Ivan looked down, biting his lip as he mentally went down the list of things he could do. He wasn't magic or anything, but back in his old village while he was living with his father, he used to pick pockets to help with the costs of food and medicine. He actually got quite good at that indeed. He'd never been caught, to say the least. But would it be a good idea to share that particular talent with the caravan? They might not trust him much if they found out he was a thief. No, he had to think of something else. "I can shoot a bow..." He said uncertainly. He'd gone hunting with his father a couple of times, and had been praised for his excellent aim. He wasn't sure if it was quite as impressive as magic, but it was better than admitting to his feelings of uselessness.

"I can shoot with a bow. Perhaps not particularly well, but it is a damned easier job than wrestling with horses." The man adjusted his cloak and pulled himself up, "Perhaps we should go find dinner of some sort? I'm doing more sinking than pulling."

"Vhere? You think we can find anything in this fog?" Ivan asked the masked man, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head skeptically. "Beside, I do not think we can leave this... this..." The word Ivan was looking for was 'sphere', but he didn't know how to say that in Common, so he just gestured to the magic dome.
@Sombrero

"When the sun's at an angle, you can find anything in the fog that stands taller than your average table." Robart shrugged, "haven't the means to figure out what time of day it is, though."

Robart stood up and moved to lean on the caravan.

"Methinks we could eat the horse's legs, and he'd be out of this mess right quickly." He added in jest

"I have eaten stranger things," Said Ivan, mimicking Robart's shrug. "But the animal is not yours or mine. It is the caravan master's. He would not kill it, yes?"

Jameson noticed the uncertainty in Ivan's words and said, "A bow huh? For a boy your age? You'd do fine kid, might even teach Robart here a thing or two.", wanting to keep the boy's confidence up. Jameson then turned to look at the poor horse and then to Robart, "Well... If we don't find a way to get him going soon, might as well eat him, should last all of us 3 days tops, though I'd avoid those nasty hind legs." He paused for a moment to look at the sky, it doesn't seem like the rain is going to stop any time soon, and he's glad that he's no longer in it. "Also, I'm not looking forward to hunting in this weather, and the fog is giving me the creeps."

Ivan blushed slightly and grinned in an almost relieved fashion, showing a few missing teeth. He was glad that Jameson hadn't mocked his lack of magical ability or more impressive skills. "I took my father's hunting bow with me. If we need it, I can hunt for us... though I would not count on finding very much." He offered, hoping that he'd have a chance to prove himself useful to the group.

@xChrome

"Whatever we decide, let's move quickly. I'd rather not attract unwanted attention with this." He gestured at the bubble. "Thanks for the patch up there. Blood is just such a good reagent as gross as it is." He grimaced at the mention of hunting. Watching people kill things never sat well with him.

"Healing isn't my forté." Baldur said, keeping his back turned towards Jameson still as he collected sticks. This whole situation was going downhill fast and to make matters worse he was stuck with a bunch of goody two shoes who were trying to get a lame horse out of the mud. This trip was going so perfectly until they got to this mudded area.

Eventually Baldur got enough sticks together just in time to see one of the other Caravan passengers create a large force field over the group.

"Show off.." Baldur thought to himself as he arranged his sticks in a campfire like position and lit them aflame using his own magics. It wasn't some spectacular fire but instead a small steady stream that he used to begin to dry the sticks and eventually get a decent fire going. "Any of you that don't intend to keep wasting time with the horse, how about you help me get some more wood for the fire." Baldur said as he went out to collect some bigger looking logs for his fire.

"Geez gramps, no need to be so grumpy. Your magic kept us entertained for a day or two too." said Jameson jestingly. Jameson stood by the fire to warm himself up a bit, though it wasn't doing much help, he was just slightly drier than before. "I suppose I'll help ya gramps, don't want you breaking your back out there. Besides, this little fire isn't doing much in this weather." said Jameson as he followed Baldur out the dome.

One step out of the dome and he felt the rain falling on his hat again and he gave a little sigh. Jameson picked up speed and walked beside Baldur, keeping his eyes out for bigger logs along the way. "I take it that you plan on staying here until the rain stops? That magic dome might keep the rain out, but I can't say the same for other creatures..." said Jameson in a hushed tone as he surveyed their surroundings.

"I'm just trying make things a little comfier while the others try to carve that horse out of the ground." Baldur said as he spotted a small bunch of sticks and began walking towards it. It wasn't logs but it might help keep the fire going a little while longer. Baldur noted that Jameson kept calling him gramps which he really did not appreciate. He was liking this group less and less.

Ivan started to cough again, this time a bit more harshly. He paced aimlessly back and forth while Baldur made a fire, wondering if he could offer any assistance. He said nothing, deciding to wait to be asked to do something instead of volunteering.

