Need maketh kings trade kingdoms for a steed,
Steed maketh fields tilled for planting the seed,
Seed maketh kings with his kingdoms to feed,
Feed the horse for it is a god indeed.

Nations rise and fall, some at a trot, others a gallop. For in the days of old the divinity of the horse was certainly embraced. Though it provided no milk, nor feathers, nor eggs, nor song (although sometimes questionably meat and hide), it was indeed valued as a fine commodity. Better than an ass as the seat of generals and kings, a creation worthy of the gods for in its Duplicity, it was both wild and tamed. The way its muscles moved in full gallop as it roamed free the plains contrasted starkly so as it turned the mill when reigned. A lance to joust, a sabre for cavalry, and even a bow or chariot, the first weapon of war so valued to crave out the borders of kingdoms. And so too was the horse a farm animal in times of peace, and so too was the horse an animal of leisure and play for a foxhunt or pleasurable riding. For in the future, these farseers and clairvoyants could see that in a new age of machine and metal, perhaps it was fitting is to be called Horsepower.

"Exhausted is better than dead. Quite possibly undead too." Now that ruminations on the symbolism of a horse is complete, Thomas chimed up to Satilla's comment regarding not casting any more spells. It was probably a better idea not to cast any spells, but it was easier to suffer now, than to feel nothing later. Although before another philosophical discussion occurs on the soul, undeath, and death blossoms, perhaps it was better to nip it in the bud and just go along with the general group decision to team up with the Orcs. Not Thomas' first choice of action given the Orcs are after all Orcs. Ugly, smelly, and monstrous Orcs, half-orcs were at least tolerable, but full on orcs? Probably wiser to keep them at Sword's length. Enough to swing a sword, and to avoid their stench and general grossness (they are quite large after all).

Right the other person who offered to help him up a horse, as Thomas bade Satilla a nod checking to see if she would discharge him. There's probably some sort of inappropriate joke to be made there but there is absolutely zero intent in Thomas mind at least, for now, maybe if he was not burning up internally. Not Kyra, of whom Thomas has associated with that wolf-thing (nice doggy...), but seemingly someone else who was a leader of the group. Curiously it seemed Thomas was probably the only one with some sort of animal companion (or was an animal), other than that Chef Bloke who Thomas suspected probably either would have cooked his or was in his sack of belongings that seemed to calm him down some as everyone took back their gear and then some from an old sneaky merchant from the broken-down cart.

"She's a beauty." The boy's hand grazed over the mare's dark side. Enough animal husbandry points certainly would mean Thomas knew a thing or twelve about horses, growing up a farmboy and well, nevermind that. Unless of course Thomas was actually talking about Satilla, or Sana. But no, he was referencing the horse, although a boy his age may find either women also attractive and possibly be in their good graces to notify them of such thoughts as innocently as possible. It was certainly not his first time mounting a horse, or riding one for that matter, although he was hardly proficient in riding a horse for say something like a battle or pony-express, he could hold his own on the animal and certainly found his way up as with Sana's help Thomas managed to add a bit more to Epona's carrying capacity as he gently patted the horse's sides with his hands.

"Thanks, fever should clear up by sunrise," Thomas explained as he shifted himself to better seat himself "I um, is there anything I can do to contribute? I mean I feel sort of bad just... It is after all supposed to be some sort of adventuring test or whatever it was Old Wolfgang sent the boy on, and Thomas wanted something to do to feel less like a invalid within the party. Maybe Sana or Kyra had some ideas? Between learning from Satilla Of course.

Somewhere in another parallel dimension a man in green is playing a tune...

Satilla Valen

Satilla helped Sana to get Thomas up on the horse and let out a sigh of relieve, feeling his weight off her shoulders. Her back had started to hurt from it!’ I really need to train more…’ She thought and stretched her arms to get rid of some of the soreness.

Now that said she was hungry like the rest of the group, but it didn’t seem they would be given the time to sit down and have a good meal. The orcs seemed really determined to lead them to their village. Hopefully just for the additional numbers and maybe the added abilities the group had. The other option of the orcs jumping on them and capturing them once the village was reached, also didn’t escape Satilla’s mind.

While her mind was pondering every dark scenario she can think of the moment, she also realized that the orcs probably had a lot of injured if they had to deal with the undead too.’ I must also help their injured too!’ She thought, shaking her head. If she was to be a good witch and not wander down the bad path, she needed to do good deeds and heal everyone who needs it without prejudice… within reason of course. She wouldn’t heal someone who tried to kill her of course… most of the time.

Finally, it seemed like hostilities had passed. Honestly, Ntaj was glad. This wasn't the best circumstances to be fighting in, not to mention the context for their fight would have been... Less then acceptable by Ntaj's reasoning. Killing because of a misunderstanding or miscommunication was a horrible thing to do. Avoiding this unnecessary fight was best, and the only thing Ntaj regret was his inability to really say anything helpful.

