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Message: <blockquote data-quote="SlagMortar" data-source="post: 2248058" data-attributes="member: 24821">Thoughout the afternoon, Nars rides stiff backed and hanging on for dear life.  The only thing that saves him is his natural agility.  As they set up camp the first night, Nars has discovered the meaning of saddle sore.  He mutters, "Lucky only half a day.  Course tomorrow will be all day."  as he barks a short bitter laugh.  "What I need is a, er, chariot, or some other, ah, machine with no horse at all."  He sits that night constantly shuffling to try find a comfortable spot.  Every so often he slips his hand inside his cloak and retrieves a flask, taking a quick pull.  Eventually the soreness leaves his muscles (or he quits taking notice) and he's able to get some rest.  The second day he begins to get the hang of staying on the horse without turning his knuckles white.  It will never be comfortable but it is not quite so bad as the previous day.As they enter the magical woods, a frown already imprinted on his face deepens further.  "Horses and n-now my beard feels like it, er, is gonna stand on end."</blockquote>