Epsir

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

The cart driver shrugged and said "I'm driving up into Loenn to take care of some business. Far overdue, 'specially after that spot of trouble in Aldrun today." He looked back at the town with something resembling ire before looking back to the party, waiting for them to board. Loenn wasn't far away, situated just beyond the mountain pass the party had been working towards to begin with. One of many towns thrust up against the northern mountains, most of which evolved outposts with a long heritage of independent action.

Johnathon nodded at Griff. "I've got some fabric scissors in my bag. We'll cut it into ribbons if we have to and that should be enough for a cover." He didn't sound quite convinced himself, a few bolts of cloth weren't much and even John knew that. It's better than nothing, he reminded himself. As Crom approached the cart he turned and clambered up the ladder as fast as his shaking hands could take him. He took a knee by the top of the ladder, and offered his hand down to Crom. As he looked down, he started to realize that him attempting to pull up somebody like Crom was a bit of a futile effort, but he owed him at least that. The hooded passenger that had lowered the ladder knelt beside John, and also offered a hand down, something that lent a considerable amount of relief to the patchwork man.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

John froze as Adrian walked off towards Soah, and apparently joined the man. They marched off, away from them. That boy's convictions were stronger than theirs, that's for sure. In a morbid way, it put his mind at ease: everyone was getting what they wanted. He couldn't smile at that, he still felt the same as when he'd agreed with Adrian. I'm not here to choose between fair and right, he decided and looked down. The werewolf frightened him anyway. Fair was everyone walking away alive, where they walked and what to was something outside of his reach. There he stood, letting a young man walk away with a monster because there was a free ride in it for him. His gaze traveled up, weakly, almost reluctant to set upon the two figures marching away when he noticed Crom again. The wounded man, that was right. They had to get him to a doctor before he was bled dry, and two people walking into the wild wasn't his concern when he had a life to save, right? He swallowed and looked up at Griff and Crom. "I'm going with Crom to get him help." He looked around, noticing all at once at how empty the surroundings seemed now. "Are you coming along, Griff?" He honestly didn't know who had a reason to stay for what anymore. He did know that he liked the idea of having someone else who was armed aboard the cart, even if it was immeasurably safer than traveling on foot by itself. Behind him, the cart driver watched Adrian leave for a moment, before performing another check up and down the road. There were a few other roadgoers in sight from here, all black dots in the distance, most working towards one mountain pass or the other.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

Yeah sure, the party seems to be splitting so waiting until that sort of blows over or settles down might be a good idea.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

Accepted, Chazbarry, feel free to hop in wherever you see fit.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

The merchant's eyes quickly flashed over to Soah as the man got himself up and walked away from the group. He looked up and down the road again, craning to look back over the people aboard the cart. Apparently satisfied, he looked back to Crom and spoke, "Name's Marcus Wheeler. You should climb on, get into town quicker on a cart." His voice was gruff but the invitation carried warmth. He set the reins down and wrung his hands, looking over the rest of the group. He stopped on Griff for a moment, seeming to consider the man's armament for a second before continuing. "That goes for you all too, 'course. The more the merrier, right?" He chuckled and some of the travelers aboard shuffled at their posts. They were a colorless group, all cloaked in earthen tones, a common choice in clothing but consistent across all four of them. One of them, hooded, stood up and crossed the payload of crates to kick a loading ladder down from the side of the cart. Its feet landed softly in the snow, and the ladder offered an easier way up than scaling the sides of the cart. He waited patiently for a reply, picking his reins back up and continuing his vigil over the roads.

Johnathon was outright surprised to see Soah get up and walk away. With the punishment he had taken, walking away without consequence seemed impossible to John, just another entry on a list of things he'd seen the man do in such a short time. That list and the man attached to it scared John deeply. Coming from the heartlands, he'd heard talk about such abominations in the deep woods and like so many wrote them off as impossibilities. If one of them existed... He shook his head and looked away: The man had chosen to leave of his own volition, he had offered no protest or justification. The cart driver had seemed interested in him, then again, who wouldn't be? "I am not turning down a free ride," John said, shrugging and stepping forward. He stopped beside the ladder, wondering if Crom would need help ascending and making sure to be there just in case. "Unless either of you are," he added after a silence. Traveling with Crom, Griff, and Adrian had not been off to a perfect start, but he sure didn't want to be without them. Without Griff they'd probably still be sitting in Aldrun being cleared by the guards, and without Crom subduing a werewolf might not have gone so smoothly, if that was a word that could describe the miracle that was nobody dying.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

John's gaze followed Crom's pointing, settling over Soah. It was a question that, despite everything that had just happened, made him uncomfortable to contemplate. Having a werewolf around was a liability and there wasn't any way around that, he thought. He shuffled a bit on his feet, and wore down into the snow by increments as he mulled, more than the problem, his feelings about it over. That werewolf wasn't going anywhere by the look of him, they'd been attacked and they owed him nothing. After a moment of silence he looked back and forth between Crom and Griff, choosing his words. "I don't like the idea of leaving him, but we can't have this happening regularly." He frowned to himself, it didn't seem like a good enough reason to leave somebody to die, but it was fair, wasn't it? He couldn't answer his own question. "I think..." He sighed with frustration, "I think we'd best just move along, Adrian's right." Before he could turn to walk, a faint rattling become audible from somewhere down the road.

