Cleary Ranch, Strangewalker Creek


The birds poured every part of themselves that could make noise into their morning songs and left the bush ringing. James Gill was riding back from checking up on their poor drought-hit cows, surrounded by his thoughts as much as the sound of the bush and his half-instinctive shared awareness with the horse.

Indeed, his mount's ears turned before James caught movement: Margaret Cleary hurrying towards him, something cloth-wrapped in her hands and her fair face aflush with worry. She called him as she trotted over, as though being heard as well as seen would assure her of a swifter soloution to her concerns.

"James!"

---

Since Cleary was a generous man, one who recognised the mark of some terible thing upon a young man when he saw it, Thomas Daniels had been allowed to make his bed in the storage space for ready grain, effectively private quarters. It was James Gill's turn to take the earliest shift and Martin Scorsey was off somewhere, he didn't remember where. Despite the extra rest, Thomas felt tired, and the eternal racket of Australian birdsong sent the remnants of his dreams to shreds.



That, and he seemed to have been sleeping on something that was currently digging into his side. It was not the mockup of his beloved badge, since he could see that on the shelf serving him for a bedside table. Further thoughts were disrupted by the urgent voice of Cleary's niece, somewhere far away outside:

"James!"

---

Henry Cotton stood outside in his shirt and breeches and breathed the dry, clean air, marvelling at how it felt to do so without sickness. He had been meant to accompany Alexander Calder the botanist up past these level trees and into the mountains looming high and blue beyond, but a fever had left him barely able to stand at the last. He'd felt slightly abandoned when Jake Cadlow had taken his gear and left with promises of notes and a later trip, but it was understandable that the expedition wanted to avoid contagion, and he trusted the other apprentice.

Though he had lost track of time somewhat in the weird echoed timespan of delerium - water brought to him, his brow cooled, water leaving him, mostly as sweat - he thought the expedition would return today. Possibly it should have returned yesterday, but he tried not to think of that. It was good to feel all right again.



One of the big black and white birds the colonists had nicknamed "magpies" startled him with a burst of beautiful warbling from the edge of the Clearys' roof. Even as he was reminded how close he was to human beings, he saw Margaret Cleary hurrying up the track leading out of the yard to meet one of the stockmen.

"James!" she called, and it sounded urgent.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:35, Fri 26 Feb 2021.

The cacophony of birdsong was largely lost upon James Gill as he rode back from the pasture at an easy trot. Much like the roar of the crashing waves goes unnoticed upon those employed in dockside trade, and the stench of a tannery is scarcely noticed by its neighbors, so had the avian chorus become unremarkable over his years of servitude.

His horse was of the breed that would one day be called a "Waler", rejected by the regular Calvary, and again by their colonial contemporaries before finding its way to a more leisurely existence on the Cleary property. A dark bay in color, it lightened to more of a burnished chestnut about the face and stifle. This particular horse was fondly called "Kaiser", no doubt after the recent and continuing business in German speaking lands.

The cattle were as he had expected to find them, wretched and sullen. The beasts lowed in their misery and huddled about whatever scrap of shade they could find, their puddles of urine dark, and their meager leavings pulpy and firm. Without the blessed rain there was little he could do but ride by, their dark glossy eyes following him on his errand.

"James!"

The man reigned in the horse instinctively for a brief moment while he looked the approaching woman over, and then making out her expression he pressed his heels briefly and lightly into Kaiser's flank to pick up his pace towards the woman.

When he was nearer he let one arm dangle easily before he came to a stop just a few paces from her. "Somethin the matter Miss?" he asked with concern in his voice, his Cornish accent not all together different from most of the rural English colonists, although he did have a tendency to lean heavily upon his "R's".

For just a fraction of a moment the parched earth beneath her feet resembled the wrinkled hide of a great reptile, but it was a passing fey thought, brought on by lack of sleep or poor diet no doubt.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:43, Wed 29 Jan 2020.

Maggie hurried up alongside Kaiser, setting one hand on the horse's neck when he turned his head to huff softly at her. She offered up the contents of the other, a napkin that by its warmth probably held fresh bannocks and if he was lucky a boiled egg.

"Janey's run off somewhere, I think I scared her," she replied, trying to breathe the rush out of her voice. "She was being awful skittish this morning, and fool that I am I dropped a full pitcher on the kitchen flags. Janey'd been in the doorway, but when I got up from cleaning she wasn't there to be found."

Maggie tucked a stray wisp of hair away, distracted, her brows furrowed in anxiety. "I looked all over in the house, then I found the back door open and ran about the place, looking, and I haven't seen her. I think she's out on the land and neither a shoe nor a proper dress on her - please, you're good with her and finding her, could you go out again and fetch her back?"

"There's food in there for her, too, she's not had breakfast. Tell her I didn't mean to frighten her, I wasn't throwing it in anger, the thing just slipped..." she looked up at James now with a pleading in her grey-green eyes, lacking the skill to track the lost girl on her own.

James listened to Margaret's tale, and was able to guess the ending about half way through. Janey was prone to startle at the best of times, and always had been, it just one of the many quirks that made the girl what she was.

James nodded then sat up a little straighter and looked around as if she might be just over the next rise. Of course he was just getting setting his thoughts in order as to how to go about the task.

"I'll get right on it Miss." he assured her as Kaiser took a few steps to the left of his own volition. A natural tensing of Jame's body put an end to the meandering. "If it was just this morning she'll not've gone far. And I've a notion or two of the sorts of places she might stray towards."

He was more calm and self assured than he felt. Any time the young girl wandered off there was that seed of worry in his gut, and if he was not successful by mid-day, it just might take root. The girl had a good heart, but more animal sense than the common sort, and liable to wander about in her natural state before God and all without the steady hand of her kin to guide her.

"Would you like me to round up some of the other hands to fetch her as well?" he asked almost as an after thought as he gently urged Kaiser towards the house.

Thomas wakes with a start.  That damn dream again. Getting out of bed, Thomas heads over to the wash basin splashing cool water on his face trying to wash both the dream and sleep from himself.  Grabbing a towel from the wash rack and wiping his hands and face, Thomas drys himself and hangs the towel back on the rack.  Sitting down on his bed, Thomas grabs his notebook and writes down everything about the dream he can remember.