Keystone called out to Ntaj and spoke to him, but Ntaj just stared blankly at him. Once more, Keystone's accent and vernacular made his words lost on Ntaj, though the half-orc guessed that it was just Keystone voicing his frustrations again. Ntaj just smiled and wave. "Okay." Going over to the wagon Ntaj hoped to salvage some use from it. He had thought maybe it was still functional, but upon closer examination the wagon was thoroughly ruined. Too damaged to be used as a wagon anymore, and it was nothing more than firewood now. The orcs came by and took the contraband, as well as pretty much everything else that Cremwise was hauling, leaving nothing but the wagon itself. But that's all that Ntaj really needed. He took out the Traverler's anytool, creation a knife, and picked out a choice piece of wood. Something sturdy and long, and Ntaj torn a length of cloth from the wagon too.

With deft strokes Ntaj was able to carve the humble piece of wood into another humble piece of wood, but this one better suited to support someone's weight. If he had more time Ntaj could have probably rigged the entire wagon into something usable, likely a smaller wagon, but the orc leader wanted everyone to leave immediately. So a walking stick was all that Ntaj could make. Not that he needed one, he already had his Animal Totem which served that purpose. He actually made this staff for Thomas. What was a wizard without a wizard's staff after all? That and while Thomas was still weak, he would need something to support his weight so he didn't fall over at the slightest breeze. That being said, it seemed that Sana had allowed Thomas to ride Epona. That certainly would help the ill wizard, and now Ntaj had a carved stick that he really had no need for. "Eh. Just give."

Walking over to Epona and Thomas, Ntaj caught a bit of Thomas's final words asking if he could do anything. Ntaj poked his side with the staff. "Hold stick." Leaving the staff with Thomas, Ntaj went about other business. Firstly, Honey was starting to get scratchy and wanted to get down to hunt for food. Seeing that he was so full of energy, Ntaj could guess that his friend had recovered from the poison so Ntaj let Honey out of his bag and run into the forest. Next where these orcs. While Ntaj was happy to not have to fight all of them, that didn't change that the group was outnumbered and dealing with potentially hostile people. Despite the fact that the orcs had a reason to distrust them, Ntaj still didn't like the idea of being in their mercy. The party was heading into the orc's homeground, subjected to their hospitality and rules, and it would certainly put everyone in a tight spot since Ntaj doubt anyone knew of these orc's culture. Even Ntaj couldn't claim he knew how these orcs lived since they weren't part of Dark Star. He could only guess, and that could just make things worse.

Ntaj walked passed Cremwise, not really doing anything to him. Not even looking at him. As far as Ntaj was concerned, Cremwise was everyone else problem. Whatever judgement they had for the old man Ntaj wouldn't stop them. Instead Ntaj stayed towards the front, slightly ahead of the pack. He knew that the orcs likely just wanted the party to travel with them to fight their battles, and Ntaj was fine with that. It wasn't as if he had anything else to offer to the orcs, and Ntaj hasn't really done anything to earn his keep with the party. May as well put his life on the line so they have a reason to keep him around. With his walking stick in hand and shield strapped to his arm Ntaj took point, stopping to allow the orcish leader to guide Ntaj to the proper direction towards their home.

---

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Location: Road North of Salarn, Early Afternoon of Day Three

Interacting With: His Team

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There was a certain focusing feeling, knowing that one walks forward to the inevitable. Like a mix of being totally free yet utterly screwed, all at the same time. It seemed a eternity since he had arrived in the area, dealing with the fun and open people of Salarn (sarcasm intended). It had only been four days, but it felt like months. He recalled the first complete sentence he had spoken to the militiamen at the ramshackle defenses of the beleaguered township, aside from his initial indication that he was seeking a spot in town because he was, to quote himself, "Hungry." No, it was his more serious statement that flooded to mind just then, from a half-week prior, when questioned about his business:

"Name of Keystone. I'm fresh out of a conflict 'gainst an army of the dead, some many leagues east of here. I need ale, food, and rest, in that order, and you're standing between me and it. 'xcuse."

Keystone had traveled for a long while before that, rarely speaking during that time. It was a fine time for weighty introspection, mulling over the lessons learned and friends lost during his last foray into battling the animated dead and their invariably abhorrent masters, some of which were, themselves, no longer among the living. Whether he liked it or not, he had become a skilled combatant against them. It was not the route he had intended to take when he set out on his journey, years ago. Involuntary, more than anything else - just woke up, circumstances flinging him against dead things like a battering ram.

And here he was again. Keystone was hoping to take a more circular route home, but this... par for the course, really. A simple bread-and-butter job as a merchant's guard turned sideways, as it tends to do when you're Keystone.

