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A Thief In Our Midst!

As the group prepared for the night watch, a special item turned up missing from Gilven’s lockbox. A special visor that bestows low-light vision on its wearer, illuminating the landscape with a brilliant blueish hued moonlight. Visor of the Moon is what these are later identified as in Iridine. Kelvan is the first accused as he had previously asked Gilven about them and expressed appreciation of them. Kelvan is hurt by the accusation and offers all of his things and sack for search, dumping his pack out onto the ground.

After he is cleared the caravan party is lined up for searches. Nothing is found on anyone, but one of the guards recognize Telemacus from the morning, sneaking out from under one of the wagons. Nothing is found on him but accusations continue to fly and tempers mount.

Just then.. Tregan looks about the camp for a bit, then his scrying eyes see the true thief…to be sure he spoke the words of knowing “cargras insalim regansian” and then there it was….60 ft to the west of the caravan. Tregan cried out “Look yonder, the true thief, a servant demon from the demonwinds!!!”. Tregan began to form a new spell in his hands as he cried out his alarm. “After it!!”

The pursuit was on in full at the spotting of the demon! The hunt was in vein though, as the demon released a stink cloud and disappeared from capture. The event seemed to clear Telemacus’ name for the time being, but Gilven still held open resentment for the man.

The group setup camp for the night, short 1 less visor wearing guard, and prepared for a long night in bandit territory. Sleep did not come easy that night. Many of the group are restless and stir frequently throughout the night, thoughts of demons and other horrors afflicting their dreams. One in particular, so affected by his nightmares the usually cheerful Halfling left the warm comforts of his bedroll to investigate the grasses surrounding the camp before returning. He was not the only to stir from the hellish taunts of dreams; a few others also awoke crying out, sweating profusely. This was naught a night of comforts to be certain.

After an exasperating night, finally the time comes with Gilven calling out his usual waking call, “Rise and shine, shine and rise!”

Usually the thought of waking up so early before sunrise would have many grumbling, but with the unpleasantness of the lurking darkness most were more than ready to be up and get on the way, away from these cursed lands of the bandits.

“We’re makin a strong push today, we ain’t stoppin’ till we’re clear of them woods. So eat hearty and be ready… no stoppin’!” Gilven reminds everyone.

Morale among travelers is low and tempers apparent. The cold, and more so the unnerving night that deprived many of a good night’s rest being the likely culprit for such temperament. A few guards secure the wagon fittings to the horses, swapping in the two spare horses to keep the steeds fresh. The pair who setup trip lines last night head out to recollect the supplies. Traders and merchants pack up their gear and prepare for the day’s journey.

A savory aroma catches your nose, a familiar smell you recall from the first few days of travel. The cook is once again preparing a hot breakfast stew. It would appear as if Gilven gave him permission to fire up some wood and cook, figuring the benefits of heightened morale greater than the risk of being spotted. The aged man even cracked a sly grin as the smell lofted its way to his nostrils, breaking his usual sour mood.

With bellies full and gear packed up, the caravan is ready to begin its day’s journey. Once again the wagons creak into motion, circling about to regain their easterly facing and file into a line. Gilven sends out two guards mounted on the two horses not hitched to a wagon to scout ahead and check for traps on the road. Travel is slow at first due to the darkness and fear of pitfalls or other traps designed to foul up a wagon wheel. Soon the sun crests the horizon, its fiery orange light scattering across the landscape, and travel pace picks up.



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