The Village of Redcliffe is buzzing with activity on the 27th day of Cloudreach as the people prepare for the wedding of Donnal and Irenia on Summerday, four days away. Everyone is doing their part, and the five friends Loran, Mikhail, Fost, Richard, and Orlin are no exception. The butcher needs them to check on the nug snares they set out yesterday, and bag as many as they can find.

“We’re gonna have something other than fish to eat at this wedding, if I have anything to say about it,” he said when he dispatched the group.

And so, the young men of the village head up the hill to the high plains above to inspect the snares and find whatever nugs they can.

The day is warmer than usual for the late spring season - though not oppressively so - as the group approaches a small outcropping of rock along the walkway that skirts a large rocky hill on the left.

(Opportunity for banter/roleplay. Introduce us to your characters!)

Orlin was really the man... coming to think on it: the dwarf... to blaze the trail. Fost had chuckled at first, behind the dwarf's back, of course, about the short stumpy legs but after about an hour of hiking up the steep incline he had to admit that those legs were obviously made for walking. Orlin might not be as quick as his longer legged companions, but he sure made up for endurance and plain stamina.
Fost thought that Richard's talking had become less, maybe he was busy taking breath, but having made a mistake on the dwarf when they set out, Fost made sure not to comment in any way.
Loran might not be the toughest of the group but he kept walking just as all of them, balanced in his faith it seemed to Fost and thus no complaint coming from his lips.
Mikhail was still an enigma to him, but Loran had sort of vouched for him, so Fost had no issue with the mage either.

Fost took a deep breath, the air up here was brisker and felt invigorating and so he enjoyed the trip, perhaps only because of the occasion. A marriage ! Always a good occasion to relax and cherish life.

Brother Loran kept pace with the others though a lot less muscular his wiry body held an endurance that any man of the cloth would want.

The young man helped himself along with his staff. It was solid and plain apart from a simple carving of the makers mark at the top.

Though not a violent man it was still the talk of the village when he had come out of the chantry house to be confronted by three local drunks. They had called him a girl for wearing his robes and attempted to remove it from him when he took up his staff and within seconds had all three unconscious on the floor....after that no one bad mouthed him.

Now he looked at his companions and had to admit if there was any trouble to be had he'd be pleased to have this bunch at his side.

He carried the bag for the nugs once they'd been freed from the traps so at the moment it was not a burden for him.

Nugs? The strange rodents would appear to be the choice piece for a feast. How curious. Although, curious was the name of things with this village. It's not as if they were in a rush, but there were several grumbling behind his back as he was asked to help. Maker's breath, he hoped this would not continue for much longer.

"I can't say I have ever whished to renounce my youthful hatred of the months spent saddling and taking care of horses, but I would not mind having one right about now." He was only slightly regretting taking the nicer of his staves with him. He didn't want to track dirt into the homes here, regardless of who they were.

"Practical animals, and smart too," Orlin glanced back over his shoulder. "And there's no denying their capacity to carry heavy loads from one place to another. But without a carriage or cart to pull behind them, I'll pass. Damn things are too high up for my humble tastes." Orlin turned full around now, walking backwards so as not to stop entirely, and took stock of his companions. "Brother Loran, how're you holding up, friend?"

"do not fear my friend I am able to keep up as an initiate I spent many an hour walking in the woods around the chantry monastery" replied brother Loran to the dwarf

"You know this reminds me of a time... so there I was at the end of the cliff my back to the edge, staring down 6.. no 10 man at arms. Now, remember, I was unarmed and had no clothes on other than my undergarments, they were all on the floor of Lady Rosias the rude men wouldn't let me dress before chasing me out, I had two choices the way I saw it. Face the men and die a warrior, or jump die from the jagged rocks or swim to safety. Well, I'm no idiot, so I jumped. Thank goodness I understand the tides and knew that it was high tide, or you all wouldn't be blessed with my acquaintance."

He continued telling stories until they all had been walking for about an hour, the stories lessoned. His breath getting harder, though he tried as best he could to not be loud, though he really wanted to.

"Brother Loran and Mikhail, why don't you let me be in the back, you know I can back us up, keep an eye on things better from back here."

One thing is for certain, Orlin can walk better than I.

"At least the men had the decency to allow you to take your underwear. Or did you mean to imply that you were caught before you were able to remove them?"
"A shame, for sure. I hear Lady Rosia is an impressive woman. Easily my weight, though not as tall.", je said innocently.
But he failed to keep a straight face and started to guffaw.

Later he pondered the rogue's last sentence.
"Blessed? Now that's one way to name it.", Fost chuckled at the exaggerated confidence of Richard.

Listening to Richard's story was slightly embarrassing. Although Mikhail was certain is was mostly for comedic effect, it still took a little getting used to. However, it was Orlin's response that caught his attention. "I wouldn't be so sure of that. There are breeds that you would find to be quite comfortable atop of. However, those were not the ones we tended to up in Highever. Most of what we ended up taking care of would eventually be cavalry mounts. We were just the in between place. But... well horses aren't really as popular here as a good mabari hound. More of a luxury, really." As sad as it was to say, it really was true. Orlesians were the primary buyers for his family's horses, and the cavalry they provided Teryn Cousland was never looked down upon. It was just not as large a fighting force as others. It did deter bandits, though. For his father, that was enough.

