Location:Beside the Cave, The River
Interacting with:Himself, Ntaj, Gretchin

Calanon would have had to agree with Satilla if he could read minds. Things seemed to be calming down a bit more now. He wasn't sure what had just transpired between Sana and Keystone, but then again unless someone outright asked him on a date, he wouldn't know the difference between flirting or joking if it slapped him in the face. He cleared his throat, and decided to grab a bit more of Keystone's food as the burly man went to go do his business.

"I'm...not entirely sure where Thomas is." The Elf said, stopping in mid stride when Ntaj asked the question. He couldn't have gone far, and even if Calanon didn't trust Orcs too much, he would have guessed they would have heard something if things went amiss. Thomas probably needed to let off some steam. Calanon gave a smile to Gretchin as he approached her again, sitting down just beside her and relaxing a bit. "I'm sure he's fine." Calanon said to Ntaj, before he began eating his second helping casually.

The stars were so distant, but the sun and moon were within our grasp. Shining brighter, the inner-self, the cosmic soul which turned and tossed about. Absorbing the aspect of the stars and emerging as the sun. His hair more golden, his skin more tan, and his resolve seemed to redouble in strength. It was as if Apollo himself had possessed him now, casting off the darkness of those twinkling stars. Warmth and Kindness to dispel haughtiness, the original incarnation of Thomas' Psyche. Neither the shy boy or arrogant one was a natural state for Thomas, perhaps taken at either extremes, yet it was so hard to be normal. Especially when you were not normal.

And when his eyes opened, the golden yellow brilliant like the sun, Thomas remembered everything. Every moment of it like watching someone else in control of your actions. Sort of, a different persona at least, as Thomas was a trinitous being. Each bit of him seemed to have their own autonomy, and overshadow each other when the influences drew near. Like how some were called lunatics due to being driven to madness by the influence of the moon. Each phase granted a different perspective and in doing so, changed the very nature of Thomas' thoughts and interactions with the world. For perception is often stronger than reality, as any gnome illusionist could tell you.

Another robe change then, red now. The high-collared black robe was ill suited for this phase which was far more down-to-earth. And now the central circle glowed upon his mystic tattoo. Sun phase was active and a new Thomas ventured back into the group, as he sought to find Keystone to apologize. And Sana to thank her, and Satilla to reconcile with and perhaps explain the nature of his transformations before he slipped into the bashful and uncertain Moon, or heavens forbid the god-complexed Star. Unfortunately Keystone seemed to have gone out for the moment, leaving a whistling kettle-pot in his place instead. Tea was probably a good idea given the pot and sachet of leaves. Strange, Master Wolfgang would usually separate the water with a kettle first, then leaves in the pot as he dictated leaves must be washed, for it was not water that needed to be dirtied with leaves. Or something philosophical like that. Either way it was usually tea first, then hot water, but it seems in this case Keystone had expected water then tea. A different way to go about it, but when you're making tea in a fire directly, there's not much to complain about as Thomas pointed at the leaves and dropped them into the kettle before taking the kettle out of the fire itself and letting it hover above the flames to slowly silence itself. Hopefully Keystone will come back to find his tea still hot as Thomas set the warm metal pot near the edge of the fire to be kept warm but not quite boil over. Although the strength of the tea would be dependent on the drinker, since Thomas did not know the man's preferences.

Sana was around, eating with the others to which Thomas hesitantly approached the dangerous woman, "Thank you, I'm sorry for earlier. It's a bit of a shame for a farmboy like me to admit, but I can't reign in all my horses. Thanks, and if there's anything I could do to make up for it, just give me a whistle." The Analogy was hopefully enough to explain his loss of control compared to the better nature and humbled of his speech now. There was even a hint of rural accent to his voice, a wholesomeness which was not quite washed away as easily as leaves in a pot. With a nod he retreated, not wanting to stir up the pot, but hopefully enough to avoid her becoming annoyed at his sudden shift in personality with this twinge of respectful politeness sans hat to tip. Not bad for someone raised in a barn right? A barn he nearly set ablaze.