Sighing dejectedly at this new turn of events with the Orc, Brezcar, and his team of slightly cheesed off brethren, Keystone shouldered his massive pack. He recovered his large, covered, cast iron roasting pan, still heavy with tea-and-spirits roasted bird. A mote of forethought saw him ripping away a large scrap of cloth from the partially disarticulated wagon and cramming it into his belt. If this is where the Powers That Be are sending him, fine. Upon the hour of his death, Keystone would have a few choice angry (and largely unintelligible by polite society) words for said Powers. At least his people wouldn't be hungry in the meantime.

The scarred brawler fell into step with the mixed procession, speeding up or slowing down as needed to rub elbows with others in the group he set out with that morning. With each, he raised the lid to his pan, offering them a piece of the proficiently roasted animal. It wasn't the full meal for which he had hoped, but it was something. Again with each of his people, he mumbled something quietly, to the effect of what he said earlier, "Stay together, stay whole, right? Rules o' this game's changed."

He handed a reserved drumstick up to Sana, on her horse. He said nothing, but locked eyes with her and glanced around the group, then returned to her with a raised eyebrow, expectantly.

Cyneburg

Location: A trap friendly gathering of the races
Interacting with: Cremwise

Well everyone decided that it was time to pack up, and head to the Orc camp, leaving Cremwise behind, not giving him any further thought. Well if nobody else was going to do anything with him, looks like dealing with the swindler merchant would be up to her. She walked up behind the man and wrapped and arm around his shoulders, leaving her forearm dangling. His shoulders stiffened up and he slowly turned to face her. He knew he had no allies in this situation and no way out. If somebody turned into a massive snake and slowly squeezed the life out of him, no members of either group would bat an eyelash, and some might even cheer that snake on.

"Sh sh sh shhhhh," Cyne cooed in the old man's ear, "you don't have to worry your pretty little head. I hold no grudge against you even though you've made me use up 2 of my shapechanges today and ruined just about everyone's day. It's not really nature's way, revenge. I don't even have any rope on me, so I can't exactly bind you in that sort of fashion. Although I do have other ways. Hopefully I won't have to use them. Now let's get along, okay? No funny business ♥." Cyne pulled Cremwise in even tighter and followed along with the rest of the group, Cremwise looking on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

---

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Sana took Thomas's hand and helped him up onto the horse behind her. "Hope you don't mind sitting wench seat," she chuckled a bit as she slid up a bit to give him more space. Epona was used to one rider and was built for speed and agility, not for heavy weight or work but Thomas wouldn't be an issue as long as they were not trying to outrun someone or something. Looking towards Ntaj as he handed the walking stick over she smiled and gave a quick nod.

"Just hold one," she said as she glanced over her shoulder towards Thomas. "I'm Sana and what is your name?" she said introducing herself officially to them man, she didn't recall if she had been introduced to the group and she didn't know if Kyra told anyone who she was while she was scouting ahead. She did know that she didn't know his name. so it was better safe than sorry at that point to just have introductions.

Looking at Keystone she perked a brow as the food was offered to her. "Thanks Keystone," she said as she reached out and took the meat. Taking a small bite of it she smiled, it had been a while since she had had anything but dried fruit or meat; so it was a nice change. "Come on, let's keep up with the rest," she added as she reached out and gave the man a squeeze on his shoulder. Wasn't hard to reach after all, he stood plenty tall.

Kyra glanced around, keeping an eye on things as they moved, smirking to herself as she saw Cyneburg take control of the Cremwise situation and the look of terror that spread across the mans face. Whether the half orc did anything to him or not she didn't care, but he had earned the fear running through him and then some at least. Following Brezcar they group moved further and further off the road. The smell of campfires and orcs becoming stronger as they moved until the forest line broke and Kyra stopped in her tracks.

There along the front of an large open mouthed cave was probably well over 100 Orcs camped along a 200 radius outside of the cave. Around twenty had long swords and shields. About 30 of them had great axes. Another forty or so had morning stars and shields. Then there was at least ten with great swords. All of them clad in scalemail and looking like they ere ready for war. "Oh isn't this peachy...."

Location:The Road
Interacting with: His friends

The group began to move up ahead. Calanon stood vigil over Cremwise, seeing Cyneburg stride up to the man and giving him a talking to. Calanon gave the druid a curt nod as if to say 'we're ready and with you. He won't leave my watch.' The Elf had a respect for the druid, and thought of her as endearing in many ways. Her manner seemed to shift often, but if nothing else, the fact that she was tied to nature as he was himself was an aspect to admire. Brogach thought so too, judging from the following snort he let out.

A flutter to the side drew Calanon's glance, and he saw Gretchin having fallen in beside him. The Raven gave out a loud caw, and Gretchin seemed a bit perturbed at either the bird or Cremwise. Her words showed she would at least keep an eye on him with Calanon. It occurred to him that he had not noticed her approach until she was already right beside him. It was too bad she wouldn't go into detail on how she learned her skills, but he wouldn't pry.

