[h3]A Bunch of Morons go Digging for Carrots.[/h3] [@Leidenschaft] [@Greenie] [@Mortarion] [@Hank] [@Stormflyx] [i]14th Sun’s Height - Morning The Durehahdddach mountains.[/i] [hr] [right][i] Fresh Meat Vegetables Fruits Red, Blue, Purple, Yellow Mountain Flower (desperately need!) Honeycomb (desperately need!) Juniper Berries (desperately need!) Rock Warbler Eggs Spider Eggs Thistle and Thistle Branch Garlic Two sources of fresh water [/i][/right] Fjolte had scanned over the list multiple times as he sat on a rock aside a path that led out into the woods. There was a tankard of hot tea in his hand that Raelynn had brewed with what she had at her disposal, this morning - simply pine needles, nettle, and some kind of sweet flower. It had an unusual tang to it, but it did the job of warming him up and giving him energy. She’d been thrusting various cups of it on just about everyone too. He could still hear her having absolutely none of it if someone dared tell her they didn’t want any. “It’s cleansing!” he heard her say, which brought a smile to his face. Gods her handwriting was lovely, but it was damned hard to read. “Jiminy borrels?” he muttered to himself, blowing into the tankard before taking a small sip. “What’s a tortel bunch?” As he had expected, she’d been [i]very[/i] assertive in her instructions too. More than one source of fresh water was needed, one for drinking and cooking, and the other for bathing. She hadn’t appreciated his early-morning nonchalance that was for sure, but otherwise she’d been in good spirits. As he tipped back his head to finish the last of the tea, he paid little mind to the noise of the camp. The night before, he’d made it his job to tell everyone about this [i]extraordinarily important[/i] quest into the wild for [i]life-saving supplies,[/i] and that any and all were invited to come along for the ride. So, there he was - in the spot he’d said he’d be waiting for anyone who wanted to join him in the hunt for Rook Waffle Edge, and Handygold. The Nord scratched his head and belched quietly, adjusting himself on the rock. “Charming,” Mazrah said, her voice coming suddenly and without warning from above. She waved at Fjolte from the perch she’d made for herself on a branch that belonged to one of the tall and proud pine trees that this forest seemed to be mostly comprised of. She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Fjolte could probably look up her loincloth, if he were so inclined. “What was that you mumbled? Jimmy brothels? I didn’t know you went for that sort of thing,” she added and winked. And look he did, partly because such a sight could not be avoided, since it was completely the spot that his eyes landed on when he turned to look over his shoulder. He blinked, and met the Orsimer’s eyes instead, clearing his throat. “Don’t know what you mean, Green Goddess,” he commented with a smirk, “Monks have no want for such places…” His smirk lingered for a moment more. “Just tryin’ to make sense of this list here. Been given some pretty direct orders y’know?” “[i]Monks have no want for such places.[/i]” Came the sing-song voice of Finnen close enough for Fjolte to flinch. There he was, the Reachman and his easy smile, squatting and chin perched on his knuckles. He knew exactly the implication of Fjolte’s words because his Nord eyes led him to the meaning. Of course, Finnen only knew because he’d glanced too. “And to think, I get to wrestle her.” Finnen prodded in his quietest, most shit-eating grinning voice, “But what would a monk want with that?” Finnen kept his easy smile as he stood, pointing to Mazrah, and forcing his eyes to look at hers and not wander, “I know you’ve never been here.” And he put his hands on his hips and nodded to Fjolte, “And you might’ve, but between us three I’ve got the most history here. I know this country.” Mazrah smirked and dropped down from the branch, landing on the soft earth on one knee and one fist hard enough to kick up a circle of pine needles around her. She rose to her full height and snatched the list from Fjolte’s hands while looking at Finnen. “Very well, oh mighty wild-man. You lead and I’ll decipher this undoubtedly complex shopping list,” the huntress said and elbowed Fjolte in the side -- something she was making a habit of. She secretly hoped she’d bruised his ribs by now. A few seconds passed after she cast her golden gaze on the piece of paper and her amused expression changed to one of frustration. “What runes are these?” she asked and glared at Fjolte. “Who gave you this? Is this a joke?” Fjolte shrugged his shoulders, and gave a grunt, “Blondie wrote it, I dunno man… Maybe she shoulda told me what she wanted. Parchment smells good though.” As if to demonstrate, he lifted it to his nose and gave it a gentle sniff. “Like flowers or somethin’.” Finnen laid a gentle hand on Mazrah’s wrist and she angled the paper for Finnen’s squinting eyes. There was a few moments where Finnen stood motionless and