Cyneburg

Location: The Road North of Salarn
Interacting with: Keystone

Well it looked like everyone was gearing up for a lunch stop, any more progress on getting out of hostile territory was to be put on hold while the gypsy woman Sana moved ahead on her horse. Something in the back of her head recalled in the morning something about Kyra and Sana switching off on the scouting halfway through the day. Well, she would just need to find something to pass the time.

The wood was still soaked from the storms of the day before, so they would be unsuitable for carving. That said, she didn't really feel "in the mood" for any such carving. The thought to shapeshift and find someplace nice to wait out cooking time or possibly hunt/gather for herself crossed her mind, but as tempting as that idea was, the memory of last morning's fight was still on her mind, and going into a fight without being "fully stocked" was a bad idea.

So she decided to do the thing that required the least commitment: watch Keystone pluck, prep and cook the bird that Kyra had evidently killed. Keeping a safe distance from the pugilist, she carried on the proud tradition of sitting and watching. Normally they would watch over their sacred grove, ensuring its safety and prosperity, but this was close enough. Besides, for a wanderer such as herself, the road itself could be considered her grove.

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Location: (to the side of the) Road North of Salarn, Day Three

Interacting With: Kyra, Cremwise, The Group

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It took a little doing to find a spot nearby suitable to wheel the wagon off of the road, but it got done. There was a glowing and obvious difficulty with the idea of cooking the until recently living bird, maybe others had noticed it. If they hadn't, Keystone took the responsibility upon himself make mention of the room-dwelling elephant.

"Y'know, went me to a place, long while back. Far east o'ere. Folk talked different, ate lotsa rice, whatnot... Anyway, buggers had this habit, eatin' fish out the ocean. Didn't touch it to heat or nothin'. Now, I dunno if you lot want this goose..." He paused for a moment, unsure as to exactly what the carcass in his hand used to be prior to impalement and plucking. Looking to Kyra, he inquired, "Goose? Bloody 'ell..." He shrugged, and continued his thought with the rest of the group, "Dunno if you lot want this goose(?) done up all Maki Maki, but we ain't got a stick o' wood ain't soaked through n' through."

Cremwise, silent up until this point, cleared his throat and uncovered part of the wagon. Inside, there was a tinderbox and various sizes of lumber scrap, protected from the elements. "If it would help get that goose cooked faster, take what you need, Keystone."

Keystone slapped his broad palm to his head in disbelief. This was something he would have liked to know about earlier. Possibly when they were huddled around a barely warm hearth the night before. Maybe the night before that. But no matter, it was available to them now. But time was short.

"Riiiight." he shook his head slowly. "If'n you lot want supper timely, I'll need one'a ya to get a fire lit and low on the quick whilst I dress this bird. 'Nother'n get me a hole dug what I can bury the less tasty of the guts in. Otherwise, it ain't getting done in one quick hour. Li'l 'elp, then?"

The uncouth pugilist began to bring his knife to bear, carefully opening and disembowling the avian. He was set up next to a puddle of rainwater, which he used every so often to rinse off his hands as he worked.

For a short while Ntaj just watched the others go about their business, staying out of the way as they made a makeshift camp. Since they were only stopping temporarily, Ntaj figured they wouldn't break out the tents of tables. Chairs at most. It was fine with Ntaj, he's eaten underneath a rock once due to a bugbear horde on the approach. Nasty business. As Ntaj held onto Honey he heard the pugilist that Cyneburg spoke about say things. But once more his dialect and slang were too much for Ntaj to understand, and he only caught a few words. Goose, fire, guts, and help. That last word, combined with the others, were really all that Ntaj needed to get the jist of what the man wanted. Walking over to the man Ntaj dropped his gear onto the wagon, keeping only his weapons and shield. He still held Honey, and in fact held the badger out towards the man so he could see the sleepy creature.

"Ntaj make fire. Honey eat guts."

With that said Ntaj put the badger with his things and went to go start the fire. Using what he was allowed, Ntaj was easily able to get the fire started. It was a crackling flame, which Ntaj made sure not to use anything that would produce smoke. They were still in dangerous territory after all, and he wouldn't want the orcs to see their campfire and investigate. Though Ntaj did use the opportunity to take out one of his pipeweeds and give it a long drag. Doing so made him get the munchies, but he stayed near the warm fire as his eyes started to get a bit glassy.

