ve never actually used it before, it might be a bit tougher or dryer than rice. I’m not sure.” She hadn’t had time to do anything other than make the changes necessary to help the plant grow and produce a healthy crop in the conditions provided. Given that she hadn’t known everything about the best growing conditions, her changes may not have been exactly what was needed, either. The fields were supposed to be drained of water, after a point.. she’d have to ask Yingmei for more information, if they couldn’t get proper paddies going anywhere, which might not happen for a while.

“I also don’t usually do grains.” She knelt and unbundled the fresh harvest once more, looking up at who would apparently be their cook, ”I might garden fruits or veggies, but grain? Not I. Or tea, for that matter.” No doubt, the grain had to be separated from the stalk and all that, but she wasn’t sure about all that. Really, she was just familiar with growing things.

---

Bad Prince Ned

---

Seated inside the used tradesman wagon with his warhorse put to the indignity of having to pull it, Prince Edmund Darrington - Defender of the Realms, Lord of the Wastes, Eminence of Skulls, and (now) the exiled prince of the Kingdom of Yavell paused, his face twisting before he covered it with a handkerchief, sneezed mightily. It was hardly the first such today.

---

He had started his morning inside a cell in one of the castle's dungeons, having been locked up the night before. Dragged out and brought out before his own court, forced to his knees with his arm wrenched painfully behind his back as he watched the high priest of the kingdom crowning his beloved Abigail as the new ruler of Yavell. Then his younger brother James joined her, the first to kneel before her and swear fealty to the new queen. He then shot Ned a look of scorn and triumph as he slid to her side as the next lordling knelt to pledge his oath to her.

Finally, it was his turn.

"Edmund Darrington," she said regally, "Stories of your misdeeds have spread around the kingdom, so Yavell has turned to me to provide justice. I find you guilty of actions against my person..."
"But I... ack!" he yelled as the guard twisted his arm again. Several around him jeered at him, and a sweet, little old grandmother spat in his face.
"Silence!" Queen Abigail ordered. The remaining guards not twisting his arms behind his back beat on the floor with the butts of their polearms as the crowd grew silent.

"There are many," she added, looking down at him, "Who would have me execute you here and now. But I remember your rescue earlier this week, so instead, I will let you keep your life and send you into exile."

Ned frowned. She wasn't going to chop off his head or imprison him?

"Your horse is outside. The guards will drag you out and mount you on it, and escort you to the border."
"But... ack!"
"Take him away!"

---

When they reached the border with Geodel, the guards actually slit the leather cords around his wrists, leaving him to fumble with the gag they had tied on, then actually let him cross over, watching him as he galloped towards Geodel's capital - and his college, where he had been taking classes.

He found the bursar and told him he was withdrawing from the college, and demanding a refund of the tuition his dead father had paid them. It was in fact waiting for him, as the school had expected him to be taking over his kingdom and wanted to be nice to the new king. He did not dissuaded them, leaving immediately for his tower room.

Here, there was weapons. Here, there was armor. Here, there was clean clothes and a chance for a quick bath while his room mates argued over what to send with him.

"You're not going to appeal to the king here? Get his support..."
"The king here hates me. The moment he learns I've been exiled, he's going to do so as well."
"Why...?"

"Because I turned down his second daughter's hand."
"Tilly? Is it because she talks to animals?"
"She talks to the food on her plate. No, she converses with it! She was sitting next to me and conversing with the beef in her trencher! Tilly's going to get locked away in her bedroom if the king can't find a husband to take her."

"Oh, he has found a husband for her," one of them said. "Some knight killed a dragon on the northern border yesterday, so he's giving him Tilly's hand in marriage."
"I feel sad for the knight. Do we know who it is?"
"Bains...bridge, something like that."
"From Elicia? Well, he's not poor now."