quiet with Mazrah. He leaned forward a bit more, muttering, “What the fuck…” From not too far away came the sound of footsteps, and it wasn't long before two women approached the three waiting by the path. Sirine was at the forefront, looking at a roll of paper with a scrutinizing gaze as Meg followed close behind. Both seemed dressed appropriately for a morning in the woods, Sirine sporting her dagger at her waist while Meg had her bow in hand, quiver filled with arrows on her back. "You don't have to press so hard," the former pirate muttered as she reached the others. "A little goes a long way." "Aye, sorry 'bout that." Meg looked away sheepishly, her eyes immediately latching on to anyone other than her teacher. "Mornin' y'all!" “Mornin’ Scraps! Mornin’ Sirine!” Fjolte replied with a grin and a wave of his huge hand in their direction, he held his gaze on Meg a little longer, before drawing back down to the list in his hand. Sirine rolled up the paper and stuffed it in her satchel before she too looked to the others, raising an eyebrow. "Something the matter there?" “Yes, that we are wasting precious time.” Jaraleet’s voice echoed somewhere behind Sirine. A moment afterwards, the Argonian had reached the path dressed in his usual leather armor. His gaze was briefly drawn to Meg before he turned to look at Fjolte and the list held in his hands. “Give me that here.” He said, taking the note from the Nord’s hands. He looked at the list for a moment before he turned his gaze towards the gathered individuals. “We need to gather food, at least two sources of water, and some alchemy ingredients. That’s all.” The Argonian spoke, folding the letter and tucking it in the pockets of his pant. “I’ll take care of looking for the alchemy ingredients, could use an extra pair of hands to pick fruits and vegetables if we find any. I’ll leave hunting to those of you more suited to that pursuit.” “Don’t range too far.” Finnen looked at the assembled group, finding it bigger than he’d expected it was going to be, “We need someone with good direction if they’re not all following me. These are Crow-Wife lands, we never liked strangers.” [i]Blimey![/i] The Argonian was one serious character, he’d woken up on the wrong side of his bedroll that was for sure. After having the list forcefully removed from his grip, he held his fingers still in the same position as if it were still between them. He looked from his fingers to Jaraleet and back again a few times, his mouth slightly agape. He broke the pained silence with a loud guffaw, before placing his hand on the shoulder of Jaraleet. “Glad you could make out the scrawl, you must have damned better eyes than us three here, brother!” He said in a happy tone, indicating to Finnen and Maz either side of him. “You seem to know a bit about alchemy - guessin’ Blondie will be pleased you’re taking that on - least we won’t get it wrong.” The pleased look on Meg's face at seeing Jaraleet join the group faded with the brusque way he handled himself, and for a moment she felt like perhaps retreating and letting the others continue with the foraging and provisioning may be best. [/I]No.[/I] The voice in her head was quite adamant that she stayed. Looking away from the group, she inspected her bow instead, making sure it was strung properly. Her expression had shifted to one of focus- she wasn't going to allow herself to fail her comrades due to emotions. What was meant to happen would happen. Sirine on the other hand seemed to sport a look of mild annoyance on her face. "I didn't realize we were upholding a schedule," she commented in a very dry fashion, her eyes shifting from Jaraleet to Meg, noting the change in the former. Quite sure the Nord woman could handle herself though, she then looked to Finnen as she continued to speak. "As you know these lands best, I trust your judgement in sending me whichever way, gathering, hunting, or simply a lookout." “We have no idea how far we’ll need to go to get these supplies, nor how long we will be searching for them. And, as you’ve noted yourself, most of us aren’t familiar with the terrain.” Jaraleet spoke to Sirine, undeterred by neither the look of annoyance on the woman’s face or her tone. “Taking all these things into consideration, I think it’s for the best that we don’t waste time and try to get this done before nightfall.” He said before turning to look at Finnen. “As Sirine said, you know these lands better than all of us. Tell me where I might find the items on the list and I’ll endeavor to return as soon as possible.” “So we split off into two or three,” offered Fjolte, stepping to the front of the group, turning on his heel to face them all. “I’ve been here before, nothing much I don’t know about mountains and the dangers. Finnen here can lead another group, and Maz another.” He folded his arms across his puffed out chest, “we can break into three, or go off in pairs. Seems Scraps and Maz should be going on a real hunt though, no