Xenathiel stares off at the horizon, nodding softly at that.  The description of a meeting draws a groan from the barbarian.  "Right.  That sounds boring as watching snails mate."  The barbarian stretches her lower back, eliciting a soft grunt of satisfaction, then picks up her axe and brushes dirt from the blade.  "I suppose someone should warn the villagers... maybe one of these soldiers."  She swallows, studying the sky.  "We'd need a neutral party to inquire at the pirates' territories.  Maybe they know something."  She spits.  "Or maybe the Drow know.  Sneaky bastards."  She sighs, hands on her hips, one leg out and kicking her toe into the turf.  "We must find him and his master first.  And..."  she sneers at the confession, "... we'll need help."