Hrefna shrugged as the Dwarf toddled off. That the tiny thing should be so concerned about blood in their alcohol was something that Hrefna found at least moderately amusing, but she appeared to be taking a different job with the puppies. As for the job Hrefna had just casually signed on for...

Well, if it was a curse, she was uniquely suited to deal with it. Her consultations with the darker side of magic made her quite good at identifying and breaking curses as much as casting them. If it was a proper disease, however, she doubted she'd be of much use as a healer. Either way, matters like these tended to become more interesting the more you dug, and could possibly end in busting the head of some crazed black mage or alchemist.

This, she would relish. She could already feel the blood on her knuckles-

Oh, wait. Yeah. The heads.

"A pleasure to be working with you, Manager," Hrefna relayed to the departing Csenge with a small amount of derision. She respected strength, and tolerated competence. That woman was, at the very least, competent. Hoisting the dripping heads over her shoulder, she regarded Pete with a grin.

"Yes, everyone should know Hrefna Wyrmbender, Pyotr. There is no need for my introduction," she bragged smugly, turning her gaze to the snake woman.

"Hyselia. It is a beautiful name. I look forward to working with you," Hrefna said, winking as she extended a gore-crusted hand in greeting, "I need only to turn my previous job in, and I will be ready. I would offer to buy you a drink with the coin I am about to receive, but local puppies are already buying, so I will likely just be getting wasted for two hours."

Then, she turned her eyes downward to the paladin, hand still extended to Hyselia.

"Are you old enough for alcohol, little one? You say you are adult. Would you like to get wasted?"

The world was swaying slightly, so Corinne slid back into her seat and waved her hand to indicate... something, "It's just a courtesy title; it's not real. Maman is happy for me to be up here and not back in Tiffauges. It's a good learning experience!"

Her tail wagging slowed, the wine offering no answer as she hummed and thought about the idea of getting the wrong job...

"You're right, they might push for undead, and they're scary," once again the Hundi girl popped to her feet, swiping up the wine and wending her way over to the growing group – immediately throwing her arms around her wife.

"Liliiiiii, we aren't fighting undead, right?"

"I... don't think so? Cori, I don't speak Elvish."

@The Otter

Finally.

It's easy enough to slip out when she isn't nearly crushing me any longer. Hmph.

She better not act this way once we're on the job. I have no interest in dealing with a snake who doesn't understand the idea of personal space while I'm trying to carry out my duty.

The man with the improvised weapon, Pete seems far more agreeable in terms of temperament. I brush my fingers through my pigtails with a huff.

"Rylia Ainsberg, Paladin of the Saint Salva Academy, in service of Reon," I say, placing my hands on my hips. There's no reason not to show some pride, after all. Saint Salva's Academy is the school from which many of Estival's most capable paladins and other religious figures received their education, after all, and serving Lady Reon is obviously a reason to be proud.

---Tch, the ingvarr too.

"I have no interest in drinking alcohol with you. Hmph!"

There's no reason for subtlety. This is purely an arrangement of convenience for the sake of carrying out my duty and putting a stop to whatever wicked presence is poisoning the livestock, and nothing else.

It won't be too long before we depart, anyway. Is she seriously thinking of getting drunk?

---

If not for fact that it was being haunted by something unclean, the farmland outside of Keelsgraav would have been quite pleasant. With the sun setting by the time we've made our arrival, the fields are painted orange and the shadow of the nearby windmill has stretched out like a hand reaching towards the horizon.

The farmhouse is a large one, and the property expansive, with tall and peaked roofs and walls of white plaster and wood. The barn and surrounding fields for cattle, too, look quite sizable.

Apparently, despite these expansive lands to roam in, even the healthy ones haven't been willing to move very far from the barn anymore.

Hmph. Whatever wicked presence is lurking here, there's no reason for there to be any worry any longer. After all, crushing wickedness and dispelling evil is exactly what I've been trained for.