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If this wasn't the most normal bunch of people she had stuck herself with, she didn't know what was. Sure, everyone had their quirks, and even perhaps secrets, which she was having a grand ol time imagining what they May have been, but the interaction was seamless and genuine. A welcome change from what she had grown accustomed to.

However it didn't make it any easier to find the right words to answer Calanon's question, or ease the irritation that had come from her being caught up in the tree. "It seems like a good view to keep an eye on things" She hoped that would have given him enough information regarding her reasons for being up there, and perhaps a little more insight. She wouldn't indulge his question further, but she did move slightly over on the branch, allowing him space to join her comfortably. He might have noticed that the tree barely creaked as she moved or how careful each placement of her hands and feet were.

Her gaze glossed over the wagon and all below before focusing on the fire that was made. Her face remained expressionless, and she sat quietly, hands folded infront of her. Part of her had felt guilty for not budging when Keystone asked for help. Slowly, her thumbs twirled around one another as thoughts circled round in her mind.

"Yes, sort of. I mean that's not the direct effect, but more of a..." Oh boy. Satilla did it now. Conversing with an academic type regarding spells and sorcery? While there were various theories and ruminations on the fundamental laws of magics, there was one rule on which all spellcasters would agree on. "Well, the First Afinian Postulate states that all magic has a price, whether directly observable or not. Each spell being cast is something of a disturbance within the fabric of reality, and the ripples it causes both have a rise and fall. The more powerful the spell, the greater the amplitude. And more often than not, magisters must absorb that ripple. Or at least that is what is posited. Some are trying to get around the ripple by deflecting it, but most attempts to disprove the Postulate ends poorly from what has been published. So the effects of my spell are magically-induced fever that usually persist until the morrow, and an attunement of my body to the next stage in the cosmic cycle."

Well that was rather a bit of a didactic. But it is what happens when you want to talk shop with a scholar. Unless the lesson was actually fruitful and enjoyable, but most formally trained magic user would be familiar with the First Afinian Postulate. Although Thomas did end up answering the question at the end, the last statement was unclarified. Of which would be the more important of the two to edify others on since few people have met such celestial souls. A spawn of the sun, moon, and stars, touched by the magic of something far greater than themselves and yet of themselves, to be merely a vessel for your true self for you belong out there. But Thomas was no starry-eyed sorcerer, not yet at least, since he was far too young to begin lusting to leave this wretched place in favour of a higher plane. Give it another forty or fifty years maybe.

"Oh, thanks, is this isn't Coca is it?" Thomas took the leaves and examined them, sniffing the gifted greenery, "I'm not so good with identifying exotic plants, usually have a catalogue or pre-labeled ingredients to brew potions with. But um, if I could guess you'd be able to teach me a thing or two, if you're willing to be my teacher that is." Well she was a pretty girl, perhaps his last comment regarding having her examine him regardless was a subliminal pass at the chance of them getting together? No, in all honesty, Thomas was hardly considering that at the time, or this time, despite what most thought about a boy his age. However, as intent was not intrinsic to words, nothing could or would stop Satilla from thinking that maybe he was flirting with her if she chose to view it as such. Or she could be as oblivious as he currently was, but Thomas has a burning fever, what was her excuse?

A nod to the orcling-thing. Looks like Thomas has a new adventuring group. Success! And oh look someone was building a fire and that cockney-bloke was building plucking a goose. There is perhaps an irony there, as the smoke and scent would probably attract whatever roving mob to their camp.

Satilla Valen

“Ahmmm…” Satilla made a confused sound, wondering what to say to Thomas. She didn’t exactly ask him for a lecture. She was well aware with some effects of using magic… after all her own magic was based around sacrificing her own energy to conjure the effects. For a few moments there she just kept quiet and nodded a few times, before she looked him in the eyes.” You shouldn’t talk too much while sick… headaches and fatigue even caused by magic could trigger the body’s reflexes… like throwing up if you get your throat and stomach irritated.” She said, with a little bit of stern voice.” Just lie there and rest, chewing on those leaves.”

“I don’t know how you know it by, but I’ve seen it by a few different names.‘ Calendine, Boar’s grass and Blood leaves’.” She said with a shrug. Sadly that’s how things were when one traveled a lot. Many herbs were simply know by different names in different countries and different languages.