"So what are you going to do?"
"Open an inn."
"What?" the three demanded, staring at him as he toweled off. Gods, he was going to miss servants.
"My father's fortune teller warned me that I was going to wind up without a kingdom," Ned said, his face and chest blushing as he remembered his meeting with her, and the fact she was not wearing so much as a stich of clothing while breathing in the vapors. "She said I should build an inn, somewhere isolated, outside any city."
"She told you that? So..."
"She left an impression," Ned said curtly, cutting them off.
"But you know nothing about running an inn!"
"Are there even farms?"
"Or carpenters?"
"You remember those blisters from Exile 101 where you had to do a garden plot?"

"Did anything grow?"
"Weeds..." one of them muttered.
"There was that carrot..."
"That wasn't a carrot, it was hemlock."

"Nobody said it was going to be easy!" Ned snapped.
"You're going to need some gear," Prince Pulver said, glancing sadly at him from his bed. "And at least some means of carrying it all."

---

And so here he was, sneezing his head off as he drove his wagon out of the market with the few things he was able to gather, only to see the grim faces of a squad of Geodel's guardsmen, led by a knight with a scarlet surcoat.

"Darrington!" the knight demanded, staring out of his helmet
"Sir Sobieck," Ned nodded in greeting. "I'm guessing the king has heard."
"Yes, and he wants you out of the kingdom!"
"And not to dinner? I've heard he's found a husband for Princess Tilly."

Sobieck angrily blushed redder than his surcoat.

"Never you mind about that," he hissed. "We're to escort you to the border!"
"I have some things to pick up from the college, you don't mind if we stop there, first?"

---

His room mates got some underclassmen to bring down a trunk and a sack with suspicious, book-like bulges.
"Some reading materials for you," Prince Pulver whispered.
"From your own collection?"
"About farming and carpentry?" Pulver laughed. "No, we grabbed these from the school's library. In your name, of course."
"Of course," Ned scowls.
"Well, good luck innkeeper!"

---

Days later, Ned tugged on the reins, staring down at the ruined hamlet and the few people below who seemed to be in some kind of argument.

"Fortune teller, what have you got me into?" Ned muttered under his breath before starting down.

@Zeroth Yasunami Akitsugu

It didn't take long for the returning smith to get spotted and approached by the burly carpenter who'd come looking for him. Approaching with swift, long strides and his towering, unmistakable frame, Daryl quickly closed the gap with the younger man.

"There you are, boy! Was looking for ya. The dwarf with the pot said he'd be amking us all some dinner, so c'mon. Bet you'll feel better once you get some grub in your guy, am I right? hah!"

The boisterous man laughed at his own comment, giving Akitsugu a firm clap on the back. It seemed the carpenter had no msigvings or hesitation about treating the young blacksmith any different, even after his little spat with the yuong girl just a while back. Well, either that or he was really good at hiding it - but Daryl didn't really seem like the kind of man who was giid at the whole not-saying-what-he's-thinking thing... He seemed much more the type to wear his haeart on his sleeve.

On their way back to the others, the large fellow spoke about how he was planning to try and go over some of the houses closest to the town square tomorrow, and see how bad the damage was. With any luck, he figured he could patch up any smaller or lesser damage and make more buildings livable, so they wouldn't all have to share that one longhouse for too long. Yes. He used that exact phrasing. Yes. He also laughed at his own stupid pun.


@Remram Brom Stronghammer, @ERode MacKinnon, @CitrusArms Niara Rootwick, @Rune_Alchemist Yingmei Okudaira, @Expendable Edmund Darrington

Victor scratched his beard as he looked at the curious bird in the young farmer girl's arms. He then rose back up to his full stature, shook his head and smiled.

"Far as I know, they don't need anything special. Just the same things any normal clucker needs. Food, water and shelter. And, well, protection from wild animals and thieves, but that's true for all critters, ain't it?" The man said. He wasn't a husbandry-expert after all.

At the young woman's words about Wilma and letting the little girl play with the newly acquired feathered friend, the old man gave her a warm, genuine smile - like a caring grandfather just hearing his teenage ward say something really selfless and kind forthe first time.

"I think she'd like that very much, miss. Thankj you."