Still, the Elf must have been distracted, for even the stealthy were often spotted by him. Both reasons seemed probable, and he gave her a warm smile. He truly seemed to have become fast friends with the woman, even if she wasn't one to admit it. He decided to just walk and keep his silence, sheathing his sword strapping his shield to Brogach's side once more.

He gave Keystone a nod as he passed him by whispering, picking up his words with his keen ears as if he had spoken normally. He would keep his sword within reach as they walked. Despite the danger and unknown ahead of them, he had a measure of peace knowing that he was surrounded by a few new companions and friends. The camp that followed however made his almost grab for his shield again.

Ntaj followed the orcs and the party to their camp. When offered food, Ntaj simply took a cup of the liquid. He knew one goose wasn’t going to feed everyone, and Ntaj rather not tease his hunger just by taking one piece. He wasn’t that hungry anyways, and he’ll hunt for his own food later at some point. Eventually everyone arrived to the orc camp. Though considering the numbers, it was more like a warband.

Looking at the orcish horde before him, it brought a smile to Ntaj’s face. It reminded him of home and seeing his own people assemble for battle. Indeed, aside from some aesthetic differences, the army back at Dark Star looked much like these men here. Well, aside from the lack of dedicated archers or range units. Either the orcs in these lands had no faith in range weapons, or they were smart and kept their rangers hidden in the forest. Ntaj estimated at least a hundred men, possibly more if there are archers hidden in the forest. These orcs certainly looked like they were ready for war.

”Impressive. All one clan?”

Of course, the idea that this was all a trap and that everyone was going to be taken prisoner never left Ntaj’s mind. But if that was the case, and that this situation could end up as a fight or worse, Ntaj was doing his best not to panic about it. Panicking could result in something stupid and undignified. If Ntaj was going to die, he’d like to die fighting, instead of getting stabbed in the back because he drew his sword first. Though he did at least keep his shield facing behind him in case someone does have the plan to literally or metaphorically backstab him.

Satilla Valen

Satilla quietly followed with the rest, as they were led to the current orc base of operations. Their hideout for the moment seemed to be around some cave. What surprised the witch was the sheer number of orcs at this place! She had never seen this many orcs at one place and all of them armed as such and they simply only saw more and more as they got closer.

‘Holy ancient patrons…’ Satilla thought as she realized the full extend of the orcs and their preparations. Almost if not all were heavily armed and armored! She had seen towns where the guards were way worse equipped than this… warband? What were these orcs? A clan? A band? She had no idea!

‘There will be no escape from here if they decide to capture us!’ She thought in fear, gripping her fist, holding onto her skirt. Still so far at least they didn’t jump on them and kill/enchain all of the group so that gave her some hope that they would be able to escape death or even worse… being slaves. She had heard whispered of what slaves went through and frankly preferred to die before being one. Her apprenticeship with her mistress was close enough to slavery and she had no desire to go back to something even worse.

---

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Location: Woods North of Salarn, Day Three

Interacting With: His Team

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It wasn't everyday that Keystone was invited to camp alongside a tribe of Orcs. Point of fact, it had never happened previously, ever. The itinerant brawler's experience with Orcs was admittedly limited, though he did have a traveling companion for a while, Half-Orc, swore by codes of obedience and chivalry. Knightly type, as was obvious to anyone who spoke with him for more than five minutes. Keystone had not maintained the company of a Paladin before. In hindsight, he had learned quite a bit from the man, some of which he even retained. A little of that concerned him accepting his role in the greater plan of the world, as directed by powers greater than himself.

If he could have given the gods a collective finger at that moment, he would have. Maybe even two.

This was different. This was a whole tribe/war party/family reunion of pissed-off Orcs, all armed and rather unhappy with the state of affairs between their people and the local Human population. Keystone assumed that, if Brezcar wished them dead immediately, he would have ordered it as soon as they met. On the other hand, a similar group found them in the woods not too long before and they made short work of them; it was possible that word had gotten back to the main group about the dangerous (mostly) Humans that had taken out a patrol, leaving no survivors.

Of course, if the Orcs knew about Cremwise and the deal he had worked out with their people, why would they have attacked? Miscommunication somewhere, perhaps, or was there more at play here? This was a scenario that screamed of a lack of information. Throw Keystone at an enemy, enemy went down. At least, that's how it played out so far. Sometimes he required help, sometimes he didn't. In this particular situation, he and his new group (because let's face it, they were all in this together now) suffered from a distinct lack of information. And they were surrounded by Orcs, more than they were likely capable of taking out without a serious advantage. They didn't even have the benefit of group tactics yet.

