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Having just crested the steep incline he had been traversing, Luthor paused, leaning on his walking stick and wiping his brow. "Whew, that was one hells of a hill wasnt it Rikka?" He said between breaths, looking down at the fur lining the neck of his shirt. Stood in silence, save for his labored breathing, he finally poked at the fur. "Hey, Im talking to you, lazy head." He chuckled as the mongoose uncoiled itself from its perch around his neck, circling his torso a few times before stopping on his right shoulder. "Well, you wouldnt know anything about tough hill climbs would you? You got it easy, me as your personal mount." He raised a finger to the sky, his voice carrying a teasing tone as he added. "Just you wait, once I master the finer points of spellcasting, ill turn YOU into something that can carry me. I WILL have my day, oh yes." The mongoose hid its head in its paws, a gesture that might mean a number of things, but which Luthor easily understood through the mystical ties that bound them together. "Oh, come one, you know im just teasing." He rubbed her head with a finger, eliciting a satisfied squeak from the mongoose.
Suddenly, a horn rang out along the road. "Oh, whats this then?" Luthor said, him and Rikka both raising their heads with curious expressions on their faces. "Maybe this is where we are going?" He looked at Rikka, who merely shrugged. "Well, lets go find out."
Walking towards the establishment, Luthor stopped at a courteous distance, leaning on his stick and waving at the people who were presently eying him. "Fair tidings to you strangers!" He shouted as he slowly started walking closer. "Might I inquire who you are and what this place is?"
Sieghard takes another look as Luthor closes to a respectable distance. "Seems friendly, and alone. He's probably not a bandit." He shouts back. "You're at Oleg's Trading Post, friend. Come on in closer, we're not likely to kill or rob you, that's the bandits' job." The gate to the Trading Post is wide open, and a pair of armed men and a woman stand near horses at the gate, getting ready for a journey. Another woman, this one wearing a woolen dress and silk headscarf, brings them wrapped packages of food on occasion, while a trio of soldiers sit at a pair of wooden tables, conversing over warm drinks and bacon. Two others eat near a small shed under the watchful eye of a man with mutton-chops. The trading post has the air of a place just waking up for another busy day.
Moving into the compound at a leisurely stroll, Luthor looked around with an appraising eye. "Not too shabby, wouldn't you agree?" He said seemingly to noone in particular, the tiny mongoose responding with a slow nod. He turned to Oleg with a smile. "You know, given the time-frame, I half expected to find nothing but tents." He looked the man up and down, then shook his hand firmly. "Oleg was it? Nice to make your acquaintance Mr. Oleg. I am Luthor, Luthor Rowe." He fidgeted at his side, sorting through a few items dangling at his hip, before popping the top off a leather canvas case. "I believe I am to give you this?" He pulled out the charter, handing it to Oleg as he spoke. "I was supposed to have departed with the assigned group, but it seems I was late...terribly late. I set out to find you..." He scratched at his neck with a sheepish look, suddenly finding the ground rather interesting. "...Ofcourse it wasn't until later I realized my mistake. Im no woodsman and this area turns out to be, well, lets say less civilized than what im used to."
Noticing the others stood nearby and looking ready to leave, he perked up, his embarrassment forgotten as he walked towards them. "Am I correct in guessing, based upon your equipment and looks, that you might be my new compatriots?"
He offered his hand to noone in particular. "Im sure you heard, but in the interest of good manners, my name is Luthor Rowe. Would you grace me with your names?"
Surefoot stands patiently as Kazimir packs his saddlebags, occasionally nudging others as they pass by, as if expecting to find something tasty in their pockets. Kazimir just grins, shaking his head and tugging slightly on the reins. "Come on, don't be greedy," he scolds gently, scratching the horse on the withers before looking around in curiosity as the newcomer approaches.
"Well, I'm not sure - I only just arrived a couple of days ago myself, and seem to have been swept up into this whole situation!" he laughs, wiping a hand on his shabby, patched hide armour before clasping Luthor's own firmly. "Kazimir Vasilovich, humble servant of Erastil. And that's a, er... Unusual pet you have there?" he finishes lamely, glancing at the mongoose.