“Sure, I will teach you a few things about herbs.” Sat obliviously replied with a reassuring smile.” First get better though…” She added, pulling her cat from her bag." Want Skittles to keep you warm?" She asked Thomas.

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Kyra looked over towards Cremwise and nearly chucked the first thing she could get her hands on at the man. Shaking her head she glanced over towards Keystone and understood exactly the frustration he was going through right then. That was one of those things that really could have been wonderful to know a day or two before. "Anything else you want to tell us?" she asked in a rather snappish fashion as she crossed her arms over her chest and took a step closer to the man.

"No, nothing," he stammered quickly as he held his hands up. Krya wasn't buying it. Shaking her head she turned and made her way closer to Keystone, getting probably a bit closer than was comfortable for either of them but she didn't exactly want to be heard right then. So she leaned in close and whispered against his ear.

"Am I the only one who thinks it is about time we knew exactly what we were protecting?" she said in the softest of voices, ensuring that no one but Keystone would hear her. Leaning back and her eyes darting over towards Cremwise as the man picked through his inner pockets and pulled out a pipe and lit it up, taking a few long puffs from it.

It all seemed odd to her that they were this far into the trip and still had no idea what was in the wagon, he kept everything tightly under wraps but now suddenly was pulling out wood for them to use. He could have pulled that out two days ago and made things a lot easier, but no. He waited until now. Sure, they had started this whole thing by being told they didn't need to know what was in it but with everything that was happening Kyra was less inclined to keep everything in the unknown. Multiple Orcs coming out of the wood work, which was fine and well enough; that was to be expected. All these other wanderers were not something she had counted on.

That all compiled with the fact that now they were having more mouths to feed and none of the new comers knew exactly what was up and were in a way at least providing a meat shield if not protection to whatever was in the back of the wagon. Yeah, it wasn't sitting well with the white haired ranger. She glanced around a bit before looking back over towards Keystone and cocking a brow over one eye. "Should we?" she asked, wanting the pugilists opinion on the matter before she just said fuck it and started tearing open crates to see exactly what was laying within them.

Location:The Tree

Interacting with: Gretchin

He had to agree with her logic on that. She didn't seem to be in a jesting mood, and he was about to leap down until she did the last thing he expected and moved over for him to have a comfortable seat. He joined her without comment, silently thankful for the gesture. He sat upon the branch with his legs crossed, his arms up and holding a small branch above, though in truth he'd be able to balance on the stout trees without the assistance.

Brogach curiously walked towards the tree, and Calanon clicked his tongue. The Elk's head perked up, and he approached closer before making his way under the tree. Calanon uncrossed his legs and hooked them around the tree. With a fluid and acrobatic motion, he let his top half slide off until he was hanging by his legs over Brogach, upside down. Grabbing the pack that was on his closest friend and hauling it up, essentially doing a 180 pull up, he felt like he'd make good on his offer of food earlier at least. He made the acrobatic move look so simple as well. Perhaps if he did that for awhile it would tire him out, but his fit body had no problem with the single movement. "Thank you, friend." he said to Brogach. Even without actively whispering, his voice was soft, making sure to stay respectful to Gretchin's quiet mood. The Elk snorted, and sauntered over towards the wagon before grazing upon some grass happily. The Elf simply sat there watching and listening, his keen ears twitching every now and then as he opened his pack up. He smiled at Satilla's offer. It seemed he wasn't the only one who appreciated the art of herbal remedies.

"There might not be enough goose for all of us." he said just as softly to Gretchin, giving a friendly smile as he pulled out a bit of salted beef jerky. "Would you care for some?" he asked, using his other arm to take out a jug of Guaren juice. He took a sip of it, and the delicious fruity liquid slid down his throat. He felt his muscles subtly flow with a bit more warmth and energy. "I've got some drink if you'd want it as well."

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Sana kept riding out at full tilt, wanting to put as much distance between her and the party that was Kyra was with. The further out she got the better she would be able to keep as much distance between them and anything that might pop up. Sana knew it wasn't the best idea to just ride full tilt like she was, it took away from being able to spot trouble and eventually she slowed down when she figured she was miles enough ahead to buy the group some time if they needed up needing it. From the looks of the fowl that Kyra had shot, they would probably be at least an hour before they set out. Lunch was a good thing but Sana would just have to hope they at least saved her something little when she met back up with them come evening or find something else.

