No nobles, but a surprised looking page who just stands there staring at the pair as they stride out of the room.

Once they're clear of the freehold, no one tried to stop them from leaving, she picks up the speed. She's still aware of Chago and just how fast he can travel, but she pushes it. The trio promised to meet them, but they'll have to come to the inn at the rate the satyr is going.

Chago isn't stupid. He had a feeling something like this was coming. He knows how he was over Eric after all, and he knows how often he had to be stopped from going off before it was time. Right now, he's watching to be sure he doesn't have to stop her, but is more than ready for her urgency. "Don't wait for me." he tells the satyr, well aware of how fast she could go if she wanted to. Then he bends and snatches a grasshopper without breaking his own stride. It does take a second try to manage it, but he does it at last. A quick pop of the critter into his mouth and a tiny spark of glamour from such a simple bunk and he's leaping ahead so she -can- run as only a satyr can. Gotta love travel bunkum.

What took quite a while to travel in a cart meant for hauling the wounded only takes a short time to return with them both rushing.

There's a look of gratitude from the goat and she levels out into a full run. This isn't a stupid run, but it's ground eating and the physical exertion helps her to control and work out her mood. By the time they slow, she's seein more clearly, something that would be obvious to him. She smiles, with an edge of brittleness, and pays for them to have a room, this time as far from everyone else as possible. Just as money is being exchanged the terrible trio shows up.

Shova shakes his head, looking between the two but settling on Chago. "Couldn't convince her to wait for us, huh?"

Chago snorts in amusement. "Like I'm that stupid?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. "Tell you what, next time, I'll go and get shit and you can sit with a brooding satyr that trains to fight with a redcap. I'll see if you wait or let her work some of it out." He says before shaking his head.

"We got shit to do. Come on." He gestures for them to follow before focusing on Genny. "Hope you're ready for Hewey, Duey, and Louie." he says with a smirk. How many more trio nicknames can he come up with before one of the three gets the nerve up to say something?

"Umm..." Shova takes a look at Genny and shakes his head. "Yeah, I'd stay out of her way too." This before Chago wanders that way.

Genny looks up eyeing the threesome. "That depends on if they have what I need."

"Erm..." Josiah, the boggan, begins. "Well...sorta. We've got a mirror, but I couldn't lay hands on a hammer."

"Did ya go ta a smith?"

"Well, we didn't want to bother him. It's still early and..."

The satyr turns, taking slow steps and leaning down until she's nose to nose with the boggan. "Bother him." Two little words, but the ice behind them may have boggan boy peeing his britches.

Chago gives a small nod. "Better listen. This is personal. If we didn't need to do more to get ready, she'd probably kick you all the way there." He points out. Then his attention shifts to Kiersten. "Maybe you should go and help him? Make sure he doesn't screw things up and not get the hammer we need?"

Shova is sent on to the room with a gesture, whether the sidhe goes with the boggan or not, and Chago moves is attention to Genny. "Babe, we got time. I need more from Shova and we gotta do the prep we talked about. You can stop him into the ground after that if he don't get the hammer." He assures her. "Come on to the room."

Genny takes a deep breath, and for an instant might argue, but simply lowers her head turning to follow Shova towards the room. "I know. I know. I just don't want them screwin' this up. We won't get more than once shot. If he's prepared an' can call in help..." She doesn't go on, too many ears that might report back so no details right now. Instead, she goes up the stairs, moving to watch out the window while Shova sets the mirror out.

The male satyr looks at Genny with concern then back to Chago. "What else can I do to help?"

Chago looks over the Genny and says "Babe? Get us something to drink? You look like you need a shot or two to calm down." Again. Ahem. He doesn't wait to see if that's done though as he turns back to Shova. "I got a lot on this asshole from her, but her info is older. Tell me anything you can remember about this fucknut. What he looks like. Where he had you. Anything you can tell me. I'm gonna scry his ass and the better I can nail him down, the easier it'll be."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He digs into his pack as he speaks, pulling out a white shirt and ripping it inhalf along the seams to give a background to lay the mirror on. Then he reaches for Shova's hand with his left and set out the lid to his travel pack of dishes with his right. "Gonna need some blood too, and since you're the only one here with any shit done to him by that mula, it's gonna need to be yours." Poor Shova.

