Well that was on apology done, and now the rowdy ruffian has returned, Thomas had one more to apologize formally to. With a nod to Satilla and Skittles, Thomas bade them to their rest. He had leaves to continue chewing on, although come morning the Fever should be gone. Just a temperature, he can deal with, no actual malady save for the feeling of heat. Meditation helped to cool the rampart magic in his blood, but only the cosmic turns would see him for the better. Also with the number of spells cast and experimented with, he had grown accustom to it frankly, and pushed through the burning.

"Keystone, I'd like to apologize for earlier. I hope the tea was still hot and to your liking." In some cultures, they say there is no problem between people that cannot be solved with a cup of tea. As such perhaps in the cup was hope for their relationship after all, and may the tea wash away the bitterness with its bittersweetness. "I can take a shift too, just wake me from Meditation, um, not as vigorously though." The slightest hint of respecting the man's power came at the end as an afterthought perhaps.

And with that, Thomas drifted back to his seat beside Satilla and folded his legs into a half-lotus before resuming his meditations. A sleeping trance state, where the mind could go through all the stages of sleep without being too unaware. The masters could still keep their connection to the world, and awaken at the slightest disturbance. But the True Masters need not feel a disturbance at all, for it is said that they became part of the universe itself when they meditated. But then again, Thomas is part of the universe already. And so is everyone else too. Strange, isn't it?

Cyneburg

Location: The Makeshift Camp
Interacting with: Satilla, Ntaj, Keystone, Sana,

Cyne looked at the witch sleepily request to be woken up when she was needed and that she would be fine with any shift and found herself to doubt that either of those statements contained more than a kernel of truth. From the look of things, she would be knocked out for the whole night. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Full night of sleep did wonders for your sense of well being. She'd probably get second watch anyways.

"Ntaj," Cyne called out to the other half-orc, who seemed to be content singing to himself. "Are you going to take a shift on watch?" Regardless of Ntaj's answer, she would take another puff of her pipe before addressing Sana's proposed plan.

"And what, pray tell would you two do if you ran into a large group of undead as you were rushing to get to or from Salarn? The reason most of us are even traveling together in the first place is for safety in numbers. The threat is different, but the principle is the same, no? To give up that benefit for speed in a situation where we don't quite have a time limit would be impatient at best. And no offense, we are supposed to be brokering peace, from what I gather of your temperament you wouldn't really be suited to such a task. Calanon seems like a nice guy but I don't know if he'd be able to get much headway. Meanwhile we'd all be sitting here in an encampment of orcs that don't trust us." Cyne puffed again on her pipe.

"To put it short, I think it's too risky and unlikely to work out."

---

---

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

Interacting With: Thomas

---

---

The perplexing young spellcaster was initiating conversation. Keystone was just settling in, readying himself for the last bits of planning and discussion before inevitable rest and nighttime diligence. He'd just as soon not have heard from the boy at all; the topic was quite souring his elevated mood, courtesy of his gastrointestinal victory over the forces of Orckind minutes earlier. Objectively speaking, Keystone recognized that it (or at least the perception of it) was a good thing, maybe smoothing over a rough spot or two within the party.

"Never you mind 'bout my bloody tea, right? But I 'preciate the sorrys and whatnot. P'raps I overreacted a piece, m'self. Tell you what..." the broad man looked into his recently packed belongings, and produced a small wad of cloth. "I'd be delighted if'n you'd accept this, Tommy old boy. Means a bit to me." He unrolled the smallish bundle with a gesture, and held it aloft in the dim light of the low fire. Keystone kept his face stoically neutral.

It was a sock.

The sock had seen better days. It was hard to tell what color it may have been, once upon a time. Even if it were full daylight, it might remain a mystery. The inner footwear was stretched out to a point that most men would find it unusable except in some utilitarian fashion, such as a dishrag or polishing cloth. The heel was nonexistent; a ragged hole that took up space where a heel once resided, not to mention the gaping apertures, possibly rent by crusty, uncut toenails and widened over time and disrepair. To even call it a sock anymore was generous. It was an almost tubular length of stained, damaged cloth (possibly wool), of indistinct purpose and basest of worth.