Pulling Epona's reins back gently she slowed down to a trot and began to keep a better eye out. The road was starting to wind a lot, making it difficult to keep a clear line of sight, and with the way the wind was blowing any scent that hit Sana seemed to come from all directions. At least it wasn't raining anymore and where she was didn't seem to have gotten as drenched as where they had been the night before. The road only had spots of puddles here and there and was drying up over the flatter areas.

"I would suggest that you stop," a deep voice echoed out around Sana. Her brows rose as she yanked back and Epona came to a halt. This was either going to be very good or very bad. With her luck, very bad. "That's a girl," the same voice echoed about. Sana let go of the reins, her hands moving to grab her bow. "Not a good idea."

Sighing Sana dropped her hands, for now, and looked around. "Well you could at least come out and introduce yourself, or do you have no manners jackass?" she asked rather irritated.

"I'd watch what you say," the voice said before the rustle of foliage could be heard at different points in front of her. Glancing around Sanas lips thinned as a dozen orcs with weapons drawn came out of the forest line and then were followed by something that looked to be half orc and maybe half ogre? She could tell, but she was sure that he had to be the ugliest thing she had ever laid eyes on. "I'm Brezcar, and you are?"

"Sana."

Smoking his pipewwed down to the roach, Ntaj flicked the remains into the campfire and walked a bit away. His eyes were a bit red due to the smoke, and his breath a bit short, and worse of all had a strong odor over him. But none of it really impeded him in any fashion. He enjoyed a spot of the pipeweed to calm his nerves, and in some places at Dark Star, the stench of pipeweed was preferable to the waste one would find elsewhere. Not that this place smelled particularly bad, but until the scent of goose was in the air, he could use some fragrance. Ntaj was comfortably relaxed now, so he felt more confident in meeting these strangers.

Ntaj wanted to talk to someone. Cyneburg would be the easiest, since they both spoke a mutual language, but he wanted to get to know the others more. There was the cook and Kyra, but Ntaj knew not to bother a chef while he was making a meal. Less Ntaj become part of that meal or worse, doesn't get to take part. There were also two people in the tree, Grechin and Calanon. Ntaj could climb up there, but three people on a tree branch was just asking for trouble, so he decided not to bother the tree people. That only left a final pair. Satilla the healer and the stranger. They were a bit away from the camp and seemed to be discussing something. Perhaps it was magic? Ntaj was no mage, but he knew a thing or two. Cocky, he figured this was enough to be seen as a intellectual. So Ntaj walked up to the two, his Animal Totem in hand to assist in his gait.

"Hoi. What you two doing" Ntaj asked with a smile. It was only when he was close did he notice that Satilla had a cat, reaching out to pet it's chin. And if the cat bite him, Ntaj would be fine. He made sure to wash his hands whenever possible. "Cutie. What you name?" Now Ntaj wanted to show off Honey, but he was likely still sleeping near Keystone. Though in truth, Honey wasn't asleep any longer, just resting. He didn't seem to be doing anything until food was out, and if they took too long he could always just go hunting. The poison in his system was long gone now.

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Location: (to the side of the) Road North of Salarn, Day Three

Interacting With: Kyra, The Group

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"Yeah," responded Keystone quietly as he dressed the bird. "Bloke can 'ave the bloody silver, if'n it comes to it. I'm gettin' proper irate at this Cloak And Bloody Dagger cobyankery, 'specially if the man's sittin' on food stores whilst I bottom out my personals tryin' to feed these wankers."

The greater point was not lost on Keystone; they were risking their lives for a handful of silver (which in truth, he wasn't especially desperate for at that time) guarding some mystery cargo, going through hostile territory in the middle of a war. Or the start of a war, at any rate. Merchants... well, they just didn't do that. If he had silver to hire guards, then he had resources to stay put until help could arrive. He had the ability to peddle wares further south or east of Salarn. Cremwise chose to head north into danger. Now the rumors of Undead, something he had considerable experience fighting against, and not always by choice.

"Yeah, Kyra. Fonging well right I wanna know what he's got squirreled away in there. But now ain't the time. Let's wait 'till we're about to move out. Full bellies, attention facin' out."