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@ERode

---

In its heyday, Fort Magrial must have made for an impressive sight. It was characteristic of late period Talderian forts, for those who had knowledge of such structures. A rectangular outer wall formed its main defense, with watchtowers at each corner and flanking the main gate. Within, a larger tower stood tallest, and from the scale of the fort it must have housed a considerable garrison.

But those days had long since passed.

Wood had disintegrated and collapsed. The gate no longer had any doors. One of the walls had crumbled, allowing easy, direct access to the interior.

But these were not the only thing that demonstrated the fort had long since passed its glory days.

The fort's new occupants had clearly made themselves at home.

The sharpened spikes of wood planted in the ground bore only the skulls of animals, indicating at least that the goblins had not taken other victims in recent times. Such displays were meant to threaten and intimidate those who would approach the locations which they had taken up residency in. Other scattered items outside the walls of the fort seemed to be less for the purpose of threatening passersby and more because it was being used as a dumping ground. Smashed pottery and fragments of animal bone littered the ground in a haphazard fashion, having been discarded for lacking any interest for the goblins.

At the gate and the crumbled wall, wooden supports had been haphazardly bolted in place, with bones and pieces of pottery hanging on strings. If passed without consideration for the sound they would make, it would surely alert the fort's current occupants.

Aside from this, there was no current sign of the goblins, at least not visibly. It wasn't impossible that some were on watch duty, but at the moment they couldn't be sighted.

@The Otter@Psyker Landshark@Eisenhorn@Raineh Daze@Animal

The assembled adventurers weren't there long, maybe minutes, before there was movement over at the farmhouse, a man emerging and making his way over. Despite his hair receding and the lines on his face, his shoulders were still broad and body strong, and a steady gaze swept over them. Much like his farmhouse, his clothes were plain and hard-wearing, but new and well maintained; normally, this farm would be thriving. "You're the adventurers, eh? Come on, then, there's not much light left."

Whether they followed or not, he stomped over to the barn, then to a small pen within it. "Never seen anything like it, it ain't a normal illness."

Sure enough, the few sheep sequestered away there were visibly sick – barely reacting to their arrival, but black ichor weeping from sores around eyes and out of their mouths.

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@ERode@VitaVitaAR

---

After the first day's travel, Corinne was no less cheery than she had been on her initial introduction to the little group – some alchemical concoction Liliane had whipped up no doubt helping with that – but had become altogether far more shy, all but hiding behind Liliane for the majority of the journey. Actually hiding behind the wiry woman would have been a major achievement.

This was fine by Liliane, it gave her more time to focus on learning what everyone could do. Or, at least, what they were willing to share. As the ranking adventurer, she'd take the lion's share of the blame if anyone came home horrifically mangled or not at all… especially when they were bringing two novices along when the request had been quite clear. Couldn't someone more experienced have come over to distract the drunk Hundi?

She hadn't really been able to pin down what the elf's skill set was, but that was fine – everyone else was a lot more clear. One heavily armoured dwarf, one sneaky type, and one all-out fighter. If they could get an idea of how the goblins were laid out, then they could probably overwhelm them before they mounted any sort of co-ordinated resistance, especially if Corinne didn't freeze up and could contribute something explosive…

She was at least glad this was goblins and not bandits. Less moral qualms to get in the way.

But Reeva would do much better in such a situation if she could go for whichever goblin might be in charge, and they just weren't armoured enough as a group to rush in blindly. Which was why Corinne's first request on arriving was to ask the woman to look around for them.

She could probably have done it herself, but with two coppers to keep an eye on…

@The Otter @Psyker Landshark @Eisenhorn @Animal

"Wyrmbender."

Hrefna Wyrmbender.

The runes inscribe themselves onto the naked parchment with too little trouble, lines of dark smoke curling around the beaten off-white. I haven't ever found myself wanting for dexterity above a pen in the time I've been here. It must mean this mastery was beaten into my muscle, not my mind.

"Hyselia Erenhart. Waaater mage. Gotcha." I repeat as I write, darting down to the next line as our paladin lists off her credentials with a hmph at the end. I'm guessing here, but I don't get the sense I'm necessarily the scoff's intended target. "Rylia Ainsberg. Paladin, Saint Saaaalva. Great."

