<strong><span class="bbc_u"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Whole party</span></span></strong><br/><br/><br/>Mirish walked into the tavern just in time to catch the spirited scene between Farmer Redford and the variously sceptical patrons. The entrance of an orc - even a half orc - caused a flicker of unease in the eyes of some who were not used to seeing her kind this far south.<br/><br/>"Half a mile," Redford answered Ragsy. "You know my farm, surely? Redford's Produce? It doesn't matter. We must leave at once..."<br/><br/>The farmer seemed to relax slightly as Torner and Leigh gave more unequivocal statements of acceptance. It was then, as they started to make overtures towards the exit, that one of the men at the bar decided it was time to once again offer his opinion.<br/><br/>"Don't let your time be wasted," the man with the beard called to the group. "Don't you think the city guard would have attended if there were anything to worry about? Redford's a fine farmer, but he represents that superstitious type of folk who'll jump at the first mention of a boogie man."<br/><br/>"The city guard do what the governor and the temple tell them to do," Redford snapped. "And neither of those have the time to investigate what's really going on in the land. Only what will line their pockets."<br/><br/>"Aye!" One of the quieter men suddenly called out in agreement. "They won't hear the tales of dark witchcraft coming up from the south."<br/><br/>"Not witchcraft," that man's table companion corrected him. "Tales of neproclancy!"<br/><br/>Despite the mispronounciation, it was impossible not to realise what the man was talking about. The tavern owner certainly understood, and banged the surface of the bar indignantly.<br/><br/>"There'll be no talk of necromancy in my tavern!" He boomed. "There haven't been necromancers in the world in two hundred years. No if you're going to tell ghost stories, I'm going to have to ask that you leave."<br/><br/>"With pleasure." Redford spat, and swung out through the main door, looking over his shoulder to check that the others were behind him. He walked with a confident gait. He narrowly avoided bumping into a cowled man who had the dark skin and narrow countenance of a man from Ardu al-Zalam, who simply grunted and passed the group towards the middle of town.<br/><br/>"As quickly as we can," Redford said, marching in the direction of the eastern gate. "I need to put up my scarecrow today. If I don't get control of my farm again, the crows'll have my crop before the week is out."