The sizzle of goose hitting hot iron sounded in their quick and simple rest point. The light smell of tea and searing fat traveled above their small fire as he turned the crisping bird over, followed by the sweeter and more acid notes of spirits deglazing the large pan. Keystone found a pair of more or less even chunks of split wood upon which to rest his cast-iron. Raised from the orange glow beneath yet still getting even heat, it was safe for the itinerant brawler to focus his attentions elsewhere. Like the rest of his team.

These people, most of them anyway, were only with them in the interest of mutual protection. They didn't have any direct investment in the safety of the wagon's contents nor its owner. It might be a good time to uncover this little mystery, and soon.

Cyneburg

Location: The Road North of Salarn
Interacting with: Keystone, Kyra

Well this was quite the interesting situation. Apparently Cremwise, the merchant who owned the caravan had dry wood, but nobody else in the guard had known about it. Whatever was going on with this caravan certainly wasn't the normal sort. In fact, aside from the unusually high concentration of half-orcs and strangers in what's supposed to be a near-warzone, the oddest things about the situation seemed to all stem around this caravan.

Keystone/Kyra/Cremwise didn't seem to be in that big of a hurry (except to get away from danger as quickly as possible for Keystone), so why not take a safer route around the hostile orc-infested lands. She didn't have much knowledge about the political boundaries of this place, but she was fairly sure that they didn't control enough land to make taking a detour an infeasible idea. And why hire such a small group of people to guard it in the first place? There were a few more people her first night eating with this party, but they all left soon afterwards. She reaaaaaally wanted to ask some of the questions on her mind, but ultimately, this wasn't any of her business, and things in this situation seemed tense as it was. So she would be a good little druid and stay sitting, with her mouth shut, just like Dad always taught her.

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She eyed the jerky and jug, her eyes were plain, void of the suspicion that laid beneath. As much as the sight of food and beverage made her stomach whine and want, she had a thing about taking food from others. Watching it be prepared was one thing. But unknown food and drink, well, that's a sure way to get yourself killed.

The persona of Gretchin was what some called to be a "cool cat". So she was very careful not to give any suspicions away. "I am good, thank you though.", she answered simply and added a smile and nod for good measure. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, she wanted to actually. But Lerraina didn't trust anyone. She would be a fool to let her guard down so easily, at least that is what past experiences had taught her. She had lost many a comrade to poison waterskins and tampered rations. She wanted to make sure she made it to the next town with her limbs in tact, her heart still beating and her wits about her.

She returned her gaze to the grassy ground beneath them. Her eyes lingering over the others. "What do you know of this next town? Have you ever been there before? her question followed quickly. Anything to control the conversation, to keep from lingering on certain topics for way to long, yet engaging him in formal pleasantries.

"Blood Leaves hrm, I have a feeling you'll be a great teacher." Curiously inspecting and sniffing at the leaves again before picking off a bit of greenery and experimentally chewing it leaf. Hopefully it would reduce the fever and help recover lost stamina. But more importantly perhaps the need for Thomas to prepare his other spells by spending time in the sunlight. Surely they would expect him to do some magic in the event of running into another group of orcs or something. The greater numbers amongst them were both a blessing and a curse as they could easily attract more trouble. Even that plump bird smelled very nice.

Cats. The cat was out of the bag, quite literally. And there Thomas reeled back ever so slightly against his tree which had supported him from the waist up so far. Cats were terrible little things. Had it not been a serpent, it would have been a cat. For long has the cat been associated with the divine and the profane. Some worshiped them, for they demanded worship. To be fed and cared for, groomed and tended to upon every need, unable to be trained otherwise for they have trained you. A meow to order food, another to demand a cuddle. A purring to give their pet praise, as if to tell its manservant 'good boy.' So why on earth would Thomas want to cuddle with a cat?

"Err, no, no thanks, um I'm not too fond of cats... Dogs are better." Thomas had a fever, why would he want to be kept warm? Oh gods what was that stench. A scantily clad half-orc. That one who Thomas had nodded earlier to, not the other one he spotted somewhere in the throng of people. "Oh um, Na-she was teaching me some herbology." And something just occurred to Thomas.

"I'm sorry I don't think I've gotten your name Miss, I'm Thomas."

