"Andar, nice to see you again!" Glory clapped the half-orc on the shoulder and sat next to him, offering a bowl of steaming stew. It wasn't the best but with the help of Lana, they were able to make a passable meal. Andar accepted it gratefully and began to wolf it down.

"I know the Old Walker said I could have survived forever in that state, I feel like I was being starved the entire time. I could eat a horse..." Andar started to look around, perhaps in the vain hope that he would see something.

"Nay, you would not be eating any horses at this time, my good sir. A nice pack mount would be excellent right about now." Magra gestured to a pile of loot she had been stockpiling, swords, a few sets of leathers not too far gone and other assorted gear. In the pile were three of the black wands, one being the one Glory had been carrying. He had relinquished it happily, "A weight off my shoulders, for sure."

They were identical in all ways, both shape, feel, and thrumming energy. The only difference was the band of color around each wand: blue, green, and red. The only thing anyone had seen them used for was the blue when it raised the dead corpses back to life. None of their attempts to use it bore any fruit, and since Galt had left before they pulled them out, they couldn't very well ask him his opinions.

Glory shrugged, picking at a bowl himself halfheartedly, "So, Andar. You never mentioned how you know the old man. Magra met him on the road, he told stories to the kid and Lana. And I knew the man as a harsh city official... always gouged us on fees and skimmed the top for himself, though he was also willing to overlook some...less reputable goods for extra coin. Strange set of things to be good at."

Andar nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, odd indeed. I did not know much about him, as I was not the most outgoing in my hometown. But he was typically referred to as the Old Walker, for he is the oldest man we know of, and he alone could walk the forests at will. He left us be, though at times would find a river laden with gold and request to pan it. The Elves always granted it, as he was fair to the land and took care of its needs. He has been doing it since...before I was born. He's never changed. Even our Elder spoke warily of him, more so than most, in fact."

"Spooky." Magra broke the long second of silence, "But anyways. On to more important matters. Since we don't have a pack horse, we all need to carry some. Come now, each person must carry their fair share. Gotta make the money somehow!" She clapped her hands and started hefting up the sets of leather armor. "These might fetch a few pennies, enough to get a place to stay a few days once we get to town. Worth the hassle, trust me."

Everyone groaned, but nothing was left behind, even the smallest dagger slipped behind Glory's belt. "It's been far too long since I had a good nights sleep in an actual bed. And I can resupply!" He gave his little bottle a shake and seemed to be listening, "I'm getting awful low."

Magra looked askance at him, "I always wondered, what is inside that little bottle? I've seen you down them like water, though it only seems to affect you a little. Is it a cheap wine, perhaps?"

Glory grinned back at her and shifted his pack higher on his shoulders, "Now that is an excellent question, my dear. How about we come back to it sometime? You can always just have a taste for yourself..." He held out the bottle, grinning a challenge. Magra was never one to back down, so she grabbed the swill and downed it in a quick long pull.

The fire that burned her throat left her sputtering and coughing, "You drink this all the time? Blast ye do ya have a death wish or somethin'? By the gods, I've never had anything like that in me life, and I'm a bloody dwarf!"

Glory chuckled and took a drag himself, smacking his lips in delight, "It's of me own design. Brewed at sea with sea water, and distilled no less than eleven times. Stuff will make hair grow on a rock, or I'll shave off all mine!"

Magra roared with laughter, a glint in her eye, "I'll take that bet, I think! I wouldn't mind seeing your pompous ass without hair!"

Glory shrugged, uncapped his bottle, and began to pour it, but halted at the last moment, "But what do I get in return for this glorious feat? Perhaps just one shiny gold coin?"

Magra scoffed and started to flip a coin in the air idly, the dim light glinting off it, "Go right ahead. Grow hair on a rock, and the coin is yours."