When Kyra stopped to survey the extent to which they were potentially screwed, Keystone spoke up. He directed his words to his colorful group of misfits, careful to keep his voice straight and low. "Right then. They ain't taken our arms. Well, your arms, anyhow. We're walkin' in 'ere under our own power, and we're likely to leave that way if'n we keep our heads about us. They're not all that different that the gangs I had'ta deal with when I was a kid. Wantin' respect, gonna jump on weakness if they see it. We stick together, do not show a bloody hint of "scared", and set a defensible camp. They wanna talk, we'll talk. Who 'ere knows Orc?"

---

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Kyra glanced over at Keystone and nodded a bit in agreement. She concurred with what he had to say on the matter. As long as they didn't try to start anything and didn't act like they were afraid things could go alright and they could be on their way in the morning. At least she hoped that was the case. The last thing she needed was to have another fight on her hands. Helping out a merchant through a war zone was one thing, keeping a war going that seemed not to be needed was another. Fighting a bunch of orcs when undead were going to be out and about was just damn foolish in her book.

Sana pulled the reins back and looked around. "It's okay I think. They haven't harmed me yet and I would have made an easy target being alone earlier," she said as she shifted in her saddle a bit.

"You will be safe for tonight, at least from us. I make no guarantee's about keeping you safe from the newly risen though," Brezcar said as he looked up at Sana. Sana nodded, she hadn't expected anything more than that. "Now, who leads this group?"

"Don't look at me, I'm just a tagalong," Sana said before glancing back over at Thomas. "You okay to get down or do you need a hand?" she asked him as she held her hand out.

"Guess the closest we have is Keystone and myself. Not that there is a leader of the group persay, just we seem to do most of the ordering folks around," Kyra said as she shrugged.

"Then you two come with me, the leader will want to speak to you," he added before looking over at Njat. "And yes, but this is just a small sampling of the tribe. The rest of you may make camp outside of the cave but within the line of defense," he said answering the question before he motioned for Keystone and Kyra to follow him into the cave itself. Kyra glanced towards Sana, waiting for her head nod before she followed.

When fate opens the path to thread upon,
The possibilities for you in store,
and since all the others are swiftly gone,
One does not simply walk into more doors.

If Master Wolfgang were here, he'd probably wager that killing all these orcs would give a massive boost to the party's experience and reputation. But then again he could probably cast a spell and incinerate half of whatever it was they had so unwittingly walked into, and another spell would have made the survivors dance irresistibly. The old wizard had a sense of humor after all, and the irresistible dance spell was relatively harmless, if not exhausting. Best done on mass quantities for some entertainment. And sometimes Thomas wished he was just as proficient with spells as his master was. It would make everything so much easier, instead of being such a glass cannon, fragile and weak. Did they mistake his form for being so sickly? Such now that Ntaj had carved out a walking stick/staff for Thomas to use? (of which he graciously accepted anyways, despite being atop a horse making it difficult to wield weaponry and objects of such length without falling). It was certainly no mystical rod or reality-warping staff, the lack of enchantments and makeshift nature of the object would make for a laughable wizard's implement. But at least he could stand up and maybe even whack a few orcs before they decide to disembowel them all. How much is it for a resurrection (not even a true resurrection mind you, but certainly not a botched up soul-infused golem or zombie) these days?

"Um...Err..." The boy flushed rose as he tried to manage the staff across his lap without causing to much movement for Sana while sitting behind her. There certainly was a distinct lack of words as Thomas tried to recover from the tongue-in-cheek reference to where he was sitting, and whatever it meant as he swallowed his hesitation. "A pleasure Sana, I'm Thomas, Thomas Richard Harrison, Master Wolfgang's Apprentice." A more formal introduction with a distinction of being some old wizard's apprentice, which carried weight if and only if Sana was familiar with wizarding circles. Of which Thomas suspect few actually were since, he was probably the only one wearing colorful ornate robes which practically begged for highwaymen and robbers to take the clothes off his back. At least is wasn't mistaken for a dress right? If anything it's not a dress it's a tunic okay?

So back to present company as now there was an actual throng of orcs before them, as opposed to the pack of orcs earlier which had greeted them ever so merrily. All as ugly and dangerous looking as the rest of them. At least the party's two half-orcs would possibly help diffuse cultural tensions, or perhaps they would add them. Then again they were not above using CrèmeWeiss or whatever the old guy's name was. At least the goose was well-cooked, Thomas usually strayed away from meats, but a bit of succulent goose was more than tempting enough to take a nibble or two while riding with Sana. And ah yes there was that issue of how Thomas leaned forward a bit and almost seemed to hide behind her as they approached the orc den.

"I've got one spell that can take down a single target. Well pretty much depends on the moon tonight, just um, point at the one you want me to blast and then get us out of here..." A whisper of a plan in case of a betrayal as Thomas used Ntaj's gift to assist him in getting off Epona and back down on Terra Firma. Not as much a rejection of help but a want to maintain some degree of independence. "I think I can manage for now, thank you for letting me ride with you though um... Even it is was in Wench Seat."

