Sander, like Slinger, did not have a horse of his own, and bought one just before the group set out. He rode is silence, his attention directed at his companions ahead of him.

Travelling through the woods proves uneventful, a few crashes off in the distance as deer are startled, a flock of birds takes flight at your approach.  The soldiers remain alert, but don't seem particularly worried.

Through the canopy, the sun continues to climb higher.  As it approaches directly overhead, a bright opening is visible ahead of you.  Riding on, you come upon a rather sudden clearing around the trail, which branches northward on the far side of the clearing.  Off to your left as you enter the open area are obvious signs of use.  Several fire rings, each with logs or log ends for sitting, a few smaller billets lashed between some trees, and bare patches in the otherwise lush swath of grass.

One soldier rides to both of the other paths, looking intently down the trail, while three others do a quick turn around the clearing, making sure there are no ambushes waiting for them.  The Lord Steward and his staff wait in the middle of the clearing, hands on hilts, until the soldiers give the all clear signal  Trotting over to the makeshift post, the men dismount and tie off their horses before stretching out and digging in packs and saddlebags for rations.  Two of them get hand axes from their gear and go into the near woods looking for some fresh wood, and shortly have three fires started up for cooking.

"My friends, this is where we will part," explains the Steward.  "You will continue down the easterly road for the remainder of today, and the following two days.  I would be wary after the sun rises a second time on your journey.  Our patrols are necessarily limited that far from our settlements, but until recently, they have had no need for greater attention."

He half-turns to his men, who are exchanging rough humour and conversation, one of them signalling that the food is ready.  He flourishes an arm towards the fires, grinning broadly.

"That is a worry for another day, however.  Let us sit and take our meal before parting ways, each of us to our dark ends."  At which he strides over to his men, accepting a plate and a cup of drink, raising it in toast to everyone at the gathering.

Thraim dismounts deftly, and then stretches with much noise.  He runs his fingers through is beard unconsciously, grooming it.

Each of us to our dark ends?  My, my that's a little black, isn't it? Thraim thinks to himself as he chuckles softly.

Thraim quickly jerks the leather tie holding his wooden mug to his belt, and rushes over to get some drink in it for the toast.

Heathcliffe pouts as he is helped off of one of the steward escort's horses but quickly reclaims his cheerful spirit. At least, he has never had to spent money on boots and if he whines just right, maybe one of his more permanent companions might acquiesce to burdening their own mount. Nevertheless, Heathcliffe notes not to be too spoiled - druidic strictures, fortune, and all.

Semina cautiously dismounts Icerick. She investigates the clearing for a moment and tries listens.  Unfortunately the soldiers are making to much noise to hear anything useful. She point to the lush grass patches, and directs Icerick towards them, "stay on alert my friend" she whispers "this place is a little to open for my liking."

Grabbing her water skin, Semina walks towards the gathering where the Lord Steward is giving a toast.  She  overheard the comments about how the soldiers were departing, to keep heading easterly, and to be wary of the second sun rise. 'Wary of the second sunrise'  she grinds her teeth thinking, 'my guard has been on edge since the forest entry.'

Naren dismounts, feeds, waters and walks his horse and then finds somewhere to do some stretches before laying down.

(OOC: Having trouble getting into character)

Snorri gathers with the others, eager for a touch of ale to moisten his parched throat. Riding was the second worse thing that he could think of and he had days more of it to look forward to. Better than swimming, though.

"What perils can we expect on the road eastwards, friend?" he asks the steward. "Orcs, bandits, devilry? I can withstand the first two easily enough, but devilry must needs be tackled by our learned magic users."

(OOC: Naren isn't very learned when it comes to social stuff, but he does have a good Wisdom and Charisma, so there's only so long he can be oblivious, even given his upbringing)

A few minutes later, a thought hit Naren. That happened regularly; although no genius, he was intelligent. On the other hand, thoughts on social situations were a bit scarcer on the ground. It was a conclusion to the deep thought he had previously attempted on the subject matter. After a bit of consideration, he decided to approach the matter directly.

He stood up, walked over to Semina and said, directly and honestly, "After consideration, I believe I may have been hasty and unwarranted in my angry reply."

(OOC: Lawful Neutral. No mercy for himself, either. Also, if it were anybody else, he'd be pointing out that his reply 'wasn't without precedent in the conversation'.