But maybe it held some manner of sentiment to the large brawler. Keystone held his expression blankly, continuing to present the item with quietish dignity. "Sooner we put this behind, sooner we get to things what matter in the 'ere and now."

---

---

Kyra cocked a brow and shook her head as she leaned back against the tree. "Well considering how long it took us to get here with a wagon, only time would tell how long it would take us to get back. I don't like the idea of those two running off any better than the next person. I think we should sit here on our back sides and wait. We can take off in the morning as well, minus the one person who stays behind. Let those two run ahead as it were. It would be at least a week for us to get back to town, restock, get things smoothed away if they can and back here. That is hoping nothing goes wrong and well we all know shit goes wrong," Kyra quipped. Sana turned and rolled her eyes a bit before shrugging.

"Yeah shit goes wrong but a slow moving target is easier to jump than a fast moving one. Thinking I can't handle myself?" Sana asked, to which Kyra responded with an eye roll of her own.

"Oh please, I know you can handle yourself and that you are a skilled rider. How long did it take you to get here from home? Took me three months travel," Kyra said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Couple weeks," Sana admitted. Epona was built for speed and distance; Sana knew how to handle the reins well and usually made better time than most. Kyra nodded, figuring that was about how long it had taken, though she figured it would have taken her even less if she had really pushed her horse. Kyra on the other hand had walked with Ash, who at that moment was off in the woods somewhere doing dyre wolf things. "I say the two with mounts take off ahead, at least then we can get things started."

"I don't like it but I have to agree. The only attacks we had even with the undead in the woods was the orcs and now that there is an understanding with them, hopefully we can make safer time. Though I think if you two run into anything you should turn tail and run back to us, an advanced scout at least with one of you."

Satilla Valen

Satilla now quickly drifted into the land of dreams. She felt warm and cozy at first, with the fire being around, then there was the cat next to her stomach, keeping it warm also. She was calm and relaxed, dreaming about the little nice things in her life. Her early childhood before her family was killed, her few years when she settled down and actually had nice life. It was all fine, in a way only good reams can deliver, but sadly as it usually was the case, such overly good dreams ended in the worst of nightmares.

She was slightly stirring in her place as the peace in her mind was destroyed by the worst of memories she had. The years with her mistress... the time the villagers she kept safe and healthy turned onto her at the first signs of plague. The flashes of steel... the barking of the hounds...THE HOUNDS. Her breathing sped up as her stirring only increased. She rolled in her sleep, tears running down her cheeks. Skittles realized what had happened and quickly repositioned himself next to her head, snugging against her neck, keeping her warm and giving her a soft sensation of having something fluffy next to her neck. It made her calm down a little.

Flicking what remained of his pipeweed into the fire Ntaj looked over to Cyneburg when she called to him. ”Ntaj take second watch. Wake up when my turn.” As the others may need it, Ntaj did not put out the campfire, though he did move some of the wood away. He had two solid logs nice and roasted, so they would make for good firewood later. The rest were either fairly damp or just twigs and branches, which alone wouldn’t make for a strong fire. He put as much of it into his bag as he could, hanging it off a branch near his tent. He took off his of his equipment, and indeed stripped nude, before crawling into his tent. There he kept warm with the multitude of furs and blankets that allowed him to essentially borrow into his tent. Honey did much the same, sleeping undisturbed even as Ntaj crawled inside.

Though he left most of his weapons at the back of the tent, he still kept his choppa close at hand. He always did; his choppa made him feel safe and secure, better then any armor or ward. For him, a choppa wasn’t just a weapon: it was peace of mind. A choppa told Ntaj that he had the power to do something, good or evil, right or wrong. Ntaj thought fondly back to the day he graduated from his training, and how he received this blade from his own father. He also remembered that on that day, he had a strawberry cheese cheese tart. It was very good. Also honey dipped turkey, and buffalo. Memories of that marvelous dinner continued to form in Ntaj’s mind.

Musing on these thoughts Ntaj drifted to sleep. He knew he would have to wake up soon, but even so the warmth of the furs were comforting. It engulfed his body like water, yet protected him like his choppa. There was only a small hole near his mouth for him to breath out of, and his flap hung loosely open so that he could peer towards the camp if needed. As his body rested, his tent swayed slightly in the wind.