Finally was the issue of Satilla. Of whom the boy sat next to, and also apologized. She was the only other magical caster in the group, well, sort of, she was a healer, Thomas was more of a battle mage who controlled the tide of battle by manipulating the positions of the enemy. "Hey, I hope I wasn't too much of an ass to you, and if I was, I'm sorry Miss. Being a sorcerer means there's three of me in this body, and I think you've just met the worst of me. I hope you can forgive me, and maybe Skittles can forgive me too."

---

---

Kyra nodded slightly towards Cyneburg and was glad that it was at least partially settled. Food was given out, people were eating and it didn't look like Sana or Keystone were going to kill anyone right then. It was as good as could be expected. Kyra smirked as Sana choked on her food when Keystone made his little announcement.

"Just take that shit down wind!" Kyra called out as she moved over to Sana and patted her on the back to help "de-choke" the poor gypsy. Sana coughed a few more times before looking up at Kyra and giving her a bit of a disillusioned sigh and head shake.

"Well that wasn't what I was expecting," she said before pushing her bowl aside, she had suddenly lost her appetite.

"Doubt it was what anyone was expecting," Kyra chuckled as she rested her bowl next to Sana's, feeling about the same on the matter of food right then. Glancing over as Thomas came back after other had asked where he had been, bracing herself for the worst but thankfully it wasn't needed. The man apologized.

"Yeah, well make sure to do the same for Keystone, cause I might not be around next time to hold him back," she said quickly before standing up and wandering over to her horse Epona. Kyra rubbed her face a bit before looking around at the group.

"Well, alrighty then. I suggest everyone finishes eating and then try to get some sleep. Seems we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," she suggested before following Sana and having a seat next to her old friend. The two of them going back to their hushed whispers that they had done the night before, it didn't seem like anything, more like they were trying to catch up still since the last time they had seen each other.

Cyneburg

Location: The Makeshift Camp
Interacting with: Satilla

Cyne was eating too much and too quickly to have really paid much attention to what was being said by anyone around the campfire beyond the subconscious level. And she was not eating in a ladylike or even particularly humanoid manner, she would lean down and grab hold of the meat with her teeth and then rip off hunks of cooked flesh like how a mammalian predator (such as a bear or wolf) would consume a large quarry. It wasn't until she had accumulated a decent amount of weight in her stomach that it clicked in her head not to eat like a wild animal. After regaining her sense of human reasoning, everything that had been said up to that point began to click in her head, the most poignant fact being that Satilla asked a question that seemed to be completely brushed off by the rest of the group.

"This is essentially all speculation Satilla, but if neither the humans or the orcs are the root cause of this supposed undead infestation we've been hearing about, then the only explanation is a third faction. I haven't a clue what might be motivating this third party, but they'd clearly need to be pretty magical in nature to have enough power to cause issues for such a large force like the orcs here. Maybe a hidden cult or something." Cyne shrugged, wiping meat juice from her chin.

Satilla Valen

Satilla raised an eyebrow as Thomas returned, trying to judge him from his looks if he was to be knocked unconscious or let alone for now. He seemed to have escaped his annoying personality judging by how he started apologizing to her and to Sana.

“Well… you did act very self centric and way too arrogant…” Satilla began, before throwing a look at him again, her eyes softened somewhat.” It’s fine… don’t worry. Believe me, I understand a little what it is to be torn between different states.” The witch said, knowing that she herself still sometimes had to remind herself that what she learned on how to act from her mistress and teacher didn’t have to define her.” Though, you really should apologize to Skittles.” She added with a teasing smile.

“I guess it could be a cult, but still… we will have to find a way to locate whomever is responsible. Otherwise tide of undead will never really stop no matter how many are purged.” She stated, throwing a look at Kyra.” Yes, you are right, miss Kyra." Satilla stated, finishing her meal.