Naren is an interesting character. I'm firmly LG, but in some ways, CN is easier to play)

Kagan-Zur quietly watches the proceedings, they soon be on the hunt, and the thought of it brings a smile to face.

"Heathcliffe, would you like a ride? I'm sure this horse can hold both of us." Sander extended a hand towards his companion to help him up.

Heathcliffe gives Sander a hearty grin as he accepts the man's hand, "Yes. I would very much like one."

The mid-day meal of trail rations passes without interruption, but at least they are hot trail rations.  The Steward's men are congenial, several of them veterans in the army, the rest relatively new to service.  A few short anecdotes about this battle or that skirmish around mouthfuls of food or drink.  Soon, the Steward rises as his men start cleaning up the camp and preparing to leave.  After equipment is stowed and the horses untied, the Steward is presented with a small chalice, which he raises in toast.

"Those who are gathered under the banner of Cynosure, the gods smile upon you.  They, at least, will see your efforts and reward them, even if those efforts prevent you from returning to the Duke's hearth!"  He raises the cup to all gathered, draining it in one swallow and closes his eyes for a moment.  Just as suddenly, his reverie is broken, as he hands he small flagon to his Captain, claps his hands and rubs them together with a smile.  "I almost envy you, adventurers.  At times, the open road is a temptation." he proclaims in a heavy voice.  "But I have my calling, and I could not ask better men to serve with."  He mounts his horse, saluting your party.  "May the gods watch over you, friends, and provide you opportunity to help they Duchy!"  At that, he turns his horse and spurs it towards the opening to the Northern road, followed by his men.  They speed town the path, and are quickly lost to sight through the thick trees and undergrowth.  Their hooves are heard for a few minutes, then the forest falls back into its pattern of birdcalls and animals screeching over territory incursions.

The noon sun has warmed the clearing, and judging by the noise of the cicadas down the Merchant Road, the forest has warmed as well.  You feel the humid warmth almost as a wall when you begin down the trail.  An hour down the trail, the powerful combination of a full meal and the still heat conspire to drag you out of your saddles.

You are all brought back to full wakefulness a few hours after the clearing.  It seems about halfway between noon and evening when the muffled noises ahead catch your ears.  Echoes and still air make it hard to tell distance, but it seems around a slight bend ahead of you come the sounds of arguing, which escalates, followed by a shout, several moments of silence, then a pained scream.  Several more minutes of silence are interrupted by further arguing, although one voice seems to be directing the discussion now.  Although the woods are distorting the sounds, you would say no less than three and no more than five are involved.

Your best guess would be no more than two dozen yards beyond the bend.

Thraim dismounts slowly and quietly.  He walks up to Semina's horse and says quietly to all that can hear it, "I think that I should scout this out first.  Be at the ready for my signal, and come riding hard if you hear it."

Thraim winks at Semina with a smile, and pats her horse.  He then walks up to the front to speak with Kagan-Zur.  He approaches Kagan-Zur's horse quietly and cautiously, so as not to spook either the horse or Kagan-Zur.

"I'll take the left, you take the right?" Thraim whispers in a throaty voice to Kagan-Zur.

Without waiting for a response, Thraim starts moving off towards the left through the forest.  He carefully picked his footfalls as he moved away from the group.  The last thing they could hear from Thraim was the slightly audible 'click' of his crossbow being cocked and loaded as he disappeared into the brush.  

[OOC: Thraim is going to move up quietly, hide, listen, and observe.
Move Silently = 07%, Hide in Shadows = 84%, and Hear Noise = 86%.]

"I'll cover the other flank" Kagan-Zur whispers hoarsely at Thraim.
Kagan-Zur turns invisible then moves quietly and carefully through the woods trying to come on the other side of arguing from Tharim.
Move Silent 1d100 → [55] = (55)
Listen 1d100 → [25] = (25)
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1815045/

Quote from: Drohem;267391[OOC: Thraim is going to move up quietly, hide, listen, and observe.
Move Silently = 07%, Hide in Shadows = 84%, and Hear Noise = 86%.]

Quote from: GrayPumpkin;267397Move Silent 1d100 → [55] = (55)
Listen 1d100 → [25] = (25)
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1815045/

OOC: The woods are pretty thick with trees and undergrowth.  You both guess that more than about ten yards off the trail, and you won't be able to see anything.  Missile fire will be difficult further than five yards off the trail.