Luthor shook Kazimirs hands vigorously, seeming relieved to have his offered hand accepted. "Good to meet you Kazimir, can I call you Kaz?" He didn't wait for a reply, barely pausing before continuing to speak. "Id be lying if I said I wasn't glad to hear im not the only one new around here. Being the sole outsider in a group tends to make things a bit difficult in the beginning."
As Kazimir spoke the word "pet", the mongoose crossed its front legs and squeaked loudly, turning its back on everyone, but directly away from Kazimir. Luthor chuckled. "Oh, dont pay her no mind. Really you would think she was used to it by now, its an easy and often made mistake." He patted the mongoose on the back. "Dont be rude intentionally, just because he was unintentionally. Thats not how a lady behaves." The mongoose simply squeaked again.
"Kazimir, servant of Erastil, may I introduce you to Rikka the Mongoose, my faithful companion." He took Kazimirs hand, slowly guiding it towards Rikka, then puppeteering the paladins hand into a petting motion. "See, Kazimir is really sorry, arent you Kaz?"
At the initial question, Kazimir begins to open his mouth, closing it quickly again when Luthor barrels on with the conversation. Eventually finding a break, he speaks up again. "I'm not used to being called such, but I suppose I could adapt. 'Tis a matter of little consequence." He gives a small smile, thinking It is wiser to bend as the reed in the wind than to break as the oak against the gale, but deciding scripture wasn't exactly warranted at this point in time.
He blinks in surprise at the mongoose's seemingly aware response to his words, watching in curiosity at her squeak of protest and crossed paws. "Well, she's certainly intelligent. Are you some manner of mage, to have such a bright companion?"
When Luthor seizes his hand and maneuvers it into petting Rikka, his arm goes rigid in momentary surprise, before he relaxes and takes over the motion of his own accord, a grin breaking across his face. "A pleasure to meet you, Rikka," he chuckles awkwardly, "and please accept my sincerest apologies." True, he feels ridiculous talking to a mongoose - albeit a seemingly bright one - but it was a strange quirk he'd humor.
Daen had packed his belongings several times in his saddlebags, making sure they had everything needed for some time in the wilderness. Not that he was an expert in wilderness travel, but he was fairly organized. He wanted to be ready for everything, but when Ankova said that she was a bit rattled from the fight against the bandits where she almost died and Maraia was shrinking back from active duty as well, Daen had started getting concerned over the ability for success.
The farmboy who volunteered was actually a great relief to the swordsman. If it were not for him, he'd be loathe to go out with just Laliytsa, although he would have if necessary. Without her, though, he'd need someone to guide him through the wilderness. Three was definitely better, although it would have been best to have a fourth. His supplies and rations were packed and he was completely ready, giving a satisfied nod to everything being in order.
Then he heard a strange voice outside that didn't figure into his plans. Not only did it seem that he was intended to join their company from the outset, he heard Kaz ask if he was some sort of mage, and his interest was further piqued. His only hope was that they'd not be slowed down from their intended plans. Stepping forward, he also extended his hand. "My only name of consequence is Daen. We're about to embark on a week's journey of exploration. It seems you do not have a horse, we'll have to fix that so we can make good time. Do you have supplies of your own for such a trip?"
Remaining stoically rigid for a few long moments, Rikka finally bent her back, leaning into Kazimirs hand, accepting the petting. "Looks like you are forgiven." Luthor chuckled. In response, Rikka quickly clambered down Kazimirs arm, ending her movement on his shoulder before he even had a chance to be startled. Looking him in the eye, she sniffed his cheek. Looking back at Luthor for a moment, she then scurried down Kazimirs body, heading for Daen and Laliytsa in turn for a similar treatment. "She thinks I can trust you." Luthor said. "I tend to trust most folk, but Rikka doesnt. Im not a good judge of character, so she does it for me." He laughed a hearty laugh as Rikka proceeded to the other two. "Its a bit of a bother but im used to it. Im sure she has saved me from trouble more than once."
