Lenuran of Lortmills
Although Lenuran was sad at the loss of his last pony, the replacement, which he had decided to call Epic, was a decent ride, and had shown some spirit and personality.
Lenuran had noticed that the forest growth had started to pick up a ragged look to it when they started to get farther and farther away from Hommlet -- could this still be the lingering taint from the first rising of the Temple?
He had been searching his mind for bits and pieces of information about the temple that could possibly be of help or import to his current group.
Grateful to reach an end to the journey, Lenuran sat idly on Epic as the twitchy human and dwarf found a 'defensible' spot to camp.
"Please add 'comfortable' to the list of adjectives to describe our would-be campsite." He calls out to them as they move off the road.
He had been regailing the group with tales of the heroic exploits of the Circle of Eight when they attacked the temple for most of the day, and his voice had started to grow a bit hoarse.
Turning to Ithiken, Lenuran says,"I'm looking forward to getting out of the saddle and soothing my throat with a nip of whisky tonight. Hopefully we can get settled soon, I'm not yet used to the movements of Epic, so my joints are starting to ache..."