“Come, Skittles.” She called as the cat jumped next to her. With her cat next to her, Satilla found a nice spot to curl up in her cloak, having her kitty next to her stomach to keep her warm.

Ntaj just sat quietly as everyone went about their business. Thomas came back and seemed apologetic, saying something about horses and such. Mages confuses him. Still, it doesn't seem like he is planning on murdering everyone in their sleep, though Ntaj couldn't say the other orcs weren't planning the same. While the others may have formed some tenuous alliance with them, Ntaj still felt paranoid about their betrayal. He was also worried that, though the chances are highly unlikely, one of those orcs might recognize him. Perhaps it was self-centered to believe that any orc would know who he was so far from his home, but one could never be sure. A fallen prince would fetch a high price for anyone, orc or not. As everyone started to wind down Ntaj went to clean his plate and utensils. Clean water wasn't something that was openly avalible, so Ntajade made due with a clean rag from his back. He scrubbed it as best as he could, pouring only a little bit of his own water onto the plate to break up the grease and such.

After cleaning his plate and putting it away Ntaj figured that he should make his bed. The ground was still wet, and will likely remain that way for some time. Fortunately they were in a forest, so high branches were easy to find. Returning to his bags Ntaj set up his hanging tent, set up his bedding, and went to fetch Honey. Having feasted on Keystone's food the little badger seemed sleepy, so Ntaj tucked him into the tent. There was still much for Ntaj to do however, so he went about cleaning up the camp and getting those furs he spread about. They were damp and dirty, sure, but nothing he couldn't scrub out the next time they stop by a river or a stream. He hung a rope between some trees next to his tent and beat the dirt out of them the best he could before tossing them back into his tent.

Now there was only one more thing he needed to do: keep watch. Again, Ntaj didn't trust the orcs, and even if they weren't going to kill them in their sleep they could still try to steal from them. Right now Ntaj didn't actually see any of the orcs since he came back from the forests, but better safe then sorry. Leaving most of his things in the tent Ntaj went into the forest with his choppa, also attending to some biological functions while he was at it. Once he was done Ntaj carefully sneaked back towards the camp, climbing into a tree and carefully moving towards the tree where his tent was hanging from. The canopy was thick from the outside, but within the leaves he could see mostly well. He would stay here for now, watching the camp for intruders until he grew too tired or if stormy weather approaches. And while he really shouldn't do this if he wanted to maintain his cover, Ntaj took out a roll of pipeweed and a tinder twig, lighting it up and smoking while he kept on watch. The ashes fell harmlessly down onto the ground, and even the few that touched his tent quickly quenched itself against the resistant canopy.

---

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

Interacting With: Orcs, vigorously.

---

---

Keystone trudged from their little campsite, intent on taking care of urgent, personal business. He could have sworn he spotted a couple of passable copses of trees nearby, and was confident that he could find them again in the dying light. Of course, if he found them passable, it was quite possible that they were already under strenuous use of the local fauna, i.e. the Warband of Orcs. Keystone's sight in the dark was generally superior for a human, but he did not have the true nighttime sight that their hosts possessed. The possibility of splatting heavily into multiple days' worth of Orcshit after a botched footfall was a concern. Perhaps instead, he reasoned, he should just walk a straight line for a minute or two and quite literally "let the chips fall where they may".

He clearly heard the advice offered by Kyra to stay downwind of the group, and responded with an annoyed, "Yeah, yeah..." and dismissive hand wave. To his credit, he did stop, turn his head about to feel the wind's direction on his face, and shift his angle of departure.

Silence. Dead silence after the tromping of his thick, steel-toed boots faded into the young evening. Not even the war party around them seemed to make much of a sound, curious as to the intentions of the large Human. The quiet deepened, even as the nocturnal insects ceased their chirping, allowing the moment to hang there with glaring, pregnant pause.