Location:Beside the Cave
Interacting with:Sana, Cyneburg, The Others

Calanon perked up when Sana tapped him, his brows raising as he tried to will away the tiredness from his face as he tried to listen. "Sure." he said, wiping his eyes and sitting up a bit straighter. Brogach even perked his head up as his master spoke. He curled his feet under himself and placed his hands upon his knees, listening to Kyra and Sana discuss differing plans of action.

"Brogach and I are well suited for riding through thick forest quickly." he assured Kyra. "If there's any pursuit, I can lead them away and slip off out of their grasp whenever we need to. Sana can ride back here and report it if need be. If things get bad, I can always even split up from Brogach. They'll just be chasing a deer as far as they're concerned eventually, if we're ever followed."

He blinked when Cyneburg said she didn't have much faith in Calanon or Sana being able to brocker a peace. He pointed to his chest questioningly. "I admit I am more suited to hunting than negotiation, but I don't make enemies easy either. Generally my enemies come with pre-malevolence."

Cyneburg

Location: The Makeshift Camp
Interacting with: Calanon, Ntaj, Sana

"Again, no offense is intended, but brokering goodwill between former allies is a much different, more difficult task thatn simply avoiding accruing foes yourself. And just because we haven't run into any real trouble aside from the orcs doesn't mean we won't. We have no idea the full extent of the numbers, powers or knowledge the enemy possesses." Cyneburg took another puff from her pipe, holding her tongue from loosing the rest of the thought she had had: And thinking you can just easily handle anything you run into just because you've been able to up until now reeks of hubris.

"Although we have reached an understanding with the orcs, they rightfully do not trust us, and I doubt they would take kindly to squatters. But you are obviously not going to be talked out of this. If the rest of the group is going to follow behind you two, I am less opposed to the plan you've laid out. I'll be staying back here anyways, so it's not like I really have a say in how the rest of you wish to travel." Cyne relaxed, leaning back into something a bit closer to a lounge than a proper sitting position.

"Ntaj, I'll be sure to wake you up once my shift is over." As Ntaj undressed, she shifted her position so as to keep him visible in her peripheral vision the whole time without it being overt. Nice.

Bury the hatchet,
May the dead rest in pieces.
Bloody blade and all.

A sock? No, a worn down beaten piece of rag. Confusing Thomas as to what exactly was it that Keystone presented. Just before Thomas got into the swing of things and focusing on his mantra, it seemed there was one last parting gift the ruffian chef had for him. And whatever it truly was intended to be for Thomas did have his suspicions as it seemed completely unlike the man to be giving out things he sentimented over. After all he did chase after his supplies when the wagon started to run like a loon. And the way he polished his cookware with an amount of ritual suggested otherwise. Thus the notion of giving Thomas such an object was either spiteful or apologetic. Either way, it seemed Thomas had no choice but to accept the strange paraphernalia.

"Err... Thanks." Taking the object presented somewhat regrettably, probably considering to wash his hands in aqua vitae immediately following the action, Thomas fuddle with his own pack and decided to place the worn piece of fabric into an alchemical jar. And With that he returned, or rather began his meditation with the nice mediation pillow tucked beneath his buttocks as he closed his eyes to refocus his vision on the void. The stars and moon above perhaps to channel their radiances upon his form. Or not, and let the void take him deeper into the darkness. Into the void, deeper and deeper. Until perhaps sleep may blossom from meditation.

---

---

Both Kyra and Sana took in what each person that was speaking had to say, though both were surprised that more people were not putting in their two cents. Seemed like something that people should be involved in instead of turning a deaf ear to the situation. Yet they both had run into situations in the past when people didn't speak up, granted those same people were usually the loudest to bitch when shit didn't go their way. One of those hypocritical moments that you could run across time and time again. People bitching at people about shit going wrong but always keeping their mouths shut during the times when if they had put in their two cents trouble may have been averted.

Good, will wake you at the end of my watch then," Sana said quickly before going back to her little area of the camp where Kyra was. Kyra was half surprised that Sana was not responding to everything else that was said but it was growing late in the day and opinions had been given.

"Seems we are at a cross roads. Let's just all get some rest and if we need to we can discuss it some more when we all have had sleep. It's been a hell of a long day," Kyra pipped in before settling down with Sana. The two skipping even more of their catching up for a change. It was time for rest. Kyra would take the second to last watch, Sana the last before dawn. And with that the two women closed their eyes and tried to get some sleep.