Suddenly he hears the shout for James.  Putting down his notepad he grabs his clothes and heads down the stair and out the door, where he sees James speaking to Margaret about looking for Janey.  Thomas only hears the last part of the conversation about what may have happened to Janey.  Thomas states "I'll be glad to help look for Janey."  Turning to James "Do you want to look together or should we split up and search our separate ways?  If we go together we might be able to help in whatever situation she found herself in.  But on the other hand we can cover more ground separately."

"Mornin' Tom" James reached up and pressed his thumb and index finger lightly to his hat brim.

He thought about it only a brief moment before he replied. "Together I think." he eventually said with a nod towards the horizon. "I'll meet you at the paddock, help you get saddled up." he offered, as he seemed to assume that Tom would still need to get himself ready for the day.

Unless there was anything more, he moved off towards the paddock to make preparations.

Maggie had startled a bit at Thomas' appearance behind her, stepping away to have him easily in view. She might have been about to answer James with 'if you trust them', but just looked between the men and seemed a fraction more content when they seemed likely to head off together.

"I'll bring you out some breakfast," she told Thomas, and slipped away to do so.

Thomas nods his head in reply to Maggie statement about bringing breakfast.  "That would be great Maggie."  Turning to James before he leaves.  "Sounds good, I'll gather my stuff and meet you there."

Thomas heads back to his room and prepares to search for Janey.  Looking over his notebook again, Thomas takes a moment to search his memory as to what happened to his original notebook.  Thinking to himself "First that strange dream, now a notebook that I don't recognize.  I would say that its the heat getting to me but it's not even that hot yet.  Something very strange is going on around here."

Thomas grabs his hat and other gear and heads out to meet with James at the paddock.

The air had a fresh feel to it as Henry kicked a rock ahead of himself on the dusty trail. He’d had enough of being cooped up and felt stronger for getting up and about - being pitifully bed bound (without a mother or some such to fawn over the lad) had been draining in every regard. At first he’d been bored, but the exhaustion of whatever ailed him replaced boredom with numbness and exhaustion.
He was glad it was passed and he’d felt ravenous as he tore into the loaf Maggie had left him.

Wheeling back toward the farm house Henry had seen James trot toward Margaret, heard drifted words from a distance. Janey was missing? The lad picked up pace seeing Mr Daniels approach the pair next, a little ahead if Henry himself.

”Is everything all right? Did I hear Maggie say Janey was missing?”.
Henry bobbed his head toward the two older men in respectful greeting, hesitating for a moment as he hoped he wouldn’t be dismissed.
”How can I help?”.

He glanced back toward the farmhouse. There hadn’t been many folk coming and going today, maybe they’d be able to pick up her trail quickly.


GM edit: replaced 'OK' since word won't be in common usage for another 30 years and the Keeper keeps remembering it's there; fixed. Pet peeve, sorry.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:23, Tue 04 Feb 2020.

Searching his brains comes up with a blank so smooth and completely featureless Thomas' thoughts slip away from it to the day ahead. His missing notes are nowhere in the open, at least, and time runs swiftly on.

The others awaited him at the paddock, Miss Cleary just setting down another napkin of food on a fencepost for him to take on the search. It would probably be best to follow Gill's lead in this, since the other hand knew the land around here better than any white man, save maybe Tom Cleary.

Henry trotted up as the others were preparing to leave, keen to help. Maggie Cleary looked between him and the convicts, wavering over what she ought to do herself. "...if you feel hale enough to go out with them, Master Cotton, I'd think another pair of eyes would be of use," she ventured.

"-Only mind on what James tells you, for you don't know the land at all, and there's things out here you've not seen in Sydney."

”The air will do me good ma’am, and I’ll keep close eye on Mister Gill’s guidance you can be sure.”.
Henry tried to smile encouragingly, glancing toward the leather skinned rancher to see what their next move might be.

”Got my eyes at your service chief.”. The lad grinned, eager to get underway.
The land couldn’t be that different to Sydney he mused, especially since Janey couldn’t have gotten far. They’d be back soon enough and if they were lucky one of Mrs Cleary’s pies might even be waiting...

Absently he allowed his eyes to wander toward the dusty ground beside the main house incase any signs of their quarry’s direction were evident.

James had been busy saddling the young mare that he felt would best bear Mr. Daniels upon their errand.

A taciturn fellow, James looked up briefly from tugging firmly on the cinch of the saddle and nodded to Henry. "Right then, I'll get another for you while you pack." he offered, and gave the mare a little massaging to encourage her to let take a breath so he could get the last few inches from the strap around her midsection.

It took about twenty minutes to saddle both the spare horses, and James walked them out of the paddock and left them tethered to a hitching post while he topped off his canteen and arranged his own saddle bags.

When all seemed ready, he stepped up easily onto Kaiser and patted the beast on the flank before he looked to Maggie. "If we're not back by mornin' Miss, if the Master could run into town on our behalf, we'd me much obliged." he asked, and then stood by while the other men mounted up.

”Thanks.”. Henry glanced greatfully to James. He’d spent his fair share of time with horses of course, readying them for superiors or cleaning them down. But he’d never quite got the ‘knack’ for heaving cumbersome saddles around nor felt as in tune with the animals as Gill clearly was.
”Need me to grab you any gear?”.

The lad waited patiently for a few moments to hear any response from James (whenever he could spare a moment from the horses) before turning to hurry toward the main residence. It didn’t take him long to grab a sleeping pack from under his bed, nor to scavenge the larder for a few foodstuffs and flasks to keep their throats wet on the journey. Swiftly he tucked parchment and pencils into his surveying satchel alongside an old map and other nicnacs he figured might come in handy.

Soon though enough Henry was done and ready to report back to the other gentlemen. Ready to go.

"I will, though I surely hope it won't come to that," Maggie replied, stepping back from the departing party.

Thomas gets back just as the young man Henry arrives with his gear under one arm.  Turning toward the young man Thomas sticks out his hand in greeting.  "Good morning, Henry isn't it?  My names Thomas Daniels, not sure that we've met before."

Turning to James.  "I believe that I'm ready.  I don't have much experience with horses I am decent at finding things that don't always want to be found...well at least I was when I was back in the city that is.  So any idea where we might be heading?"

"A few..." James offered back, not commenting on either Thomas's relative equine inexperience or his previous career back in the homeland. He sat straight in his saddle and glared out at the sweltering expanse beyond the Cleary property with narrow eyes, beads of sweat already starting to form on his brow.

