Cuddles, Anton and Mattrim saddle up their horses...
Mattrim and Saber stand near the large horse ready to leave. Mattrim scratches his hand in anticipation of getting back to more open ground, it might have only been a day or so since he's arrived at Oleg's, but with all the commotion that was long enough.
Saber smells the fresh morning air, enjoying the feel of the sun on his coat before being placed in his armor by Mattrim.
Anton stands by the guest house, muttering and mumbling to himself. A litany of items and magical words spills from his thin lips as he rummages in his bags, walking to the horse, nearly falling into the dirt several times as he focuses on his own distractions rather than the ground before him. "Ink, scrolls, paper, spellbook, tea..." he murmurs, before walking face-first into the horse's side.
Rubbing his nose, he scowls up at the creature, before sighing and packing the saddlebags. "Well, no sense wasting daylight," he points out, squinting up at the sun. "Not taking a horse, Cuddles?"
Cuddles appears leading his horse, the biggest in the stable, out of the gate. His morning exercises are already complete and fresh ring shaped indentations adorn his knuckles. He smiled at Anton and points to dale bags filed with provisions and tools. Cuddles could probably build a small cabin wherever they went off he only had the know-how.
I WALK. NOT HURT HOARSIE. he says, which is completely reasonable. His gait makes him about a third as fast as a normal human anyway, so keeping up shouldn't be an issue.
Eyeing the large assortment of various parchment Anton seems to be carrying a little uncertainly Mattrim decides better than to say anything after watching him run into the horse.
He then climbs onto his own horse, having finished getting Saber's armor on the big cat. "Alright then, I'm ready too leave as well. Let's get on with it."
Anton and Matt are both able to find steeds ready to carry them and so set abou, ready to ride.
The smaller group says its farewells and strikes from the camp in a southeasterly direction heading out to the main plains towards the last noted water crossing. Anton and Cuddles recall that the terrain is relatively dull though they have found excitement in the occasional kobold interaction, most of which have ended poorly for the kobolds.
As the travel across the country Mattrim does his best to keep his dignity in the saddle, though it would be painfully obvious he has had very little experience in riding a horse.
"So did your initial group run into many problems while checking this area out?"
With a solid pace the group makes its way over land quickly and efficiently. Its well into the coming dusk that the group decides to camp having seen only the occasional rabbit and or deer and one small group of kobolds on the horizon that ran as soon as they got wind of your group. The ope terrain providing excellent lines of sight but exceptionally boring scenery.
The lot of you are able to find a relatively secluded copse of trees and set a decent camp. It should only be a couple hours more before you hit the river and then can search for a crossing south in earnest.
Cuddles, as usual, forgoes the usual pleasantries of camping, scant though they be. He helps set up the tents and get the horses taken care of for the night before settling down with a massive blanket that looked like it used to be a pair of tents that were roughly sewn together, stuffed, then quilted.
After camp was set up, which due to being used to sleeping outside anyways, Mattrim didn't do much more than help secure the area, he worked on starting a tiny fire for warmth.
After that, Mattrim lays out his gear and forages a few rations out of the Saddle Bags on the horse for him and Saber.
He was in a mixed mood, the day had been pleasant enough and very much a relief compared to the stress of Oleg's place, but his butt really hurt. Horses were uncomfortable to ride on in his opinion, and it had always seemed a little disrespectful in his opinion to the horse itself. Still, all in all, his mood was much better than it had been the previous day.
[ooc]Gauging the weather for the next 24 hours.
Mattrim isn't the only one saddle-sore. With barely any muscle between his pelvis and the saddle, Anton groans as he dismountsm, hands in the small of his aching back. "I'm not at all used to this," he complains, smoothing out his robes with a flick of his fingers, and fixing his hair with another.
The night passes without issue, the occasional howling wolf and hooting owl passing overhead being the only real signs of life that you hear out on the plains.
The weather appears to Matt to be sunny if not a bit on the windy side with the occasional sharp gust catching the group at just the right angle cause a slight misstep or need to pull on the reigns/saddle a bit more than usual as the group gets started to move.
It should only be a few hours to the water.
Matt keeps his head low with the wing blowing, gritting his teeth as he nearly fell out of his saddle for the third time. "Blasted wind!
I think from the map we should be reaching the river soon enough. Hopefully our luck will hold out and it will be a simple ordeal.
Saber continues on enjoying the view of Mattrim on the other 4 Legs. It looked ridicules to him. But things often happened that he didn't fully understand. He keeps his nose to the air and his ear perked, always on the lookout for some wild game.
"I should think so, at any rate. I tried to make it as accurate as possible." Anton crouches behind his horse's neck as a gust of wind threatens to blow his skinny frame out of the saddle. "By the way, Mattrim, I noticed your friend looking at me strangely last night. I don't suppose he's a practicing anthrophage?"
Feel free to continue to RP any convos, we can play with the timing a bit...
As the group moves along the ground become a bit spottier and more uneven while the majority of the flat grass gives way from its standard gold color to more traditional swatches of vibrant green. The terrain shifts in anticipation of the river and the group comes upon it at a point where there is clearly no obvious passing. The group decides to shift south, hoping to find a spot to cross closer to their intended destination. The wind eases up some as the sun crests higher in the sky.
Mattrim stares blankly at Anton.
"Aye, I've seen few better drawn. Then again I don't end up using maps very often, so I might be the best judge.
Speak common please, I have no idea what a" he pauses for a moment trying to pronounce the word again "'anthro phage' is.