*Alright peeps, everyone to sleep in this next post of yours - we need to close out the day. Do not take your post passed just going to sleep. Dawn will be posted by the GM.

Satilla Valen

After Skittle’s intervention in her sleep, Satilla’s nightmares did lessen their hold on her sleeping mind, but did not leave her completely. Now she was just quietly trembling in her sleeping spot, grasping subconsciously to the warm soft sensation against her neck that was Skittles. He was currently the only straw she could cling to in her nightmares.

Satilla wasn’t usually a person to get dragged down by her own nightmares like this. In fact she rarely even had those, but the last few days weren’t exactly how her usual experiences were. It probably was caused by the sudden change in situation, by stuff like being actually surrounded by a group of probably angry orcs and the fact they were in a fight not too long ago. Bad memories always seemed to resurface whenever she was in a stressful situation.

Still it was luckily nothing too big that would hinder her rest… much. Whenever her shift to stand on guard came, she'd be rested enough to complete it and luckily for her she'd have help in the form of her trusty companion of feline origins! Skittles the cat, woe the roddens that try to sneak on his watch!

---

---

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

Interacting With: The Group, His Own Thoughts

---

---

The expectant neutrality remained on the scarred face of the broad pugilist as the younger man accepted his peace offering. A second of two after he and his sock parted ways and Thomas turned to pack it away, Keystone's eyes widened and his face took on the appearance of a man trying hard to keep something trapped deep, deep inside of himself. His trademark stoicism was under assault from within; it held on by a thread - but by the gods, it held.

"Welcome, quite." stated Keystone in even tones, demonstrating his underclass accent remarkably in two simple words.

Hopefully, that issue could be put to bed. If this was a just and loving world, hopefully the group could be put to bed, too. If not bed, persay, at least a bit of rest. After a large meal, it was probably for he best. The group began discussing taking watch, turns, and so forth. It made the large man realize that he hadn't actually had sleep in three days; not since that night in Salarn when he got turned down for first meeting coitus by the lady that drew his bath and brought up his liquor. Well, before something horrible and life altering was released. He felt tired. Tired, on top of a full stomach.

One of the few non-martial techniques he picked up in his travels was a Shou method of meditation that was, in many ways, superior to natural sleep. His own mastery of the technique was not absolute, at least not yet, a thing which ordinarily was of little importance. Sometimes though, if enough erratic or conflicting thoughts rattled around in his braincase, it was enough to prevent him from getting into the proper mindset to enter a meditative trance. Today very possibly qualified.

The recent (almost) scuffle with the spellcaster, a contest of roaring hamflappery with the Orcs, the recent, possible threat of the Undead, and the massively unexpected event of making out with Sana, in clear view of everyone, including a warband of Orcs - these were but a few of the criss-crossing thoughts preventing Keystone from fully finding his center. He was always a rather chaotic type, more prone to the physical aspects of combat to the contemplative. But he was getting better.

Nonetheless, the occidental monk listened carefully to the rest of the group as they divvied turns at watch. Unsure as to the reliability of his technique at this hour, he volunteered for a shift, and settled back on his pack. He faced out, away from the cave entrance, donning his hood against the lowering temperature of the growing evening. For good measure, he donned his half-mask. Settling in for the night, he began his breathing exercises designed to lower his respiration and heartbeat, focusing on a single point in his mind; the prescribed method for alert, restful meditation. Unfortunately, his single point of thought kept getting intruded upon by Sana.

Rather, the recent memory of her, surprising him out of a melee mid swing by locking her lips to his. He returned the gesture with vigor, even dipping her in the process. Then he recalled that twice, she insisted upon sitting next to him. It could have been their previous familiarity. But it also could have been something else. Suffice it to say, his center was most assuredly not found, and Keystone drifted into a state of light but true sleep; spotted with particularly ...interesting... dreams featuring his adventuring companion.