"She's a slip of a thing, but she'll still leave a track..." he gently nudged Kaiser into an easy walk towards the house. "...and she's got enough sense in her head to keep near shade and water, most of the time." he added with a sigh.

As he neared the house James just let his gut lead him. If he was a special young girl, where would he run off to if he were spooked. Where would he feel safe? Like trying to guess where a game bird flushed from the bush might fly towards, he just took in the lay of the land and let his mind "walk out" what he felt would be her most likely path.

Henry smiled politely at Thomas' greeting. "Pleased to meet you Mr Daniels. Yep, Henry. Henry Cotton.".

He moved alongside the horse Gill had saddled and carefully patted it's flank. "So we're riding together are we? Go easy on me girl.". Shrugging the satchel and gear he's fetched inside from his shoulder he tied it to the rear of the saddle, calling over to James "She got a name Mr Gill?.".
As far as Henry could tell more experienced riders seemed to treat horses like they were people. For a lad more used to books and maps the concept of talking to something that couldn't talk back was almost amusing and certainly awkward. Still, if it would help make the ride smoother risking a little foolish conversation with a horse was something he could live with.

With the gear stowed Henry ran his fingers through his ride's mane to reassure her and reached for the reigns. Remaining on foot he led the beast along behind the slow walk of Gill as he looked for any sign of Janey.

While they surveyed the area he continued the conversation with Thomas. "So have you worked on the Cleary farm for long? I was supposed to be with the Calder expedition, but got sick so they headed on without me.".

"Mulberry, on account of her color I imagine." James replied to Henry with only a little turn of his head to help his voice carry. The mare was oddly enough nothing like the color of a mulberry, but a sort of speckled off white with a darker mane and tail, with big expressive eyes even for a horse.

He let his right arm dangle as they eased out of the built up interior of the property and out into the periphery, towards the fence line and the gate.

"She's as gentle as a lamb, but a might skittish. Just give her plenty of notice if your walkin' round the back of 'er. Or if there's anything on the trail, like say, a snake." he added matter of factly.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:22, Fri 07 Feb 2020.

Mulberry turned an ear in case the noises Henry was making at her were indicative of wanting her to do something, then let herself be led in a mild and willing fashion until he was willing to mount up. Away from a fence this was a more awkward process for Henry than it might have been, involving a bit of trial hopping and then almost overshooting to land upended on the other side.

Whilst Cotton and Daniels talked, James let his thoughts roam out with Janey's soft and sometimes lupine gait - the quick slinking dash along wall and fence, a swerve not to dip down to the creek, not yet in need of water, only running...

---

Later, with the heat beginning to climb the sky. The horses trod carefully, patient under their burdens and wary of snakes.

The bush was patchy here: scrub, sandstone heath and trees just twice the height of the riders, the soil flaky or gone to sand in an old wash where snakes left their traces signatured in a script of moving muscle. Lorikeets kept appearing, curious about the horses and bright as bunting, forced to flock in search of water. James had chanced things a little but come up lucky - he'd found Janey's trail where he had thought he might hit it, but following it winding upwards he found she had not headed for her fortress at the point that broader clearings and drifts of flannelflower might have calmed her enough to consider that.

Instead, she'd curved off, moving with purpose, and threaded upslope through trees that stretched higher and darker, ringing with cicadas. The horses picked their way, but began to shift and blow out breath, asking one another for reassurance. At a clearing below an outcrop of high, jutting rock, Mulberry made an uncertain noise and backed two paces without any of Henry's say-so. Her nervousness affected the other horses, causing Tom's mount to give a sharp snort and Kaiser to tense.


[[may I have some Spot Hiddens, please?]]

Not being the best horseman, Thomas was more worried about falling off than looking around the area.  When his horse suddenly made a snorting sound, this caused Thomas to pay more attention to his soundings and look around to see what the commotion might be caused by.

[07:47, Today: Thomas Daniels rolled 42 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden. (75)]

Mulberry Henry mused. Let's see if we can make this work.
After a few awkwardly failed attempts he mounted, before spending the next few hours wary of every stick or shadow on the ground that even half looked like it might be a snake. Eventually though he settled into the rhythm of the ride, trusting his mount's calm senses and getting to know his new companions better.

At the outcrop the view widened and the knotted dry branches retreated from the trail as Mulberry snorted. "Whoa there!". Henry gripped the reigns off balance as she baulked before steadying. "What's up girl?". The lad leaned forward to see if he could detect whatever had spooked her.

[10:22, Today: Henry Cotton rolled 12 using 1d100. Spot Hidden (75)]

James seemed to be lost in his thoughts as the expanse of the bush began to pen up before them. Under the shade of his hat beads of sweat welled up and diffused through the stubble on his face before soaking into the collar of his shirt.

Where his thoughts wandered to, it was hard to say, but his attention was not on the trail at that moment.

16:44, Fri 07 Feb: James Gill rolled 64 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden 40.

Henry's question was answered by a sudden clapping of black wings rather than Mulberry herself, though the latter beast did flinch from the movement. Tom's mount, level-headed once the "threat" was in sight, downgraded her snort of alarm to a hard and wary huff, though she would clearly need some encouragement to move onward.

The bird perched in a nearby tree to observe them with one silver eye, slimmer than specimens James had been taught to call "Arthur's birds" back home yet easily larger than the crows the other two were familiar with in central England. Like and unlike to what was known, its beak was sticky-red with delvings in carrion.

As Mulberry shifted her weight, sidestepping on the dusty ground, Henry lifted himself up in his stirrups to peer East.
What is that? The black clad ‘Arthur’ perched blinking on its branch, cocking its head to glare spitefully at the trio of riders that had disturbed its carrion feast. Beyond it lay ...

”I think I see something.”.
Cautiously Henry urged Mulberry forward and raised an arm to help the others see. There in the brush was a wad of something. He peered closer, was it a dead animal? Or bundle of something else?

A moment later his hungry eyes lit up again in excitement. ”Janey’s been here!”. This time he hadn’t seen a mysterious ‘something’. “There, look. A footprint. And another.”. Sliding from the vantage of Mulberry’s shoulder the lad moved to pick out the trail he’d seen on foot.

Barefoot, wheeling to the left of the clearing first then cutting back across...
Why the detour?


[[GM edit: skittish hoss, not 'get on with it!' hoss.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:18, Tue 11 Feb 2020.

