Ferdinand, Lord of the Pasture and Biggest Bull in the Herd, went running across the meadow as he heard the mournful cry of one of his cows in distress. He doubled his speed when he recognized that sorrowful scream as belonging to Betty. He came upon the huge old cow at the side of one of the fields. She was running back and forth, trampling through bushes, uprooting small trees, calling to one of her calves.

She had birthed two fine calves just hours ago. One of those was trying to stay close to his momma and not get trampled by her large, mis-sharpened hooves. One was missing. She'd been grazing on sedge in a thicket just off the field. One of the calves had chased after something into a bush. That was the last that she'd seen of it. The ground was torn to bits where she had been tearing up the underbrush, looking for her calf. It was confusing, but Ferdinand thought he saw tracks of a two-legger. He would need help with this!

He needed the shepherd!

Several fields away, Rolly turned to Ben. "Shit! Shepherd business! Something bad has happened."

Rolly ran off, leaving a confused Ben to wonder what was up. But he had business of his own to be about. He hefted the two sacks of alcohol and wandered off in the direction of the keep.

=*=

Falconer wandered into Sedgewick, noting the damage done to the town. He'd made a detour on his way, walking into the cornfield to take a look at what was left of the catapults. Not much but wooden beams, but those told him what had been here. Recent construction, heavy timbers. Machines you didn't move into place fast. Which said a lot about Brandon's scouts if they hadn't had a clue that these were set up in ambush.

You scouted the enemy. You ALWAYS scouted the enemy. Or you fell prey to nasty surprises. He shrugged. Bad scouts meant he could more easily do his work and have this pay off for him.

He soothed his bird as he entered town. Inquiring as to Brandon's where abouts, he was pointed to a slightly burned tavern. People got out of his way until he made it to the door. Two large fellows seemed to be playing gate warden. "No one goes in unless Brandon says so."

Falconer bowed. "How lucky for you two, that Brandon wants to see me. Tell him Falconer is here to solve his troubles."

A muffled exchange and the door was opened. Brandon was inside. He didn't look good. He was trying to drink a beer, leaning his head back and pouring the liquid in. His mouth looked very odd. "Falconerrr, whaddaya wan' , birdman?"

The paladin was sitting nearby, a cleric was working on his arm. No!...what used to be his arm. It had been taken off at the shoulder. There was a huge pool of blood on the floor, poorly cleaned up.

"I'm sorry Timmy, that's the best I can do. I can't regrow an arm. It should come back when you resurrect. The same for Brandon. His jaw is all healed wrong and the bones are fused to his skull. I can't fix it. He'll have to die and resurrect. That should fix his jaw, and his teeth should come back. Probably."

Timmy seemed pissed and tired. "Which I can't do or I'm out of the war! Screw this. I'm going down to the dungeon Brandon. I'm not going to run around the woods looking for six people. Here's your bounty hunter, let him do it!"

Timmy went downstairs followed by a dozen other people. Falconer turned to Brandon. "You have people you need dead, and I can hunt them down."

Brandon glared a him, but nodded. "Geh starta, kil some befo tomorurrow."

Falconer saluted. "I'll need a couple of your people to help flush them. Don't trouble yourself, I'll pick them out myself and get started. You'll have some fatalities tonite, guaranteed. Far too small an area to hide in."

Brandon waved his assent.

Falconer moved around the town, seeing how the guards and look-outs were set up. Not very professional, but then, no one was going to be attacking a town with dozens of defenders with just six fighters, no matter how fearless you were. The bulk of Brandon's forces were camped across the bridge, in a small meadow. A party atmosphere prevailed. He saw quite a few barrels of Bludgeon Dark were being consumed and they had a carcass rotating on a spit over an open flame. It smelled delicious and his bird was agitated by the scent.

He wandered over. "What are you cooking?"

The cook was rubbing the meat with some sort of spice. "The boys got a newborn calf from the herd of ugly cows. Those things are horrible to eat, but the veal is very tasty. It hasn't picked up the nasty flavor from the local plants. Should be ready in a few hours, so swing back by.

Falconer nodded. "I'll plan on it. Thanks."

He wandered around looking for who he needed. People were already pairing off in tents, and he saw one couple head off to the woods for some privacy. If players weren't fighting, they had a party. The Momco. leadership was a bit occupied at the moment to give many orders, and there was no real chain of command.

Finally, he found the people he was looking for. Two men and a woman were sitting around a small fire drinking beer. "Hello, how's the hand?" The woman stood up quickly and took a step back. "Keep that bird away from me. I had to do things left handed until I got killed the next day hunting in the forest." Her two companions also stood and formed up next to her. "We don't want any trouble."

Falconer smiled. "You mis-understand. I came to apologize. And I've got some good news. Brandon said you three were a cut above the rest. We have a special mission hunting down someone. It pays 5 gold each for a few hours of work. You in?"

One man smiled immediately. "Yeah, for 5 gold each, we're in for sure."

Falconer tossed them each a bag. "Let's get moving then. Before we have to go stealthy, I'll even tell you a little about my bird. Maybe you can get some for yourselves."

That sounded even better than the gold. The three eager players and Falconer headed out into the forested area, unaware that eyes were following their every move.