Satilla Valen

Satilla flinched for a moment when she heard the half-orc talk to them from up close. She had not noticed when he approached for she was too occupied with Thomas at the time. She didn’t really like people suddenly appearing in close proximity to herself, but she had to act nice… had.. to… she took a breath and nodded.” We were discussing this herb.” She pointed the leaves she had given Thomas to chew on.” Talking about the different names of herbs in different part of the world.” She answered Ntaj.

“His name is Skittles.” The witch replied with a smile and patted the cat. Skittles let out a purr and laid down in her lap calmly after the half-orc petted it. Satilla naturally flinched once more at being approached so openly from an unknown person, but nothing too open to cause any indication that she didn’ like being approached so suddenly.

“Well that’s fine Thomas, my name is Satilla.” The witch presented herself and patted the cat.” This is Skittles, my familiar. So you can expect it to be a very well behaved cat.” She said and then turned back to Ntaj.

“Ntaj… that was your name, right?” She asked, as if inspecting him.” I’d have to ask you to extinguish the pipe around Thomas… The smoke can worsen his nausea and that’s the last thing we need right now.” She said, opening the bag and Skittles the cat nimbly entered it.

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Kyra didn't want to wait until they were underway but she understood why Keystone didn't want to just start ripping things open right then. There was no telling what was under the canvas in those crates and there was a heavy covering of whatever it was by perfumes and potpourri. It was obvious that Cremwise didn't want people to know. So Kyra simply nodded, agreeing to wait until the time was right. They would find out soon enough she figured, it wasn't like the man was going to just go and run off in the middle of a war zone without an escort. He seemed to like the fact that more and more were joining up with the crew. She figured it was because none of the newer additions were asking questions and seemed to be providing a better meat shield; free of charge.

Things seemed calm enough, people were chatting and getting along. No one seemed to be fighting or scoping out things. The scent of the fowl cooking was pleasant and it seemed that they would be able to eat soon enough and be on their way. Ash yawned in the back of the wagon, resting and licking his fur as he cleaned off the blood from the rabbit he had caught earlier in the day. Kyra stuck close to Keystone but her eyes darted about, mostly watching Cremwise. He was fine at first, just puffing away on his pipe but after a little bit he seemed to be getting nervous. "Something isn't right," Kyra whispered as she stepped around Keystone, letting his large frame black of her from view as she unlaced her bow from her back and nocked an arrow into place.

She was right, Cremwise tried to take a hold of the reins without anyone noticing, acting as if he was moving them to the side so he could get better comfortable. It was convincing enough for a moment until he moved them again. It was but a split second later that he yelled out "Yaw!" and snapped the reins against the back side of the horse, it whinnying loudly before the cart took off down the still muddy road. Ash's head coming up quickly to look around and staring at Kyra as it started to pull away.

"Son of a..." Kyra grumbled as she started to run after it, dipping into the forest and up a tree. She was better in the trees than she was on the ground and as long as they lined the path, she figured it was her best bet. Maybe Sana should have stuck it out for this part of the day, Epona would have been able to keep up without trouble but Sana was elsewhere and dealing with something of her own. Even with the cart on the back and weighed down; it was obvious that this horse was a bit stronger and faster than he should have been. In fact at the rate he was moving, even Kyra was having trouble keeping him in sight. There was no reason this horse shouldn't have been able to pull the cart out of the mud earlier.

Herbology. Ntaj let this word rattle in his mind. He swore he heard something like this before. He knew that herbs were plants you could pick to help treat sicknesses, or at least were safe to eat. The "ology" part though, he's only heard that tact onto words like Mythology or Astrology, two words that Ntaj still doesn't know much about. He only knew that the former was something involving stories and the other involving the sky. So whatever it was that Satilla was teaching to the stranger, who Satilla called Thomas, it seemed like Ntaj's language barrier would prevent him from learning. "Oui."

Satilla asked him to put out his pipe, but he didn't have a pipe. If she meant his pipeweed, he wasn't smoking one right now. No, unfortunately pipeweed simply had a strong, lingering scent. Good when you want to mask yourself from the more pungent odors in tunnels or trenches, but not so pleasant in casual company. Sure, there were some pipeweed with more pleasing scents, but those you had to get from special vendors and Ntaj would be lucky if he could even find Halflings, let alone their tobacco. Unfortunately, if it was the smell that offended the two there wasn't much he could do about it right now. A good bath ought to have him smelling plain again, but unless it was going to rain within a few minutes Ntaj had nothing to wash the scent. "Sorry..." Ntaj at least tried to stand downwind of Thomas so that the smell didn't blow into his face.

