Satisfied that the treasure was won and the monsters destroyed, the party staggered from the cave. Gimar and Jaron vowed to pay for the restoration of Little John's drained energy, but he only nodded and shivered.

Nicola scrawled a message on the wooden door leading to the shadowed hallway, to save any innocents that happened to wander into the complex accidentally.

The cool night air was quite refreshing to those who had been cooped in the musty underground for the last few hours. The walk back to town was quiet. Soon the biscuits reached Worlende and the Triple Crown.

Gimar's only response was to slap the Grell's beak down on the bar. A great cheer went up from the crowd. Little John excused himself as the rest of the party tipped a few celebratory ales with the locals.

Three days travel saw the biscuits approaching the town of Free Borough. Since the team decided that speed was of the essense, they took the road along the river. In some of the fields they passed, the shoots of this years crop were just peeking through the ground. The weather continued to be clear, as the days grew slightly longer.

Little John had adapted somewhat, and no longer reported being unnaturally cold. Something in the process had greatly diminished his skill with his quarterstaff, and he practiced whenever the party stopped.

Once the group reached the town of Free Borough, they paused at a small tavern on the outskirts. At the advice of the barkeep, Jaron and Nicola shed their armor and weapons and headed deeper into town, hoping to find a priest who was able to help Little John. They didn't find one, but they did get a lead on a vicar from Dyvers who might be able to help.

Three more days travel brought the Biscuits to the town of Libernen. This was a farming community, and as such was quite spread out.

The biscuits rode on for another two days. On the morning of the third day they reached the sentry port of Walthain, and turned southwest down King Thrommel's Road towards Dianrift. Both of these towns were essentially military forts, with a small population for support.

When the party arrived in Dianrift, they found that the ferrymaster was done for the evening, so they stayed at the fort instead. Rheaphlyndar and Gimar entertained a company of Furyondian navymen with a few stories over hands of cards, and heard a few in return. The sailors had recently sailed down the coast after engagements with trolls on the shores of Scragholme island.

In the morning, the group crossed over to Caltaran on the earliest ferry. A thin fog was in the air and on the water. The channel was not so much river as the southwestern corner of the Nyr Dyv, which Wed translated to mean the Lake of Unknown Depths. The ferryman did not speak much, so the party had to believe Wed's version for now.

As the small boat was losing sight of Dianrift, the sounds of the barked orders of the naval captain carried clearly across the water.

Dyvers was a short ride up the road, and the Biscuits arrived in town by mid-afternoon. Little John walked immediately for the holy sanctuary where Hannah's and Glein's bodies were being held. After paying his respects and donating some of his cash, he spoke at length with the Matron.

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