Maybe it is... The name of her academy falls flat in my face, and my tongue doesn't terribly feel familiar with the words the same way my hands do writing. I glance up, but Hrefna seems like she's (unwittingly) thrown me a lifeline with her heckling. So the Paladin's not a big drinker, then. Good to know— either that, or very selective with whom she cares to imbibe. Good to know too.

On the last space, I quickly scrawl down the pseudonym I've been answering to this month. Barely, almost caught ahead of time, I feel my brow furrow. Under the three real names, with real histories and stories behind each listing, it's hard not to feel how hollow my gut feels when the adjective and noun ring out back to me in my head, bouncing around in so much empty space.

But there's nothing I can do about it. I tap the point of my pen against the tail end of the final stroke, before stowing the thought for the ruminations that populated dead time, like the long trek out to this farm we were all due for. "Right, that's all. Won't keep you longer, thanks for pitching in. West gate in two hours." A reminder more for myself than them. I roll up the parchment and tap it against the wood as I step away— like knocking door to exit, almost. Might be I just like hitting on something.

Would definitely explain the stick.

---

"Fletcher, right? Evening, man." I greet the farmer from further back in our group. Not a big sufferer nor study of pathogens here, so my immediate use is pretty limited while we approach things from this immediate level, but I'll take what notes I can. Firstly, he's gone and quarantined those sheep that have been infected by whatever these weeping sores are. That takes a lot of legwork off our plate in separating them out from the herd as a whole, even if it doesn't prove to be contagious in the end.

Regarding that, he looks pretty hardy for a geezer even after getting them all penned off to the side, so it's nothing that would leave a man worse for wear to be interacting with regularly. If we're here for a good while trying to twist this thing around until it breaks the answer open for us, that's one less safety concern we'll have to deal with, most likely.

Finally, I look to the rest of the flock, those that weren't afflicted yet. I remember the initial dispatch mentioning that they get awful skittish in the evenings. Only so much light left in the day as we have, while the others are busy investigating potential disease, I guess it'd make sense for me to mind whatever's spooking the rest— try and guess where that 'unclean presence' might be skulking around further off ahead of time. I figure there's likely to be somewhere they feel is much less safe than wherever they end up retreating to, when grazing time's up.

"Think I'll defer to keener schooling on them few," I mention to the rest of the party, figuring they probably can't read my mind no matter how much sense I think I'm making. "I'll let everyone know when the rest of the flock starts getting cold feet."

Abigail Blackthorn

---

Abigail was at the head of the group that she had fallen in with, axe resting on her shoulder, staring out at the ruined fort they were supposed to go and clear out. Once upon a time it might have been halfway decent, as far as fortifications went, but it was just a mess now. She was no professional soldier or anything, but she could at least see how it was capable at one point. If it had only been the passage of time that wore away the fort, it would almost not be worth the time for someone like her. Anything wood was long rotted away, no gates, no doors, the works. Though, given their job, it was quite clear they had come to the right place even without the direction that the job listing provided to begin with.

The place festered with goblin sign, sharpened wooden stakes with animal skulls were easily visible, even from here. Though nothing humanoid, meaning no one else had been attacked by these goblins next, though it was clear they had settled in quite firmly at this point. Trash and debris scattered around as well, turning what might have once been a noble fort into almost a mockery of its former self. No doubt someone was rolling in their grave over the whole thing, but it meant she got paid by the end of this so, well, she considered it her good deed of the day clearing the goblins out with enthusiasm.

The trip here had been quite uneventful, Abigail thought, as she swept their surroundings. Corinne was shy but cheerful after whatever Liliane had mixed for her, Abigail favoring the old fashioned way of weathering hangovers when she got in too deep. This time it had not been too bad, though right now they were mostly waiting since a request had been made for their party sneak thief to go poking around. At least Corinne had asked, from what she overheard, though whether or not the sneak thief was willing to go running off into a goblin infested fort to poke around or not alone was another matter entirely.

"Nothing stands out as any of the goblins being on the lookout, not that I can see from here at least."