A sound finally did issue across the moonlit forest. It was hazy and uncertain, observable for a half second before being drowned out by exclamations of approval in the guttural tongue of their hosts, uncertainty striking anyone not in the immediate vicinity of the event unfolding as to its true nature. The quiet returned, though not as absolute as before. There was an underlying shuffling of leaves over rainpacked soil, the quieter sounds of feet jostling for position. The apprehensive, total quiet returned.

A dot of campfire, low and embery in the evening hour, was the best guess of the central point of this strange happening. It was confirmed very quickly as a murderous noise tore from that very fire, the sound of a great avalanche rolling into a lake of jam; a bubbly, tearing sound that struck deep into the very psyche of many around as unnatural, possibly in conjunction with forces most sinister. It lasted far longer than the lung capacity of a mortal man could scream without faltering, with an emotion of raw, abyssal hopelessness radiating outward therefrom.

Cyneburg

Location: The Makeshift Camp
Interacting with: The Group

Cyneburg finished up her meal relatively quickly and decided it was high time she get ready to sleep. She yawned, covering her mouth but stretching wide, several joints in various places making fun little popping noises. All she had to do was find a good spot to curl up and hopefully get some restful sleep. Everywhere she turned her gaze only revealed that the area was more or less equally unappealing mud.

"Hey," Cyneburg said, an idea popping into her head that she was pretty surprised hadn't come up before. "Can we just leave Cremwise behind here? It's not like he's doing anything." Cremwise was off on the edge of the group, trying to eat in peace as far away as he could get without raising too much suspicion. Upon getting called out he tensed up and turned paler than a wight's desiccated rear end. It seemed like he had been doing his best to stay out of getting volunteered for this exact kind of situation.

Location:Beside the Cave
Interacting with:Himself

All seemed more right with the world now. Thamos had even come back and apologized to the group, or those he had been a tad rude to. Calanon felt the weight of sleepiness overtaking him, though it wasn't all encompassing. He'd been a light sleeper all of his life. He'd have to be, living out in the wild with naught but Brogach to generally keep him company. He used one of the logs to rest his head on, though he did not fall asleep just yet.

Instead he yawned, lounging beside Gretchin and Brogach and gazing into the night sky. He thought of the more familiar forest he had grown to call home, and the villages he had frequented not months before. He'd return to them soon, he knew. But there was adventure to be had here, he was certain. And he dared say he'd made a few new friends worth sticking around for. Hopefully Brogach the Elk had as well.

Satilla Valen

Satilla moved about in her place as she was trying to find herself a better and more comfortable position to sleep in. It took a while until she finally found herself a nice comfortable spot. She smiled to herself and petted Skittles who was curled up against her stomach. The cat started to purr softly and she herself felt like purring, enjoying the warmth against her stomach.' I really need to buy a warmer cloak.' She thought.

“Miss Cyneburg, I do not think that would work... Orcs pretty much know we don't really trust or think of him well. He thus doesn't make a good 'insurance'.” Satilla said after hearing the druid's words. Frankly the witch wished she'd just drift off to sleep now, but it seemed to be taking a while as usual.

Ntaj woke up with a start, looking around. It was dark, though thankfully his dark vision allowed him to see around him, albeit in gray scale. He rubbed his eyes and readjusted himself, uncertain how long he had been asleep. He could vaguely make out words of the other adventurers in the camp, so either he wasn't asleep for long or they were still awake. Ntaj didn't expect to actually fall asleep on a tree branch, so he carefully got out of the tree and started to walk around a bit. He needed to get his body moving if he wanted to stay up and keep watch.

Of course, while there was some conversations here and there, everyone was trying to get to sleep. Ntaj, not wanting to disturb them, didn't walk around the camp for long. He simply warmed himself up by what was left of their cooking campfire, taking in the aroma of their dinner. Picking up a sick, Ntaj took out his pipeweed and used the embers to light it up, resting by the fire. "Tomorrow we're leaving. Feels like I haven't really accomplished much today. Made camp, ate food, walked around the forest... Couldn't even find any firewood either." Looking around, it did seem that they lacked much wood for a decent campfire anyways. He did bring back a few branches that could be dried, but he had neglected to keep them warm by the fire, which was now starting to die.