"WAW," the raven told the riders, like and unlike its kin from the top of the world. Mulberry was not keen to approach anything dead, staying lock-limbed and wary where she was left when Henry dismounted.

On foot, he could better investigate the source of meat, though a faceful of flies intervened somewhat. The cicadas sizzled elsewhere, loud but none of them settled on trees around the clearing itself or the rocks above.

Henry grimaced as he swatted away flies. He could almost feel their buzzing on his skin as he moved closer to the bundles of ‘meat’, frowning distastefully before backing away.
”Wierd. Are these...bait for something?”. The lad glanced back toward his more experienced friends, quizzical. ”Someone has wrapped meat or something in cloth...seems a waste to me...it’s got the ravens pecking though.”. He paused to glance again; if they hadn’t been so sickly he might have tried opening one but the weeping flesh torn out by the raven was far from appetising. And he was sure there was something slithering in the undergrowth.

Seeing no reason to prod the grim findings or their sickly stench further he gestured toward Janey’s loping tracks.
”Looks like she headed that way. Bare foot-we can’t be that far behind.”.

Henry strode back toward Mulberry, giving her another pat...surprised that he found it more comforting for himself than her.

James peered at the bundles from his saddle, bent over slightly at the waist before he let out a long sigh and dismounted slowly.  He hitched Kaiser to the nearest tree, the knot mostly cosmetic, as the horse could break free without injury should it truly need to get away for any reason.

"Not like the locals to leave meat out likes this..." he mused as he walked up to more closely examine the unusual mess. He broke off a nearby stick and went to go poking around, his expression serious, as if it were something that he were obligated top do rather than something he was truly curious about.

They were still close to home, and if there was any strangeness about, he figured he owed it to the Cleary's to look into things.

Seeing the path of what could only be described as "reddish stuff" Thomas pointed it out at about the same time that Henry pointed out the bundles of meat.  Dismounting with the others, Thomas makes his way over checking the surrounding areas for any other clues as to what might have happened here.

Looking over and seeing Henry investigating the bag, Thomas states "Be careful young Henry, you never know what might be lurking in those bags." After both James and Henry took turns poking the bag, Thomas stands by and waits for an explanation from the others.

Since Thomas' pointing had mostly been largely outwith the others' attention whilst Henry was talking, it takes them a moment to notice him trekking up to the rock surface to the left of the leftmost bundle. There is indeed an old, intermittent trail of blood heading straight up, just beside an eroded patch of sandstone that would be easy to climb.

Left to her own devices, his horse bunches closer to the other beasts, head high and ears flicking, not at all keen on staying near what is dead. Kaiser isn't much more settled, and the twitch of Mulberry's shoulder under Henry's hand as she sees off flies is hard not to read like a shudder at their presence.

Poking the budle of dark cloth, James stirs up flies and gets a good look at the decaying chunks of indeterminate organs the raven managed to pull out. The hard mass bound on top of the chunks seems to be a skull of some kind. The other bundle appears identical, save that poking it brings up a complex little binding of twigs shoved into the outside layer like a charm in a mummy wrapping. Possibly one of the harder lumps encountered amongst the entrails was another.

Henry frowned as Gill went poking around. He'd assumed some local hunter had left these ghastly bundles of bait, but if James was saying that wasn't normal...well that was all the stranger.

He glanced toward Thomas, seeing now the trail of browned blood that he seemed to follow. "Has something been dragged up there?". Henry examined the eroded stone, eyeing up the height to decide if he should scurry up.

It looked like it had. A fly landed and edged across the side of Henry's face as he gazed up, the back of his shirt already sticky with sweat.

The part of the formation the trail led to was perhaps four or five yards up, at a very easy climb for an unburdened man. A girl might have more trouble, hobbled by the bulk of her skirts, but then Maggie had said that Janey had run off improperly dressed, which likely meant a night smock or a shift, considerably less of an impediment.

Moving to a position to where he could see Henry, Thomas yells down to him, "There is a blood trail that leads up here.  The path is very easy to follow if you wish to come up here." Thomas goes back to look over the area to see what else might be found up here.

OOC
[14:19, Today: Thomas Daniels rolled 20 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden (75).]

What is up here is mostly obvious at this level, and distressing. The thrum of flies is louder here, the cicada sounds rising from the background of swaying trees.


[[going to repeat that request for a SAN check, Thomas, in case you see it here before the OOC thread.]]

Seeing the horror before him, Thomas closes his eyes and takes a few steadying breaths before opening them again.  Shouting down to Henry.  "Do not I repeat do not come up here.  There is nothing for you to see up here.   Trying not to look too closely at the symbols, Thomas takes out his note pad and attempts to draw what he sees from the brief glance he got of them and transcribes them there.

OOC
[16:30, Today: Thomas Daniels rolled 44 using 1d100.  sanity (50)]

James, who had looked ready to follow, paused at the timber of Thomas's voice. He looked slowly over to Henry and raised one bushy eyebrow purposefully before he craned his head back in order to stare up the slope.

"Tom? You alright?" James called after him, concern heavy in his voice. But he did not move, indeed, James stood his ground, one leg slightly bent upon the hillside, as he leaned over his knee and peered up through narrowed eyes.

It's still not the right notebook, but it suffices for sketching in. Down below, the raven starts edging along the branch to have both bundles down there in sight, hoping the humans will leave.

[[@Thomas - shouldn't that be (52)? At any rate, now it's 1 less.  ]]

Henry hesitated at the foot of the rock face. It’d take him twenty seconds to scurry up, hell, he’d enjoy the scramble. But the broken tremble in Thomas’s voice made him pause and he glanced back to see the frown on James’ expression.
“What’s up?”.
It didn’t sound like there was nothing up there...the man seemed alarmed.
”Are there any signs of Janey? Looks like she went that way. We should be getting after her.”. he gestured in the direction the other footsteps led.

Yelling back down the hill to the other two. "There are strange markings up here.  They are not meant to be seen by mortal man, I have taken to sketching them out in my notebook and will bring them down presently.  There are a few other objects I wish to check out before coming down.  Any sign of Janey?"

Steeling himself for what he maybe encountering Thomas heads over to look at the rest of the drawings.

Henry blinked bemused. Strange markings? Well that sounded interesting! Cheerily he called up to Thomas, ”Phew, I thought you’d found a body or something!”.
He reached for the first hand hold, ready to scramble up. ”Do you think the indigenous folk left the marks? The professor will be interested im sure.”.
With the naive immortality of youth he hoisted himself up.

