The cart driver lets you all disembark at the border with Braunstein. With a furious crack of a whip the driver turns the horses around.

"Yah! Hurry, boys! Get us away from that cursed land!"

The rumbling of the the cart's wooden wheels and thunder of the two galloping horses fade as they crest over the hill and vanish from view. Dusk is approaching, and the colors of the setting sun seem redder than usual. The ever-present smoke that wafts downwind past your nostrils is both too thick and too diffuse to be the normal campfires and hearths that dot Masondain's countryside.

Dusk is approaching

"Let's find a camp, set watches, and get an early start tomorrow.  Until we know what we face, stumbling around in the dark will put us in peril," Brodd says.  He knows little of the practicalities of roughing it, aside from the basics:  find higher ground, hide your fires, and camp near water.

The Sunsebb ceremony is important to his order and he will lead a quick, impromptu service when the sun is about to set.

The little pixie shakes, squeezes and sucks his wineskin some more, trying to extract the last of its contents.  He has been in a frustrated mood for the past day and a half, as his precious resource has dwindled and run its course.  He looks about their present predicament with a sense of disappointment.  This adventure might not be quite what he had in mind.

"Oh priest, can we pray for more drink.  My throat is parched from the dust on the road, and I can feel the cold of the evening coming on strong."

Regdoc stood respectfully for Brother Brodd's devotional. Though their worship practices and Focus differed, the oldster was respectful and appreciative of the acolyte's zeal and motivation. Regdoc's eyes focused on the smokey horizon, his mind wondering where tomorrow's Path might lead.

"Alright Chomper, let's find a place for our watch..." The old man, led by a very patient - and large - packdog, who seemed very grateful to be free from his burden, explored a bit around the campsite as the others made ready to bed down.

Regdoc found the most uncomfortable stone he could within sight of the camp. He rested his old bones and gave his companion the night's itinerary. "Go ahead, frisk about a bit, go run through the brambles and brush and pick up whatever nasty parasites there are, lick on something rotten, and mark your territory. When you're done with all that, get your scruffy tail back here and keep me awake!" He scratched the dog affectionately behind the ears before the animal bounded off, nose to the ground.

Producing the stub of a candle, the oldster lit it and began carving intricately on his shield. It was patient work, deliberate. The inside of the shield was covered by what appeared to be a highly detailed though oddly inaccurate map. This was Regdoc's journal, a physical record of his journeys in the Path of He Who Wanders... at least since the last shield he'd used up. It was exercise to keep his aged hands and mind working together. His thoughts on the road, he glanced up every few minutes to listen and look and curse his canine companion which had indeed dragged back something foul to gnaw on while they passed their time.

Oh look! Chomper brought back a human thighbone! Good boy!

Sasar stands quietly through Brodd’s quick ceremony before he proceeds to check that everything his mule carries is intact and that any straps are not loose. He speaks softly to the animal, which completely ignores him as usual and continues to ruminate at its own leisure.

“Yeah, you should enjoy the green grass here while you can, Angie. With all the smoke floating around, I wonder if there is any green left where we are heading! And don't wander off into the night, ok?”

After checking everything is in order with the mule the magic-user checks his own backpack, mainly that his spells book is unharmed, secured and dry. Then he moves to usual camping routines; he spreads his bedroll, chews some rations and eventually lights another pipeful before retiring to rest.

Jumping off the cart, Amrlik streches his back.  Listening to Broter Brodd talk of settimg camp; "Yes that sounds like a good idea-try and find some fire wood-Eron and I will Scout the area and find somewhere a bit defensible and that hides our fire."  Pulling out his wineskin and taking a drink, "Come Eron I have plenty to share and besides you can fly above and around quicker than I walk, easier to find a place to camp for the night."

Amalrik and Eron scout ahead, and find a clearing off the trail, as good as any other.

Regdoc muttered to himself and to the dog, who didn't seem to be listening, instead the beast was sniffing and pawing at the bone he'd found. The oldster looked up and he began some rant or another directed in the trusty companion's direction when his eyes suddenly widened!

"Blisters and Saddle-sores! What in the Circuitous Disclands are you chewing on Chomper?"

Regdoc was sure the bone was of human origin. Too sturdy to be that of an elf, and twice again as long as what might belong to a dwarf. Too straight to belong to an orc, and not twisted enough to be that of a... erm... whatever it was.

"Where'd you find that?" He asked Chomper suspiciously. The old man slowly reached down to feel his own leg, just to make sure...

"BARK! BARK!", answers Chomper sagely. He looks up at Regdoc and wags his tail.

Amalrik and Eron scout ahead, and find a clearing off the trail, as good as any other.

Since human bones were strewn about the area for any dog to find, Brodd encourages Amalrik and Eron to scout carefully and keep close together and whistle at the first sign of danger.

"We know there is trouble here in these lands but not the extent of it," he points out.

Once the clearing has been scouted by man and beast, the priest feels confident they can camp without worry.  Still, hunting animals were a threat and things moved in the night that did not stir under the bright sun.

With the promise of more drink, Eron happily follows his good pal.  He uses what stealth he can to make sure that there is no one creeping about watching the group from the area beyond the clearing.

"Well, Brother Brodd, perhaps you'd better say a prayer for those bones, before we camp," says Creston. "We don't want them getting up and attacking us while we sleep."

Creston stakes out his spot, under a tree, and rolls out his bedroll. He sits down on it and rummages around in his pack. When Eron passes within reach, Creston passes the Pixie a skin of water.

"Here, have a drink. I don't blame you for not wanting to carry a gallon of water, but the Humans don't understand."