Figuring that since he failed to bring useable firewood, Ntaj could occupy his time replenishing their supply. Without Cremwise's wagon or charity from others, having dry wood for a fire was going to be hard to come by in this rain soaked forest. So Ntaj briefly went back to his tent, taking out the single log of firewood he kept in a waterproof bag. He would try to dry the remaining wood he had brought for tomorrow. He debated trying to make charcoal out of what wood they had, by decided against it as they would need more wood and more importantly, time. Perhaps if Ntaj was fortunate in this land that has seen war, he could find some discarded weapons that he could trade for supplies. Turning to the campfire, Ntaj piled the wood he had brought from the forest and layered it near the campfire before putting his own log at the center. Coaxing the flames, soon Ntaj's log was on fire and would steadily begin to burn. Ntaj figured he had a good two hours for this single log before it burned out. And since it was by itself, it didn't really produce much heat. So he pushed the other branches closer to make sure they absorb heat.

Assuming that there isn't going to be rain tonight, Ntaj figured that the wood would be usable by morning. He'd make sure to put out the fire anyways if he decides to go to sleep sometime within the next few hours, and try to cover the wood as well. Warmth was an important part of life, and fire, for all it's destructive power, is essential to survival. Taking a few more puffs from his pipeweed Ntaj sat near the campfire to tend to the flame.

---

---

Kyra glanced over towards the group as a whole from where she sat with Sana off to the side of the fire. Cyneburg was speaking mostly and giving some decent input as far as Kyra was concerned. Sana wasn't listening so much to what was being said, instead keeping an ear and eye out around them.

"Well whoever or whatever the cause is, sooner we get this whole treaty thing worked out the better. I doubt either side will fight along side each other but it will hopefully at least stop them from trying to kill each other in the process," Kyra said as she sat there running her hand along the string of her bow. It was a rare thing to see Orcs and Humans working together, hell it was rare to see them not trying to slaughter each other. It did make her wonder just what was going on but she felt they would probably find more out back at the village than they would out here in the woods. At least there someone might know something, if only a passer by.

Sana cocked a brow as Njat headed off, tilting her head to the side she wondered what he was up to but let it be. He seemed to be rather amiable; always trying to help and not causing trouble. If he wanted to go off into the woods she figured he would be fine, she just hoped he wouldn't go too far in case any undead did make an appearance that evening. Sighing she glanced over towards Kyra. "I'm going to try to get some sleep for now, wake me for last watch," she said as she curled over and leaned against the tree somewhat, closing her eyes as she did so.

Kyra nodded slightly, letting Sana do her thing. Glancing over towards Cyneburg she belted out a laugh. "Might do him some good to be left here, if only we could get the Chief to agree to it," she laughed, doubting the leader of the Orcs would agree to something like that but the thought alone made her laugh.

Despite his distaste for felines, Thomas did owe Skittles an apology. Satilla was probably right, he had been a more than his fair share of jerk, thought at least it seemed the girls forgave him. Keystone would be another to apologize to, but the man seemed to have disappeared. His tea would get far too strong and bitter if he doesn't come back. And perhaps the analogy is rather quaint, that something left to overbrew should be bitter. One thing at a time, first the cat, and then the cook. In that order, given the cat didn't scratch him, bite him, or decide to go tear his face off in a fit of rage. Oh wait, the cook was the one trying to do something along those lines. And yet Thomas still disdained at interacting with the cat.

"Well, puss, I hope you aren't too mad at me." A cautious hand attempted to grasp the feline's back. A few levels in animal husbandry would be godsend right now. Or at least they would in the childhood games Thomas used to play with his friends. Before he was casted to be an actual wizard who burned down barns, froze cows to death, and drove people insane. Playing pretend was the best part after all, and sometimes, just sometimes, Thomas would love to be able to pretend he was normal. Just a non-magical farmboy sowing his oats and milking his cows. But there were other times of course, where being an adventuring type paid off. Traveling everywhere, and in the case of the most power of spellcasters, anywhen. Aspirations of greatness, to travel at the blink of an eye by a wave of a hand. And to be very, very far away from where they were right now.

