Larend, who stands at the rear of the procession looking pale and clammy with a hand pressed to his side, looks as though he wouldn't mind taking a few mouthfuls of sanitary water from a varim right now. But with a glance at Tyronius and Caled he seems to think better of vocalising this treasonous thought.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:28, Sat 11 Mar 2023.

Upon actually reaching the brook, Caln wrinkles his nose, frowning dubiously at the murky water passing by before him.

"That's right, that isn't a log floating there..." Calvorn observes ominously from where he stands on the bridge.

This seems to be enough to convince Caln that perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all. With a dark glance at the would-be log, he turns and begins to clamber up the embankment once more.

"Still not interested," he grunts to Falnis as he passes and hoists Erald onto his back once more.

"You government is paying me 4,000 carens to work with you lot, Caln," Falnis says, not without amusement as Caln backs away from what is certainly contaminated water. "Or I assume they will be because I doubt very much that Calvorn has that kind of budget. Personally, I think it's far too late to be sneering at my water simply because it is mine, but the choice is, of course, yours. Larend?" Falnis smiles at him. "Would you care to step up to do the noble job of being the taster and check my water for poison?"

Larend glances longingly at the water skin, before glancing questioningly, or more accurately, hopefully, at Caled and Tyronius.

Caled narrows his eyes, scowling at Falnis and Larend, but Tyronius merely looks grim as he considers his knight's condition. His gaze turns appraising as he glances at Falnis, but at length he gives a nod.

"Very well," he allows.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:47, Sat 11 Mar 2023.

Larend gratefully takes hold of the water skin and gulps down enough that he would most certainly be dead if it were poisoned. He then passes the considerably lighter skin back to Falnis, looking visibly refreshed as he pants for a moment before giving a nod.

"Seems all right," he asserts after a moment.

"Anyone else?" Falnis checks, swinging the water skin temptingly back and forth on its rope.

Caln eyes Larend with more than a little envy, but his stubbornness outweighs his thirst, and he does not take the proffered drink. Caled also scowls at Falnis, while Marabir declines with a polite but bland smile and Tyronius asserts that he is fine.

"Lovely," says Calvorn after what he seems to feel is an appropriate time for the offer to be taken up should one of the others so desire. "Perhaps we can press on?"

"I think so," Aerendir says sourly. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back to a decent inn."

"Quite so," agrees Marabir with feeling.

The party set off once more, making good time as they continue along the side of the road. Another couple of hours pass, as at length the first light of dawn begins to creep through the mist about them. Calvorn finally calls them to a halt shortly afterwards, as he directs them to a dilapidated looking barn on a hill nearby.

"We have another ten to fifteen miles to travel before we reach the woods, by my estimate," the ranger informs the others. "However now seems as good a time as any to take a rest."

"About time," Caled yawns as he staggers up the grassy hill behind Tyronius and the ranger.

Aerendir, not looking particularly tired from a mere 20-mile walk through rough terrain, seems to feel some security checks-- or more accurately, food-location checks-- are in order, and seems intend on reaching it so they can inspect it.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:28, Sat 11 Mar 2023.

Tyronius unsheathes the blade at his side as they reach the barn, which seems to be full of hay. The smell of the wet and rotting grass wafts from the damp hay at the front of the barn, but the majority of the hay is dry and has a sweet, pleasant smell toward the rear of the structure, which is considerably warmer than the air outside. Upon confirming that there is indeed no one inside, Tyronius appears satisfied, sheathing his blade.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:37, Sat 11 Mar 2023.

"I shall do some scouting. I am sure there is an apple tree or something similar around here somewhere," Calvorn informs Aerendir, correctly interpreting the elf's dissatisfied look.

"I want apples, not an apple tree, and we are not going to find apples in fall," Aerendir sniffs critically, inspecting the hay for rats and mice.

Calvorn considers this for a moment before shrugging.

"Fair enough. Perhaps some tomatoes then? Or carrots?"

"As long as it is edible and untouched by a varim I won't complain," Caled promises as he seats himself beside a bail of hay and begins to remove his armor.

Beside him, Caln doesn't even bother removing his jerkin, placing down Erald before slumping forward and beginning to snore almost immediately. Larend lies himself down with a wince and is soon fast asleep beside him. Marabir seats himself stiffly and stifles a yawn as he attempts to get comfortable against the hay. Tyronius removes his breastplate but not the chainmail shirt beneath as he lies himself down by the far wall, the hilt of his blade resting in his hand as he does so.

Shivering, stomach grumbling, and lips cracked from thirst, Erald huddles himself into Calvorn's cloak, and does his best to be brave like all these other knights are being, and not think about his sister or dinner or the scratches that cover his legs and feet, or the fact that all these knights keep talking about him like he's a burden.

Marabir glances at the boy, and then darkly at the sleeping form of Caln, who he seems to blame for Erald's neglected state. He forces a bracing smile onto his face as he turns back to the boy.

"Don't worry, Erald. You'll soon be safely returned to your sister and able to tell her what a fun journey you've had."

With that he lies back and closes his own eyes and is soon asleep.

OOC: End of Chapter VIII...