The ascent is joyfully easy, and Henry pulls himself up top and sees.

{Previously Private to Henry Cotton:} It's the symbols that draw his eye first. Something in his instincts - old, old instincts, back in the pulsing primal thoughts that go deep as blood - says this script is not for recording human speech, or concepts the human mind is meant to comprehend. Certainly it is not a human mind as it is meant to be that has made this broad sigil in blood and charcoal, nor marked points around its containing circle with those weird, precise stick-sculptures, recording symbols requiring more than two dimensions for their writing. The sheer mad precision of it gives an impression that some great and terrible thing has been worked in this place, like a great empty spool the world had been turned around and now left slack.

At the centre of the design sits a long-cold fire and a pot furiously upended, spilling a dark substance off to the right. There's another bundle part-unwrapped in the shadow of the overhang above the flat space, a sheep skull returning his gaze from a half-dried rotting throne of viscera in the relative gloom. Above this last bundle is a drawing on the sloping rock, though he'd have to go closer to inspect it. The medium seems to be charcoal and fat, or more blood. There's a big scribbling of charcoal on the floor over there, too, but Thomas' curious crouching over it prevents Henry seeing any more than its presence.

Henry looks down at an odd, shell-like sensation under his hand as he pushes up to rise to his feet and finds he has placed it on an orphaned human tooth. There are others nearby.


[[SAN check, please, our lad.]]

{Previously Private to Thomas Daniels} It proves hard to copy things accurately, but Thomas manages the two-dimensional symbols as best he can. Passing around the edge of the circle he notes that the teeth he encountered further back were probably pushed there when the pot was overthrown, since there's a partial circle of them around the remains of the fire.

Under the overhang, sweating amongst the thick stench of rancid blood and flesh, he can hunker to his heels to get a look at the drawing.

{{...and postimage seems to have fallen out with RPoL at present, so you'll have to use your imagination here.}}

It's not clear what it is, except clearly religious art: a thick dark halo shines around a row of concentric zigzag patterns down to a blot below centre. Seven rays, or tongues, or flames waver out from the bottom of the icon, sinuous yet stretched out as though putting out power or preparing to embrace.



The frantic charcoal scribbling off to his right that seems to be unrelated to this legible if incomprehensable sermonising - more like an idiot's effort to scribe a warning about the 'jail' of sticks and scrub piled up on top of something at the corner of this boulder-top. Though wordless, this second person doesn't seem to share any high sense of ceremony and only wants that others should know to keep away.

He hears movement behind him at this point, from Henry joining him up top.

---

The raven tilts its head the other way to give James something of a sardonic look.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:14, Wed 18 Mar 2020.

Henry stood there blinking, trying to process what he saw.


23:38, Today: Henry Cotton rolled 34 using 1d100.  San (vs 70 I think).

Flies dance and settle on the young man as he stands and stares, their legs catching on the tiny hairs of his arms and face. There are a lot of flies here.

[[a cleared check will usually cost little to no SAN -  a single point in this case, putting you at 69.]]

James returned a less amused one. He was beginning to wonder about having brought these men along at all, what with the odd ramblings. Not meant to be seen by mortal man? Was it some kind of poor joke? Had the man mispoken? or was Thomas some manner of religious zealot as of yet undetected by the colony? that might see native art as something incredibly sacrilegious.

Whatever was going on up there, James decided he wanted none of it. "I'm headed back to the horses. Just...meet me there when your done." he eventually said, and shot one last look at the Raven before he made his way back towards where they had hitched the animals.

Henry swayed slightly as he stood there, a look of befuddled confusion on his face twisting to a sour disgust as he tried to process what he saw. Did the indigenous folk make this? His thought's couldn't quite connect. For some reason it felt like the ground was moving and he was sweating again. The sickness, it was probably that. The quick climb and morning riding... he looked away from the scene to take a few deep breaths and reassure himself.

Resisting the urge to look back he crouched to call down to Gill.
"There are weird things up here James. Symbols and etchings like I aint seen before. Teech...human teeth scattered around. Don't look normal to me.". He stood again and risked a glance toward Tom and the thing that loomed there. 'Normal' was an understatement but it was hard to explain. "Tom is taking a sketch...we'll hurry.".

His eye twitched as he tried to remain calm and approached the fire.

Henry's observations did not improve his initial impression of the place. The heat and the relentless screeching of surrounding insects conspired to bring a sense of pressue down on his sweating head.

{Previously Private to Henry Cotton} Flies explode upward in a cloud about him as he crouches. The spilled substance smells sharp and vile, like marrow and blood gone rancid in some boiled brew of herbs and bark. The pot has to be lifted to see into (and clearly scattered some of the teeth in falling, since the rest are ringed neatly about the fire - at least one adult male is represented), the movement causing a slithering of finger-bones attached to a boiled, decaying mesh of flesh and tendons to slump onto the ground. Henry catches the glint of gold tangled with the mess, and the grim remains of string that was presumably used to tie the hand into some gesture.

Besides that revolting discovery there are two pieces of wood kept humid by the containment of the pot, the best-visible one slashed with several lines across the cut surface and the unmistakeable word 'Cleary' picked out by the liquid pooling in the carving. It looks like there was a large rock or similar in the pot at some point, since there are rusty scrapes within and it looks like something was pushed out of the spill with a stick, over towards Tom's charcoal patch.

The sheep skull looks like it had been put down whole and subsequently picked clean in days following. The meat beneath is unidentifyable.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:17, Wed 18 Mar 2020.

Now he knew why Tom had said what he had, why he’d tried to stop the others coming up. Henry felt sick.

With Tom busy the lad needed something to ground himself. He picked up the pot and returned to the edge of the rock. ”James.”. There was a pleasing urgency in his tone. ”James, something is wrong up here. Wierd was an understatement. I don’t know...it’s like a ceremony or something, but not like anything I’ve seen before. Drawings, tokens, and I found this pot.”.
Henry crouched to lower the pot down.
”Careful, it’s mostly empty but it’s got some stinking black gunk in it. And something else. Look.”.

There inside the pot James would find a pair of slashed carvings. Henry hadn’t made sense of one of them, but the other invited an ominous worry. Cleary.