Seeing the other man step forward, hand outstretched, Luthor quickly accepted, giving it the same treatment as Kazimirs, vigorously shaking their hands up and down. "A pleasure to meet you Daen. A horse you say? It will have to be a loan then, I didnt expect to buy one, though in hindsight, I probably should have. He got the same sheepish look as before, as he once more realized how ill equipped he was for the undertaking he had signed up for. "As for supplies, I will have to buy some here, truth be told ive been eating berries for the last two days!" At this, everyone couldn't help but notice that Luthors state bore all the marks of someone who had just been through a few tough days. His knees were muddy, he looked rather unwashed and his otherwise neatly kept hair was visibly struggling to hold its shape.
By now, Rikka had returned from making her rounds, clambering up Luthor to once again sit on his shoulder. The two exchanged a long look. "Well, it seems you all passed Rikkas test and are worthy of our company." He said, his voice merry and exaggerated. Apparently Rikka did not approve of his tone, lightly slapping him in the face with her tail. "Oh stop it." He muttered, tone still jolly. "I may lack a healthy distrust of strangers, but you could stand to grow a sense of humor." In response, Rikka squeaked loudly, before diving inside Luthors shirt, causing the man to laugh loudly and twitch as he was tickled.
Still trying to stifle his laughter, he turned to Laliytsa, offering his hand. "And last but not least, what may I call you fair lady?"
The woman with the handkerchief stops bringing packets of food to the three (now four) adventurers and leads an old nag of a horse out of the stables while The two men in rags and the one with the facial hair load a wagon full with furs, armor, and weapons. Once they're done, the woman fits a harness to the horse and attaches it to the wagon. "Alright, I'll be back a day or two after our friends!" She climbs up onto the wagon, along with the woman guard, and the wagon leaves, heading southeast toward Restov, along the South Rostland Road.
The man with the mutton-chops approaches, sticking out a hand. "More people? Hells...Oleg Leveton. Now, are you buying, staying, or moving on?" He looks both nervous about sending his wife back to Restov and relieved that there's less people around.
Ankova steps out of the stables, leading one of the bandit's horses. "I seem to have overslept. Kesten gave me a letter from my mother. I'm to return home immediately, but perhaps it's for the best. Has Svetlana gone? I'm going to travel with her." After a few minutes of talking and preparing her horse, Ankova rides off after Svetlana and Mirjam.
Maraia looks toward Jhod. "The Father and I were going to discuss nature and society. I won't be going with you on this journey. I am sorry."
One of the guards leads up a horse. It’s a sand-colored mare, perhaps nine years old. Oleg nods at it, then at Luthor. ”This belongs to Daen and Laliytsa. They got it off those bandits, but I’m sure they won’t mind you taking her. Ain’t got a name, as far as ‘Lana and me could tell.” After retrieving whatever equipment Luthor needs, Oleg bids the party goodbye. ”Now, listen, you be careful out there. Lot of space, easy to get lost. If I don’t see you in a couple weeks, I’ll put a bug in Kesten’s ear to look for you. And Daen, remember what we talked about.”
The grasslands stretch out from Oleg’s in all directions as the party rides out of Oleg’s, and a light breeze blows in from the west. Every so often, the sound of a hawk screeching can be heard, but there’s little sign of bigger animals, or of people. It’s a few minutes past noon when the horses reach the outskirts of the Narlmarches, near where the bandit’s trail led you into the woods just a few days beforehand.
The new stranger seemed entertaining at least. The days would go by a little easier with man of easy laughter. But then again, he was awfully forgetful it seemed. Daen made a bit of a face imagining how many things could be upset by such a personality quirk. Well, it was no use griping over what couldn't be changed. Just having a fourth person along was going to make him repack his bags again. "I'll show you where the things are you can purchase for our trip. We'll be leaving within the hour."
Daen gives a nod to the proprietor and hops up on his horse once they've been readied. Somewhere down south is the radishes and who knows what else. Their journey was just beginning.