"I'm sorry kitty." A soft pat? Or rub? Something involving the shaking of Thomas's hand upon Skittles up and down the feline's spine. Did that make it all better?

---

---

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

Interacting With: Orcs, vigorously.

---

---

A sound finally did issue across the moonlit forest. It was hazy and uncertain, observable for a half second before being drowned out by exclamations of approval in the guttural tongue of their hosts, uncertainty striking anyone not in the immediate vicinity of the event unfolding as to its true nature. The quiet returned, though not as absolute as before. There was an underlying shuffling of leaves over rainpacked soil, the quieter sounds of feet jostling for position. The apprehensive, total quiet returned.

A dot of campfire at the other end of the wide cave opening, low and embery in the evening hour, was obviously the central point of this strange happening. It was confirmed very quickly as a murderous noise tore from that very fire, the sound of a great avalanche rolling into a lake of jam; a bubbly, tearing sound that struck deep into the very psyche of many around as unnatural, possibly in conjunction with forces most sinister. It lasted far longer than the lung capacity of a mortal man could scream without faltering, with an emotion of raw, abyssal hopelessness radiating outward therefrom.

But that wasn't the entirety of the scene unfolding. The dim, low fire suddenly exploded into a diagonally upwardly reaching, fiery conical conflagration, two feet higher than the bonfire and four feet beyond. The terminal end of the hellish illumination revealed the faces of many Orcs nearby, shocked and stumbling back from the conflagration that threatened to scar them. The point of origin... No, couldn't be. The idea was patently absurd.

The nearly-singed Orcs changed their notes of revelry and surprise to that of looming violence. For a second or two, the far campfire took on the makings of a fistfight in its embryo stages. It was not until a single command from a dominant Orc voice issued that the quiet returned, if only briefly.

This patch of stillness lasted only as long as it took for another sound, massive and guttural, blarbled across the campsite. But lo! In the dim illumination of the evening, this noise faltered; beginning as a ripping trumpet blare, but fading into syrupy staccato, bereft of the raw force of character present in the first wordless, earthy exclamation of the evening. The low fire caught again, but instead of a lance of flame reaching out and heavenward, it instead followed a horrifying trail back to the point of origin. The dim light gave way to a more eye-friendly illumination, as a rather massive Orc's rough pantaloons caught ablaze, prompting a member of a race not generally inclined to the proclivities of dance to engage in an entertaining one nonetheless. The Ritual of Pant Extinguishing ended with said Orc dragging his bottom across the ground in a manner most undignified.

The unbridled laughter of Orcs can be terrifying. Unless they're laughing at one of their own.

---

The broad Pugilist known as Keystone returned to his own camp in notably better spirits, a sense of prideful accomplishment smiling across his scarred face. He rummaged out a ceramic bottle, the very one that he picked up back in Salarn some three days prior, and walked back over to the other side of the cave entrance. In the distance, a person leaning in ear in his direction could hear a sympathetic underclass tone roll out, "...ey there. Sorry 'bout y'nethers, yeah?"

Keystone returned, poured a hearty cup of black tea, and took a small, breathy sip to best gauge temperature before committing to a full savoring of the rich, tanniny fluid. He dropped in a small handful of a something-or-another, gave it a stir, and settled back onto his oversized pack. "Ah yeah, that's the good stuff."

Keystone drank once deeply, and began cleaning up after supper. "Right then, what'd I miss?"

Cyneburg

Location: The Makeshift Camp
Interacting with: The Group

"Not much," Cyne replied, stifling a yawn. "I just suggested that we leave Cremwise here instead of, well, anyone else we have to offer. It looks like everyone's about to sleep and although Sana wants last watch, we haven't even set that up." Cyne pulled her bag in front of her and pulled out her pipe and some tobacco, preparing the herbs as she spoke to the pugilist. After saying those couple of sentences, she stopped speaking to finish the set up. Once she had a decent smoke going and puffed a few times to be sure that everything was in a stable position, she resumed speaking, her body posture slackening a bit.