Behind them, the smoke from the burning hulk of the Roumont had ceased as the cracked vessel slipped beneath the waves. Only a dark cloud remained, drifting slowly inland. The town's gates had opened after the guard had been unable to turn anything up in the forest, and the unknown threats to the town had failed to reappear. As soon as the open nature of the town had become apparent, a shabby wooden cart, open topped and packed with crates, crested upon the path behind the party. A pair of black horses pulled it along, pressing deep hoof marks into the snow that were mostly wiped away by the wagon's wheels. A portly, long bearded man sat the helm of the carriage, wrapped securely in a fur collared, black greatcoat. He was, quite apparently, a merchant delighted to finally be leaving Aldrun after the day's festivities. Truly delighted, because a quartet of foot-weary travelers sat atop the crates and on the sides of the wagon, hitching a ride along to wherever they were going. Some of them stirred a bit, and a nod was given to the merchant. The wagon slowed to a stop beside the party, the driver sitting rigid and alert at the sight of blood in the snow. He still looked overconfident approaching such a scene, considering the people in the back were not carrying any obvious weapons. He looked up and down the road, searching for traffic coming and going, before settling his dark eyes on Crom. "That looks like it could use some help. Could it?"

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

Johnathon had dived aside into the snow as the fighters came to blows. He crawled away, staying low and away from the noisy battle that ensued for fear of being caught in the crossfire. Whatever Soah had turned into, that was it, that was the end. His travels ended here, miserably dragging himself through the snow. A yelp, incongruous with the snarls and roars of the beast, alerted him and he spun in the snow. He was covered in the powder and swept some of it off his chest to see. There were Crom and Soah, still locked in struggle, but the beast had begun to degenerate into his original form. John sat and watched, awestruck by the impossibility he was witnessing. A breathless, "How?" escaped his lips, no more than a whisper. The impressed wanderer sat up on his elbows and simply stared at the two battered men, wolf and warrior, and wondered at how they were still alive. Crom was bleeding, however, he could see it from here and no matter how stout the man was they weren't getting anywhere bleeding like that. He rolled over and pushed himself up to his feet before walking towards Crom. He gave Soah a wide birth, circling around the pacified beast as he made his way. "H-hey Crom," His voice caught uncomfortably in his throat, "Y'alright?" What else could he say? He'd just saved their lives.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

Johnathon scurried backwards as soon as the man stood up, and held his hands up to ward off or assuage the clearly irate man. Just as he had begun to wonder about Soah's temperament his physical features began to change before him. He hadn't noticed it before but this close the change to stark yellow eyes was jarring and he found himself taking another step back to think about what exactly he was seeing. As Soah's more wolfish features began to form, his mind had already put the pieces of the puzzle together. He was shocked at how unsurprised he was, considering they'd found the man half naked and covered in blood, it was obvious there had been something. The revelation that he was that werewolf was really just the natural order. Reality slowly set in over the pondering and he realized that he was staring at a bloodthirsty werewolf. He practically flew, rushing to Crom's side and taking shelter by the experienced fighter. Whatever came next, he had decided to leave and leave Soah behind: they had some potentially checkered characters among them and heat was one thing but outright harboring a werewolf among them was out of the question.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

John was still looking somewhat longingly at his old map, charting a course and hoping the other group members would feel comfortable enough to compile their travel plans when a particularly menacing thud sounded behind him. Before he could react, Crom had raced past him and by that alone he knew that something had gone terribly wrong in the fight. His heart rate climbed with fear and expectation as he righted himself and turned around. Adrian lay in the snow and standing away from him was Soah, as expected. Both combatants were bloodied and John's eyes snapped between them in an effort to discern who was hurt worse. The stream of blood issuing from Soah's side seemed to indicate that his was the more perilous situation. He was impressed to see that the young man had managed to land a hit, and worried that it had been with a dagger that, from the looks of the one now thrown into the snow, had sunk deep. Whatever spell of concern or awe held him was broken when the wounded man dropped to one knee, and John rushed forward in response. He had no clue what he was doing but the group needed bodies to get over that mountain, but not corpses. "You should lay down," He suggested to Soah, hesitant to directly approach the man regardless of his state.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

John took a step back, distancing himself from the intensifying fight. Soah's knee connected with Adrian's face and he fell backwards into the snow, visibly bleeding from the nose. Johnathon winced as he watched the spectacle unfold, having no real choice other than to listen to the wisdom of the other group members: let it be. It might not have been right but it wasn't his place either. Almost as hesitantly as he'd gone forward, John stepped back to join Griff and Crom on the sidelines. "Yeah, steam. I suppose so," he said slowly. Before he could progress Crom was holding out his flask to him, and for just once, perhaps because of the climb here or the fight there, a drink sounded appealing. "Thanks, Crom," John said, taking the flask and with it a quick pull of the alcohol inside, which was a warm reminder of why he did not drink. A bitter, vitriolic substance that burnt as much as it warmed. He puckered at the unwelcome taste and handed the flask back to the other man gently, shaking his head all the way. Like a punch to the face. It did clear his mind, though, and what better way to pass the time than think. Today he'd have to think with a few more minds than he was used to, on account of traveling in a group. Why not? It was the first time in a while. Once more, Johnathon turned on his heel, facing Griff and Crom with a renewed vigor obviously forced to distract himself. "I don't suppose either of you is carrying a proper map? We can't quite go ahead but we could use this time to think about where we're going." He smiled and reached into his bag, pulling out a handful of patches, most of which held stitched images of faces but the one he was looking for was a crudely copied map of Estovet embroidered onto a larger than average patch. With a gentle toss, it was set onto the snow where everyone could see it. The map bore no markings, names, or legends, but as an outline of the continent it worked well enough for the locals to tell him where he was on it, when he got there. "Not much... but it's what I usually plan on."