#jerhna

(Sorry for the long delay, but I'm back!

Silvyn stands and bows respectably. "Apologies, m'lord... but I am confused. You have said to ration and so I have; you have said to consume no more than needed and this is what I have done. We are undertaking an arduous physical journey and I have taken what is necessary to maintain my physical and mental health, no more, no less. To whit, I find a hearty breakfast absolutely essential."

Viniir looks hard at the tracks, but eventually shakes his head. "No, sir, at least not precisely. Our movements since waking have masked theirs. But taking into account the quantity of food stuffs missing, I would wager that there's a small party. More than 2, but less than 6."

None of the party look very guilty. They all willingly meet your eyes. In fact they all are taking the situation rather seriously and are graciously standing off the trail in order to make Viniir's tracking easier.

(Ok I think I know how to play this, since Viniir has the Tracking skill and you don't.

Intent: To divine whether or not a member of the party is responsible for the loss of foodstuffs.

Task: Perception.

Ob: 3 

"Steady, Silvyn," I say to the retreating elf. "We may run across fiercer than me out there."  I pause. "Speaking of which, are you well-armed?"

Silvyn backs away from you, trying to play off his fear as if it's nothing but utterly failing. "Uh, I- " his voice cracks. He clears his throat, quickly composes himself and continues. "I was hired to safely escort a party to Glacier's Edge. I know no more than this.... and I think that's for the better." That last part is under his breath, but still audible.

"Because they want me away from Rimenacht," I tell Silvyn conversationally. "They might've tried to put me here, if they thought it would work and it wouldn't disrupt the social fabric.  So instead we visit Glacier's Edge.  Tell me, how were you chosen for this little excursion?"  I think, A fool's errand, and all of us on it fools.

I nod politely and say the proper phrases when introduced to the party-members from the Reformatory, but I am listening intently to Silvyn's introduction and trying to infer yet more from what he doesn't say.

Most of it seems fairly self-explanatory: the best warrior may not be able to lace up his own boots and thinks I'm his uncle.  The thief is alert, which is a good start.  The murderer is dangerous.  I am a bit surprised, though, by the fact that she's also attractive.  One always assumes murderers are as ugly on the outside as on the inside, like with the orcs.  It would be simpler if it were so, I reflect.  Then I wonder how exactly I would look in such a world.

My reverie ends with the news that there's red tape holding us up. "Dealing with any problems well before tomorrow is why I'm here now, Silvyn.  Tell me, what's the holdup?  Who's in charge here?"

I lean forward towards Silvyn so our heads are almost touching, I'm looking directly into his eyes, and no one save Viniir would be able to hear my whispered words. "What I'm saying, Silvyn," I say softly, but with an edge, "is tell me everyone and everything I need to know to eliminate these problems, and I'll make it happen."

I had resigned myself to not pulling rank on anyone until after my successful return.  It looks like the Fates, ever the patronesses of the Subodai family, still want me to pull all the rank I have and some I don't.