“This is blasphemy! Tempus decreed we strike back against the vile orcs who assault our settlement,” Pavel bellowed, storming about the great hall. The companions had sequestered themselves to one side, allowing Kara and the cleric to battle each other before the newly revived lord-protector. “Enough!” Igan roared. His head was starting to pound again. “No more of our men will risk their lives… we’ve barely enough left to man our defenses if a true attack comes.” Then he addressed the companions; “You’ve slain the lich that was in league with these orcs… and returned one of our daughters to us safely. My niece was right to make you honored guests in my hall. I only wish I was fit to properly receive you… but I will rectify that, and we will feast in your honor tonight. Until then, I’m sure you are weary from your many battles… you will be shown to suitable chambers to rest.” Recognizing that they’d been dismissed, the companions followed the servants who escorted them out of the great hall, but as they went they heard Igan accuse the cleric; “It’s odd that I should fall ill the very night I refused your demand to take Kara’s hand in marriage…” “Our honored guests!” the man that greeted them from the head of the hall was barely recognizable as the same Igan Starag who they’d seen earlier; his beard and hair was well trimmed, and he worn warriors leathers. It seemed like half of Winer Edge had crowded into the great hall, and every man, woman and child hailed the heroes… making them extremely uncomfortable. They were given honored places at the lord-protector’s table, along with Kara, the sergeant at arms, Tana and her parents and a couple of influential villagers they hadn’t been introduced to yet, but one seat sat empty, and the cleric of Tempus was conspicuously absent. After days in the lichdom surviving on meek rations, the generous amounts of food were more than welcome, as was the copious amounts of ale, which Tarl seemed particularly fund of. As the evening ran into night, both the dwarf and young wizard, Galen, found themselves the center of separate clusters of villagers, which oddly seemed to consist mostly of young women, as they recounted decidedly different versions of their adventures. Faeryl had spent much of the time explaining Eilistraee’s dogma to Kara and Igan, who both seemed bewildered by the very notions that there was such a goddess, that a temple to her stood in the Moonwood no more than two days march away and that she was worshiped by dancing naked in the moonlight. Nykira was drawn away from Aeron’s side by a near constant stream of young men who sought to dance with the gorgeous moon elf, while he did all he could to minimize his presence, retreating to a quite corner, but his eyes never left the beautiful lady-rogue. “Forgive me my lord,” Faeryl addressed Igan humbly, “but the moon is high, and it has been many days since I’ve been truly sure of when it is… I must offer my supplication to Eilistraee. Is there someplace I can do so without causing undo turmoil? I think your cleric in particular would find my rites disturbing.” “You intend to dance naked under the moonlight… yes, I think Pavel would find that objectionable,” Kara offer with a sly smile, then added thoughtfully; “Perhaps the garden behind the great hall would provide sufficient privacy… but there are windows that overlook it in several of the bed chambers.”