Shaking his head to suppress a tremble the lad stood again and looked around for a stick. Something was very wrong.

James felt his heart pick up pace, a slight twitching in his neck and temple as  Henry called out to him.

What had started as something he would associate with young boys, dramatically prompting each other to ever higher levels of delerium over an ominous shadow or an unusual track was not verging on the surreal. These were men, grown men, out here in the bush talking about symbols and ceremonies.

He was briefly reminded of the men back in Cornwall who would talk gravely over their cups about nonsense like Knockers in the mine.

"I'm not touchin anythin you bring down here Henry Cotton." James called over his shoulder. "Probably some'a the Bushmen doin God knows what out here, and I'd suggest you not touch nothin neither. Liable ta catch a pox'er what not."

He stopped, and turned around to help his voice carry. "No sign of Janey up there right?"

The raven glided over to the pot where it had slid down to a foothold. It poked its head inside, quickly shook it as though encountering stinging ants, and perched on top instead. Having found the pot contained nothing good and yet unwilling to rouse some vast depth of bird jealousy by letting anything else have it, it pooped down the side.

Up top, Henry had little difficulty in locating a stick fallen from the trees high up atop the outcrop.

Hearing Henry scramble up the hill, Thomas takes a second from his sketching and looks over at the young man.  "I thought I told you not to come up here.  Well no changing that now,  take a look around for your self since you didn't listen to me and maybe you'll find some sign of the girl Janey"

After continuing his drawing, Thomas hears Henry yell down to James about what he found in the pot and the reply of James.  Turning to Henry once again.  "Be careful with that, I know you want to find Janey and all but after looking at those markings over there, are you sure you still want to try and figure out what might be in that pot?"

Yelling back down the hill to James.  "We're both up here now and Henry is looking for some clue of Janey.   How much do you know about the locals and their traditions?  I'm not very familiar myself.  After I'm done up here do you mind looking at them or at least do you know of someone who can decipher them?"

James kept walking. He was not about to go raising his voice in the bush if it could be helped. He was not angry, not even frustrated, but worried if he was being honest with himself. The whole affair felt odd, odd in a way that he would have trouble explaining to another person, and this bothered him as well.

He returned to the horses and patted Kaiser on the flank, taking some small comfort from the animals big eyes and curious demeanor.

"Just some sheep boy, nothin to worry about" he said softly and soothingly to the horses suspecting that the charnal scents on the air would agitate the beasts.

Kaiser blew out a breath from his nose, appreciating the reassurance. He'd decided to stand as far from the upsetting scent of blood as his tethering would allow, not trying to pull free but not at ease, either. The mares had collected in a little hollow a few strides off, not wanting to stray far but equally nervous at the presence of dead things and a bold black bird.


[[if James is going over to them you can give me another Spot Hidden, if desired.]]

Hearing Tom speak was reassuring. At least someone else was up here seeing this stuff too and it seemed the older man had calmed himself slightly. Prising open the grisly bundle Henry spoke aloud, in part to keep himself distracted, in part to hope one of the others might make sense of his findings.

”There was something in this...meat that fell out of the pot, bundled up with string...gold...a gold ring with leaf design...no, make that an olive branch, not just leaves. And a cross.”

He slipped the thing into his back pocket and moved toward the ominous image that was scratched above where the pot had laid.


[[Keeper edit: accuracy/props]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:21, Thu 27 Feb 2020.

The image was no more comprehensible than it had been, depicting an idea or angel or diagram unlike anything Henry had seen. The English text gave its sermon and no more. If this was done by bushrangers, the bandits would seem to be out of their minds.

Henry felt himself shudder, his neck twitch unbidden as his brow darkened at the incomprehensible votive. He'd lingered long enough and with grim determination plucked a pencil and pad from his pocket to dutifully transcribe the words of the sermon.

Non of this made sense, but it had something to do with the Cleary's. He'd relay them the words and then wipe the whole thing from his worry.

"Come on Tom. We've spent long enough here. I dont like it. YOU dont like it.". He shivered, trying not to look back at the haunting depictions. "The longer we linger, the longer Janey has to get lost.".

Unless his companion objected Henry would finish his scribbling to take one final look at the disconcerting scene, then scramble back down to join James.

"Janey went that way.".

Thomas finishes his sketching to the best of his ability.  Once he is done he hears Henry state that he is also finished with whatever he was doing also.  Turning from his work Thomas looks over his notebook once again before joining Henry.  "I agree Henry, if we are both done with this foul place let us go down and join James.  Maybe he can decipher these or at least he might know someone who does."
Thomas looks over the area once more before heading down the hill to rejoin James.  "James quick question for you.  How familiar are you with the locals and their customs?  Henry and I found some sketches and other items up the hill.  Neither of us can figure out what it means."

The two scramble their way back down the rock, the raven leaving the pot to perch across from its former spot, its harsh calls like laughter in the shrieking insect-haunted bush. The pot, dislodged, falls to the ground, leaving a splatter of whatever was in it down the rock face. Henry passes it after Tom and notes the other piece of wood, though filthy, also has those slashed lines and maybe a name.

Flies harass the pair until they're well clear and crashing their way through the undergrowth to where James has managed to catch their horses in a small hollow a little way away. The experienced ranch hand just gives them their mounts back and glances at the notebook waved at him by Daniels, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, with a simpleton girl who might need him.

"Don't know about any of that," he says, which seems to be the end of it, until he's mounted up. He scans the slopes above and the trees around as though expecting movement. "...the black folk don't have written language of any sort, nor cloth nor cook-pots. Mostly if you give 'em a thing they leaves it on the ground. No, drunken bushrangers or hands from another outfit, that's all. You found anything human up there, we can tell the boss once we have Janey back."

Henry's fingers keep the smell of death from where they touched the ring; Mulberry is not pleased with that and tries to avoid all direct touch, requiring Tom to hold her head while Henry gets himself on her back. He keeps catching the scent himself as they head off on Janey's trail, as though something of the dead things and strangeness scrawled across the rock stayed with them.

They ride, watching carefully all the while. The landscape flattens, the trees growing closer. The heat gives the air a taste of hot earth.


[[Anything you'd like to discuss on the road, set it here, otherwise, some more Spot Hiddens, please.]]

[[edit: bump to give you guys a chance to heed this  otherwise I'll do those rolls myself and post tomorrow night, time permitting. I hope you haven't all buggered off at once...]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:10, Mon 09 Mar 2020.