Laliytsa's scouting skills prove solid as she navigates the party back and forth, crossing the narrow stream and the bandit track several times. The pines and spruces press in around the narrow tracks, and the party is often forced to travel single file and lead their horses. Other trees pop up as well, including stands of aspen in the hilly areas and a few scrubby oaks near the stream. Clearings with small white flowers dot the forest.
As the sun's bottom touches the horizon, the party comes up on another one of these clearings. Laliytsa holds up a hand, beckoning the party to come closer, but quietly. She points across the clearing toward a small pond and a pile of boulders. Three small lizard-like things lie in front of the pond, holding their stomachs with their claws. Assorted spears and small bows sit near them. Behind the pond, on the boulders, another two of the creatures lie stretched out, enjoying the last of the sun. Occasionally, one of the five moves, and a faint groan of mixed pain and pleasure can be heard across the glade. Five small baskets sit near the creatures, filled with plants. The same plants that are growing in the clearing.
Daen didn't really know what to make of the spectacle before him. "Have those lizards gotten into some kind of catnip? What's wrong with them? He asks the party, partly in jest, but it probably came out wrong. His jests often did.
He placed his hand on the pommel of his sword and dismounted. Most likely they were some kind of monster, and they were armed. He'd read enough stories to know this would only end in bloodshed.
"Seems to me they got too much of a good thing." Luthor noted, staring at the creatures with obvious fascination, seemingly unafraid. "If we are lucky, they may be able to speak Draconic, in which case we could parley with them." He looked at the others with the face of a child who had just asked if he could keep whatever animal he had brought home. "What do you think?"
Daen had studied Draconic due to the large amount of magical texts written in it, but he had no idea these primitives would actually use such a noble language. Perhaps it was like unto some kind of distant tribes barely able to speak a word of common and bastardizing it with their own language. "Be my guest if you're confident, I'll step in if they attack you."
Kazimir chuckles at the sight of the creatures. "Why, they look like they've eaten an entire pig at Archerfeast! Too much of a good thing, indeed!"
Choking back his laughter, he continues, "I remember my grandmother once told me about the evil that lurks in dark places, and she used 'kobolds' as an example. Never expected to see one myself, let alone so many. She said they looked primitive, but had a cunning and knack for ambushes any adventurer should watch out for." He looks across at Luthor, adding, "If you wish to speak to them, be careful. I know not whether evil lies in their hearts, but it is better to be wary in your dealings with strange creatures."
"I do believe you are correct Kaz, kobolds indeed!" His voice was even more excited now. "I know for a fact most of those speak draconic, or rather, a derivative." He frowned a bit. "Communication may prove fairly difficult, but should be possible enough given a bit of time." He smiled again as he nodded to himself. "I shall try talking to them. Considering their preference for ambush, I doubt they would attack us. They would likely be more inclined to run away." On his shoulder, Rikka squeaked and chittered, jumping from one shoulder to the other repeatedly. "Yes, yes, careful, I know." He patted her on the head. "It will be fine, im sure."
He straightened up from his crouched position, adjusting his clothes as if the kobolds would care for such things, then stepped into the clearing.
As Luthor steps into the clearing and begins talking, one of the kobolds on the ground stops writhing and clutching its stomach. It looks at him, shakes its head and blinks its big eyes a few times, and then looks again. Leaping to its feet, it screeches loudly.
The kobolds circle together, peeking up at the big intruder periodically and whispering amongst themselves. One stays atop the rock, keeping an eye on the party while the others have their little huddle.
After a flurry of conversation, in which Luthor only catches the words "intruder", "fight?", and "our patch", the kobolds start pushing each other. Eventually, a scrawny one with dark gray scales gets pushed closer to Luthor. Clearing its throat with a raspy screech-cough, it speaks loudly enough for him to hear.
The other kobolds reach for their spears and small bows, taking up aggressive, and in their minds, menacing stances and brandishing their weapons.