"If you want to take every watch again, that's fine." The druid paused for a moment and took a hit from the pipe blowing a smoke ring out directly over the campfire, the convection coming from the flames making the ring wobble and morph, as if dancing to music that wasn't there. "I'm not quite in the sleeping mood yet, so I'm taking first shift regardless. I might not have an owl form or such handy at the moment, but my night vision should suffice, especially with all the orcs around giving us more eyes on watch, even if indirectly."

Location:Beside the Cave
Interacting with:Himself

Calanon spent his time mainly gazing up at the stars. Despite his eyes so refined and catlike, it was still almost nothing but a big, dark empty space lit by thousands of tiny lights that beglamoured the eye. He simply gazed up and let his mind wander, his eyes catching in even more dimly lit stars that the normal human eye could not perceive. Beside him Brogach the Elk shifted and let out a low 'huff' as he rested.

Calanon thought of hearth and home, of the villages he and Brogach would frequent. The feel of his sword in his hand, and the clash of his blade against armor and bone. He took another breath, and as the violent thoughts of his ventures left him, they were summarily replaced with the pleasant images of the oak, birch, and elm trees that would be his constant companions through the days and weeks abroad.

---

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Sana tuned out the sounds of those speaking around her. She hadn't slept much the night before and the three nights before that she had spent the majority of the time traveling to try to find Kyra. She needed the rest, just a few hours would do until they could get back to the village but a few hours nonetheless. Thinking to herself as she began to doze off she wondered if trying to get everyone back to the village was the way to go. Sure they had to leave someone behind but the wagon was broken and only two of them had animals to ride, so the journey would be slow.

Kyra ran her fingers through Sana's hair as she watched her friend, listening to what everyone else was saying. She doubted the Chief would agree to letting Cremwise be the one to stay behind. He had used the entire situation against the Orcs and the group for his own personal gain. It would be nothing to either side to have him die. He would want someone that at least appeared to mean someone to the group, other wise the gesture was pointless. "Well I say we leave Cremwise here either way. If the Chief accepts him as the one that remains that great but if not I don't see why we should stick our neck out to protect him on the wall back to the village after what he pulled," Kyra said as she leaned back against the tree.

The thought about what to do was in Sana's head now and like most times when a thought got stuck in her mind it would leave and it wouldn't let her sleep. Grumbling to herself she rolled her head into Kyra's lap for a moment before growling as she sat up. Giving a rather frustrated huff she stood up and dusted herself off. Kyra eying Sana as she started to move, she knew that look all too well. Sana had something on her mind and she doubted whatever was about to go come out of her mouth was going to be something anyone could talk her out of.

"Actually, everyone should stay behind except two of us," Sana muttered and Kyra cocked a brow. Watching Sana as she started to walk towards the cave some she tilted her head to the side as Sana approached Calanon and tapped the man on the shoulder. "Hey, between you and your elk and me and Epona, we could get there and back in half the time it would take the group as a whole to get even half way back to the village. How about we just set out at first light and get this shit taken care of?" Sana said in a rather decided tone. It came out as more of a this is what we are doing than a hey, what do you think about this?

Ntaj was still sitting next to the fire, taking the branch he was using to stoke the flames and carving intricate details into it. He was thinking of making an owl. In the distance Ntaj heard what seemed like rough housing and farting from the orcs. A small smile grew on his face as memories of better times were remembered, but quickly faded away as Ntaj continued to carve his little effigy. So far the wood was still drying, with one side getting warm and crispy, but flipping them over would reveal that they’re still soaking damp. The fire was still going strong at least, and feeding it bits of wood chips every now and again got a satisfying crack.