Abigail wasn't quite ready to go storming off alone, it would be stupid to, and she figured someone in the group would want to at least put together some plan of attack besides her go to plan, which was, of course, attack. Either way, she kept her axe shouldered, eyes scanning not just the fort but the surrounding fields as well. Never knew when an ambush might start, and she got to start cracking skulls early. Or splitting goblins apart, more accurately, but backswings happened sometimes.

How in all hells had a mission requesting no less than iron rank wind up with two coppers in the party?! The Hundi noble at least came with a silver ranker jointed at the hip to her, but some fucking elf novice had also managed to tag along! Reeva resisted the urge to hold her head in her hands, much less groan out loud. Babysitting novices was always such a hassle, especially when her own skillset didn't quite lend itself to such things. Would that they could have found any sort of dedicated meatshield. As it stood, the ranger woman with the axe was the closest damned thing.

"Right," She nodded in response to the request she'd been given, as they all stared up at the fort's gate and walls. "Not as if I wasn't planning on scouting ahead, anyway." Thankfully, Liliane had enough tactical acumen to befit her rank. A crumbling, dilapidated fort ought to be old hat, regardless. The supports would be irritating to evade on the climb up. Damned creaky wood.

Reeva folded her arms, mentally mapping her route out. Once she had it memorized, the sneak hunched slightly, prepared to take a running start toward the wall.

"You all feel free to investigate while I get a good look atop the wall and into the courtyard. If the gate's locked, let me try to get it open from the top. And keep quiet, yeah? Don't need all the goblins awake and pissed."

With that said, she sprinted for the wall, getting a running, jumping start before starting to clamber with alacrity. Her climbing and leaping was planned just well enough to evade the wooden noise traps, jumping back and forth as a monkey would. A hand reached the edge of the walltop. She didn't pull herself up all the way just yet, instead slowly peeking her head over to see if there were any goblins atop the wall, or anything that made noise on the floor.

The Farm
@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@ERode@VitaVitaAR

---

"Haaa...it feels good to be out of the city for awhile." Hyselia grumbled to herself, taking a moment to stretch her entire body. Her large size meant that it was rather difficult sometimes to fit well inside human abodes. She'd stretch her whole lower body out, flexing and letting her tail move about freely. Much fresher air too, than in the city. Less noisy, too.

Not that she would get too terribly long to enjoy it before work came walking up.

She'd slither to the pens alongside her companions, her staff held tightly in her tail as she'd observe the sheep. Black Ichor from sores and the sheep seemed completely out of it. Some fey curse? Some cursed affliction? Possession or something?

Hm.

"Is there anything more than you can tell us then what was in the request? Sheep getting skittish around evening, coming back with these sores and black ichor? You haven't seen anything like this before, have you Paladin?"

This odor of iron and rotten mud. The weak, listless movements of the afflicted sheep, too ill to even shy away from an unfamiliar hand. The sores near the eyes and mouth, weeping black ichor unrecognizable as blood. It's obvious that this is no ordinary illness, though that much was never in any doubt.

A frown crosses my lips.

There's only one thing to do. Though it isn't the focus of my skillset, any paladin worth her salt should be able to perform a basic ritual. Even those without their own supply of usable mana should at least be able to use a blessed icon.

I reach into my bag as I approach the nearest sheep. It's simply lying their, motionless. If not for its breathing, it would appear dead.

"There's no doubt in my mind this is some kind of curse," I respond to the snake. I don't have much experience directly with curses, but you'd have to be an idiot not to recognize it for what it is even if you don't have any kind of training.

My fingers wrap around my holy icon, and I pull it from my bag.

"I might not have seen a lot of curses first hand, but it's obvious," I continue as I raise the icon. The shape of a golden lily, in the style of Reon's most favored symbol, gleams faintly in my palm. At its center is a polished, finely-cut red gem. Just like a mage's catalyst, a holy icon can be made a number of different ways, but one of the most effective ways to make one is to use orichalcum and a mana crystal.

Unlike a mage's catalyst, it's not just a tool. This is a symbol of my service of justice, and to Lady Reon, after all!