Laliytsa stays in her saddle. She pats Wild's neck absentmindedly as Luthor speaks to the Kobolds. The lizard creatures looked silly lying around with bulging stomachs, kind of cute actually, and she really doesn't want to fight them. Their 'threatening' display doesn't scare the ranger, but it does reinforce her desire to avoid conflict.
"Poster back in camp says somethin's got the Kobold's dander up. Ask 'em if we can do somethin' fer 'em? Tell 'em we're neighbors an' we wanna be on the good side of the 'mighty kobolds'?
Gesturing for the kobolds to wait a moment, Luthor turned to his companions, speaking in a hushed tone. "It says their tribe is called the Sootscales and that this is their land." He got a look of puzzlement as he added. "Said if we dont go away, their chief will hear about it, but I get the feeling that may not be entirely true. My best guess would be the chief doesnt know about this patch, which is why they have been able to stuff themselves."
At Laliytsas words, he nodded, then turned back to the kobolds.
The kobold looks at its fellows, glancing at the red one on the rocks before scurrying back to the two with spears. Luthor's able to make out "about the war", "food", and "blue meanies". Eventually, they have another shoving match, which the same kobold loses.
Whatever the little kobold was going to finish with, he's drowned out as the others realize what he's saying. A loud screech goes up as the two in front move forward, spears raised and points forward. The little one who'd been doing the talking throws itself down on the ground, covering its head with its claws.
"I suppose negotiations have failed." Luthor said, looking at the others with a smile, but then quickly thinking better of it and turning to face the kobolds. On his shoulder, Rikka squeaked loudly, Luthor replying with "Yes, yes, I know!" He looked back again, pointing at the cowering kobold. "Protect that one, we need to talk to him some more!"
Weaving his arms about him, tracing line through the air as he readied his spell, he called out to the kobolds.
They really did speak a tremendously primitive version of Draconic, and it took most of the conversation for the swordsman to get used to the pronunciation. Having only ever read it in books, it sounded much different than he'd thought it would, but at the same time, he knew that what he was listening to wasn't exactly right either. At least Luthor had a better handle on it. Although when he started to understand, he didn't like what he was hearing. Daen resented being called hairy. He did have that one whisker that he'd been trying to coax into a mustache, but other than that he was lucky to have eyebrows. It was a bit of a sore spot for him, especially since most of the men in his family could grow quite nice beards and it was the one thing he'd not likely gain in his lifetime.
Stepping forward, Daen spoke up in a menacing way, protecting the magic man behind him. His sword began to glow blue with eldritch energy, leaving a faint trail of magical plasma behind it as it moved. "If you persist in your agression, I will cut out your dinner."
As the kobolds continue to move forward, Luthor begins to cast his Sleep spell.
One of the creatures, a lighter gray kobold with a short spear and a hodge-podge arrangement of armor, rushes Daen, only to be put down quickly by his sword. The other one with a spear approaches more carefully, stabbing and poking at Daen to find an opening, but his spear can't break Daen's guard.
The two kobolds on the rocks across the pond nock arrows, firing them toward Daen as well. One of the arrows thuds harmlessly into the ground, while the other one hits the half-elf in the chest. Though some of the wind is driven from his lungs by the force of the blow, it doesn't seem to have done any significant damage.
[ooc]Sleep is a 1-round cast time, so it'll come into effect at the beginning of your next turn. I'll let you put the radius circle where you'd like to have it on the map once the kobolds have moved. At least, I think that's how it works.
Everyone's up!
Laliytsa tries for a quick dismount. Instead she wobbles when she lands and nearly ends up with a face full of dirt. She grumbles something incoherent as she regains her balance and stalks forward to help Daen. She pulls her newly acquired axe out as she gets close to the Kobold.
The speed wih which the kobolds turn on one of their own shocks and sickens Kazimir. For a moment, he doesn't know what to do- nothing in the teachings of Erastil covered this. His mind works frantically, before he finally decides - the one who'd spoken out was the victim. He must be protected.
Kazimir clicks his tongue and nudges Surefoot with his heels, readying his lance under one arm. The old horse snorts and surges forward in an awkward trot, rearing back before slamming a hoof down on the kobold, horse and rider striking as one.