Meanwhile, over in the cart, Wilma looked up at big sis Macky, the little one doing her absolute best to hold back tears and sniffles to not seem scared or bothersome. Which was perhaps a bit surprising, given how up until now Victor had seemed like the doting kind of man who'd spoil her rotten, but perhaps he was strict about certain, particular things? Or maybe she was just trying to be tough and brave for reasons only a child could understand? It didn't really matter. At MacKinnon's praise of her courage, the young child blushed slightly and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, wiping away some drops.

"I-I didn't pee...! I wasn't sacred...!" A bold-faced lie, made all the more obvious by her trembly, shaky voice and follow-up sniffles, but at least she hadn't soiled herself - which was good news for everyone involved. At the mention of food though, the girl's head sank a little. "I-is the... Is the angry man eating with us too?" She asked, obvious concern and apprhension on her face.

While Niera and Myrr were busying themselves with talking to Brom about ingredients and the potential future of culinary prospects, as well as what they could and would use for the meal that the dwarf had in mind for them all, Sheryl made her way over to the golden-haired, dark skinned dwarven lass with the big horns. The latter had taken up a spot in the town center, staring at the big, four-pointed star-shaped statue near the well. With a wave, the red-haired, red-eyed woman approached, offering a friendly-enough greeting.

"Hey there,s tranger. Didn't see you here when we all met up during the morning."
"Because I wasn't here."
"Oh...? But, didn't you say you came to this place before ethe rest of us?"
"I did."
"... But, you didn't join up and introduce yourself along with everyone else?"
"Was I supposed to?"

The young dwarfess tilted her head, looking over at Sheryl - who looked, to put it mildly, more than a bit baffled. Again, the strange little woman didn't have any malice or sting to her words, rather just genuine confusion at the thoughtor prospect that she was expected to have attended the little meet'n greet from earlier.

"W-well... I... I suppose you weren't obligated to... Are... Are you going to stay in this place to?"
"Yup. That's the plan."
"Ah... I see, I guess we'll be neighbors then. My name's Sheryl, by the way."
"Good to meet ya."
"... And, you are...?"
"Milni."
"Ah, alright. Well, likewise. So, Milni... You've been staring at this ... Thing... For a while. Any idea what it is?"

At the question, Milni turned her entire body over to face Sheryl, blinking a few times and then again tilting her head.

"OF course I do. You don't?"

Chanticleer took in a deep breath and sighed with great joy. The air was so much cleaner here, the grass was so much greener. Everything literally reeked of life and a slower pace, and he was all for it. Rubbing his large belly and humming a nonsense tune as he looked around. The bright blue portal he had just walked through that he had found while exploring a mountain was nowhere in sight. This suited him just fine, who wanted to be climbing a smelly sulfur smelling volcano when faced with this? He ran his thick meaty hand through his red hair as he tried to remember why he even had been on that god-forsaken hunk of rock and his brain had nothing useful to report.

Looking around him he did not see any obvious pathways, so he took to the old tried and true method.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..."

With each word that left his mouth his finger pointed in a different direction and after doing this a few times he finally decided on a direction. As he slowly started walking, he reached into his knapsack and took out a piece of hardtack and raised it to his mouth before catching himself. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me. Chanticleer was not about to break another tooth. Placing the hardtack in the palm of his hand with some effort he crushed it and began to place little pieces into his mouth to let them soften as he passed tree after tree. Sometimes even having to push his way through bushes and briars.

After walking for quite some time and even dodging stuff moving about in the underbrush something was starting to appear in the distance. Using his hand to block the sun he strained his eyes to see better. It was indeed a town of sorts, but it looked ramshackled and destitute at best.

"Excellent!"

Grinned Chanticleer as he puffed out his chest and increased his stride. After a few feet he stopped himself and pondered a moment. Last time he went marching out into the middle of an abandoned town, it had turned out to be a haven for a den of goblins. Chanticleer had barely escaped with his life that day. No, this would require some tact and wit for the best-case scenario. So naturally he got to the highest point he could find without actually being in the town and began to yell.