Ntaj thought he would have a dreamless sleep as he tossed and turned in bed, but little did her know that all the tossing and turning was actually what was happening in his dream. In this vaguely, lucid dream, Ntaj felt that he could not rest and got out of bed, looking around for something to do. Despite the fact he was stark nude, he felt neither hot nor cold, though he did take his choppa out out of habit. He walked over to the campfire, which was already fading to ash. He wasn't sure how long they'd spend here since he was somewhat aware that instead of the whole group leaving, only two were going to scout out ahead. Ntaj didn't speak, feeling that he wasn't really part of the group well enough to participate in group decisions. Such democracy was unheard of back at Dark Star. But as Ntaj was stoking the ashes he heard a noise, drawing his blade to fight it. But he only saw a fox, who ran away at the sight of Ntaj.

The camp was oddly quiet, that much Ntaj figured. He had expected to hear some snoring, breathing, maybe some sleep talking. He didn't even see Epona or Brogach anywhere. But there was none to be had. Curious Ntaj went to the tents of the others and looked inside, but none were in their beds. They possessions were left behind too, like their weapons and armor. Ntaj started to worry; did they get kidnapped? And if so, why did Ntaj not get taken? It wasn't as if his tent was hidden, if anything a hanging tent off a tree would be most notable (And probably easier to steal too). His only rational was now to find the orcs. Ntaj never trusted them and imagined that they had some hand in this.

But when Ntaj went to the orc camp, they were much like Ntaj's own. Tents were still erect, smoldering remains of fire still went, and their warriors belongings remained scattered about. There were no night patrols, no snoring orcs, not even a dog or war horse. The entire camp was empty. This made Ntaj very, very nervous. What had possibly happened here that everyone would leave everything behind, and Ntaj wouldn't notice? But then he considered something worse: Maybe it was Ntaj himself who was taken. Taken while in his sleep to this false world where his allies and anyone who could help him had been taken away, to be a prisoner in some mad man's fantasy. He was alone by the whims of this tyrannical god, and Ntaj needed to find a way out. Find a way to escape. And the only way to leave this nightmare was to wake up.

So Ntaj turned his blade onto himself, stabbing himself through the gut. Sure enough Ntaj woke up. His eyes opened and he looked around. He was still in his tent, Honey was still asleep next to him, and he was not bleeding from his stomach. "Weird." Adjusting his pillows Ntaj did do a quick check on his belongings, ensuring that his equipment was still here. He had not fallen from the tree, and looking outside he was still in camp. Rationalizing that he had just been dreaming, the half-orc laid back down underneath his furs and blankets. Then Ntaj turned over and resumed sleeping.

Location:Beside the Cave
Interacting with: Himself

Calanon took Cyneburg's words at heart and nodded, though it seemed like everyone was set on this plan being executed regardless. The Elf was quite tired and ready for a long night's sleep, or as much as he could accrue. Truthfully he never needed much, but he felt the welcoming weight of sleep pass over his body, so he lay down beside the log he had been eating upon. His head rested upon Brogach's slowly and rhythmically rising and falling stomach.

He took one last look at the stars as his eyes slowly faded shut. Hands were upon his chest and feet laid out, he wondered then when he would next see his familiar forest. He wondered then when he would next see Safira, the memory of her smile fading in and out of his mind. It was hard to recall sometimes, though when he did it was a welcome sight. Perhaps it was the sleep that made images elude him, or perhaps he knew in his heart that he was not right for her. He faded into sleep.

Satilla Valen

Satilla once more moved in her sleep, curling up under her cloak as her dreams did the usual thing dreams tend to do and turn into a complete mental insanity that made no sense whatsoever. There were the usual geometry that denied all laws of the world, the insanity inducing, but still strangely distant presences, the quick change of scenery and a multitude of all kinds of things that passed in what appeared to be a moments that took eternity and back.

The witch had started in her crappy room in the cabin of her mistress. The rotten wooden cabin hidden in a sea of dead trees. Then she tried to run away as a bunch of dogs jumped out from a small mouse hole. After some strange and not really understandable events she somehow ended going to a door in the roof only to find herself in the middle of an ocean.... that had solidity and she could walk and breath underneath.

The complete insanity only continued for a little while longer as the dogs were replaced by giant water snakes and then some huge fishes... and a crab?” C...” She was trying to say something in her sleep. Her body was letting out some movements as she was dreaming, but every time the nice warm cuddly kitten that was cuddling in her neck, made her calm down just enough to continue to sleep unhindered. Still there was one sentence that escaped her lips in her dream.” Crabs...fear the...crabs...” She mumbled through her soft breathing and gasps from her nightmares.