Kazimir's trot brings him to the other spear-wielding kobold, and both he and Surefoot crash into the creature. Pierced by the lance's tip, it falls off the lance and lies there, obviously not dead but equally unwilling to fight.
As Luthor finishes his incantation, a strange quiet descends on the rocks, where once there was angry chirping and screeching. After a few seconds, a loud, high-pitched snoring sound fills the glade.
The kobold who introduced himself as Mikmek continues to cover his scaly head, face down in the dirt. As he does, he chirps pitifully.
Turning to Kazimir and Laliytsa, he relayed what had been said. "If either of you have questions or wish to say anything to them, speak it and I shall translate as best I can."
He turned back to Mikmek and his companion, speaking Draconic once more. "Your friends wont sleep for long, but it would be best if one of you woke them up and told them what happened." He smiled a genuine smile. "We wouldnt want to have to do this all over again."
Daen flipped his sword to the side while kobold blood slid off the blade. He spoke to the cowering one in his native tongue as he sheathed his sword, still glowing due to the brevity of the fight. His tone was condescending even if you were unaware of his words.
He turned away from the primitives and looked about the glade. Obviously they were eating these roots, because it was likely they were unable to even kill a rabbit in a fair fight. Perhaps these were the radishes of which Svetlana spoke. He made a note to point it out to Laliytsa first, as she was distracted with the confrontation. Once he caught her eye, he pointed at the plants and spoke quietly as to not disturb the other conversation. "Moonradishes?
Mikmek nods at Daen and Luthor energetically. He begins chirping again, letting off a long string of sounds.
The wounded kobold hisses at Luthor, but doesn't make any move to stop Luthor from healing him. The patch has been pretty well picked over by the kobolds, and the five baskets near the pond are filled to the brim with the radishes, but it seems there's enough that you could take some for Svetlana.
"Moonradishes? What abou-" She snaps her mouth shut as she realizes what he means. A faint blush spreads across her cheeks. Some woodsman she is if she can't even remember what the plant she's searching for looks like.
"Right. We need these. Uh. Tell the kobold....somethin' somethin', lookit how powerful we are, you want us as allies an' we're takin' some radishes since you attacked us, somethin' somethin' friendship somethin'." Not the best speech ever, but she figures Daen or Luthor can fancy it up before they tell the Kobold. Goodness knows she's not here for her diplomatic skills.
Laliytsa grabs one of the baskets and takes it back to her horse. She starts stuffing in the moonradishes in her saddlebags.
"Erastil, forgive the speed with which I turned to violence," Kazimir mutters, briefly brushing his fingers across the holy symbol around his neck. He nudges Surefoot to take a few steps back before he dismounts, glancing around and raising an eyebrow when he sees Laliytsa filling her saddlebags with vegetables. "Is this really the time?" he asks, puzzlement clear on his face.
Shaking his head, he looks at the translators, wishing he could do more to help. "Be wary. I cannot tell if they are of a foul nature, but if this... Mikmek wants our help, perhaps we could provide it. It would be better to have allies, even tenuous ones, than enemies."
As Daen was distracted with the radishes, something clicked in his head through the translation filter. Blue. Added to that was Kaz's suggestion to help the kobolds, it confirmed his resolve. Turning back to the simpering whelp, Daen spoke to the kobold with a few questions of his own.
As Mikmek watches Laliytsa stuff moonradishes into her saddlebag, he lets loose a pitiable squeal, followed by more rapid-fire chittering and screeching. The look on his face is one of disappointment and sadness.
The kobold looks worriedly at Laliytsa again. "We not able to stop hairy one there from stealing radishes, but is going to take all? Tartuk and Sootscale say need them, gotta bring some back or will be angry."
The sun continues to set as the conversation continues, casting a red-orange glow on the glade through the pine trees. The wounded kobold looks at Kaz with a glare, while the two sleepy ones wake up, looking foolish and ashamed. One of them shouts toward Mikmek.