"HELLO?!?! IF THERE ARE ANY GOBLINS, I BRING LOINCLOTHES TO SELL!"

Nailed it thought Chanticleer. Goblins could not resist new loincloths. Once he saw how many goblins were in this village he'd know if he should run or try to fight.

//Central Village
_@Xaltwind

"Yeah, but don't worry about it," MacKinnon replied, as if the blacksmith-without-tools was of no concern to her. "He's probably mostly angry because he's hungry, so once he's gotten something in his stomach, he won't be grumbling so much."

Entirely unsupported claims, but delivered with utmost confidence. That was the treasure hunter's approach to everything, truly. As if by saying something with enough conviction, she could make it into a real thing. She patted Wilma roughly on the head, more messing up her hair than anything, before scooping her up and out of the wagon.

"And I'm pretty strong too, you see?" Another bold proclamation, but one that, in the eyes of a child at least, could be backed up with how high MacKinnon lifted Wilma up into the air. "If he causes any trouble at the soup group, I'll lift him up just like this, and then..."

She began to spin Wilma overhead, like an amusement park ride in a world that had none.

---

Bad Prince Ned

---

As Ned started down, he gave a glance to his sword, tucked in a corner of the driver's bench, ready to be pulled. He hoped he wasn't going to have to draw it, he'd need someone to help him build his inn.

"Whoa," he said, drawing back on the reins. His warhorse shot him a nasty look but came to a stop. It eyed the people, as if figuring out who to bite.

"Sorry," Ned said, "I'm surprised to find people here. Are you all just passing through?"

"Thank you very much!" Brom happily accepted the rabbits though he had a little bit of a hard time holding them and the cast iron pot.

The look of disappointment had not escaped Brom's notice when Sheryl looked down at the relatively pitiful pile of wood. The dwarf smiled apologetically at her and said, "Ah, sorry ma'am. We would have gathered more wood, but that would have meant discarding an invaluable ingredient for tonight's dinner." He held up the big cast iron pot up to indicate that there indeed was something inside of it, followed by the sound of a muffled sloshing noise.

His attention though was turned to another elf who seemed to be quite interested in what he was doing before telling him something that peeked his interest. He did not need to kneel down too far, given that he was a dwarf,to see the not literal fruits of her labor. Carefully he placed the pot down and slung the dead rabbits over his shoulder. His hands picked the bundle of rice up and examined it carefully. It was so fresh, so fresh in fact that it still has yet to be hulled.

"Well, the tea can be a nice drink for later. As for the grains, we're doing this the old fashion way. Help me separate the stalks from the grain and step on the grains. This will loosen the hull around them." To show what he meant he ripped a piece of the grain off the stem and proceeded to step on it hard, twisting his foot against it before he picked it up and showed her the grains of rice with their hulls loosened.

"See? It's that ea-" Brom jumped, the bag full of cutlery and pans clattered and bang. Some devil shouted about goblins and loincloths? "What in Great Mother Mountain's bosom was that?."

Then there was something else; the clopping of horse hooves against the ground. He turned to look at a rather weary looking man on his horse. Now this could have been a coincidence, but Brom felt like he may have seen this man before though he couldn't place the time or place. "More like we all have decided to move here. Tell me I wasn't hallucinating about some guy shouting about goblins and loincloths."

---

---

Once he'd recovered his breath from Darryl's hearty greeting, Akitsugu managed a small smile as they walked back towards the others. He folded his arms in his sleeves, and every so often looked up at the sky just for the view as they talked.

"Fortunately, that girl's words were somewhat exaggerated." he explained to the carpenter. "The smithy is still fixable. I don't know how she managed to put a brand new hole in the roof," He breathed deeply, controlling his anger, "But so long as the furnace remains intact and she returns my tools, I should be able to get to work as soon as I have a steady supply of fuel." He looked towards the forest and the corner of his mouth dipped a bit. "I was hoping to make another trip for more firewood, but I think too much time has passed. I don't know if we should risk venturing out after dark until we know the area better."