"Oh Lady of Sunlight, please grant your blessing."

The words leaving my lips are ones I recited over and over again during my training. A litany against wicked afflictions and purify evil influences.

I'll burn away this curse.

"May your warmth burn away the darkness, and purge all wickedness and poisons."

I can feel heat spreading through my fingertips, a warm light flowing through my veins. It rushes over my holy icon, the lily's gleam growing brighter as I stretch out my arm to hold it near to the afflicted sheep. There is no need for these animals to suffer, so who did this?

Why?

Who would curse a bunch of sheep?

@Raineh Daze@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@ERode

The tiny paladin, like a tiny child, had refused to drink with Hrefna. The refusal was within expectations, but Hrefna greeted it with a derisive snort anyways. It was important, she thought, to drink both before and after a quest. Thus, she proceeded to take the local puppies up on their kindness and run their tab into the ground before she left. Two hours of 'preparation' well-spent. Immediately after, she slept on the ride there and rose immediately when the carriage stopped.

She was nothing if not efficient in her inebriation. Before she headed to the pen with the afflicted sheep, she nodded to Pete.

"You keep vigilant eye, Pyotr of the Stick. If you see some wicked thing besides myself, bludgeon it with violence."

Then, only slightly tipsy, she made her way to the pen with the infected animals. Hazily, she patted one of the sheep, only gently touching the weeping sore to get a better idea of what they were dealing with.

"There, there, sweet one," Hrefna cooed with a strange empathy shared between horned creatures who enjoyed headbutting their peers, "we will free you from this-"

Then, when Rylia began calling on her goddess, Hrefna snorted once again in derision.

"Do you need this Sun Mommy for everything? But you are correct, untrained child. It is very obvious curse, but only in the beginning stages. It will get much worse, and do much more if left alone. Perhaps the caster is blighting the land the sheep feed from, or perhaps they will rise as undead-sheep-creature once the illness takes them. Difficult to tell without more information, but I can tell that sheep illness is only part of larger problem."

With a smirk as if she was about to prove some cruel point to the young paladin, she pressed her fingertips into the sheep's body. Not too hard or rough, but enough to get a reliable circuit as she poured her mana into the creature. She would attempt to learn more about the curse, and possibly how to break it. To Hrefna, Reon's invocation was a challenge. She wanted to outdo the goddess who rarely smiled upon Barukstaed and her servant.

It had been a while since she had been to Keelsgraav. The air was fresher here, in the way that air in open spaces often was, and Csenge subtly corrected her posture, feeling a satisfying but discomforting pop from her lower back and hips as she stepped out of the carriage and bid the driver farewell as they continued down the path towards central Keelsgraav. Perhaps it would have been a more comfortable ride if she had commissioned a passenger carriage for this, but the rustic feel of riding in the back of a trader's carriage, sandwiched between crates, had appealed to her.

She must be getting old and soft, if discomfort was novelty.

Following behind the others, she glanced towards the penned off sheep as Hrefna and Rylia performed their rites, then joined Hyselia to speak with the farmer properly. A notebook and a pencil found its way into her hand as she did so, her eyes first scanning their surroundings as she drew out the general perimeter of the farm. A map, for reference.

"Aldus, I am Csenge, an investigator from the Guild. With me are my companions Hyselia, Rylia, Hrefna, and Pete. Along with what Hyselia has asked, did you keep records of which sheep became visibly ill on which day, as well as the first sheep to fall ill in this manner? Do you bring them out to graze in any other field, or are they contained here? To clarify, do your sheep refuse to graze only in the evening, or have they stopped altogether?" The stylus rolled between her fingers, thoughts and theories bubbling about. Who would curse some sheep? "You mentioned that one of the ill ones disappeared. How far along were they with the illness?"

Her voice picked up, strangely reminiscent of an instructor speaking over the clamor of a class rather than the barking of a military officer to their soldiers.

"Pete, keep at eye out for any marks of black flecks along the perimeter fence. It'll be too dark to make anything out soon."

