An hour before nightfall, Isiah’s Hut, Schell 
After a day of searching the fields for some sort of advantage that Calopee and her compatriots could exploit in the coming conflict, her feet were sore, her appetite whetted, and her spirit diminished. She'd found nothing... No reasonable ground for pits, nor were there any sturdy anchors for trip lines. It seemed to her that this job was becoming tedious. Direct conflict just wasn't her style. She was lured out of her bitter stink of a mood by the rich aroma of homemade stew. She was first in line for a serving, and only hesitated briefly when she saw that there was meat of a kind within the brothy goodness. "Um... No offense Mister, but I didn't see your goat on the way back." She began to state into the bowl, recalling the dreadful taste of goat in her mouth from that morning. She had little interest in comparing that to their stewed loin.

In reply the farmer chuckled and assured her that there was no goat within. One last hesitant moment passed, before her stomach protested impatiently about the long intervals between feedings. A wooden bowl, some bread and fixings and she was all set to chow down. First though, their host had a question for them. A fair one at that, but not a simple one to answer. Oh sure, she imagined the newest of their ranks would have a certain zeal to the task at hand, but personally she saw no advantage to a fight on their terms.

"Do you have somewhere safe that you can secret away yourself and your family? Perhaps a root cellar? I don't want you to be hurt if things get heavy." She replied to her hosts question.

Then, turning to her group she reported, "I found nothing defensible about the land. I fear they may have an advantage, being that they are on horseback. We may be able to use the hut as cover, but we'd need to be wary of getting trapped inside." She emphasized her point by stuffing her face.

Inside the Bearded Dragon 
Sitting quietly, shimmying away at a masterpiece in the making, Calopee was able to remain lost in her thoughts, for a time. Unfortunately, her thoughts were a fractured compilation of last night’s unhinged moments. There was drinking; even a frolic! At least, she thought she remembered frolicking. However, intertwined within these warm memories was a cold feedback of bleating goats, and their devil eyes staring at her. She was resolved to never step foot in another goat pen for as long as she may live. Filthy creatures… Her thoughts were interrupted by the humdrum of magic flittering about her, as it rummaged around her short cut hair, digging for rogue clumps of dirt, and brushing it into a fashion like it was an invisible comb.

She put away her unfinished skiprock, and replaced her precious sanding cloth within her specialized polishing kit. The others were beginning to stir, heading out to join Relos on the road, to be sure. Scooting out from under the human sized table, she rescued her cloak from the hearthstone, electing to leave her clothes to dry upon the slab. Before leaving she asked Argos to look after them for her. “Don’t worry lass,”  he chuckled in reply, “Nobody’s out to nick your clothes. We don’t serve children in this here fine establishment!”

After thanking him coolly, she heads out into the day, and joins the rest of her band. As they disembark, a chill runs down her spine, and the hair on her neck stands up. Her eyes are drawn to the goat pen, try as she may to disregard the place. There they were, her bunkmates from the night past, all in a row, staring gravely at her passing. She turned away, readjusting her focus to the sides of the path. Perhaps she would find another gem in the rough on her journey. She did so love the feel of a new rock in her hands.

Isaiah’s Farm 
By the end of the walk, Calopee had found that her cloak was not nearly so damp as before, thanks to the gentle kiss of the morning sun. Her optimistic outlook was slowly returning, as the rumbling in her stomach, and the ache in her head did subside. Along the side of the road she dallied behind her compatriots, running her hand through stalks of wheat as she passed them by. Picking a single strand for herself she began to chew on the shaft of it, like she’d seen a young farmboy do once. She remembered how foolish he looked as he spoke, and the stick of wheat bobbed up and down. She giggled quietly as she caught up, proud of her current imitation. She noticed Mal's eyes upon her, though she couldn't identify the reason behind his mirthful expression.

Walking up to the farm they'd been directed to, Calopee began to notice a strange amount of horse traffic on the trail. Now, it wouldn't be all that strange for a farm to have a horse, or even two... but this was Schell, a town mired in poverty. The best of these farms could sparsely afford the equipment they needed to keep their homestead afloat. Reaching the humble stone hut only helped to confirm her suspicions. The farmer popped out of the house when they arrived, and asked them in to meet his kids before talking shop. Calopee was still interested in finding where that trail of hooves led, but her investigations were cut short by the bleating of yet another goat. Her mind immediately shut out any interest, in anything else. She zeroed in on the goat, who'd been strapped to a pole, as she was beginning to believe should be the case for all goats, of all kinds. Their eyes met, he stared, as she glared. If it was a contest, she'd lost, looking away, and shuffling herself behind the paladin for protection.

Inside the Hut 
After listening to the man named Isaiah, and his unfortunate congress with a desert horseman, she was suddenly reminded of the hoofprints she'd seen on the way up to the farm. It certainly added credibility to his story. As long as his source of monetary recompense was just as credible, Calopee saw no reason they couldn't dispatch a few bandit horsemen, especially with the element of surprise on their side.

Relos didn't seem to share her passion for a reward, but it was good to know that he was on her side in any case. A paladin could be quite useful to her as time went by. "Mm... glad to hear that you're not violent for the sake of zeal, Relos. I don't think we should be too hasty about all this." The little halfling remarked. "A band of thugs may not be interested in a war against a party of Giant slaying heroes!"Calopee was impressed with herself, lying so well as to not even flush.

Then... For reasons beyond the young Calopee's comprehension, Malachi spewed, "I agree with the paladin. We're heroes, dammit. It's time we ante up and start doing some hero work. I'm perfectly happy riding that dead knight's coattails for a little while, but that reputation can only last so long before we're expected to start doing some real good. Now I'm not from here but I can see improvements in this village already - they need someone to look up to. Relos, you're probably right on the subject of violence. It's something I'm used to. We can stand together if need be, but I'm a bit flat at the moment. You'll not think worse of me for accepting payment, I hope." 

Had Malachi lost his marbles? Why would he blurt out the groups entire founding premise, just vomit their dirty little secrets out onto the floor, for the whole ruddy world to see. Calm, Cally, she thought, keep it cool. There's an easy way out of this, always is. Relos probably has no idea what he even meant. Her eyes shifted from the flat out glare of disbelief directed towards Mal, and over to the sitting Paladin, watching him in a ponderous pose as he sat at the table, hands cupped. What was he divining?

She went for it, with everything to lose; it was showtime. The smallest chuckle passed her lips, and she allowed it to ripple into a full blown festival of laughter. Even a few tears managed to worm their way out from under her eyes. After wiping dry her cheeks, and whooping to a stop, she looked up at her 'comrade' Malachi and said, "Silly Mal. Just because you decided to use the name of a dead knight to spread your fame, doesn't mean we all had to stoop to that low. I'm perfectly fine EARNING my pledge as a hero." 

After one last apprising look towards the loathsome betrayer of lies, she turned towards the door, and with her usual ode to nonchalance proclaimed, "If we are to use this place as a site for... "negotiations", it's probably best that I scope out the field and find any defensive points of value, and map out where we might be most vulnerable. Especially if this horseman brings along a few mounted friends... We shall want options." Maybe she could work out a few rope lines to trip their foes, or get the more robust of them to empty a pit or two down their path of excursion.