Darin set off quickly to make camp there in the clearing, still reeling from the Carnival. As the group settled for the night they pondered what had just happened to them. Maxwell calmly retold the tale of the Big Top and the demons within. Jarvik sat quietly at the edge of camp, his eyes not shining like usual. He and Darin seemed reluctant to talk about what had happened to them after they disappeared; the oracle stuttered in broken Celestial for most of the night.
Vutha, meanwhile, still shaky on his new found wings headed off in search of something. He rode the currents and swooped down low to a nearby wood. Walking into the moonlit clearing he whispered “Do you have any information about my village?” The wood shivered as his words were carried off on the breeze, but stayed stubbornly slient. As Vutha turned to leave, the pale moon caught the glimmer of tears at the corners of his eyes.
The next morning they headed off towards Wyrmstead. The morning sun was warm and the path ahead of them clear as Maxwell led the way with his map. Despite Jeremiah’s leg, they were making good time, but that didn’t keep the gunsmith from bringing up the rear. Vutha glided nearby, not sure if he should help or not. He was still angry about his village and what Jeremiah did to Red. However, it was Jeremiah who broke the tension. “Vutha, look I want to help you, but I need you to promise me you’ll let me handle it.” the gunsmith looked up to his winged friend with concern in his eyes. “I have significant political power in Wyrmstead, but if you get in the way it could all disappear.”
“I just want to find out about my village, and kill whoever is responsible.” Vutha growled.
“I understand, and I have a plan.” Jeremiah replied, “I am going to throw a party, at my factory. There, I am going to get Cornelius alone in my office, where you will be waiting. Once we get the information we need, I’ll leave him to you. Deal?”
“Of cours…” The kobold’s voice trailed off as he dug his skull out of his pocket. “Here. Dad wants to talk to you.”
“What?” The gunsmith asked, startled. “No, not again I can’t do it again.” But Vutha had already shoved it into his hand. A familiar voice boomed in Jeremiah’s head
“You will do best not to use my son for your own political gain, are we clear?”
“I would never think of using him for that, I was simply warning what would happen if he acted as he has in the past.” Jeremiah said calmly. Vutha took the skull back and placed it back in his pocket. An uneasy silence filled the air as they heard Darin up ahead telling Jarvik something.
The oracle was careful with his words. “Uh, Jarvik? You’re a story teller right?”
“Why yes I am! Why do you ask?” The gnome perked up.
“Well, I was wondering if you could help me?” Darin’s eyes held something longing to be told. “I have a tale, and if you could spread the word, I might be able to find a friend.”
“Sure! I can’t promise anything, but I can try right?” Jarvik’s curiosity had taken over and he was dying to hear a new tale.