Brother Loran blushed slightly as he listened to Richards story, not from the fact that it indicated Richard was about to sleep with a woman but from the care free way he told it.

Brother Loran wasn't a virgin he'd laid with a woman himself but he believed it should be a commitment between two people a gift from the maker but he also understood men like Richard had sex for fun and that made him blush.

He tutted under his breath and continued on

"Ah, now a hound is a beast ya can trust. Smarter than most people, they say. Not that horses aren't intelligent animals, mind you. A mabari is just more useful in my line o'work I suppose." Orlin paused to listen to his surroundings beyond the conversation, attempting to sense any unfamiliar sounds other than those he heard every time he came to the forest.

This overland area between the village and the crossroads is mostly quiet, as trade usually comes in via one of the more established routes along the lake shore. You folks know that a few outlying farms dot the landscape beyond the long rock formation that splits the course. The nug traps are around to the right, near the far end of the dozens of yards long formation.

The banter is interrupted by a sudden noise on the left side of the rock formation. Moments later, a fair-haired elf girl in a simple linen tunic bounds into view and tumbles into the party’s midst, landing at their feet.

“Help me!” she whimpers through her exhaustion. “They want to kill me!”

Ahead, an unseen voice calls out, “Come on; she went this way!”

OOC: What do you do?

At first alarmed, Fost relaxed as he saw that it was only an elf causing the commotion.
His mood changed again as the girl mentioned being attacked which perplexed him as he could not fathom why someone would try to kill this seemingly harmless girl.
His frown deeped as he realized that her assailant might just be allied with those whom he had worked for before... and who were now on his heels for quite some time.
Still, all this could be just a misunderstanding so caution was not unwise.
Nevertheless - for exerting caution was not really a trait of his - he drew his one-and-half sword and stepped in front of the girl to shield her from immediate harm.
He waited, ready, for the assailant to appear...

Breathing heavily, convincingly hiding his shortness of breath, his thoughts trail on about the story he was telling before how could I get back at those guards maybe syrup in their boots? or maybe soak their undergarments in cow piss. Both ideas made Richard smile, then shaken awake from his thoughts, completely missing the elf women's plea for help he watches Fost draw his sword. Quickly Richard takes off his bow and knocks an arrow. "Do you expect trouble, my friend?" Looking about Richard tries to find higher ground to set up for better aim and view.

At first glance to this whole situation, Fost seems to have the right idea. Of course, protection could be the wrong move, but they were working with limited information. A woman ask for help, she should be given help. Tevinter's roots dig deep, even after the overthrow by Andraste in this country, and it was good to see people willing to stand and help this elf. Mikhail, gripping his staff in a more authoritative manner, gave the woman a lookover. He just wanted to protect himself, as the constant warnings from his lessons on responsible uses of power and manipulation by others was still ringing in his ears.

07:50, Today: Mikhail Loren rolled 15 using 3d6+1 (6 stunt points) with the AGE System.  Perception.

Without taking his eyes off the direction they had heard the voices from, Fost replied.
"If someone wants to kill another there is always trouble. I mean to see if it's worthwhile to become involved."
While this did seem to imply that Fost would actually be willing to just ignore the whole scene if he came to the conclusion that he better not become involved, Richard - as the one he had actually spent the most time with - knew that Fost would in fact never just walk away. Maybe it was just stubborness, maybe it was just plain stupidity, certainly it may be unwise. But that was just the way Fost was. Did Fost care that it was an elf ? Did he care that it was a female ? Did he care that she appeared to be harmless ? Quite honestly, Richard could not tell. And none of the other companions could either. Orlin, maybe the most practical among their uncanny group, wondered if Fost knew himself. Fost was strangely silent about what mattered to him.
In fact, the warrior's reaction might be one of the few glimpses into his personality, maybe one of the strongest he had provided ever since he had come into town.

Hmm, admittedly I have to adapt my writing to represent Fost's attitudes as I keep stumbling into that trap of providing views from you guys in relation to Fost. Delicate, as that is actually a severe faux-pas. My aim is to provide some material to the relations among us.
My apologies if you feel offended, it certainly it is not my intent and I will adjust... next time ^^

Brother Loran heard the woman's plea as she stumbled into their midst. Seeing he others draw weapons and the wizard stride forward the brother moved swiftly to the last and taking her gently by the arm pulled her behind him while he gripped his staff in a practiced fighting stance and gave a prayer to the maker to protect them all

This girl, who can be no more than 16, has calloused hands and feet. With the simple clothes she wears, there is little place where a weapon can be hidden. And her pleading eyes seem genuine. She's not a threat.

On the other hand, the heavy footsteps approaching may well be.

OOC: Going to give Orlin a chance to post before I continue.