The morning of their fourth day in the Fyrwood, they sat down to take stock of their inventory. They’d had a good deal of success hunting, and Jack’s Craft: Skinner skill had steadily increased. They had no idea what the volkelak hides would be worth, but they had discarded any that Rory Appraised at less than a reasonable quality. They also had one more Green Slime Crystal, out of over forty slimes slain. Finally, yesterday, they’d managed to down a ‘Giant Vargr’, which was basically a six-hundred pound mutated bulldog, at the cost of Erin suffering a dislocated shoulder and Jack taking a vicious bite through the thigh that left him with a limp. Fortunately, Jack knew how to set her shoulder, but his leg was still healing. Erin pulled up her status panel again and swung it around to the others.

“My ‘crippled’ status didn’t have the note about needing a healer. I guess it’ll disappear when I’m healed up,” he winced and adjusted his leg again. His armor was piled to the side on his bedroll, and he was changing his dressing. “How are we on bandages?”
“Plenty left. It would help with our inventory if you two stopped getting hurt so much,” Rory smiled.
“You’re welcome to take the front line any time, squishy,” Erin grunted as she tested her shoulder again. “Any idea how long we’ll take to recover?”
Jack pulled up his panel again and mouthed a few numbers, “I seem to be recovering some Health every hour. Maybe equal to my Fortitude skill?”
“That sounds about right,” Erin offered. “Which means by late tonight, I should be full. Hopefully the soreness in the shoulder will go away.”
“We’re definitely recovering insanely fast, but there’s no indication in my panel when my leg will be healed,” he tapped the side, turning the green plane to the side so the others could look.
“It might heal closer to what we’re expecting. Wounds may be the equalizing field here. You can get bashed up through your armor and lose Health, and be ok in a few hours or maybe with magical healing, but you may have to sit out a real wound for days,” Layla finally spoke up.
“One of us really should’ve taken some healing,” Erin groaned.

She wasn’t wrong.

-----

Two days later, Jack’s leg still wasn’t completely healed, but he was showing some pretty impressive scar tissue around the wound. They had continued to camp in the same spot, rationing their remaining food and supplementing with wild forage and, as they affectionately began to refer to any butchered portion of a monster, ‘mystery meat’. Layla proved to be a surprisingly adept hunter, using Bewitch to lure creatures out of hiding, then torching them with Firebolt. 

During their downtime, she picked up a fourth level of Mage and used the optional feature to learn an extra spell: Cauterizing Flare, a tier 1 Flame spell that ended the Wounded condition at the expense of a frankly terrifying amount of Health loss. Layla being Layla, rather than asking Jack’s permission, she started the conversation with a seemingly innocent question.

“Hey Jack, what’s your current Health?” she bounced on her toes as she asked.
“Right now? Almost full, like 25 or so,” he looked up from the meat he was skewering onto sharpened twigs.
“So more than half, right?” she smiled again.
“Yeah, like I said, almost full,” he narrowed his eyes at her. “No! I know that look, don’t you even-”
“CAUTERIZING FLARE!” Layla shouted the spell’s name and pointed her opened palm at Jack’s leg.

The villagers probably heard his scream back in Nafsbirg. He fell off the log, clutching his smoking leg, continuing to scream the vilest insults his agonized brain could spew out one after another.

“Gee, Jack, you don’t have to thank me all at once. Can you walk now?” Layla grinned.
“You-fucking-turd-muffin-you-just-exploded-my-leg,” he paused.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he wiggled it experimentally.

Erin and Rory burst into the clearing, prematurely returning from their foraging expedition, “What the shit now!?” Erin shouted, the ground to a halt as Jack pulled himself upright and bounced on his injured leg. “You’re all better?”

“Fuck no. This little pyromaniac just burned off half my health. But yeah, the wound is gone,” he leaned in on the leg again, putting most of his weight down. “Hurt like hell though.”
“You’re welcome, Jackson,” Layla grinned impishly.
“Some warning would have been nice, Layla,” he shot back.
“Would you have let me throw fire at your leg if I’d asked first?” she replied.
“If you’d showed me the spell description, probably yeah,” he grimaced.

The realization dawned, “Oh. Yeah, I guess that would’ve worked.”