Cyneburg

Location: A trap friendly band of orcs
Interacting with: Cremwise & Keystone

Cyne couldn't honestly say that she wasn't even a bit nervous. This was kind of a foreign situation to her, walking through what amounted to a military camp. It wasn't that they were potentially hostile or even the prospect of being greatly outnumbered. No, what was getting to her were the sheer number of arms hanging around. The orcs had already shown themselves to be neutral/friendly towards the group, and they didn't really have anything a tribe of orcs would want that they didn't already get from Cremwise's wagon. However, given the number of deadly weapons strewn about, it felt like you could trip and accidentally end up falling onto the blade of a sword. Despite this, she managed to keep a neutral expression.

She kept Cremwise close to her and for the most part he kept himself well behaved. He probably figured that he had no real method of escape for the time being and there was no immediate threat to his well being, perhaps if he continued to cooperate no real harm would come to him and he could find an opportunity to escape or even be let free. It was a faint hope, but you had to take what you could get.

"Both Ntaj and I know Orc. If anyone else knows it, they haven't made it known. I'm better with Common and he's better with Orc. Take your pick. I don't think either of us are going to be overly busy for the rest of the night." Cyne said in response to Keystone. Despite her suspicions about Cremwise she was pretty sure at this point she'd be able to leave him be long enough to have a meeting or something if need decided it to be so. Maybe even in a spot with fewer weapons than people.

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She wasn't about to argue with anyone, her goal was to end up at the next town, not in a ditch 6 feet deep. Lerraina kept towards the back and to herself. She had become quite skilled over the years at showing no emotion, and so was easily able to keep a neutral look about her. Her bow strung over her shoulder, her muscles loose as her body moved with the grace of her class. Keystone said to stick together and that is exactly what she planned on doing.

A quiet rumble shattered her silence, to which she realized she still hadn't eaten, not since breakfast anyway. Retaining her neutrality, she reached a hand into her pack, rummaging around for a few moments before pulling out a pouch full of berries. It sure wasn't a meal, but it would suffice until they could actually eat. She savored each berry, secretly imagining them to be chunks of tenderized meat and blocks of seasoned potatoes. Oh what a feast it would be, if her dreams were reality. As they continued on, her thoughts drifted towards the magnificent meal, so much so that her neutrality started to falter and a droplet of drool formed within the crease of her lips. She continued to walk as they walked, stopped when they stopped, but all the while was only half paying attention to it all, and it showed.

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Location: Woods North of Salarn, Day Three, Orc Encampment

Interacting With: His Team

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Splitting the group... this was not remotely what Keystone intended when he suggested that the group keep together. All the same, when the War Chief of an Orc raiding party politely (for them) requests the presence of the people who speak for the group, you go. Especially when surrounded by a hundred or so of his ardent followers, each armed to the teeth and not particularly happy with the local Human population.

Keystone decided to make another suggestion or two to the group. This time, with incentive if they acquiesced. "Bloody 'ell. Right then. Guess we're jumpin' 'eadfirst into this round-robin cobyank, like it or no. Make you lot a deal - Set up a presentable camp, get me a good, low fire a'poppin, an' I'll make us something hot for our bellies tonight, ey?" He looked around at the total of his group; some faces were more stoic than others. Nervous faces could make their night more difficult.

He unslung his massive pack, leaving it with his people. "Heads high, soddit. We're the dangerous bloody 'umans they've been told about, right? We're all we got, just now. Some o' you get some good burnin' wood, some o' you claim a space and look after our stuff, till we get back. 'Preciate, you all. Cyneburg? Mayhap you should come with. You're one o' them neutral woodsy folk, yeah?"

Regardless of his party movement, or lack thereof, the strangely "with it" Pugilist turned to follow Brezcar. He set his gaze to a curious visage of alert confidence, similar to the way he would appear when walking to a ring or pit for a prize bout. It was classic Keystone: part brash and cocky, part reserved and waiting. He was a warrior, no doubt. He wanted the Orcs around him to know it. Keystone made certain that the hood to his masterful hide coat was down, as better to show off his steel-grey eyes and collection of facial scars. He wasn't classically armed, obviously, but he intended to garner the grudging respect of the other warriors in this place.

Location:The Road
Interacting with: His friends

Calanon and Brogach remained close to Cremwise, Cyneburg, and Gretchin as they entered into Orc territory. His keen eyes glanced about every so often, as if he too was an Elk like Brogach, looking for any signs of a threat beyond the impassive Orcs arrayed for war. In his mind, images of violence and death flashed through his thoughts. He had seen what Orcs were capable of. He was certain the clan had to be bigger than this. Perhaps there were far more than they realized in the cave? His fellows seemed to be in awe at the size of the Orc camp, but in truth Calanon had seen much much worse.