As they approached, it seemed the village had yet again seen the arrival of newcomers. There was another man in a cart, though this one looked more finely dressed than the old merchant and much younger---but, beyond him, from somewhere outside town, came a loud voice calling over the rooftops.

"...What are they saying about goblins?" he asked Darryl. His hands came out of his sleeves, and once more he gripped Miyusahime's scabbard with one thumb against the tsuba. His brow furrowed and his voice grew more tense, but unlike his spat with MacKinnon there was a calmness to the pressure---a heavy weight ready to drop, not a kettle boiling over. "Are we being attacked?"

@Xaltwind@ERode

---

With Victors permission, Yingmei headed over to Wilma. It was good that it didn't require anything too special. Simple, easy. She could handle everything, aside from protecting it maybe, but that could be something someone else could do. Maybe a fence of some sort? A sturdy enough fence that could keep other animals and monsters out. Ah, she'd need a coop for it, wouldn't she? Nngh, so many things to do and she had just gotten here.

At least she could take a moment to relax, now though. Well, maybe after introducing herself properly to MacKinnon.

"Oh, uhm...hello." Yingmei, quietly approached the pair. Was...Wilma enjoying that? She'd have probably been scared out of her mind if someone did that to her at that age. She was a little intimidated by MacKinnon too, truthfully. She was quite...loud, to put mildly. "I don't think...we've been properly introduced...uhm...MacKinnon, right?"

She'd grip Miss Clucky a bit tighter.

“Aah-” before either herself or Brom could continue the conversation, a rather strange shout came from deeper into the village. In halting motions, she gathered a bit of the unhulled rice as she watched where the voice had come from.

“No, you’re.. definitely not hearing things.” She grimaced before beginning to crush the raw rice the way she’d been shown. “That’d be just what we need, a bunch of..” she quieted the thought before she could jinx it, shaking her head, “I guess some folks are just crazy.”

Speaking of crazy, that wild woman was spinning the child over her head. She took a deep, steadying breath before turning her attention to the man on the wagon, “don’t tell me, you’re also here to settle this strange place?” It seemed to have been the same for everyone here. Curious. Her feet went back to the work of opening up the rice.

@Remram Brom Stronghammer, @ERode MacKinnon, @CitrusArms Niara Rootwick, @Rune_Alchemist Yingmei Okudaira, @Expendable Edmund Darrington

The little girl made a cute squeaky 'meep'-sound when MacKinnon scooped her up and out of Victor's wagon. Despite her obviously nefarious and insidious plans, the treasure huntress would find that Wilma was made of surprisingly sturdy suff. As soon as the little girl began to be spun around and around, she exploded into uncontrollably bright laughter, being incredibly amused and entertaiuned by the power of centrifgual force. So amsued in fact, that she didn't even notice - or hear - the mousy farmgirl approach and try to introduce herself. Then again, when you're spinning around and around, it's kind of hard to focus on any one spot with your eyes, and when you're laughing louder than someone's conversational tone, you sort of drown them out.

Meanwhile, over near the four-pointed statue, a new arrival had... Arrived. This one had an air unlike that of the rest. But he for some reason still dressed fairly simply. Sure, he had a lot of things that looked like they were of fine make and craft, but nothing that stood out as jarringly noteworthy. Perhaps he was a man down on his luck? Or perhaps like Victor, he was a self-made man who'd gotten what he had through hard work and determination? Regardless, the old man to greet him, as Niera did... Sort of the same... While also stomping on some of the plants she had just harv- what?! The old man stared at the elf and the dwarf with the pot for a bit, before shaking his head and deciding not to ask.

And then... Then came a shout. From out of town. A shout about goblins. And loincloths. Needless to asy, most people who were doing something were now standing about, jaws slightly agape and a bewildered look on their faces. Were goblins attacking? Was someone hawking loinclohs? Why had they shouted instead of entered the village proper? Many questions.