Daen turns and addresses the group in common, completely ignoring the kobold's concerns. "It seems these savages are at war with the mites, a group of evil blue pests that have taken at least one of Oleg's valuables. We could gain a lot of traction with them diplomatically if we work against this common foe. It's up to you though, it's just an option."
Glancing over his shoulder at Laliytsa again, Mikmek scurries over to Daen and pulls on his pants-leg.
"May as well help 'em. We need the mites dead an' this way we skip fightin' the kobolds too."
Noticing that the kobold keeps looking at her she frowns. "What's it sayin'? It sore over the moonradishes?"
Remaining impassive in his face except for one slightly bulging vein in his forehead, Daen continues to explain his position to the rest of the group which has clearly changed within the last few seconds. "Yes, and it also desires all of our horses. Although if it were up to me, I'd rid the world of all of them and not worry about allies such as these."
He turns to the kobold on his leg and speaks to him slowly and condescendingly.
At the end of his statement, he made a gesture with his head and eyes to the kobold bleeding out in the moonradish patch not very far away as he put his hand back on the hilt of his blade.
At Daen's angry words, Mikmek lets go slowly, adopting a relaxed posture, which is ruined by his constant glances toward the radish baskets.
The kobolds pick up their baskets, slowly walking toward the south, out of the forest. At the edge of the clearing Mikmek stops, waves cheerfully at Daen, and shouts something else in Draconic.
==========
As the sun goes down behind the trees, the party takes a quick meal. It looks to be a clear night, and the stars are exceptionally bright. After the quick dinner, it's time for bed.
Luthor's watch begins as the moon peeks over the treeline. There's a slight breeze in the air, and a sweet scent lifts from the moonradish patch as they plants erupt into random patterns of silvery light. Occasionally, there's a small scratching sound as a little forest creature tries to sneak away with the last few crumbs of dinner, but Rikka scares most of them off.
As his watch enters into its second hour, Luthor and Rikka's vigil over the radish patch is interrupted. Out of the silence comes a terrible cry of pain from some small animal, cutting through the woods before being cut off with finality. For a few minutes, there's no other sound in the woods or the clearing, and then animals begin to cautiously move around again.
Despite his vigil, Luthor doesn't notice it until the creature is just a few yards away. Dark grey, with malevolent eyes reflecting the fire's dying cinders, it looks like a wolf, but it seems to be twice the size of one. The worg gives a howl and rushes forward toward the watching man.
After scaring off the kobolds, the half elf got to bed early and was quickly sleeping off the day's activities. Dreaming of fighting imaginary epic battles, Daen makes an attack against his foe from the dreamscape of his own mind.
His attack slashes out the demon's heart and win's the princess' favor, but in all of this, it would be uncooth to smile too broadly. But he did allow himself a little smirk at the corner of his mouth. His hand reached to put his sword away, but oddly enough found that it was already in it's place when a dancing bear pirouetted by it's face on fire with a green flame chiding him for being too tidy.
Leaping to his feet, Luthor tried to call out to the others, but instead only managed to produced a startled yelp. Thankfully it was sufficiently loud to alert any but the deepest of sleepers. "Uuuhm, ladies and gentlemen, there seems to be a rather large angry wolf in our presence." He finally managed to stammer, as he hurried into cover behind Kazimir.
A yelp of surprise wakes Kazimir from his slumber; he jerks awake just in time to catch a boot to the shoulder as a figure he assumes is Luthor hurries over him. "What in the-" he begins, before seeing the enormous wolf lock eyes with him from beyond the campfire.
"Biggest damned wolf I ever saw," he mutters, shaking his head as he climbs to his feet. He grabs his axe and shield, brandishing the former at the wolf, showing himself as a threat.
Arguing with a dancing bear about the merits of organization, Daen is startled awake by a declaration from Luthor about the state of their company. He stands up, blinking away the unreality of what he was just experiencing to face the wolf in the dark. At least in both realities, he knew where his sword was. Drawing the slightly curved blade, he stepped forward in a defensive posture, the sword igniting with a blue eldritch glow.