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Message: <blockquote data-quote="steeldragons" data-source="post: 5750829" data-attributes="member: 92511">The day carried on. The shadows of afternoon were stretching farther as afternoon slipped into evening and the bright, though cool, day was taking on the rosy orange and purple tones of twilight.      The ox, much to Alaria’s displeasure, was definitely slowing their progress. She was sure Stenthil’s spell had expired by now and Farthing Cross was still not in sight.       Festus had “fallen asleep” [passed out] shortly following his liquid lunch of 2 wineskins and laid sprawled out upon the tarp that covered their treasure. His cloven feet were perched comfortably upon Buttercream’s curled sleeping form.      Fen and Haelan had each used their invocations to search the surrounding areas and shadows for anything unusual. Thankfully, nothing was presenting itself.      The group had passed a large stark white boulder or finger of rock that jutted out from a field, nothing around it. That, Duor had remarked, was unusual. But a good landmark, he supposed.      Shortly after the field with the stone, a stretch of clusterd trees and undergrowth came up on their left side (west of the road). While still set a ways off the well-worn dirt road, the trees’ shadows easily stretched across their path.      This put Alaria at a noticeable unease.      Shortly after the sky was turning to its evening hues, Buttercream awoke. The ferret stretched and yawnned its pointed snout of slender sharp teeth. She took a moment to sniff the air in the all directions before lazily edging herself down off the back of the cart and sniffing and weaving her way into woods.      Festus’ hooves thudded down on the cart, jolting the satyr awake. “Who, wuh, where?”      “Where is she going?” Alaria asked the druid riding at her side, curious.      “It’s evening. Hunting time. She’s hungry.” The half-elf chuckled in response. “She’ll be fine and catch up with us…if she so desires.”      Festus gasped. “Where are we?! It’s evening already? We haven’t passed the Giant’s Thumb, have we?!” the satyr blurted with some concern.      “Giant’s thumb?” Haelan asked dumbfounded.      “If yeh mean that big white boulder as ways back…Yeah. Lil’ bit ago. Why?” Duor answered, happy to have someone to talk to. The slow plodding of the ox and the long trip in the cart had dulled the dwarf, practically to sleep, himself.      Festus’s falchion left its scabbard with an audible “shing.” The satyr ducked down, so the top of his head and eyes were just peeking over the side of the cart. His gaze firmly affixed to the woods beside them.      This caused a great deal of concern and action. Haelan lept to his feet at the sound of the drawn weapon, the daelvar's mace leaping into his hand as he turned, standing on the cart seat to look back toward the ranger.      Coerraine, also, took up his shield and spear with fluid ease and turned his steed with his legs to face the cart. His eyes turned golden and shot all around them, looking for the unknown threat.      Erevan simply turned in his saddle to look back at the satyr. His single right eyebrow raised in characteristic questioning.   Fen edged his horse closer to Alaria, readying to bolt with the wizard, as was their plan.      With trained ease, a flurry of incantations for offensive spells came to Alaria’s mind. She was determined to aid her companions before abandoning them.      Duor, in his stupor of boredom was surprisingly slow to react. “Wut?! Who?! What’s the problem, goat-butt?” He didn’t even have the presence of mind to draw a weapon, his hands seemingly glued to the reigns.      Festus explained with apparent worry. Sounding like he was speaking more to himself than his companions. Concern raising almost to panic in his voice with each sentence.“We’ve passed the Giant’s Thumb. Ok. It’s twilight. We’re not at the village yet. Ok. Ok. We’re ok. The woods are right here…if I’d known I’d have taken us around. Why didn't you wake me!?! But we’re here now. Ok…and it’s twilight!”      “Festus, what is it?!” Alaria voiced the deepening concern of everyone.       The satyr lowered himself even further, his brow scowling above eyes that just barely breached the top of the cart. He answered through clenched teeth with a hissing growl more than a word.      “Pixies.”</blockquote>

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