[center][b]Derrix “Nightbane” Herchiv and Jasmin[/b][/center]

	Charroux trotted with heavy clops, his hooves digging against the brittle road. Derrix sat comfortably on top, his mind awash with scenes of a far away land and a far away time. He wanted to close his eyes and just let Charroux take lead in the matter, the animal was certainly smart enough, but Derrix scolded himself silently for such a lazy thought. With a deep inhale he kicked the horse and he shot from his place in front of Jasmin and the sumpter, catching up to trot abreast by Ishmael. 

	Derrix was quick to get down to business and he opened his scarred mouth to speak, “Ishmael, do you want me to scout ahead of the convoy?”

	He was sure he might have seemed silly asking. Being a poet in simple garments and without a weapon on him. He knew though, that his horse was fast, his sight was strong, and more importantly that when dealing with high end bandits, to expect an ambush or two along the way to their hide-out.