Something they ate? Something in the air? The water? Pests? If the Paladin and the Curse Mage could unravel the affliction right off the bat, it would save them from having to fight infected sheep in the dark, but that wouldn't lead them to the source of it.

---

Battle-ready and opting to bring her trusty war hammer for this expedition, these goblins are about to get in a world of hurt. Freya has been fervently vocal about her runeforged weapons and tools, more so than about herself. For a weapon like hers, she carried it proudly and with ease, despite its bulky appearance. For any metal that needs mending, they are free to make the request. Beyond her specific ramblings about wanting to challenge a heavily armored goblin, the team at least possessed a competent craftsdwarf who was more than prepared to turn this mission into a multi-day siege if they had to. That'd be a fun experience with the two coppers on board!

When they arrived, she fully expected the ruined fort to be partially restored or in the process of. Over-imagining with reinforced walls, maybe with goblin archers patrolling the battlements and one ample-bodied goblin guarding the main gate. But no, the place is still in ruins, transformed into a refuse zone by the looks of it. With the improvised alarm system and the scattered debris, this whole area is beneficial in some ways, but problematic in others.

Utilizing her own techniques here is going to be a challenge, that's for certain. Freya stroked her fake beard, not against the team's preference for stealth tactics. While the thief specialist scouted the fort, Freya kept an eye on their blind spots in the rear in the meantime. If they were to spot a goblin away from the fort, the dwarf could respond quickly if necessary. Better than her half-tempted to break down the gate with her hammer, even if it wasn't locked.

“The moment I see a goblin out there, I'm swingin'.”

The farmer had little time to spare for pleasantries, though he did give Pete a brisk nod and an, "Aye, Fletcher."

"When they've fallen ill, I keep them here," he answered, arms folded as he watched the mage and paladin get into some sort of bizarre contest over curing the affected animals. Not that he would mind; so long as his sheep were healthy, why would he care? "I've tried moving the rest into new pastures – but then it was a healthy one that's up and vanished."

There was a scowl, "Not wolves or wild animals, it's just up and vanished. And a rustler'd take more than the one. Make more noise too."

The sickened sheep were quick to start bleating at the magic being wrought on them, even if it did start to immediately improve their condition – but it was only that, an improvement, the sores no longer quite weeping, but still black and sickly. Faster under Reon's fire, and with less objection, but Hrefna could undoubtedly pick up the problem: while the sheep were afflicted and something had its tendrils in them, they weren't themselves cursed. The source lay elsewhere.

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@ERode@VitaVitaAR

---

"Hmph. I wouldn't expect a Northern barbarian to understand Reon's light, I suppose."

It's not as if the ingvarr has shown any kind of good manners until this point, so why would I expect anything different? Of course she's untouched by the sun, there was never a single reason to believe otherwise.

"Your lack of education will do nothing to dull Reon's blessing, thankfully," I add as my eyes slowly scan the sheep, as Reon's gentle warmth is channeled into them to purge the wickedness of the curse.

---What?

It is working, that much is certain, but it's not totally cleansing the curse. But there's definitely a curse present, and yet it's not fully dissipating?

---Is the curse not on the sheep? But they're being affected. You'd have to be blind not to see the effects. And the cleansing prayer is working, certainly, but it's not fully removing it.

What does it mean? If the curse isn't on the sheep directly, then what is it on?

A frown crossing my lips, I lower my holy symbol and sit back. At least they don't appear to be suffering as much, and the odor appears to have faded considerably, but I was hoping that I would have been able to remove the curse entirely before trying to figure out where it could have come from. Not only that, but one of the sheep that disappeared was healthy?

There must be something more going on here.

Hmph.

Regardless of what it is, I'll crush this wickedness all the same!

@Raineh Daze@ERode@Octo@Rune_Alchemist

---

The top of the wall fared marginally better than the ground level. There was less clear damage, and the stone was mostly intact. Though, at some points, it was clear wooden defenses had become worn and fallen away due to the elements. The presence of the goblins, while still felt, was less obvious here. There were a few scraps of bone and the skull of an unfortunate deer placed nearby, but aside from these questionable decoration choices the Goblins appeared to have focused mostly on the ground level. Perhaps they believed they were unlikely to be attacked from above.