Glory continued to pour the liquor onto the rock, and where it splashed, tufts appeared. They lengthened to about two inches before stopping, a glorious mane of hair, for a rock. Glory stooped and gripped it by the hair, spinning it idly. "That bit was a spell I have cast on every batch, just for cases like this. Time to pay up, lass." Magra hurled the coin at his feet and huffed off, muttering curses under her breath. Andar smiled idly, "Never shit a shitter. Doesn't ever work out well." Glory bowed theatrically and grinned wryly, "My mother always said, never think you're the smartest. Cuz it'll always bite ya in the ass. She was a nasty woman.... man, I miss her sorely."

Andar grunted, and looked at their newest companion, the wolf, "Speaking of old acquaintances. I see you all went to the Elven lands without me. But I suppose I must forgive you, as you did bring back my dearest of friends." He stooped low and held out a hand, the wolf darting forward eagerly. "Yes, I have missed you as well, my friend. She was the only one who accepted me, truly, back home. Maybe because no one truly accepted her either."

"Then I'm doubly sorry for what I did to her. Please, extend my most sincere apologies. I feared for myself and the others and acted too hastily. The greatest crime is the harm of a friend." Wally stood abashed, his hands wringing together endlessly. The wolf padded over and sniffed his hands, then sat and regarded his tears for a long moment. She broke the tension with a tentative lick, swiping at one of the tears. Then a more joyous greeting as she started to lick every inch of his exposed face.

Andar laughed, "It appears she has forgiven you. And any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Welcome to the group, Sir Wallace. It will be a pleasure to fight at your side."

The journey back was smooth, though it was a wasteland. Andar personally set out to find the few places they would normally find people, but there was only massacres and devastation remaining. They saw a handful of people returning to what was left of their homes and start to try to rebuild their lives, but it wasn't nearly enough. There weren't even bandits around to trouble their travels, so barren was the land and it's people.

"Most of this is new." Magra mused, looking at the still smoldering remains of yet another farm, "It happened so quickly. How much was from Talmion and how much was from his loss of control?"

Lana bit her lip, thinking of her learning of the undead. It wasn't a lot but she knew a thing or two, "When he died, they would have begun to wander. They would be a lot less dangerous... but still a danger to these people. We should also tread carefully."

The capital was less subdued, the markets still filled with people, however. The damage hadn't reached this far yet, though it would be nipping at their heels. Glory, Wally, and Lana all went to find an inn to stay at while Magra led the others to the blacksmith, where she bargained with the man for all the spare gear they had gathered. It wasn't worth much, but her bargaining skills got her about a hundred gold. "Enough for an extended stay, I do say so myself! Eh, guys?"

They all clapped, except for Raja. He stood, one hand clasped in front of his chest, "How much for this chest piece, my good man?"

The blacksmith wiped his hands on a soot-stained rag and walked around the counter, "Oh, that piece? Man, that one was a beauty to make, and I doubt I'll ever make another of the same. It's also my only piece for that kind, so it's expensive. It'll run you about four hundred gold pieces..."

Raja nodded, "I can't say I blame you, sir, it's an absolutely beautiful piece of work. Best I've seen in a long while, so congratulations on that. Alas, I will be unable to buy it... but my, it's a beauty."

The man smiled and nodded his thanks, and then looked back at the main doorway, "Well, it probably won't sell here. Not many have that much to drop, and the ones who do don't always come here. It was mainly a test for myself... I'll let it go for a hundred and fifty. It'll make me what I put into it, and have a nice home."

Raja smiled, his hand tightening around something under his shirt, "Most excellent sir. I cannot thank you..." Raja trailed off as his hand met nothing when searching for his purse, "Oh, how odd. Seems I lost my purse." He shrugged and waved his hand, muttering, "Sleep."

The bartender fell flat on his face, instantly snoring. Raja began to try on his new chest piece, and he looked at Andar with glowing eyes, one hand pressed against his chest, "Find his money." As soon as the armor was fitted tightly, Raja muttered and it vanished, leaving him still standing in his robes.

