The evening sun glowed over the dirty farmscape, transforming the hot mud into glistening gold. The old farmhouse looked picturesque, like a painting of pastoral bliss. Fields of grain swayed beyond it in the the fine summer breeze.

Mal walked toward the scene in contemplation, the dirt road soft beneath his feet. Up ahead he saw two figures walking side by side. Tristan and the elf. Sehanine. He had trouble with her name, and given today's episode he thought it wise to keep it close to mind. The two of them looked thick as thieves; he could hear them talking but couldn't quite grasp the words.

He quickened his pace, no thought given to stealth, and was on upon them. "You two look like you're up to something," he said. "Did you learn anything useful today?"

The group of three talked and walked for a while. Mal found the golden evening intoxicating, and his thoughts wandered all around the day's events before finding their way home.

"Oh, I learned something that may be of use", he said. "Though it isn't much. I met some hoary old man who thought he'd heard of these desert riders before. Seems they raided some of the townsfolk awhile back, but he thought it was kind of strange they would try to take the farm. Something he said stuck out to me in particular - they're followers of Sartyria, the fire goddess." 
The door to Isiah's hut was suddenly in front of them, the long walk made short once again with conversation. The door swung open to the sight of Calopee, Relos, and the farmer. The six of them reunited, Isiah began serving up the dinner.

Down home cooking is, without question, one of the finer experiences on the material plane. Isiah's stew was no exception. Simple though it was, even Mal could find nothing bad to say about it. This shouldn't have surpised the party, as it's hard to complain with a mouthful of bread.

“What haf’ you decided, then?" the farmer asked. "And what can we do to help" He looked to his boys with what Malachi knew was some combination of love and fear. If this mission failed, those kids were in for a tough life, or perhaps just a very short one.

Mal swallowed his oversize bite with some effort, and gave what he perceived to be a dashing grin. "Do you have any beer?"