Thomas looks around the area as the group remounts their horses and heads back toward the way that it is guessed that Janey had taken.  The images of what he had seen still haunt Thomas, that and the strange items that Henry discovered in the pot.  Maybe that is why Thomas was not at his most observant.

OOC
20:04, Today: Thomas Daniels rolled 83 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden (75)

The cicadas scree-saw in the bush around them, drowning out the sounds of wind and any close and quiet footsteps. The trail gets more ambiguous and harder to follow as they move from plain dirt to dry leaf litter. Only Henry, still counting snakes, catches a glimpse of something odd.

"Hey! Over there!" Henry almost throws himself sideways off Mulberry's back in pointing left and clings uneasily to the saddle until he's sure he's steady.

"Up under that thicket there was something big, and white, too, not moving like a sheep..." Henry pauses at a thought, confused. "...there aren't any panthers in New South Wales, are there?"

"Nah," Gill responds, searching for that same indication of movement. "All right, you two go on ahead a length or two in case she takes it into her head to bolt. Janey!" James projects his voice rather than raise it, though Henry still sits up and looks onward to their right, seeming spooked.

"I think there's something...someone way out in the bush there, too," he adds, squinting to try and re-catch the movement that had seemed human. He looks back to James, who isn't paying him much heed due to having dismounted to head towards the thicket, and then to Tom, his expression asking quite what they should do. "Do you think it's a bushranger?"

Thomas startles at the sudden stop of Henry, having been thinking about the strange sketches and other strange findings up the hill.  "What did you find over there Henry?"  Thomas dismounts and heads over to where Henry is looking.  Getting down on his hands and knees to get a better look at the area Thomas looks over the area careful using his skills as a police detective to the best of uses.

OCC:
11:09, Today: Thomas Daniels rolled 11 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden (75).

Creeping up to the thicket at right angles to James and crouching to peer inside, Thomas finds wide brown eyes in a pale tan face staring back at him. Janey shows all her teeth like a dog, not trusting the flanking manoeuvre, a weird expression on a human face. All she's wearing is a shift, her limbs stained up past ankles and wrists with dust.

Then James makes some murmur of reassurance and Janey bolts to the Cornishman, throwing herself into his arms with enough force to knock him seated. "Gill!"

"Just so, Janey, it's all right. What'd you go and run off for, eh?" James pats the girl on the back and strokes her head a bit as though she were a small child, arranging the shift where it's scrunched up to give her some dignity. Thomas had heard James had had children, back in the old world, and the man's voice is gentle enough.

Janey thumps her head against James' shoulder and stays like that as though it helps. "Hnnnn...ma-Maggee, sh-droppa jug...I dnn scare'n everonn do, do strange 'gnn. I n't want. I n't want iiiit..." the last word trails off to a wail, the thought clearly upsetting the girl.

"I won't do strange, Janey. Tom won't do strange, either, you see? You know Tom, he's your friend," James adds as Janey raises her head and gives Tom a blank, almost hostile stare through the branches. "Will you come home, now?"

Janey considers. The thought of people at home "doing strange" obviously makes her wary, but staring at Gill seems to calm her a bit. She tightens her arms around his neck. "Carry," she agrees.

Henry flinched, startled as the pale clad quarry whirled in a flurry toward James. Relief flooded his veins a moment later as Gill's calming embrace reassured matters.
"Tom, thank god, it's Janey!". He stood, making less effort to conceal his presence, being careful not to approach the startled girl as James reassured her.

Hearing Janey's words Henry felt himself frown. It was difficult to follow what she said, and the young lad hadn't spent enough time with the girl to learn her rhythm...instead he glanced to where she had been lurking incase she'd left anything there, a toy or some such.

He felt an itch on neck and peered back the other way, deeper into the bush.

Nothing presents itself under the thicket - Thomas would have a better view, but all seems natural under there, if a bit pushed around and nested-in. As James shifts about to pick Janey up the others can see her knees are smudged dark with charcoal.

The bush tells Henry nothing, seemingly empty since the dawn of Creation for all that he still feels watched. Mulberry is watching that general area, too, her ears pointed that way and nostrils flared. Wary, not yet afraid.

At least Mulberry seemed fine. That was reassuring.

Flicking away some bug that had fallen on his leg Henry walked back over to the horses, reaching for his pack. Rustling through it's contents he tugged out a flask and took a moment to pat Mulberry's flank gently.

"I'll try not to do strange too.". He smiled encouragingly at the girl, not approaching too close. "Do you want something to drink?". Trying to be as nonthreatening as possible he placed the flask on a rock a few yards away from the horses, somewhere Gill might set her down.

Thomas continues to keep a weary eye out for trouble and attempts to understand what Janey is talking about.

Watching Henry offer Jamey something to drink Thomas looks over the area that seems to have Mulberry attention

OOC
09:38, Today: Thomas Daniels rolled 81using 1d100.  Spot Hidden 75.

Tom stares into the distance, seeing the gentle sway of various foliage. Perhaps, he considers, there was nothing there to see. The cicadas rasp their constant sawing and somewhere a forest bird rings out a note like a chime.

Janey looks at Henry's hand. James, who had been considering simply lifting her onto his horse, pauses at the good idea and consults with his armful of teenager: "Good idea to drink something," he encourages her.

Janey's staring at the rock the flask is on with great interest. "Snnake," she observes, now distracted. James squints over her.

"Ah, well, it's just moving off - young Henry, shoo it off with a stick if it gets near the horses. C'mon now, girl, are you going to walk over there yourself?"

Janey makes a vaguely assenting noise but drops to a crouch when put down, inclined, it seems, to scuttle over there on all fours. She jumps onto the rock, still crouched, watches the departing lethal curves of brown muscle, and examines the flask, testing the precise nature of its angles and composition with her teeth and lips and tongue.

"Janey, don't lick that. What do you say to Master Cotton, who's been so good as to lend it you?"

Henry gets one of those opaque stares, one that remains unbroken as Janey tests out the flask by the feel against her fingers now and drinks. "Thanky."

"-and how'd you get your knees all black?" James tries, not really expecting a reply though one comes, Janey touching one charcoal-smeared knee and staring at the darkness on her hand as though straight into however she held memory:

"I go backnn, nnn...muv shael, make it...so he n't come back," she manages, swallowing but not looking at anyone now.