sense them picking fruit when they’re equipped to shoot at game, y’know?” He rounded off with a soft chuckle, and shot a playful wink towards Meg, hoping she might crack a smile. Meg's mood had indeed lightened a little by Fjolte's words and wink; she had looked away from her bow at the Nord man voice, sending a rueful smile his way before glancing at Maz, recalling the two times the pair had hunted dwemer together with their bows. A small grin danced on her lips. "Maz, how 'bout it? We see who can hunt the most game- winner wins, er, sommat." While Meg's grin might have been small, Mazrah returned it with a maniacal, tusky baring of her teeth that wouldn't look out of place on a troll. Her eyes shone with mischief and excitement. "You're on, hawkeye!" the huntress said and clapped Meg on the shoulder. "I haven't had a proper hunting contest in ages. The beasts in these woods won't know what hit them." Like Meg, Mazrah had come prepared and her oversized, iron-reinforced bow was slung on her back along with her quiver of orichalcum-tipped arrows. She took her bow in her hands and made sure the string was nice and taut. "Mine's bigger, you know," she said sardonically and winked at Meg. "Good luck." “Jaraleet? Fjolte?” Finnen cocked a brow at his friend, trying not to add to the tension his appearance apparently had for some, “You both know herbs better than I, and I know this country better than most. One or both of you could come with me.” “I do know em, specially round these parts,” Fjolte added knowingly, the thought of obtaining a replenishment of his own [i]special herbs[/i] crossed his mind too. He didn’t believe that Raelynn would have added anything like that to the list. He could procure those in secret, probably. He felt an off energy emanating from the Argonian, and he didn’t rightly want to be in his company if he was to be honest with himself, but… There was always the thought that he could turn Jaraleet’s mood around. Yes, that feeling was stronger than any desire to avoid. He smiled brightly over at the man, trying to send as much positivity as he could his way. “Boys versus girls then is it?” He asked, looking at Sirine - who had not yet been assigned to a group. He wouldn’t have minded her company, truthfully. "Why not," Sirine replied, allowing herself a smile. She had a bit of a soft spot for the large Nord; Bakih had spoken praises of the man and very much alluded his remaining sane in the desert prison to Fjolte. If there was anything, she probably owed the man a favour. "Sounds fine to me. We can split the list between the two groups- we can have a copy each, it may make things speedier, seeing I will be free while the Maz and Meg hunt." Her smile shifted to a smirk. “Perhaps we can even make it a small contest of our own, like our hunters, hm?” She looked to Jaraleet, holding out her hand. "If you don't mind, the list?" “Contests?” Finnen smirked, glancing at Mazrah, “I try not to be competitive.” “I could do this list myself before noon, y’know - just wanted the company,” commented Fjolte with another signature shrug of his shoulders. That gave Mazrah an idea and she wiggled her eyebrows at Fjolte. “If that’s true, big boy, why don’t you use all that spare time you’ll have to find me a nice gift? It was my birthday two weeks ago, so you better bring me something [i]truly special.”[/i] But of course Mazrah had been born under the sign of the Steed. So had he, although to share such a tidbit might ruin her own fun - and he wasn’t about to steal her thunder. “Then the nicest gift the mountains have to offer, I will find for you,” he replied with wit on his tongue and something devious in his eyes - only made more delightful by the mock Knightly bow that Fjolte offered her. “I accept your challenge, Green Goddess.” It was on his way back up, that he caught Meg’s eyes and fired yet another wink in her direction. Jaraleet let out a sigh and shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the list he had put there not a moment ago. “Here.” He said as he handed over the piece of paper to Sirine’s outstretched hand. "Thank you." Sirine took the paper and unfolded it, looking over the list. The sight of the writing had her chuckle under her breath. It was very neat, and it seemed silly that some would have difficulty reading it, but not everyone learned how to write that way. "Meg, how's this for today's work? Copy this list down." She held the paper out for the Nord woman to take. Meg blinked at her in surprise but nodded, quickly putting her bow down and grabbing on to the list. In the meantime, Sirine pulled out the roll of paper she had stowed away earlier as well as her usual wooden quill. "Here you are. If you have trouble reading something, just ask." She was given another nod; Meg was quick to comply, clearly an eager student. “And so the extraordinary quest begins!” Fjolte began, his voice deep and booming with one leg propped up on the rock and one hand on his hip - he looked like some kind of storytelling bard all of a sudden, demanding the attention of a hungry crowd. He flashed his winning grin and waved a hand out in front of him to incite some kind of air of mystery about him… He chastised himself internally for not having had a handful of dust or other such thing - [i]for effect[/i]. His eyes narrowed as he brought his leg down back to the ground. “Off we shall go! To search far and wide together to bring back the desired ingredients for the fair maiden! Whose very delicate hand wrote this scented page!” He fell at his knees before Meg and Sirine as they looked over the list, his eyebrows raised as he pretended to catch the scent of the parchment. “We must not fail in our mission, for the [i]love of the dame[/i] depends on it! [i]We are the last hope![/i] The last line of defence!” Once again, Fjolte got up to his feet, this time spinning on the spot, clenching his fists excitedly, the muscles of his chest and arms rippling with his motions. “So I ask you, my companions…. Are you ready on this day? Are you ready for victory?!?!” “Aye!” Mazrah yelled back, one fist raised in the air and her most fearsome scowl conjured on her face. She poked Jaraleet with the tip of her war-bow and almost broke character by laughing. “Isn’t that right, deadly lizard man? Aren’t we ready for [i]victory?”[/i] Jaraleet shrugged at Mazrah’s prodding, looking entirely unamused by the theatrics of the Nord man and Orsimer woman. “I suppose.” He finally said, turning to look at Finnen. “Are there any caves nearby? One of the items on the list was spider eggs, I think it’d be prudent if we start gathering that and then move onto the other ingredients on the list.” “I’m sure there’s a few.” Finnen nodded, “Come, no time to waste.” [hr] Having given the list that Meg had copied down to the boys, Sirine was busy inspecting the one with Raelynn's writing, once again thoroughly amused at the way it had been scrutinized earlier. Seeing as Jaraleet seemed to be taking on the responsibility of the alchemy ingredients, she decided to go for those she'd easily be able to recognize as food, namely vegetables, fruits and perhaps honey, if she was lucky enough to find a hive. She looked over at Mazrah and Megana, wondering if they'd caught any sight of their quarry. The slopes and valleys of the Druadach mountains were mostly the same as the ones that Mazrah had grown up in around Orsinium and the Orsimer was in her element. She knew that the sounds and smells of the camp behind them would have driven game away and further down into the valley, so for now there was time to chat as they made their way to the prospective hunting grounds. “So, Meg,” Mazrah began and offered the girl her most sympathetic smile. “You and Jaraleet, what’s going on with that?” Sirine looked from Mazrah to Meg, curious as well. She had known from the first day she'd met the rest of the group that the Nord woman and the Argonian man seemed close, though she found it odd seeing how one seemed to radiate moral goodness whilst the other was a pragmatic cold blooded assassin. "Nothin'," Meg replied after a moment's tension. Her eyes had been on the landscape before them, but the sudden question caused her to freeze up and look at the Orsimer. "I mean... well..." She scuffed the ground with her boot before moving forward once again, unsure on how to answer the question. "After the trial... I dunno. I mean... ain' like we were..." Her voice trailed some more before she let out a loud sigh and simply blurted out the truth. "I couldn' say it to him. I couldn' say I loved him when he tol' me tha' he did." That was a more complicated answer than Mazrah had expected. She blinked and, momentarily unsure of what to say, placed a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder. The Orsimer wanted to be the cool older sister that had advice for everything but the truth was that she’d never been in a relationship where words like ‘love’ were involved before. “If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready,” she said eventually but she frowned at her own words. That was hardly helpful. “I don’t know much about love,” Mazrah admitted, “but I do know a lot about setting boundaries and not letting myself be pressured into anything I don’t want. If he wants something that you weren’t willing to give, then he has to respect that.” Meg smiled up at the Orsimer woman, appreciating the words she spoke, feeling comforted by them in fact. "Aye, an' he does," she replied after a moment's thought. Still, a sigh escaped her and she shook her head. "He hasn' talked t'me since then. I dunno if tha's a good thing or not. I didn' wanna push m'self at him so I kept away but maybe tha' was dumb." Shrugging her shoulders, she looked away from Mazrah. "I s'pose tha's tha' though." It was sad to think she might have lost a friend, but right now she couldn't let her mind be distracted by grim thoughts. Sirine lend the young Nord