For now, Sheryl and Minli stood quiet, looking over at the new arrival, his cart and the direction that the shout had come from. Their conversation about the dwarfess seemingly knowing what the statue was supposed to be momentarily put on pause for the time being.

---

@Zeroth Yasunami Akitsugu, @Tally Dor Chanticleer Malloy

Meanwhile, the two craftsmen had also come to a halt. The red-headed youngster once again reached for his blade, anticipating some kind of fight. Daryl, on the other hand, scratched the back of his head with a puzzled expression on his face.

"That was... Strange... C'mon, we'äd better take a look at what's going on." He told the boy, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to just push on and investigate.

Then agian, out of people around, it probably made the most logical sense for Daryl and Akitsugu to go. With the exception of maybe Brom and the the dwarf guntress, it didn't really look or feel like most the other new residents here were exactly built for... Armed conflict... So, with steady, undaunted strides, the burly carpenter barreled forth towards where he believed he'd heard the bellowing

Soon after crossing betwee the final line of houses - or what was left of them - he emerged on the outskirts of the town. There... He took a moment to look around and squinted, trying to locate goblins. Or whoever had cried goblins. it took a bit of peering - mostly because the culprit wasn't exactly super-nearby. Instead, Daryl eventually spotted something, or someone,s tanding on a small kneel some distance away. What was... A goblin? No. It was too... Shaggy...

"Look, over there." Daryl raised an arm and pointed in the direction of the read, pot-bellied... Thing... "That the one who howled, you think? Don't see any goblins though." Daryl said, hopefully to Akitsugu, who had hopefully come along. Because otherwise the carpenter was just talking to himself...

---

---

"...That is a person, yes?" Akitsugu replied as Darryl pointed towards the mass of red hair. As they came closer, the blacksmith-slash-swordsman began to move at an angle away from the carpenter, making an arc around so that even if the person standing on the knell could see them both coming, they wouldn't be able to keep both men in sight at the same time. If things got violent, then...

But that wasn't what anyone wanted, hopefully. There weren't any goblins, so had this person simply over-reacted? Or had the little beasts been scared off and run away?

"Ah! You're a dwarf like Mr. Brom!" spoke up the red-head once he'd gotten a little closer. Then, cupping his hands so as to amplify his voice, he called up to the strange individual. "Ho, there! We mean no harm! What's all this noise about goblins?"

Hopefully, whoever it was would come on down and have civil conversation. Although it seemed like whatever the group had found in the way of food might end up not being enough, if newcomers kept waltzing out of the woods...

//Central Village
_{@Xaltwind@Rune_Alchemist}
Wilma, surprisingly hefty as she was, stood no chance against the treasure hunter’s strength and determination, honed over years of mines and trails, a wanderluster’s life lived heartily. Empowered by the child’s delighted shrieks, MacKinnon grit her teeth into a wide-toothed snarl-smile, tightened her guts, and for her final trick, tossed Wilma straight up into the air.

Not that high, mind you. MacKinnon wasn’t that much of a monster. And of course, though even her spring-chicken knees protested at the strain, she caught Wilma on the drop as well, plopping the kiddo safely on the ground while stealthily wiping the sweat off her brow. Face flushed, MacKinnon threw her head back in a hearty laugh.

“How ‘bout that, eh? And that’s with only two-tenths of my full strength!”

It was only then that she noticed someone else amongst them, and only because the chicken in that someone’s arms clucked in response to her chortling. Blinking twice, the treasure hunter did her best to place a name on the relatively unmemorable face, before simply shrugging. “Guess not! You’re the chicken-hunter, aren’t you? Dunno what a, what, high hen is, but that’s cool! Whatcha want?”

