Kagan-Zur watches and listens as the others confer.

Figuring it time to speak up, he says. "I've served most of my life as scout and spy in the service of the great lady Morrigan." And he draws out a silver holy symbol from under his tunic, on it is depicted two crossed spears.

"The girl has the right of it," he says. "Our primary mission is observation and the gathering of information. There well might the call for engagements, but we should do so with discretion, engaging only when necessary or when it is to our advantage to do so, to act otherwise would be counter productive to our mission, not to mention disobeying our orders."

Snorri snorts at all the self-effacing talk from his new companions.

"I'm Snorri Steelskin and i bust heads. You'll be glad of my company before the end, i assure you."

He gives the cleric a sly glance, "and don't be shy of your appreciation."

He then raises his mug, "A toast! A toast to our companions and our commission!" Not waiting for anyone else, Snorri necks the tankard of ale in one, then belches appreciatively before looking dolefully at his now empty mug.

"Anyone else?" he asks innocently.

"I can surely attest to Sander's abilities as a healer," Slinger said as he nodded towards his old acquaintance.  
He continued, "He patched me up once when I had run afoul of some, ahem, 'ruffians' north of here.  I've never seen him swing his mace, but I feel much better knowing he'll be with us in this task."  
He paused for a bit while he retrieved his snuff box, "I sold the poor steed that helped me flee from those thugs when I was in need of some spell components, but I will make sure I have transportation before we set forth."

Dinner consists of coney stew and hard bread, roast beef and fried potatoes, and salted pork with beet soup.  Tarvin serves each of you as much as you wish, listening to your stories with a keen interest.

The ale and wine soothe the remnants of the long journey here, providing the means for a night of good sleep, ere the road before you opens to adventure once again.

"Eat, my friends, and drink your fill," Tarvin announces from behind the bar.  "This is your last night in our village for the time being, and we want you to take good memories away with you!"

He leaves you to your business, occasionally bringing another plate of food, or filling a tankard with drink.

Semina finishes gorging herself on roast beef and fried potatoes.  She feels she will burst if one more morsel in placed in her mouth. As she senses the guilt creeping upon her from her over-indulgence, she partakes of one last drink and begins to stand.  "I bid you a good night, my lords" she utters "I will greet you again at first light."

Excusing herself and walking towards the stairs, Semina takes one last glance at her fellow companions. 'I should find a moment tomorrow to apologize to Naren for my cold demeanor' she ponders to herself, and heads to bed.

Naren, meanwhile, spent about a half hour thinking about the short 'conversation', sorting through viewpoints.

It wasn't something he was particularly good at, but it did help him sleep.

Heathcliffe, having finished gorging himself on foodstuffs, reclaims his most comfortable bed on the stable loft.

Sander had picked at his food through dinner, preoccupied by thoughts of their impending mission. He rises from his seat and, with a wave to Slinger, ascends the stairs towards his room.

The evening passes into night, then perhaps too soon, you hear the knocking at your door to remind you to get up and start getting ready.  Years of adventuring means that bags are already packed, so putting a few items back takes minutes, and strapping on armour and weapons only a few more.  Through the windows, you see the sky brightening, and see villagers moving around the streets with lanterns, and some lights out in the fields where the farmers are starting their day as well.

Strong coffee and thick slabs of bacon help brush the last cobwebs of sleep from your heads, and soon the sound of clattering dishes is heard from the kitchen while you tighten straps and adjust belts as you walk out the door into the breaking dawn.  Streaks of purple and orange clouds greet you as the sun begins its slow climb above the distant mountains.

The Lord Steward raises his hand in salute from the back of his horse as you file out the front door and find your mounts and pack animals waiting for you.  "Hail, worthy adventurers, today you embark to perform a great service for the Duchy of Cynosure.  I will accompany your party to the Northern Trade Road, and by the exhortations of our priests, may the gods accompany you to your journey's end and watch over you."  His voice is strong, and those in the street pause in their activities and bow their heads like the Steward's retinue.