"Snake!?".
Henry flinched, yanking his hand away from the rock as sure enough the 'stick' that had been lying on it slithered away to the shadows. He suppressed the urge to swear.

---

Holding himself back a few paces Cotton watched Janey carefully, doing his best not to spook her as she poked and toyed with the flask like it was some toy. He smiled encouragingly as she tested the top the container and lifted it to her dry lips.
"Muv shael? Who is he?".

"A...I muv'd et," Janey confirms. "'way frrm...the hAeds." The thought of 'him' seems to make her tense and anxious, rubbing at her arms.

She drinks twice from the flask and looks at it until Henry is almost sure she won't answer until she takes and holds a big breath, clearly forcing together some difficult words in the depths of herself. "He...he a bad..bad fella...I..I gowin fort, hh...hide, nn nnn evrun do strange, on the floor ana cnn make'm wake up a, ann I'nt like etttt..."

Janey crosses her arms across her middle as though to hold the fear and upset in and rocks back and forth a bit on her rock. "HnnnNNNNNnnnNNnn..."

Thomas' understanding of Janey is still horrible, looking at the others to translate what she said Thomas asks both Henry or James.  "What is she saying?  For the life of me I cannot really understand what she is saying.  I get the part about snakes and she has a bad feeling about something else but is it a person or place?"

James nods like he's heard what Tom has to say but crouches down, his attention on Janey. "Janey girl, Janey..."

Janey's upset humming quiets a bit, though she doesn't look at any of the men.

"This bad man, did he hurt you?"

Sensing something different to normal in the deathly seriousness of Gill's tone, Janey looks over and makes sure he sees she's shaking her head, worried she's done something bad. "I...I hide."

James relaxes, just a fraction, though for a moment the others had remembered far more easily than usual that the quiet Cornishman was a murderer. "Good girl, Janey. You did right. Did the man hurt someone else?"

Janey nods, encouraged to have done right. "Aa...a th'..sheeps. Nn...nn he...he...choap, he chop smmn up, I saw id..."

Henry's brow furrowed and he nodded to Tom quietly. The girl was obviously spooked and her words were hard to follow.
"I think she's saying she moved something...away from the haeds? What are the haeds Janey?".

"Then the bad man came so Janey hid in her fort while everyone did something strange on the floor. Then the bad man chopped up the sheep...

Janey, where was the bad man? Was he over there on the rocks? Was he outside?". Henry pointed back where they had come from and fumbled in his pocket. A moment later he tugged out the carved piece of wood with the Cleary's name on. "Did the bad man put things in a pot and draw on the rocks? Have you seen the bad man before? Do you know his name?".

Janey puts her free hand flat against her forehead. "Haed."

"Nn.." she seems to have some objection to Henry's sequencing of events, but not the words to express it, instead making a whirling gesture in the air. "Oth' way..."

Her face goes slack with concentration at all the questions, but then she visibly brightens, glad to have found someone who's clearly smart and good at knowing what she means. "Aauh, uh-huh, yauh," she says, nodding enthusiastically to all of that. "Hh-here b'fore..."

She frowns hard at the last question. "I...I...I n't sayit," she finishes.

"Oh, he came first, then you moved it away from heads?". Henry smiled encouragingly, excited that he seemed to be understanding her better. Seeing her expression darken at the mention of him he raised his palms gently to calm her. "It's ok, we don't need to talk about him now.". Whatever had spooked the girl was gone now and what mattered was to reassure her.
"Everyone has been worrying about you! But you are safe with us now. We're here to protect you. We'll get you home in one piece". The lad gestured to his companions. "Right?".

After a moment he hesitated and looked at her again. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit slow sometimes. Never can think straight when there are snakes around.
When you went back...what was it you actually moved?".
Maybe there was something they had missed at the other site, something she had hidden.

Janey nods some more. "Mmh."

She watches his hands while he gestures like a dog, then at James when the older hand nods assent to the notion that they'll get her home safe. "Mmm...theyn't do strange there?" she asks.

"No, they weren't doing anything strange when we left," Gill assures her, though Janey's attention is quickly back on Henry. She gives him a few moments of somewhat blank look, apparently confused by some part of his statement.

"Allwus snakes," she observes, possibly of the entire continent.

More confident she'd understood the last question, she gestures a vague dome in the air. "A, a shael, orra stone, in th' pot...it...hurt yuh haed nnside, hurt all nnside, bad-bad: I got a stiik. I muv'd et out'a way and put a...put a warn'n."

"A warning?" James asks, though for those that went up onto that rocky outcrop Janey's blackened knees and the heap of brush collected to push and pile on something and keep it jailed behind that charcoal scrawl has probably answered well enough.

Janey mimes scribbling. "I make't black. Like angry, 'cause, 'cause it bad. Bad in yrr...yrr thinken."

Thomas looks the group over.  "So let me get this straight.  Janey states that there is a scary man, who she hid from.  Then once he, the scary man leaves Janey goes up the hill and looks around where she sees the drawings that Henry and I saw."

"'n a rock, like...like a shael, I hide't," Janey adds to the summary, having the ability to tell when she's being talked about.

"Surely." He smiled again. "Whatever you hid, it's gone now, and so has the bad man. We should get you back home."

Standing he started to move toward the horses, looking to Gill for approval. "Will Janey ride with you?". He imagined the small slip of a girl would be safest beside the experienced hand, but would gladly share Mulberry if needed.

With a glance toward the sky he felt his belly rumble. "The Cleary's will be so glad to hear you are safe. Maybe you could show us where you hid the Shael on the way back, so we know to stay away from it.".

Their mission accomplished, Henry would be glad to get back to the farm. It had been a good day, apart from the snakes.


[[GM edit: saw the anachronism, compulsively fixed it.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:43, Mon 30 Mar 2020.

Gill nods to Henry's question with an affirmative noise, and tells Janey to give Henry his canteen back. The young woman does actually manage bipedal movement to do so, but Henry gets the impression that he's being offered something by a wary animal - something more like a deer or a wild cat he's not sure. Her fingers are a little rougher than he'd expect, like eucalyptus bark, eyes dark and hard to read.

"Nn...don' go back," she tells him, and just as abruptly runs over to James to be helped up on Kaiser's back.

Once everyone's in the saddle James takes a moment to work out where they are and plot the best course, then turns his horse'd head to take the lead.

"All right then...home," he says.