Regardless of the reasoning, it appeared this was a possible entry point without being immediately spotted.

However, it may have been too late for that.

Beyond the walls, a faint chattering and shuffling sound could be heard. It was difficult to make out anything particularly distinct, especially given the source of such sounds was clearly attempting to remain as quiet as possible.

It was not unlikely, then, that the goblins had realized there was something approaching and were attempting to set up an ambush or send out a scout to see what was occurring outside. At the same time, it appeared unlikely they were fully aware of the nature of the potential threat.

@Raineh Daze@Animal@Psyker Landshark@Eisenhorn@The Otter

Hrefna let out a harsh laugh as Rylia called her a 'northern barbarian'. The little one had a mouth, at least, if not the experience to match her words. With her magic, Hrefna concluded that 'Reon's Light' wouldn't quite do it in this instance. It could stave off the affliction, but it did nothing to the source. Hrefna gestured to the still-trembling livestock that Rylia had attempted to cure, and leaned forward derogatorily, flouting Rylia's failure of height next to a race of people whose women were legendarily short.

"I see that Reon favors the livestock as much as she favors the people of Barukstaed," she teased, knowing how loaded that particular subject was, "but do not worry, tiny one. My diagnosis has concluded. The sheep are not cursed, but they are being affected by a curse that resides elseplaces. Even I could not break it from here."

Hrefna strode purposefully towards Pete, Csenge, Hyselia, and the farmer.

"Listen to Hrefna, now. Curse resides elsewhere, so we must find spell in order to break. If the sick sheep share any commonality, it would be good to know. A relative in common, a grazing area in common on the days of affliction, any notable changes to routine. The only other thing I can say is that the source is nearby, but this is perhaps obvious."

Csenge's addendum to my slice of the task delegation is simple to tack on. Really, I ought to mention that I had meant to do it to begin with, but saying so after the fact in this manner is basically just guessing I'd key in on the change.

"Aye, boss."

My eyes are keen, so far, they've handled low light pretty well, so I might have a little broader of a timeline to work with than most— but all the same, there's a difference, an understated one in fact, between "I'll probably spot it" and "I'll be looking for it". Activity and intention make the castle stew taste more complex than the forever pot a dingy old inn keeps on the flame.

I don't think that's a real metaphor. Regardless, the jawing between Hrefna and Rylia sails in from the far end of the fence line, as they both make first contact with the curse overlaid onto the poor bleating beasts. Insults aside, they at least can return us a quick preliminary diagnostic report— whatever hex is causing this isn't directly upon the future mutton morsels, so much as irradiating them from afar. I'll make sure I don't mention this specific connection to Rylia, but it's sounding like being warmed by the Sun would be a good comparison. Despite that it hangs far up in the sky and the moon chases around on that eternal spinning wheel of the cosmos, we still get the heat when we stand beneath it. That kind of thing.

There's a tug a couple inches from my kneecap. I glance down, and find an intrepid lamb reaching through a gap in the fence to try and chew at the fabric of my trousers. Sorry, buddy, but the fibers they were made from stopped having any nutritional value a long time before either of us first remember seeing them. Still, no sign of any progression into the diseased cohort before I shoo it away. I do have to wonder, though...

"The healthy one that disappeared wasn't any different from you, was it..? Bigger, I guess."

The sheep, naturally, is already grazing closer to Mama, and doesn't deign to respond.

Fair enough. My posted vigil continues.

That complicated things. The healthy sheep disappearing, and both sorcery and miracles not being able to fully cure the livestock of their ailments. Pastures changing didn't affect anything in particular. And whatever affected the sheep was perhaps only a symptom of a curse not found here, but rather radiating from some other place. Csenge turned towards the horizon, estimating the time they had before night fell, then nodded.

She enjoyed complications.