But soon boredom took Ntaj and he stood up. He started to wander around camp a bit to stretch his legs, but he was restless. Fear and doubt were creeping into his mind as thoughts of betrayal started to rise up. He was still completely unfamiliar with this group, and try as he might to maintain a polite relationship, he could not trust them.They had very little conversation, no real incentive to stay together, and while they haven’t done anything wrong to him, he felt it was only a matter of time. Dinner was nice, but one moment of hospitality isn’t going to earn his loyalty. But he also knew this was unfair for them, as he’s expecting them to go out of their way to quell his worries. He was judging them to do things they either have no reason to do, or valid reasons not to do, and all without telling them his thoughts on the manner. That was the sort of a thing a wizard would do and then act haughty about it. Just the thought frustrated Ntaj and made him want to cut something down.

So Ntaj walked into a forest a bit away from the camp, taking out his choppa. He found a sapling nearby and chopped it down in a mute rage, hacking it into bits. In case anyone was watching or listening, he tried to play off this senseless bout of violence as collecting more firewood as he gathered up the large chunks and brought them back to the campfire to dry. Of course he wouldn’t lie if anyone asked him why he just chopped down a tree for no reason. Honesty was easier. But even after chopping down the tree, he still couldn’t put aside his uneasy feeling and went back to carving. He was almost done with his owl carving, crude as it was, and all he needed to do now was buff out the rough spots.

Laying on the ground Ntaj looked into the night sky. Figuring he was alone (Or that no one would suspect it was him), Ntaj started humming, then quietly singing to himself. “O môr henion i dhû. Ely siriar, êl síla. Ai! Aníron Undómiel. Tiro! Êl eria e môr.I 'lîr en êl luitha 'úren. Ai! Aníron…” Gren’s hand slowly reached up to grasp at the stars, also catching a dragonfly that was buzzing around his head. He crushed it in his grip and tossed its remains into the fire.

Satilla Valen

Satilla smiled as Thomas seemed to attempt to ‘apologize’ to Skittles. The cat seemed to have gotten the idea though at first it showed a rather uninterested behavior towards Thomas attempts. The witch smiled and let out a soft laugh as after Thomas’s second statement, the cat moved over to him and rubbed itself at him for a while before returning over to the witch.” That means you’ve been forgiven.” Satilla explained to Thomas as she relaxed down on her spot, trying to fall asleep.

“Just wake me up whenever you think it should be my turn to stay on guard.” Satilla eventually said.” I’m fine with any shift…” After that she smiled and closed her eyes again. She actually was indeed starting to feel sleepy, maybe it was the dinner finally kicking in. She usually felt sleepy after eating well! Still it was quite fine, it just helped her actually fall asleep faster, curled up in her big cloak. She often had to sleep like this, but usually alone. It felt quite different to be among a group. Very nice and strangely secure.

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

Interacting With: The Group

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"Sodding well right I'm taking all shifts." intoned Keystone evenly, in response to Cyneburg. "Though slapping some thought to it, some of you lot what can see in the nighttime ought work out a schedule. I'll be alert, no matter."

Keystone began putting away his cooking utensils, some with more care than others. He listened to Kyra and Sana speak, quietly at first, hoping there would be a point of insight made about their present situation. As it turned out, the suggestion of getting the mounted companions to push hard and leave the rest of them there wasn't a bad one, at face value. But the big man had his concerns. "How long you figure on that taking, by the by? Sound plan and whatnot, but we've been leanin' heavy on my supplies. Rate we've been carrying on, I'll need to hit a proper marketplace to restock in oh... Three days, give or take. After that, it's all black tea and best intentions, y'see."

He had almost finished putting away supper, minus the spitted foxes of course, and had settled down to spending extra care on a large, covered, cast iron pan. This item he treated with something akin to reverence; each stroke of polish methodical and loving, until he carefully nestled it away in his pack. Keystone then placed his pack solidly behind himself, leaned back against it, and blew out a big, contented sigh. There were worse ways to end a day than with a fire and a full belly.