[h3]Jordan, Nabi, Madara and Jaelnec – Traversing and leaving Bor Manor, Borstown[/h3]
Throughout the business retrieving the sole survivor out of all of Baroness Bor's guests Jaelnec said nothing and did very little aside from just being present, watching and listening while shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. This was how he was used to acting and how Freagon [I]demanded[/I] he behaved most of the time – to let more experienced and competent people handle important business and concentrate on learning through observation – but he was unsure whether these people expected more from him.
Truthfully, he wanted to do more. Jaelnec wanted to be more than just a passenger riding along for someone else's adventure, more than someone that just watched others brave mortal danger, perform heroics, and earning gratitude and admiration. How many times had he dreamed of himself in his master's place; vanquishing horrifying monsters and terrible evils with ease, saving would-be victims from mortal danger, all without even a hint of fear or hesitation?
But in the end he was still just a page; according to Freagon, Jaelnec was not ready for more than that. Jordan had been made a squire by his master and had already distinguished himself in the battle against the wraiths and ghouls. He did not know anything about the two women, but they both seemed quite comfortable taking more active roles in proceedings as well.
Out of everyone there, the one Jaelnec thought was closest to his own pathetic place in the world was probably this Tedwyn-fellow, obviously just pretending to be a fighter and a hero, only to barricade himself in a room and hide while crying impotently when danger presented itself. Was Jaelnec not the same, walking around with a sword on his hip like a warrior, only to stay behind and let everyone else face the danger while he cowered in safety?
He was disgusted with his own weakness; though he had sparred with his master daily for fifteen years, he still could not last more than a handful of seconds against him before being beaten to the ground. At this rate he would [I]never[/I] be ready to be named Freagon's squire.

Jaelnec made sure to return the truncheons he had been carrying around uselessly as their half of the party made it through the armory of Bor Manor on their way outside, which delayed him a second or two in catching up with Jordan, Nabi, Madara and Tedwyn. He arrived as Jordan finished introducing himself and was starting to report the whereabouts of Lady Bor.
Outside, along the cobbled path serving as the approach to Bor Manor, they were met by the sight of what was left of the staff of Bor Manor. The three of them they had seen on their way in: the muscular man who had rung the bell and spoken to Madara earlier, but who had not offered his own name, only named everyone else; the well-groomed man called Wade; and the rotund woman in an apron named Kylie. Those three were crowding around a fourth man, who they might surmise was most likely the one called Quintin.
Quintin stood taller than the people around him, looking to be nearly a full two meters tall, with long legs and athletic physique, and looked like he was probably stronger than anyone else working in Bor Manor. He was clad in a greenish brown hooded cloak, with the hood currently being swept back, which seemed big enough for it to easily wrap around his entire body while still allowing him enough room to move. He as clad in a light suit of brown brigandine as well as armored boots, gauntlets and greaves and carried a dull-gray great helm tucked under his right arm. His left hand clutched a war bow, matched with a quiver of arrows on his right hip, and he had a slender longsword sheathed on his left hip along with what appeared to be at least three different daggers.
He looked to be in his late forties, with shortish, messy hair that was half-brown and half-gray, and struck an imposing figure. Unlike pretty much every other fighter they had met in Borstown, unless you counted the baroness herself, Quintin appeared to be completely unharmed despite the tribulations he had been through... which suggested that the dark-red splotches on the hem of his cloak, his gauntlets and the chest of his armor was not his blood.
The three others seemed overjoyed that their fourth had returned, but Quintin seemed a little uncomfortable with all the attention. He instantly switched his focus to Jordan and his half of the party as soon as they appeared in the doorway and appeared to listen intently as Jordan spoke, staring at him with sharp brown eyes.
“Quintin,” he introduced himself, speaking quickly and clearly. “The bandits took our healer to an abandoned farm about an hour's walk north of here, on the other side of the forest. In addition to the sixteen survivors from the raid on Borstown, I counted at least another ten. They didn't seem in a hurry to leave and had several patrols in the area, but it's clearly not somewhere they've stayed for long either. They have horses; if they leave, we probably won't be able to catch them.”