Raven looked up at the dome.

"That was handy. Haha! Guess we could've stopped and done that an hour or two ago and the horse would've been fine" He looked down at the injured animal that by now was most likely freed with three or more men bringing it out of the mud. "You know what would be great right now? A healing spell for horses. But it looks like nobody here has one, which kinda sucks a lot. If we're gonna kill it, well, I'm not gonna do it. There's no way I'm gonna punch a horse to death with spiked gauntlets."

"Perhaps," said Robart, "That job would best be left to the person who owns the big hammer in the back of the wagon."

The knight turned to the caravan master, folding his arms, "If there's nothing we can do for 'im, just say the word and the horse won't ever have to know it hit him."

Trip Day 3, Morning - All Characters

Rainy as it was before, the clouds above managed to become deeper, darker, and considerably wetter, with the rain showing no sign of letting up anytime soon. Fog and rain relentlessly hammered the forest, accompanied by a growing wind coming down from the north. Though it was only morning, it was dark enough to be late evening. Rain and wind were the best indicators; nobody could see the sky through the increasingly dense fog...


Caravan Group

The rain came down with a wrath unseen in the South, battering the dome with the fury of a hail of arrows. The caravan master and those assisting him managed to get the horse up, who was taking the whole affair rather well given his broken front legs.
"He's the only u'n who ca- bloody-"

The horse fell with an almost human scream in the direction of the caravan driver, who barely avoided being crushed but found his feet planted a foot under the mud by a horse that was now screaming in pain.

"Bloody hells! Damn horse inni't goin' to last longer! Gimme the-" He grabbed at the inside of his cloak, pulling out a short silver dagger. "...I'm sorry..." he choked out as he pulled the horses head near him and plunged the blade into the middle of the animal's skull.

He held the horse as it died, clutching it tightly for several seconds before slowly pulling out the blade red with blood and laying it into the mud. Waving away anyone who would have helped him, he extracted his legs from the mud, black boots now entirely brown with a little red on them as well. "...13 years..." he muttered as he stood unsteadily, picking up the knife and putting it back in his completely dirty cloak without cleaning it off. Squinting to the road ahead, he pointed and said "There".

'There', in the fog, still distant yet coming closer, was a distinct beam of yellow held by a dark silhouette.

Forest Group
As the two conversed in the relentless pounding of heavier rain and deeper fog, the almost human scream of the horse reached their ears.

Ivan turned away and covered his ears as the horse screamed, squeezing his eyes shut as the blade sunk into the animal's skull. He'd killed animals himself before, but he hated to watch them die in such pain. He cleared his throat a few times, his lungs rattling a bit as he took a deep breath and tried to move on from the horse's death. It was clear the caravan master cared deeply for the horse. It wasn't quite the same as the wild deer he killed... this was an animal that was raised and loved.

Raven's face seemed to turn sour, and he looked away. "It was for the best, the poor beast wasn't going to get any better. Better to end its suffering now..." he thought to himself. With a "fwip" noise, he put his jacket back on now that Ivan had removed it and put his gauntlets back on. Walking over to the fire and sitting down next to it, Raven pondered on how to make further progress north.

Robart kept his eyes trained on the incoming stranger, cloak sinking around his shoulder and hiding the hand that rested ready to draw his sword. Surely travellers with lanterns were a common occurrence and innocent enough, but they were far from out of war-torn borders, and highwaymen were a likely occurrence in any populated region, perhaps no matter how far north you went.

Whether their unlucky streak was about to continue or come to an abrupt end, Robart just felt more comfortable being prepared for the former outcome...

"Who's this, then?"

As the screech was heard from back at the camp, without a word, Baldur dropped the sticks he had been collecting and sprinted as fast as he could back to camp. He arrived panting heavily as he saw that the group had finally put the horse down. Baldur felt a ping of sadness for the Caravan driver but he quickly discarded this thought of pity as quickly as it had come to him. Baldur then noticed the light heading in their direction and got his large fighting-stick out, ready for a confrontation.

"What the hell was that!?" said Jameson as he quickly sprinted alongside Baldur. Back at the caravan, he arrived at the scene of the bloody dead horse. He felt pity for the caravan master and his horse, to others it might just be any other livestock, but to the caravan master, it was his companion all these years. He thought to himself, maybe he should've stayed, would've been easier for the caravan master if Jameson was the one to end the horse, but the trail of thought ended abruptly when he noticed the dark silhouette. "Sorry about the horse, but by the looks on everyone's faces, I'm guessing whoever is over there ain't one of us." said Jameson in a serious tone as he drew one of his flintlock pistols from his coat. He positioned himself in front of Ivan and whispered to him, "Best head inside kid, seems like trouble ain't over yet."