He hopped back and forth between each foot, “It’s so weird how I’m clearly hurt. I’m missing over half my Health, but I don’t have any pain other than some soreness that tells me I’m injured. The pain from the Wound is completely gone.”
“I tried to learn a Day spell so I could go into Healing hybrid magic, Jack, but I can’t learn it at all,” she looked disappointed.
“It’s ok, El. Just, what did we say about Leroy moments, ok? Communication is key, isn’t that what Rory is always saying?” his frown slowly melted.
“Yeah, I’m workin’ on it,” she groaned.
“Well, now that’s over, we can strike camp and get back on the road,” he started to pack his bag.
“No no no no nononononononono, sir. I see mystery meat skewers over there, and I’m tired of eating what-the-fuck-ever passes for lembas bread in this shithole. You finish those, and don’t forget to use the wild onions. We spent all afternoon looking for them,” Erin pushed him back down onto the log, where his head drooped as he slowly resumed stabbing meat cubes with shaved twigs.

“At this rate, I’ll have the highest class in the group, but it’ll be all kitchen levels,” he sighed dejectedly.

He wasn’t wrong.

-----

They decided to camp one more night, and their overstuffed bellies had nothing to do with that decision, thank-you-very-much. Other than a handful of snooping scavengers attracted by the smells of the evening meal, the four spent the evening in relative peace. As usual, they took turns keeping watch, more to keep the fire high than actually watching out for critters. They discovered the first night that almost nothing in the forest would come near an open campfire, associating it with adventurers, and therefore an almost certain death.

Morning came slowly, dappling through the canopy of the forest, forcing wakefulness as the temperature steadily rose. 

“How much further do you think we have? I’d do slime jello shots to sleep in a real bed,” Layla stretched and rolled back and forth across her bedroll.
“Well, given that the forest was about fifty miles across in the direction we’re traveling, and we’re making five to eight miles a day, we should break out of the forest toward the end of tomorrow. Of course, we easily could be there by this afternoon if we stopped going off the road to hunt for xp,” Rory looked up from his pack as he spoke.
“I’m for that. My back is killing me,” Jack groaned.

It turned out trudging eleven miles in sweltering heat counted as a ‘march’ as far as the system was concerned, and Layla’s succubus and Erin’s laborer classes got a well-deserved boost from the Endurance task. The four made good time, arriving at the northern gates of Isenmar township a few hours after noon. It quickly became apparent that Isenmar was a good deal larger than Nafsbirg, with hustle and bustle visible on the roads and paths leading to and from the town proper out to the numerous farms they had spotted in the miles between the Fyrwood’s edge and the town walls. Another telling difference was the squad of four armored guards at the city gates, inspecting travelers and wagons as they passed in and out.

“Papers,” the oldest of the four guards droned as they approached. Each of the guards’ left pauldrons were larger than the right and bore an engraved plate that seemed to indicate their ranks. None of them were particularly complicated, the least adorned of which was a single vertical stripe.

“Fraid we haven’t any,” Rory took the lead, flashing the guard a disarming smile.
“Very well, name, birthplace, and state your business in Isenmar,” the bored guard responded by rote.
“Rory Poole, Ely, come to trade goods and pelts, find a bit of work, all that,” he beamed.
“All true, Sergeant,” one of the younger guards interjected, his eyes glowing a pale gold.
“Thank you, Warden Evared,” the older man replied.
“Take these wooden coins. If a Warden stops you, present it to them. You must make your way to the Bureau of Letters by seventh bell when they close, tomorrow. Failure to do so and register yourself as working visitors to Isenmar will result in fines. Failure to pay your fines will result in more fines. Failure to pay those fines will result in arrest and service to the Empire to repay your debts. Am I understood?” he eyed the four.
“Perfectly. Seventh bell. Bureau of Letters. Papers. Tomorrow,” Rory beamed another million watt smile at the guardsman.

He finally cracked the smallest of smiles in return, “Stay out of trouble, huntsman.”

“Don’t worry about us, we’re model citizens,” Layla grinned as she passed the guards.

Erin: I saw that. Leave that boy alone. Too young.
Layla: But he’s pretty. Like a fresh, ripe peach. Just wanna take a bite out of him.
Jack: Let’s at least settle in before you start taking bites out of the guards.
Rory: Let’s just try not to mind control anyone, set anything on fire, or get roasted at the stake, yeah?
Layla: Oh, fine. I’ll find SOMEONE in this city that will enjoy my attentions.

She wasn’t wrong.