"I only recognize a few words or phrases of Orcish." he said to Keystone, looking at the brutes at the mouth of the cave with a predatory glare. "Things like 'Move Forward' and 'Kill the Prisoner,' and 'Slaughter them all'." His voice was as calm as ever, but anyone who cared to look could see the kindly Elf had fled, and in his place was now something ruthless and dangerous. He seemed calm and controlled though. A simmering anger only to be unleashed in dire need. Brogach nuzzled Calanon's shoulder, drawing the Elf's gaze to his truest friend. Brogach was right, he needed to calm himself. He should not judge these Orcs for what others had done.

"I will see to it." he replied to Keystone's suggestion for fire. He let go of Brogach's reins, and strode about within eyesight, picking up as much fallen limbs and dead wood as his Elven eyes could see among the dirt and bushes. He did it in relative silence, before bringing it back to the center of the party and dropping them in a rough pile. "Brogach." he called, and the Elk trotted over. Calanon reached into his pack and produced a small vial of Oil, pouring a very meager amount on the largest stick in the center. His next action was to grab two stones upon the ground, striking them together over the oil slick wood. Small 'crack' noises could be heard as he methodically hit the stones together, until a spark hit the oil and ignited, burning into the wood and growing. He threw some leaves atop it, putting away his things and sitting down before the fire. The Elf snapped and waved, and Brogach knelt before him. He reached into his pack again and produced some jerky he had brought himself, chewing silently.

Nodding his head, Ntaj couldn't help but admit he was rather impressed. He has heard tales of other orcish people creating massive hordes that threaten even well-established kingdoms, but the idea that loosely affiliated barbarians could actually muster an army of that size without quickly dissolving into in-fighting seemed like something for fairytales. Things that a mother and father say to their children to cover up the complicated politics of war. Though one thing that did make Ntaj ponder was Brezcar calling the forces here a tribe, instead of a clan. Granted, Ntaj's grasp of common was already loose as it is, so the two terms my be used interchangeably in this language. But to Ntaj, a clan was a shared family name, such as the Yaaj Clan. A tribe however was a gathering of different clans, essentially the foundations of a kingdom. For Brezcar to call those gathered here just a tribe might have just been a slip of the tongue, but if this was indeed a combination of different clans instead of just one clan, then perhaps their forces weren't as large as Ntaj expected. Or perhaps it was even bigger, and what Ntaj sees here was merely a glimpse of the full forces the orcs have under their command. Likely the latter.

After thinking about Brezcar's comment, Ntaj heard Keystone speak about something. He spoke low as if he wanted to keep it a secret, which made Ntaj antsy. While he didn't exactly mistrust these people, low tones were typically reserved for secrecy and conspiracy. Ntaj was uncertain if he was even suppose to overhear Keystone's words, but Ntaj kept an ear open anyways. Slowly, but surely, Ntaj was starting to make some sense of what Keystone was saying, though it did take Ntaj a while to fully analyze what he was saying, and then translating his metaphors and idioms into something Ntaj understood. Fortunately as usual, Ntaj only really needed to understand the last bit of what Keystone was saying; don't be intimidated by the orcs, and he needs someone who spoke orc. Fortunately there were two, Cyneburg and Ntaj himself. Cyneburg said as much, and Ntaj nodded his head in agreement.

"Kuv to taub lawv hais tias, thiab qhia Cyneburg. Ntaj listen, tell Cyneburg, Cyneburg tell you."

Of course, three was a crowd and four was a party. If things worked here just as they did back at home, and the warchief only requested Kyra and Keystone, bringing along Cyneburg and Ntaj together might be a bad move. There are many ways it could be interpreted; it could make Kyra and Keystone look like they don't trust their orcish hosts (Which frankly Ntaj would side with the humans with), and depending on how progressive these orcs were they may be insulted simply at the presence of the half-orcs. It's not as if bringing two of them made them one whole orc. Not only that, but there was always a chance that the others at the camp could make use of someone who knew orcish. Personally, Ntaj felt it would be best for Cynbeburg to go alone. Her grasp of orcish was enough to hold a conversation with him, and her skills in Common exceeded his own. She would make a better translator than he would. Ntaj just hoped that these orcs weren't sexist like the ones back home. In fact, Ntaj took a cursory glance at the warband surrounding them, trying to see if he could see any female orcs among their ranks. Of course, if they were wearing proper armor, Ntaj wouldn't be able to tell regardless. Unlike him, these orcs were practically dressed for war where as Ntaj looked like he was about to be sold into a brothel.

"If warchief say only you two, Ntaj and Cyneburg too much. Just one or none. Ntaj can stay at camp, make tent and fire, talk to orcs. You choose." Thoughts aside, Ntaj waited to see what Kyra and Keystone wanted to do with him. It was times like these Ntaj wished he bothered to learn more about the art of diplomacy over the art of war, that way he could smooth things out in this situation. Then again if he was any good at diplomacy, Ntaj would probably still be living as a prince in Dark Star. Maybe even a king.