And as Ntaj was shifting his position he nearly got ran over by Cremwise and the wagon. Fortunately he saw the two coming straight towards him so Ntaj drove out of the way. When he got back to his feet he had his shield and one of his throwing axes out, looking around for enemies. "What? We attacked!?" Ntaj immediately went to Thomas and Satilla, his shield raised to protect them from oncoming arrows. Though he had no idea where the enemy were, if there were any enemies at all.

Cyneburg

Location: The Road North of Salarn
Interacting with: Cremwise

Cyne sat, and waited and watched. Almost everyone was talking in some way: casually for Gretchin and Calanon, academically for Satilla and the new guy, or tensely with hushed voices for Kyra and Keystone. Everyone, but Cremwise and herself. He didn't seem to talk to anybody unless he was directly addressed. He sat there on his wagon, hands on the reins as always. Not only did she watch the people, but also the surrounding flora and fauna. Everything seemed just about "normal," but right as she shut her eyes to yawn, they jerked open with a sudden shout of YAW from Cremwise and the sudden movement of horses moving forward.

If there was an ambush of some sort, Cyne was confident in her ability to catch irregularities in nature, so she ruled that out. So he must be making a break for it. For some reason. She didn't really care about the caravan or protecting its contents, but given the amount of suspicious happenings occurring in the area, she wasn't about to let him run off scot free. None of the others were swift enough to catch the wagon, except perhaps for Calanon's elk, but he was up in a tree at the moment.

The sitting druid became a swiftly flying falcon, chasing after the wagon. He had the lead, and these horses were unusually swift and strong compared to what they had shown off the day before, but hopefully the speed of flying and the thick mud would allow her to catch up. Once caught up, she would try to position herself directly above the wagon before becoming a very large grizzly bear. Supernaturally strong these horses may seem to be, but she doubted they would be able to easily handle such a sudden shift and increase in carrying load.

Location:The Tree

Interacting with: Gretchin, and Cremwise

Calanon blinked, nodding to Gretchin in a respectful manner. "Very well, friend." he said, taking a small bite out of his jerky and enjoying it. The food burned as it slid down into his stomach, for he had not eaten in quite a bit. He took another sip of his Guaren juice and let out a satisfied 'aah' before slipping them into his pack once more. He'd conserve what he had for when he parted company with the group eventually. For now though...

He looked over to the woman when she asked about this next town. "I've not, sorry." he said. "Though most towns in the forest aren't particularly varied. Just people making a living, from what I can gather. I've only ever been in one large city, but I'd rather these small towns to that. They're full of more honest folk, I'd like to think."

YAW! Immediately Calanon blinked, his eyes going from amiable to predatory in an instant. At first he thought Cremwise and the wagon were being attacked, but from how everyone around them were reacting, it must be something entirely different. He slung his pack around his back. "Brogach!" he called. The Elk shot up at attention, having already been alerted to the suddenly moving wagon. Calanon leaped from the tree and mounted Brogach without touching the ground. "Show them the meaning of haste." he whispered to his friend. He glanced back at Gretchin as Brogach reared up, giving a wave, then shot after the cart with bounding leaps, the Elf's eyes on the road ahead of them. As they moved, he strapped his pack to Brogach's back, and drew out his sword and shield with an audible shing. He knelt down as Brogach sped faster, Calanon's hair whipping.

---

---

The sudden jerk in their serene setting had her eyes darting to and fro. As the wagon dashed down the road, like a mad mutt after its meal, her stomach churned. It wasn't so much the frustration of trouble brewing in the air as it was being stranded in Orc infested woods, miles away from the nearest town. Then again, she wasn't ever actually riding inside the wagon. But, in this moment, she was regretting not taking the food from Calanon.

Calanon had already made his way into the shadows beyond by the time she climbed down. There were several others also making tracks and on the chase. There was not much more she could do to aid them. The others were indeed much faster, besides, the caravan running away could just be a distraction. She carefull hid herself within the trees that lined their path. Without the wagon in the way, they were all sitting ducks, but it also gave her a clear view of everyone who had stayed behind.

Lerraina nocked an arrow and took aim at the area beyond the clearing, her eyes piercing every nook and cranny. The hunter is ever patient, should their pray be daring enough to show themselves.