"Ummm..." Shova's eyes widen again, looking something like dinner plates as his hand is taken by the redcap. Likely hoping the blood isn't going to be taken by his fingers being chewed off. "I..." He takes a deep breath, looking for courage and closes his eyes. The story pours from him and it's not nice. A trap in the woods of all stupid things and being dragged deep into the mountains. He describes the Knocker in detail, adding new scar features that Genny didn't know about.

Nope. Not chewing fingers off. Not even a rake of those Gauntlets or a careful poke with them. Chago pulls a delicate blade from his pack with careful fingertips, from a pocket he keeps things for possible bunks in fact. This slender knife is drawn across Shova's palm and proves itself to be as sharp as a scalpel. He gets his dish as full as he needs and then lets go of that wrist with a nod toward the bed. Then as he listens to details, he begins using the blade like an old-fashioned pen, touching the tip to the blood and bringing it to the shirt to work runic script about the mirror. Each touch is featherlight and he frowns in concentration as he both listens and writes, trying not to cut the cloth as glamour builds with this harder bunk.

Once the script surrounds the mirror, he sets the blade into the dish with the remaining blood and goes back into the same pocket for a small pouch that he holds above the mirror and then pours the contents over the glass with only the tightness in his shoulders showing how uncertain he is of this part. Wooden disks fall on the glass and bounce about. Only when the pouch is empty without breaking the glass does Chago breath. Then he clears away the ones that landed anywhere but the glass and he sets the rest about the border he drew and showing that each disk has a single rune on it. When the last rune of his fortune telling is in place, the power built in the bunk releases and the mirror reveals...

Darkness.... At first. Then something scurries across the mirror from the other side. A thick whisp of shadow that is parted by a narrow beam of red light, the coals of a fire. Ever so slowly the light touches on the other features of the room. It's a nasty place, encased in stone that has been dream worked to form the various benches and tables the occupant of the workshop feels that he needs. The vision rises to show a large shadow bent over one of the tables, the cracked and warped features of his face coming into hard ugly focus. This ugly is different from Chago's...it's an ugly of the spirit as well as ugly of the face.

On the table is strapped a satyr woman, young, only barely more than a childling. She doesn't make a sound, her gaze so distant that it's obvious her brain is far removed from the room where she's strapped. Thick bands run around her hooves and wrists, glittering with red runes worked into the metal.

He leans closer and if one can read lips or hear the following words flow...

~You are the last I need. To rebirth my Lord and to take his vengeance against she who killed him...how lucky you are to bleed for such a cause...~

Chago is suddenly glad he didn't spend the glamour to share what he sees. And hears. Scrying does carry sound too. His body language says far too much. His eye doesn't leave the glass, but his right-hand closes into a fist and for a moment it looks like he's about to punch the mirror. Genny recognizes the look of facing something he can't stop and wants to.

Then he lowers his hand and starts sweeping the view about the area quickly to try and find where he is. After a sweep of the area, he mutters. "Babe, we gotta give him a warning. I can't leave this."

Genny looks up from where she's healing Shova's hand, the activity taking place quietly in the background. A few drinks and prolly a lot of talking to herself later, she's calm. She takes in his words and nods to Chago. "Do what ya need ta. Ya know I trust yer judgment."

Chago nods and he reaches toward the mirror, grasping air over it and then draws his hand back and around before making a throwing gesture. As he does, he pours glamour through the scrying and lifts coals from that knocker's fire to throw at the stony beast's face. He may not be able to -hurt- him much, but maybe he can blind him at least briefly.

"Okay... now. We gotta go. Fast." he tells Genny before describing the area around the knocker's torture chamber and asking where it is of Shova.

"Ready." Genny nods, pulling her armored vest on and yanking the straps tight. The whip goes on and she's ready. Hopefully there will be a hammer waiting for them outside.

Shova takes a moment to consider and then his eyes widen. "I know where he is. It's not far from where he held me. I thought he was gone. I know a short cut to get there faster. But I can’t path, not there. And you’d be left behind…"

Chago gives Shova a nod. "I can jump. I'll catch up." he promises. "You two -go-!" So many magics great and small. Shova is likely wondering about this 'cap by now. However, if he is, he'll have to wonder longer.

Genny doesn't hesitate. Even if she didn't know that Chago has the magic to keep pace she trusts him that if he says he'll catch up...he will. It's that simple and that's the only explanation that Shova gets. Trust Chago and keep up. She runs full out, eating up the ground in a mile devouring sprint. Not even satyrs should be able to keep up this kind of pace, and Shova lags behind her, but she doesn't slow. Amazing what sheer hatred can do to motivate you.