While the rest of the group is preparing the camp, Norel starts gathering branches, and strips some sticks to create a blind for their fire.  He positions the blind so that it is interposed between the fire and the direction of the heath.

Once he finished and everyone is settled in the camp for the night, Norel says, "I'll take the third watch.  Who else will stand a watch tonight?"

Engeram nods and says, "I'm not tired at all. I'll take first watch."

As everyone is setting up, he walks a short ways back the way they came. Along a narrow point in the trail, he makes a trip wire with his cooking supplies to alert him to anything that comes that way.

Rubbing his temples, Bryce says, "I'm exhausted, and would be grateful for some sleep.  I would be happy to take the last watch, as the sight of the dawn always stirs my heart."

watching the preparations and nodding at their efficacy..."I will gladly take the second watch!" in the interim I will check my weapons and gear.

Dusk's rays filter through the trees and the whole forest lights up for a half-hour as if it were on fire, trunks and branches and roots all covered in golden-orange flame. Then the sun drops further, and night comes.

Night-time  is still cold, though you've built a little flame to cook some rations on. Sticky, hot-burning pine branches are easy to find, though whoever's on watch has to keep constantly feeding more in as the flame eats them up.

The forest is as quiet as a forest ever is. Trees sway in the wind, and the occasional chirp of an awakened insect tells you spring is well on it way back.

Amra, you're on watch when you clearly hear the sound of men chanting in the distance.

I go to the nearest sleeper and  place my hand on their shoulder,nudging gently as I put pointing finger to my lips...

Awakened by his companion, Engeram quickly and quietly douses the fire if it hasn't already been done so and motions for everyone to remain totally quiet as they wake up.

It takes a few moments for Bryce to fully wake up, as the previous day's hike was far more arduous than the scholar's usual very modest exercise regimen.

Stifling a yawn, the sorcerer senses the tension in the air.

"My friend," Bryce says telepathically to his raven familiar, "Do you see anyone approaching our camp?"

Dewin soars through the night sky, his keen eyes less impeded by darkness than yours. A copse of tightly clustered trees within the forest seem to be the source, but when Dewin starts approaching, a cold wind picks up before he can penetrate the branches. The wind blows him badly off-course, and a second approach is no more successful.

He circles round the thicket at a distance to give you a clear view of it, but it's no more, from the outside at least, than a thicket of thornbushes with several large, bushy pines packed close together. The thicket is perhaps a hundred and fifty yards from your camp, unremarkable from the outside.

The chanting is much more distinct to Dewin's ears than yours. It is clearly a prayer being intoned in archaic Moragnian, but it's unclear if it's one voice with an echo, a soloist and choir or some other combination. The prayer is the common "Prayer for the Ill", though few know or use the tune for it any more outside of the monasteries and seminaries.

In an urgent whisper, Bryce says to his comrades, "There seems to an eldritch copse some 150 yards from here.  My raven friend Dewin cannot penetrate the cold winds that protect it.  It is from that copse that the noises are coming from.  I believe that it is the common 'Prayer for the Ill' -- what purpose it serves, I have no idea.  Nor can I discern how many chanters are involved."

After a thoughtful pause, the sorcerer continues, "I propose that we travel away from this malevolent copse -- with great haste!"

Norel was awake now and kneeling with his bow in hand.  He was scanning the forest around the camp for any signs of movement or sound when Akrasia whispers his warning.

A blend of a concerned look and a confused look crosses Norel's face as he whispers, "is it the ghosts of the monastery?  Are we that close?"

Even as he is whispering to his companions, he is sticking arrows point first into the ground in front of him in preparation for an attack on their camp.

Sighard kneels to search through his belongings as he gathers his wits about him. Taking the bottle of blessed holy water in hand he whispers to the others "Is it in the direction of the monastery?".

I start gathering my gear...looking wildly about the dark forest.

Hey guys, Sigmund asked to join the game and I've approved. I'll be working him in when I get the chance.

Dewin is keeping an eye on the thicket and hears a second voice. It's casting a spell. There's a faint glow from the thicket for a second, and then a man comes running out between the bramble bushes on a course roughly parallel to your position.