He wheels his horse around, and forming up with the Captain to his left, and the Sergeant on his right, the six other soldiers move to positions around your group, and a few lean in to advise you that the group normally leaves the village at a full gallop, but with the ponies and such, will only ride at half gallop.  They nod to the front of the line to draw your attention to the Lord Steward, his sword flashing in the growing light:

"Prepare to meet your fate: may the gods look kindly upon you if you fall defending your Duke, and cast you into the darkness if you desert his cause!"  His speech rings out as he spurs his mount ahead, nearly drowned by the shouts of his men, "For the Duke!  For Cynosure!" as they expertly manoeuvre through the large street leading out of town, keeping their positions around you and shouting to keep themselves arrayed and in formation with the Lord Steward ahead.

After about a mile, the Lord Steward calls out to slow the group to a normal walk.   He falls back a bit to the head of your group and explains with a wink "That is usually a good warmup for the horses, and the villagers seem to enjoy it".  He chuckles and rides up to his place at the front of the troupe again, calling back, "We should reach the trade road about mid-day, where we will take our meal at the patrol camp there."

The light woods are beginning to thicken, while the bright morning light begins to turn greenish, filtered through the leaves of the increasingly taller trees.  Through the few breaks before the trees become too dense, you see the Trollspire mountains loom in the distance, following your path to the south.  Soon, the trees close in on the trail, branches that merely overhang the path become entangled overhead and it seems as though you are in a living tunnel suffused with verdant light.  Every noise seems absorbed by the woods, only the sounds of leaves moved by the wind high above you filter down to your ears.

Thraim squints as he walks outside into the morning light.  Feeling invigorated by the strong coffee, he stamps his feet to get his boots on just right.  After he mounts his horse, Thraim listens to the Lord Steward's bombastic speech, and chuckles inside.  

You have love those enthusiastic military officers, Thraim thinks to himself wryly.

Thraim deftly kicks his horse into a gallop and falls into line as the patrol moves out of the village.

Heathcliffe, in good spirits and not wanting to damper his mood, hitches a horseback ride with one of his compatriots, milking this generous treatment for what it's worth.

Semina was already awake when they came knocking on her door early this morning.  She had her bags, and weapons at her side, and was just finishing up her morning meditations.  She ate a minimal breakfast, and quickly walked out to give Icerick a once over.

"Remember what I said you stubborn steed," she coaxes him "any sign of trouble, you keep a safe distance if I have to dismount."  She mounts the well tempered warhorse, and positions herself near the Lord Steward.

Now riding side by side with one of the soldiers, Semina glances towards her right to look at the Trollspire mountain. Kind of a gloomy area for the great land she heard about, 'or maybe the name inspires unkind thoughts' she thinks to herself.  

Headed into the woods, Semina over hears the Lords comments about arriving at the trade road. 'Good timing for the horse to catch their breath' she figures, 'maybe I can talk to Naren then.'

Naren is up each day at the exact same time. After an hour spent with his spellbook, followed by breakfast and a fast gallop, a sudden thought hits him. "At some point, we really should come to a coherent plan" he says out loud.

Although not a horseman, Naren has ridden plenty of times and can stay in the saddle.

Slinger handed the horse trader his gold and thanked the man.
He patted the steed's thick rust colored neck and the horse stepped away slightly.
Slinger smiled as he thought about the fact that he was never good with animals.  Surely he could figure out how to bond with this animal.  Truth be told, the speed of a riding horse had gotten him out of many a jam when his powers were exhausted.  
He flipped a leg over the mount and clicked his tongue.
"Let's go Fireball," he said under his breath, hoping that his "clever" name for his horse didn't prove all that true, lest he be thrown by a temperamental horse at an inopportune moment.
He was careful not to ride to close to the company men, lest one of them recognize him as a wanted man.  Surely at this point there was a bounty on him placed by the Duke.  
He rode on, hoping for an uneventful trip.....

Once in the woods Kagan-Zur moves to the front of the pack. His hood down he vigilantly scans, listens, even smells for signs of trouble as they make their way.