Andar nodded slowly, going behind the counter, "There is a safe here. Looks easy to open." Magra stepped back and shook her head vehemently, not noticing the Elf's eyes, "Nu-uh, I ain't doin' this. Yer both on yer own."

She all but ran out of the store, leaving behind the two thieves. Raja shrugged and turned back to his charmed half-orc, "Open it. I will dress the man in these cultist robes in case they wondered. It will all be well."

Andar nodded stiffly and bent to fiddle with the safe. Raja hurriedly dressed the sleeping man in cultist robes, and then turned, a little madness dancing with the anger in his eyes, "What is taking you so long? It should be done by now!"

Andar looked up from his task with a slackened expression, "It is locked, but there seems to be no keyhole." Raja looked at him dully, "Then use your glaive for something useful, nitwit. Open it, and then return outside. You will remember none of what happened here in this tent."

"Yes, sire." His glaive slammed down onto the top of the small safe with a crash, wood splintering instantly. Before they could blink, however, the safe exploded in flames, tounges of fire licking out at the counter and the wooden hafts of the weapons against the walls. It was dry as kindling and went up as such. Andar himself was singed, though Raja escaped the brunt of the flames.

They both stumbled out of the shop now filling with smoke and heard coughing behind them. As the blacksmith appeared in the doorway, Raja called out to Andar one last command, "Stop him! Cultist!"

Andar stepped forward and lifted his foot, planting it square in the middle of the poor man's chest, crumpling him and sending him flying back into the flames. The blacksmith didn't appear again, and the flames quickly began to consume the entire building. Lines of people carrying buckets of both sand and water appeared as fast as the call, "Fire!" went up, and they were able to contain the flames to only the blacksmith and building next to it; a bakers hut. The smell of burning loaves and wheat began to fill the air as well as cries and shouts.

Guards began to show up, setting to questioning everyone. Fingers were soon pointing the way of the adventurer's and they stalked over, "Hey, you all. Told you were in the building over there when it went up, and even kicked a man. Mind telling me what happened before I just throw you in gaol for the hell of it? Been a slow day, could use some fun." He spat onto the road and looked at them expectantly. 

Raja stepped forward, demeanor back to normal, "Why of course, good sir. Anything to help you in your investigation. We were, in fact, in the building, intent on purchasing new goods from the local smithy. An upgrade would be nice," He gestured at his armorless form and old, chipped swords before continuing, "But when we found ourselves inside, the man was wearing these oddly colored robes and muttering about some sacrifice. The moment he saw us, he attacked, saying we would do. In fact, I'm certain they were the same robes as the men attacking the countryside, here, in our own city! I acted as quickly as I could to save our lives, but in my haste threw the fire wide and set the shop ablaze. I would be more than happy to pay off the damages to the baker, it was my fault his hut burned." His face was one of absolute contrition, and the guard relaxed a bit.

"By the gods, I thought the cultists were just a rumor. Making the dead walk, razing the farms around here. I'm glad to hear no one innocent was hurt, however. Plus, I didn't really want to fight your friend, he's quite a bit more imposing up close." He looked askance at Andar, face still half covered by his silver mask. "Is that what you say happened...sir?"

Andar stood, a blank expression on his face. He turned woodenly to Raja, whose confidence swayed as he realized his spell was wearing off, and spoke, "No... You dressed the blacksmith, didn't you? And then I smashed the safe.. The fire..." His eyes began to glaze again as Raja reaffirmed his will on the charm, but it was already too late. The guard ripped out his sword and yelled, attracting the rest.

Raja snarled a command at Andar to defend him, and turned and ran while the guards tried their best to hold off a charmed half-orc going berserk. It took every guard they could summon but even then, by the time Andar was pinned down, four men were unmoving on the ground.

Magra looked on from the crowd, "Well, shite... Guess I'll go tell the others. God's blast him, what has gotten into the man! And where did Raja go? I am NOT getting paid enough for this." With that, she stalked off muttering, searching for the others.