As the moon reflects the sun,
Usher in the tides that come,
Powers that do wax and wane,
Your cycle rises again.

Shamballa. How does your light shine in the halls of Shamballa. What colours revealed in your enlightenment? Have you reached your inner nirvana yet? Or do you simply reek of teen spirit instead? What depth of understanding do you have to these meaningless concepts? Abstractions of formless words, and visions of wordless forms. Within your eyes wide shut, open your eyes and see. And there you will contemplate if this is the real life, or merely a fantasy as they easily come and go. There you shall straddle yourself the fine line, up on the tightwire, where one side is ice and the other is fire. Awaken to be consumed by the brightness of the flames, or slumber into the chill of frost. How long will you last? Or maybe you're just too blind to see? There the bright blessed day, and the dark sacred night entwine around you to become your cloak and robe. Swirling Colours of the rainbow paint the sky in maddening ecstasy. And perhaps you would whisper to yourself in dark delirium: what a wonderful world.

So what music to accompany this cosmic mandala? Throat singing? Orations? To what tune does the universe dance to but those of a blind idiot who proclaims himself a god? The rhythms of eternity with your heart beats, the cycle of breaths in and out drawing your body closer to the astral plane. What comfort was there to sit like this? But with every breath drawn in more and more of the sand is developed. Sand which soothes and harmonizes the world. Sand that sprinkled over by the sand men, into the eyes of a weary dreamer. To sleep and perchance then to dream. Now meditation turns into slumber where the mind shall rest as the soul escapes.

But enough mysticism, Thomas was no guru or yogi, in all honesty one can only keep one's eyes closed and breathing regulated for so long before you just tend to nod off. And away to be taken by the Queen. Mab of course, unless the sorcerer was expected to slump over from his meditative position and bite the dust. Then there would be a different sort of Queen.

Cyneburg

Location: Orc Camp
Interacting with: Nobody

Well everyone was getting all prepped for sleep or sleep-equivalents, if they were not unconscious already. Some seemed to have more trouble getting to a state of rest, tossing and turning, making more noise than the usual soft breathing or loud snoring. Cyne saw all these things and more. It seemed that their little group wasn't the only ones gearing up to sleep, in the distance Cyne spotted orcs similarly getting prepared to take watch or lie their heads down, the noise from earlier in the evening having mostly died down.

Although the impulse to sleep came over the majority of the creatures in the forest, humanoid or not, Cyneburg found herself completely awake. She was able to stare off into the forest without so much as a yawn. If her body needed to rest right now, it gave no indication of the sort.

Possible insomnia aside, she performed her duties on watch the same way she always did when she didn't have access to forms better suited to the task than her default state of being: She kept an eye on the people sleeping in case somebody woke up prematurely, kept an ear out for noise in the wilds surrounding her and poked at the fire to make sure it was still going. Ntaj might be the next person on watch, but thereafter would be six more people who were not fortunate enough to be blessed with inborn night vision. While on watch, she'd find herself gnawing on some leftover bones from some woodland creature that had been killed by Sana, but otherwise she'd sit and watch until it was Ntaj's turn to take watch.

Assuming nothing happened of course.

Something can always happen.

---

---

Both Kyra and Sana curled up and drifted off to sleep knowing that their watches would not be until closer to dawn. It was best to get as much rest as possible with everything that has been going on. The Orcs around the camp settled down as well but a few remained up, taking turns it seemed like the group itself was to keep watch. The orcs didn't seem too concerned with the group as they settled down to get some sleep, their eyes were focused on the forest around the cavern. One couldn't blame them considering the amount of attacks they had been through over the course of the last month. Though every so often they would come close to the travelers camp to look them over, some of them still not convinced that they were not part of the entire war and the undead that kept taking more and more of their own kind. Talking and a fart was not exactly bridge building exercises, at least not instant ones.

