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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 2813461" data-attributes="member: 22792">Chapter 11: Minetown (Continued)The deepening dark shadowed three prone forms, nestled between a few dry leaves and nettles. One form, one body slid between the shadows of branches and limbs, climbing higher and moving ever closer to the dying yellowish hues of a well-trodden road. A deep snore gave the moving shadow pause. Motega grimaced as once again, his companions showed their inability to hold to the rules regarding stealth. The Rorn’s blood-pressure shot up, beads of sweat percolated across his flesh. A hot flash gripped the ranger, his knuckles tightened upon the branch, whitening with stress. Above, the nearly full moon peeked behind a cloud, baring its cold face through the last rays of daylight.The moment passed and the rage subsided. Aware of the full scene now, the Rorn shook his head. He was ashamed; ashamed to toss blame toward his companions. It was not their fault they had fallen asleep. Here, upon the edge of town, there was naught that they could do but wait. The long weariness of the road had eventually pulled upon each of them, drowning them in the calm sea of sleep. Even Magnus, ever scribbling upon his parchments, had succumbed. All except for the Rorn.Motega had kept the watch all afternoon and would keep the watch all night, if need be. Here, with the moon shining nearly full, the Rornman was at his best. Without his companions, who slept restfully below, the ranger could dance from branch to branch without so much as a whisper. His movements were fluid, natural, an ancient dance that had no modern equal in beauty or function. His eyes pierced the deepening dark.But it was all fruitless. Not a single traveler had stumbled down the road. Nothing. No one. The only noises aside from the quiet grazing of the distant horses were the occasional snores of a companion or two. He released his grip on the branch, embracing the fall. Before descending from the canopy, the ranger latched onto another branch. Holding tight, his trajectory adjusted immediately. He flew into a mid-air barrel roll, spinning until he landed gracefully betwixt his friends. Motega grasped Tobias’ shoulder, giving a gentle but firm shake. The paladin stirred, eyes opening slowly. The warrior wiped the sleep from his eyes before whispering, “What is it?”“No one has strayed down the path. I think it is time we break camp.”Tobias sat up, stretching his arms and chest. “What then?”“I think it is time to see the Baron’s estate. Maybe if we circle the town and re-enter to the south we can gather more information.”“A good idea. Plus, it will content the mage. And we can then know what is at our backs when we fight. Let us wake the others.” The pair quickly and silently roused the others. “The horses?” asked Fitz. “They can stay. They will be safe and they won’t compromise our stealth,” claimed the Rornman. “If we move quietly and slowly enough, none will know of our presence.”“Good enough. Let’s go,” decided Magnus. He slung his sack of parchment over his shoulder. The paper rubbed together, creating an unnatural noise. Motega shot the mage a glare. “What?” Magnus shrugged his shoulders annoyingly. “Nothing,” grunted the Rorn. “Follow me.” He stalked out ahead of the others. High above, the last rays of sun disappeared behind the horizon revealing the full fury of the moon. Motega twitched, his blood-pressure rocketing upward, his muscles clenching. Taking a deep breath, the Rorn started again to lead the party into the deepening dark.</blockquote>

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