@Xaltwind@ERode

---

"C-chicken hunter...?" Yingmei frowned. "Uhm...just uh, a...farmer...sort of. I-I mean I grow crops at least kind of...Miss clucky here is just uhm...I found her at the old farm...erm..." The farmer found herself tripping over her words a little more so than usual as the High Hen boked as if reminding Yingmei to introduce herself. "Aaah! Right! O-oh uhm Yingmei. My name. Not the hens. Thats Miss Clucky. S-sorry, I just thought I should introduce myself properly!" In contrast, that sentence was said entirely in one breath without a single pause taken as Yingmei bowed. "O-oh, and I wanted to see if Wilma wanted to play with miss clucky! B-but if she's having more fun with you that's fine I'll just go back to the farm!

Not that going back would do anything, since there was nothing really there yet.

---

Bad Prince Ned

---

"Goblins?" Ned snorted, glancing towards the woods from where the shouting was coming from and waved his hand in that direction. "Loin cloths? My goodman, what is going on around here? Is some puritan up there trying to clothe the goblins into decency?"

He let his hand drop.

"Forgive me, I've spent several days on the road," he sighs, scratching his stubble as he glanced around in concern. "My name is... Ned. Is there a place I may park my rig? I was hoping to start an inn, here."

With clean barrels, he could start making ale by soaking grains in water and waiting for it to ferment. But for that, he'd have to sacrifice his own water barrel, but there would be something safe to drink.

---

---

Chanticleer rubbed his large belly absentmindedly as he waited. His free hand rested on the hilt of his short sword. This was always the worst part about calling out monsters. It was either a tidal wave of activity or a slow roar. His eyes widened as he was surprised to see two humans come strolling out the town.

Well this was complicating things. Were the goblins tricksy and sending out armed bait to entice him to lower his guard? As the younger of the two called out to him. Chanticleer knew he had to be tricksy-er. Moving his hand away from his sword Chanticleer put on a massive smile that was mostly pointless as it was hidden behind the red forest of facial hair.

"Nevermind me good sir! I am merely seeking somewhere to lay my head and needed to make sure this place had nothing untoward buried in it."

Getting into the village would help him in multiple ways and then he could find the goblin overlords and he'd just play along until they chose to reveal themselves. He slowly began to come down from the raised bit of land he had been standing on towards the two humans that had come out to greet them.

With a flamboyant wave of his meaty paws several magical circles appeared by his feet and out from the circles came chickens with azure plumage and golden colored crowns. That clucked and pecked at the ground and stared in amazement at their surroundings. Quickly pulling off his hood revealing his entire wild mane of fiery hair. The dwarf gave a bow as his hair that was strangely mixed with red feathers fell across his face.

"I go by Chanticleer and I am just your humble Chickenmancer!"

---

---

The other of the two newcomers, the one who looked like he'd come from a position of much greater wealth, must have followed after Akitsugu and Darryl as he raised his own concerns about the person shouting for goblins. Akitsugu glanced back at him.

"Clothes for goblins? That's what he was shouting about?" What kind of fool would try to engage in business with---

The pot-bellied dwarf was moving now, and the blacksmith's head snapped back in his direction. He saw the sword at the fellow's hip...but the dwarf took his hand away from the hilt, and so Akitsugu did the same. He seemed to be approaching them, so Akitsugu did the same; he didn't catch everything that was said, but heard something to the effect of:

"...needed to make sure this place had nothing untoward buried in it."

"I see." Akitsugu nodded. The tone of voice and body language seemed jovial enough. The blacksmith relaxed and smiled back. "There are no goblins here, sir---the only monster we've encountered thus far is a slime, which quickly found itself in Mr. Brom's cooking pot---"

The dwarf waved his hands, and magical runes flared. Akitsugu's eyes dilated as he reflexively jumped back, distancing himself a full two meters from the apparent mage, and once again he moved to draw his blade!

Then a blue chicken appeared with a puff of smoke and a loud "Bak-buk-ba-CAWH!"

Akitsugu's brain just couldn't process it. He lost his balance and stumbled drunkenly to one side, instead of executing the smooth step-and-draw-cut one might've expected. The crimson-maned dwarf declared himself Chanticleer the Chickenmancer.

The blacksmith sat down in the grass, and looked helplessly at Darryl and the (as yet unintroduced) Ned.