During the first watch which Cyneburg took point on, it was calm. The orcs still settling down during her watch as were some of the members of the traveling group but once most all were asleep it became calm and quite. Perhaps a little too quiet. The normal sounds of the forest were not out in as much force as one would think but with the amount of death that had occurred and such, it wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary. Much could be said for the same when it came to Njat's watch. Cyne would have been able to wake him with ease, seems he wasn't in the deep moments of sleep when it was his time to come to watch. Another watch and things were calm. Njat's watch went mostly the same way as Cyneburg's and waking Satilla was rather uncomplicated.

Sat's watch begins the same as the other two but what happens then... Well, I'll let her tell you.

Satilla Valen

“Mmmhhh...” Satilla made a quiet sound as she was making herself more comfortable in her sitting position by the fire. It's been a while and now it was her turn to stand watch. Now that she got some quick sleep (as crazy as the dreams she barely could remember now were) she felt rather rested... well at least mostly. She had her warm cloak on, and her trusty friend Skittles was in her lap, purring softly as she stroked his neck.

It took a little while and just as Satilla thought everything was going to be a nice and quiet, Skittles started to act irritated, constantly looking left and right. Satilla in return also started to be concerned as she knew her little kitty didn't get edgy for nothing. After a little more she started to hear some noises through the forest. With a gulp she quickly stood up and slowly walked towards the sounds as careful as she can to find out what this noise was about. Skittle was clearly on edge, hissing quietly as she walked, still holding him in her arms.

Eventually she saw it... them... She gulped this time in fear and took a step back before suddenly spinning on heel and making a dash backwards for it. She took a deep breath and then let out a scream.” UNDEAD! UNDEAD ARE UPON US!!!” She screamed trying to wake as many people as she can, before reaching the campfire.” WAKE UP!!! THE UNDEAD ARE HERE!” She shouted, starting to wake people up!

---

---

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Night, middle of
Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky
General Ambiance: AAAAAAAHHH!!!
Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave

The clouds had long parted, allowing the cool, comforting light of a large, gibbous moon to dimly illuminate the patch of ground nearest the cave entrance. The stars added their own comforting twinkle to their piece of earth around them, mingling with the warmer orange glow of campfire embers. While not the proper lighting to pen one's memoirs, there is barely enough for a reasonably sighted Human to be aware of their surroundings, if not amazingly happy about it. The luckier races, gifted with the ability to see with less restriction in the dim light, have a more favorable vantage in the still night.

The serenity of the late evening was pierced by the sound of a familiar female voice, speaking the Common tongue of the continent. Correction, screaming the Common tongue of the continent. The specifics of what she is saying are lost at first, such was her alarm, but the last sentence comes through loud, clear, and without room for interpretation.

"WAKE UP!!! THE UNDEAD ARE HERE!”

And indeed they were. The second that Satilla reached the group's campsite and began her attempt to rouse her companions, the first of them could be seen emerging from the thicker treeline, advancing upon the encampment. At first, all one could detect was a hollow, slithering sound, as if bundles of sticks were being drug through thick leaves, clacking against the ground and each other. As the illumination from the various light sources struck the source of these noises, now in the sparser flora around the cave, the cause was obvious.

Meatless frames and hollow eyesockets of grey-white bone, assembled and fully articulated, advanced upon the group's position. A great many skeletons, thirty at least (likely more), rattled and stomped forward. Each bore a weapon of some kind, in various states of neglect or disrepair, although a few of them sported something shiny and newer. Those that were humanoid, anyway. Some five of the skeletons were quadrupedal; cattle maybe, judging by the horns. They stay toward the back of the press of bones and steel, but still march forward. The astute observer would note that the bipedal, weapon wielding skeletons do not appear to be of the same race. Some of them appear to be standard Human, while others are broader, with wide set jaws and prominent lower tusks common to the group's present hosts. Though they advance more or less evenly, ten of them seem to take decided interest in the group’s campsite. One of the undead bulls is among their number.

From the thicker trees, only two things could be readily observed: An odd, reddish mist hovered, glowing slightly in the night, and devious, sourceless laughter sounded from the darkness deeper in. The disconcerting echo aside, it sounded quite human.

The skeletons are all armed for close combat, and advancing at a march, not a run. They will be within melee range by the beginning of the next round. It can be easily guessed that while they represent the immediate threat, they are not the only threat. Satilla is the only one in the party awake and active, and as such takes initiative.