FIRST WATCH

The sun slowly sets, and soon the campfire is your only light, save for the shimmering stars above. A chill is in the air as the month of First-Autumn begins. It is quiet except for crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. You can make out the mountain range to the north where it blocks the skyline, and a few pinpoint lights of campfires such as yours scattered across the ridge.

Reposting the watch sched, I think this is what we agreed on:
First Watch   Redgoc and Hound
Second Watch  Amalrick, aka, He Who Counts as Two
Third Watch   Brodd and Iffy

Camp time was important to the least acolyte because it allowed him to get a good sense of everyone's demeanour.  Brodd was generally optimistic that everyone who answered the Baron's call was here 'for the right reasons' but he still worries about the pixie and the criminal causing trouble: Fey because it was simply in their nature, and criminals .. well .. he forced himself to keep an open mind.

Brodd made conversation with everyone in a friendly manner, nodding to Eron about the distinct lack of wine looming for travelers heading into a war zone and agreeing to say a prayer for the dead with Creston.

Finally it came time to rest.  His chain-and-mail was too heavy a burden for sleeping so Brodd changed to his leathers and seated himself by the fire but facing away so the brightness wouldn't blind him in case he needed to react fast.

During quiet hours of the night those who are in watch learn that Sasar snores when he is sleeping in the Dead Man's Pose. It's not terribly loud per se, but it's steady and constant. Especially his outward breath sounds like a weak whistle.

Regdoc considered scrounging around with Chomper, changed his mind, and then changed it back.

"Alright, let's have a look, it'll pass the time until the next watch..."

In reply to Regdoc (msg # 17):

Scrounging outside the guarded clearing?

Iffy has minimal difficulty in settling into a rest.  Her sleeping arrangement sees her holding her club like a child would its stuffed animal, and her cross bow next to her.

In reply to DM (msg # 18):

Regdoc followed Chomper to the edge of the clearing and paused a moment as if some whispering of the Wandering One had come into his head.

"Chomper, how much farther?" He would follow a bit more, but wisdom, one of the only attributes which had endured with his advanced age, told him such exploration at night might not be the best idea. He watched Chomper's ears, allowing the dog to lead the way.

OOC: I'm thinking just going like a move or two for now... Regdoc assumes that Chomper didn't find the bone too far away from camp.

Passing his tankard between his lips and up for Eron to sip, Amalrik finally passes off to sleep waiting for someone to wake him up for his guard shift.

Chomper leads Regdoc to the face of a cliff. By torchlight you see more bones of animals and at least one human lie scattered along the crags.

"Hmmm... this one obviously strayed from the Path!" Regdoc observed to Chomper with regard to the human bones. The old cleric poked around a little with the toe of a worn-out walking boot to see if there might be anything... interesting left behind by whatever creature had packed these carcasses here. "And my soon be dining on us if we don't get back..."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:09, Tue 09 Oct 2018.

There's some dried dung, rather large with an ammnonia odor. Also what look like porcupine quills, but a few times larger than what you would have pulled out of Chomper's nose as a puppy.

"Bah, you had your treat... Let's get back to camp."

The ancient cleric shuffled back to camp, though his flail never left his shoulder and his grip on the shield caused his gnarled hand to turn white.

"Whomever keeps farting, cut it out. You'll flare up the fire."

Creston looks around, but only sees Regdoc returning to camp.

"Oh. It's that fart."

Creston tries to go back to sleep.

Regdoc blinked and then glared at his dog. "Chomper! Shame on you!"

"Must be that human leg bone he found. Has that affect sometimes..." The oldster muttered in response to Creston.

He made his way to his bedroll and kicked Amalrik awake. "Apparently it's your turn young man. Stay awake, I think there's a big ol'porcupine out there somewhere..."

With much grunting and groaning and popping of worn-out joints, Regdoc finally got himself into bed and eventually took up Sasar's challenge in the snoring contest.

Dawn rises, and the sky is a bit clearer. You can see the mountain ridge to the north that you must pass over to get to Castle Braunstein. After packing your belongings, the journey begins again.

In the morning Sasar spends some time to study his hefty spell book. He knows only one spell, but takes great care to memorize it properly.

“Good morning to you all!” He cheerfully says to everybody before turning to his food provisions.

“How was your night, friends? Did anything worth mentioning happen while I slept like a baby? I’ve never had problems sleeping well outdoors and I surely blanked out as soon as I laid down.”

Morning was a time of ritual and renewals.  Even out here in the field, with the endless insects and worries about man-eating porcupine-manticores lurking just out of sight, Brodd makes sure he finds the time to greet the dawn properly.  There will be another ceremony at noon, too.

“How was your night, friends? Did anything worth mentioning happen while I slept like a baby? I’ve never had problems sleeping well outdoors and I surely blanked out as soon as I laid down.”

"My watch was quiet," he replies to the wizard.  Now it was time to break camp and get moving, which required a lot of work to be done quickly.

Regdoc's morning ritual began with getting himself to his feet. This was much more involved that one might think, for one as old and traveled as he suffered from the stiffening of the joints and the protestations of muscle groups after allowing them respite from the road.

"There's a big rodent nest a ways over yonder," the bleary-eyed cleric grunted at Brodd, "but he wasn't home."

After a cup of tea which looked more like battered weeds, the old man seemed to perk up. He was first on the trail, though he waited patiently for Brodd to assign them an order.

Clearing the land of every predator wasn't their mission, although it was important to be aware of what threats were close.  Brodd is unsure how far afield scouts should range, and he leaves it up to the actual scouts and their own experience to make the correct choices.  Hopefully they would be able to reach their destination without any trouble.

Waking up, Einhard quietly dressed and left the sleeping bag. "Good morning!" He says enthusiastically for this early.