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Sana smirked a bit as she climbed down from the saddle and took a hold of the reins of Epona in one hand. "Not a problem Thomas, you should probably get some rest until the food is made and we make camp," she said before turning back to her horse and patting her old friend a few times as her eyes darted about the camp sight as it looked like Kyra was about to go into the cave to speak with the elder of this army. She didn't like the idea of Kyra going in there but if Keystone was going with her she at least knew the man could handle his own.

Kyra nodded some. "Right. Ntaj, you stay here. If something comes up at least you can translate for the group as a whole. Cyneburg can come with us. Hopefully we can get this worked out quick and we all can get some rest tonight," she said before turning and continuing to follow Brezcar. It was odd to her that they were not taking their weapons but with the amount of force this camp had she doubted they would last long if anyone drew on them.

Sana stepped over to Keystone and sighed a bit. "She's too calm, watch her," she whispered to Keystone before motioning over towards Kyra as she walked into the cave. Sighing she turned and tied off Epona to a tree before removing her saddle and tossing it on the ground. "Fire is looking good," she said idly to Calanon as she unpacked a blanket and tossed it on top of the saddle before she started to brush down her horse.

Kyra looked around the cave, it looked like they had been there sometime. The place was, for lack of a better tern, well lived in. The smell was bit much but after what she had smelt thanks to Keystone just a few days before it was like a tip toe through the tulips. There were more orcs in the cave, lining the walls even as they spread out to give more and more space in the cave. The deeper they went the more dank it smelt and the less light shown. It was cleaner further back and towards one area where they veered towards was what she assumed was the elder they were being brought to speak with.

Satilla Valen

Satilla followed Keystone’s suggestion/advice/order and kept her mouth shut, keeping her inner fears locked as far away beneath the surface as possible. On her face she had a rather emotionless expression as her eyes glanced about the place, wondering how things were going to progress from now on.

Eventually when they found themselves by a fire, she quickly walked near it and sat down, pulling her cat from the bag and starting to pet it’s head. It calmed her actually, the sensation of the soft fur on her palm and the sound of calm purring made Skittles a rather good tool for calming one’s nerves.

“I’ve never really met a great number of undead before…” Satilla suddenly mumbled to herself, lost in her own thoughts. Fighting undead for her would be hard, not exactly easy to destroy one when the opponent is just bones… or a zombie, especially since she only had a wooden staff and a knife. Seems this time she was going to be purely focusing onto support.

Mordykhan's Magnificent Mansion.
For when your party wants to party,
As Mordykhan was quite the party wizard.
Parlor tricks and flashy magic, all to entertain,
and perhaps that's what killed him in the end,
as he never saw his own death coming.

Well it was a good balance of people it seemed, but Thomas could not help but think they were a bit lacking on the close-quarters. Two or three casters sure, but which one was an actual battle mage? The rest he figured would be good with a bow, but if the enemy gets without arm's reach then what? They really could have used a tank proper. A tinman that could be punched around and still stand, and maybe even heal his own cuts and scrapes while they all focus on him. Or maybe they could use a manipulator who could buff them with various arcane spells. Maybe he should have been one of those instead, yet it was not in the nature of his spells. Was it?

"Okay, um, if you need me I'll be meditating to change and charge up some spells, just in case we are attacked... By undead. Yea, Undead..." With a nod to Sana, and using his newly carved staff-crutch-cane the sorcerer walked over to the fire. Fire yes, keep it small, nothing large, a campfire right? Not a blazing inferno that could turn an entire building to ash? Mere cinders remained and he was caught in the center of it all. The pyre cremating everything. Into the dancing flames, flickering about, their orange red and yellow bodies like fairies flitting to and fro. Whatever beauty there was, there too was danger. And what a fatal attraction it would be to stick your hand to grab its brilliance?

Wordlessly he chose his spot, beside Satilla, yet out of reach from her cat hopefully. That wicked beast, as cute as it looked, it was probably just as dangerous as the flames. Yet it seemed she too was lost in a haze of events, and perhaps gazed into the flames or the comfort of her feline friend to be mesmerized. So too would Thomas have to calm himself and detach himself from the world. From Sana, from Ntaj, from Satilla. These mortals here below, they were not of his kind. He belonged with them, his body was merely a weak and pitiful vessel, barely able to contain him. Oh how the distant stars call for their kin!

The changes began. Slowly at first, inside to out. By the next hour Thomas would have shifted his cosmic attunement from the moon to the stars. his skin would recolour from its moon-state pallor, his charm and sickliness traded for wisdom and detachment. And the Light which shone upon him, shall show a different Thomas.