Saber likes to watch people, not really in the business of eating them most of the time, I trained that sort of instinct out of him as much as I could when he was young. Not saying he couldn't, but I doubt it would happen. I do think he id curious though, especially with all of the new people about.
You don't happen to smell in any particular way do you? Maybe he smelled something."
"Apologies. I forget that not everyone has an extensive vocabulary." Anton pauses, trying to think. Mattrim would probably be offended if he took the monosyllabic approach, as he was more fluent than Cuddles. "'Anthrophage' means 'man-eater', but if he has, as you said, been trained out of that particular predilection, I suppose I shouldn't worry. I just hope his curiosity doesn't overcome him." He pauses, sniffing at the collar of his robe. "tea, sweat, and ink, though my pouch probably has some more exotic smells. Sulfur, guano, wool, leather, adder's stomach, dried squid tentacles..." He pauses, noticing Mattrim's expression. "Standard spell components, of course."
Mattrim smiles a little. "Well, he is still a Tiger, I don't anything could completely remove the instinct to hunt. Perhaps he was just curious as to imagine your 'flavor'. Or, as you said, perhaps the various smells drew him in.
Though I would think he is somewhat used to the various spells of a component pouch, perhaps not your particular brand though."
Mattrim indicates to spell component pouch as his side, one that is noticeably smaller than Anton's of course.
Cuddles follows the talky men around as they discuss animals and magicy stuffs. This was his favorite part of being here. The travel. The search. Lucy was around somewhere. He knew it.
Saber keeps his distance from the horses, preferring to stay close to cuddles, there was no worries of getting kicked there. Besides the big two-legs didn't constantly make noise like the others, it was no good hunting when you were constantly making noise.
The group idles along the river but finds little of interest. As they swing south things level out a bit, and the river narrows considerably.
The group comes across what looks like a thick sagging rope that crosses over the river from a post on their side to a post on the other. There are other broken posts and a rotting wooden sign with faded black ink, "Nettle's Crossing. 5 copprers. Ring bell for service." A rusty bell hangs from the base of the sign.
"Anyone have change?" Anton asks, already fishing in his purse for some coppers.
"I've got a few silver pieces on me." Mattrim absentmindedly says as he hops down from his horse to examine the crossing for any signs of recent use.
Cuddles also approaches the bridge. It takes him several minutes to decipher the writing (giving the others time to do their thing and giving himself a headache in the process. Who would want to serve ice at a river in the woods?), but he eventually gets it and lightly taps the bell.
Well Aleria made a note and Ra'hl might be back so apparantly not? Not sure what happened to Black Dow but he was the last poster so it makes sense he may not have posted again. Sertaki/Natasha posted saying he was having issues getting into character, not sure if he will be back or not. We will see...
For now, however, Avanti!
The bell rings brightly despite its condition. The water continues to burble along for a few seconds before each of you sees a rather macabre sight: A rotting head and then torso and so on rises from the moving water of the river and starts shambling upstream, a long pole in hand.
Clearly what once was a man approaches the group though it is clear he is well and truly dead. As he shuffles forward it is plain that regardless of the current or the depth, this being's feet rest just below the water and it shuffle unencumbered though slowly. It raises a finger at the orc as it approaches, it voice hollow and raspy but easily heard, The bell! Who do you serve? Who comes to my crossing!?
Cuddles points to himself. Cuddles. He looks a little warily at the fall apart man. He looked like he needed a hug, but men like him tended to bite, and biting is not nice.
Mattrim studies the strange man intently, clearly unsure of what to make of them while Saber let's out a low growl.
"My name is Mattrim, he says tersely who might you be and what manner of being are you?"
The rotting flesh and bone mimic a look between grimace and a sneer as the man looks over the group, Davik is I...my crossing....bound to this land as my death was MURDER. Do you serve the Stag? That so called LORD?
Cuddles shakes his head. I LOOK FOR LUCY. YOU SEE HER?
Indeed I do not. I would sooner burn the forest to the ground than serve the likes of that scum.
The undead man lets out a rattling sigh and gestures over the river, No Lucy has come this way that I have known though I have murdered more than a few bandits who thought me bested by mortal means. If whe was one of they, then she is deader than I. I will walk this river forever, perhaps, unless that Stag is dead and I might find rest. The water is shallow enough if ye grip the line and lead your horses. The current carries away only the unwary. I will not stop ye, if you can bring me proof I will rest and let travelers come and go once more. Your word to kill the Stag?
Mattrim's hand moves towards and tightens around his sword as he speaks, the rage once gone, come back again, before calming slightly and releasing his sword.
Aye, on my word, the Stag shall be dead.
Transfixed in scholarly fascination and visceral disgust by the creature emerging from the lake, Anton is too busy trying to identify the ghastly being to listen much to what it's saying. "Hmm? oh, yes," he mumbles, before clearing his throat and announcing, "The Stag Lord is our enemy as much as yours. I swear that we will-" He pauses, coughs several times, and finishes, "Bring you proof of his passing."
Cuddles smiles and nods his head vigorously.
The undead man offers a ragged sigh as he reaches into a pocket and produces a copper piece that he flips towards Mattrim. It is surprisinlgy well polished and shiny, featuring the standard Brevoy iconography save for a small black dot that somehow seems part of and yet "not" of the coin. You and yours carry this I'll know its you and not harass those that come through, but don't take your time, a couple moths go by and my patience will come to an end...
With that the man shuffles back down river and seems to sink into the current as he does...