"Thank you for your report, Hrefna. Fletcher, I will be requesting the use of your shed while I perform my analysis on the substances available here." Already, Csenge was affixing gloves to her hands and removing vials from her bag, collecting samples from the black ooze, the earth, the sheeps' blood, and even letting a vial simply open up in the air before closing it once more. As she did so, she spoke to the other members of her party. "A night watch should be established. If there are no leads on where the curse originates from, then it will be on the probable disappearance of another sheep tonight that will become our lead. Arrange yourselves in a suitable order, please."

Csenge herself had no intention of taking part in the watch, of course. It was a good thing that she had slept on the carriage ride here. Tonight was going to be yet another late night.

"Anything in common?" Fletcher repeated, hand reaching up to scratch the beginnings of stubble as he thought over the question, "Aye, not that it'll narrow it much. Anything that hasn't got crops on it this year, I've been trying to move them around since it started. I'll show you in the morrow."

He gave a nod to Csenge. "I've spare rooms, 'less you all prefer to sleep out here."

If nothing else, the man seemed somewhat reassured by the idea that there'd be a watch kept over his disappearing livestock.

Hmph. Of course it won't work perfectly, if the curse is elsewhere. It's not as if she could purge it, either. And, what was that supposed to do, anyway? She's getting so close again, too, it's just annoying! Leaning down right in front of me and getting so close and---

"Tiny one?!"

...

---It's not as if I have any reason to be angry! Aside from her blatant disregard for my position and Reon's grace, those are plenty of reasons to be angry. There's nothing else.

"Hmph, i-it's not like your methods performed any better," I say as I glance towards the sheep. They don't seem to be as weak, and the sores are weeping less profusely. There's little difference between the sheep either of us attended to, "Besides, perhaps there's a reason Barukstaed receives less light to begin with."

I cross my arms over my chest, and quickly follow as the ingvarr goes to explain to Fletcher.

"Even the best medicine needs to be able to directly address an affliction."

I'm not going to let her have the final say on this.

"It's only natural that Reon's light must be directly brought to the source of this wicked curse in order to purge it," I continue, "If it's not directly on the sheep, it might be on the land itself."

The cow didn't even mention that possibility, did she? I beat her to it, even though it was completely obvious with the information she provided.

---Putting aside that she provided that information, at the very least.

I'm a little frustrated that mage didn't ask me about what to do first, given I'm a paladin, but at the same time it's not as if her conclusions are wrong. If she can learn more about the black ichor, it might help track down the source of the curse. And failing that, if something tries to take a sheep tonight, or the curse causes a sheep to leave, then we can intervene or chase it to the source.

"I can take the watch duty," I declare, placing my hand to my chest, "No evil will find any further purchase here. We'll find the curse and burn it away!"

@Raineh Daze@ERode@Octo@Rune_Alchemist

"Taking first, Rylia? I'll relieve you after three hours or so, then." I remark from the main pen as I begin to carry away the understandably irate ewe I've been restraining for Csenge's control group blood sample. She's squirming a little in my grasp, but I outweigh her by at least double, so she's got no choice but to deal with the indignity until I return her to the main cohort. Go run home, little wool shrub, and don't stay out too late. This place isn't as safe as it used to be.

"We wouldn't want you running an all-nighter. If we do track this curse down, I'd want burning element of the party at full strength. Doesn't really matter who takes over for me, I don't believe, so we can stretch my shift if need be. I've gotten pretty used to watching sheep over the past couple hours."

It's not like most curses, as far as anything I've heard about them, really respond to being shellacked in a useful or even tangible way. If I want to talk about understanding weaknesses, I'd be remiss to not note that I'm increasingly likely to have drawn the short end of the stick on this one— if the seemingly shrinking chance of this being livestock predation by some large carnivore end up falling through, then eyes and ears are just about all I've got.

That and manhandling the livestock in question. Still, as the newbie here, I'd be served well by keeping myself keyed into the different processes that are currently out of my scope. For all I know, I might at some point learn I too have a background in the investigative or arcane processes. Might find I've got a knack for the vials portion of all of Csenge's sample-collecting, too.

If you're serious about learning from people, pay attention to how they learn things.