[center][h3][b][color=a187be]Lorenzo of Windor[/color][/b][/h3][hider=Gear]
- Three different cloaks. One black, one brown, and one lavender. (Not including a white one wrapped around Martyrdom) 
- Trusty Bow
- Quiver of Arrows, (24).
- A thick red blanket made by his mother.
- Two bones. [u][i](One chewed a fair bit)[/i][/u]
- The best beef jerky he had. [u][i](4/6 meals remaining)[/i][/u]
- Flask of mysterious beverage.
- Flask of water.
- 20 meters of fine quality rope.
- A modestly-wealthy sum of gold.
[/hider][/center][hr]

[color=a187be]"I'd applaud you, old man, but unfortunately I'm a bit bogged down!"[/color] Lorenzo shouted as he lead the dog along the paths he saw ahead of the group. The hound the group was riding on was fine for the moment, knowing it's own path to the light fairly well. That is, until the path ahead started to fade from the hound's memory. It began to branch out into arcing and winding paths, only for the dog to slowly grow more and more confused. It seemed to know the general direction of where to go, but it was as if it wasn't exactly sure what direction that consistently was. 

Lorenzo patted the beast on it's head before taking the true lead away from the mount, looking at the paths for multiple moments each before deciding on the path based on two conditions. It's speed as the primary condition, and it's roughness as a secondary one. Lorenzo took a deep breath before whistling out loud to the hound, causing the beast to perk it's ears up in attention, and allowing Lorenzo to guide it with a pat. The first pat directed the dog slightly to the right, through a slightly narrow, yet rather easygoing path. It wasn't the most direct, but it was a quick route for advancing.

Lorenzo turned to the rest of his crew. [color=a187be]"What in the name of Hell do you call that beast?!"[/color]