woman a sympathetic look before clearing her throat. "You two have your contest," she said with a small smile. "I'll try to find some of these ingredients on the list." With that said, she gave them a nod before starting off on her own. [hr] Mazrah returned to the spot they’d agreed to meet with two deer slung over both of her magnificent shoulders, a whole family of rabbits strung up around her waist and a fox in one hand, leaving her other hand to carry her bow. Her skin was glistening with sweat and she was panting, but the light in her eyes revealed that she had revelled in the thrill of the hunt. “Did I win?” she asked with an animalistic, tusky grin. "Uhhhh..." Meg had arrived only a little before Maz, and she was rather winded from having to drag her sole deer and the two rabbits she had hunted down. Seeing the Orsimer in all her glory, with all that game... it was more than clear who the winner was. The Nord woman couldn't help but let out a laugh at the question which at this point seemed almost rhetorical. "I think ya did," she replied, still chuckling as she motioned towards the three carcasses behind her. "Fair an' square, y'win an' I gotta pay up." "Well look at that." Sirine had been sitting nearby, nursing her hands that seemed to be dotted with red. "You sure outdid yourself there, Mazrah. It seems like I had the simplest task." She looked to the side to where she had a small bundle of cloth. "Apparently the bees did not appreciate with my intrusion to their home. All's well however and Raelynn will have what she needed." “Yes!” Mazrah exclaimed triumphantly and the two deer carcases fell from her shoulders as she raised her arms in victory before she, too, broke out into laughter. “You did great, that one’s bigger than either of mine,” the Orsimer said as she pointed to the deer that Meg had bagged. She took a deep breath and sat down opposite Sirine, piling up the dead animals on the ground next to her. A few gulps of ice cold river water from her waterskin later and Mazrah flashed the two women another grin. “This is fun. Who wants to bet the boys are in over their heads with that whole spider business?” "I couldn't say," Sirine replied with only the slightest hint of actually thinking over it as she looked at a visible stinger that could be seen on her knuckle. With a small grimace, she managed to grab it and yank it out. "I haven't seen much of their skills." "I'mma say they'll be fine," Meg offered as she too plonked herself down next to the two women. "I've seen 'em all actually, an' they're pretty good at gettin' shit done." “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Mazrah said with a shrug and a dismissive wave. “I sparred with Fjolte back in the desert and he’s a good fighter, and I’ve been training with Finnen while we’re traveling. He’s crazy strong for a scrawny Breton. But I didn’t come here to sing their praises. Sirine,” she said and turned her relentlessly inquisitive golden gaze towards the former pirate. “Tell me about Zaveed. What’s he like?” "Zaveed?" Sirine blinked at the random question tossed her way. "Well, that clearly depends on who he's interacting with..." Now she was actually putting some thought in her answer. She guessed most of the camp probably figured she was brainwashed or biased to remain by his side, and until now she had decided there was no point in contesting that- who would trust her? [I]There[/I] was the right word. "Trustworthy," she said. There was a small smile on her face, and her eyes were warm. "Say what anyone will of him, when he gives his word, he keeps it. What you see is what you get, no tricks. It's very rare to find a person like that." It was easy to believe Sirine when her eyes lit up like that. Mazrah raised an eyebrow. "Fancy that," she said and scratched her chin. "That's good to hear, considering he gave his word to be a better person and all. I'd like to trust him. We need all the help we can get. Are you two just friends, or… ?" There was a little twitch to the former pirate’s lips. In her opinion, Zaveed had always been a 'better' person... at least to her. She knew his sins were a plenty, and she could admit that perhaps she was a little biased. That didn't mean she had to like hearing that. Of course that train of thought was erased by the question the Orsimer asked. Sirine was a little tongue tied, unsure how exactly to reply [i]that[/i]. Her mind went back to the previous night, and once more she felt fluttering in her. [i]As if I'm a fucking child[/i], she thought ruefully. "We are friends, yes." she started. There was a pause to her words, and then she continued. "Close friends. Perhaps more. Time will tell." It was stated blatantly if not a little choppy. Taking a deep breath, she smiled, looking almost abashed as she shrugged. "Needless to say, I have never been more content since being by his side." Mazrah grinned. "Look at you! You're adorable," the Orsimer huntress cooed, everything about her radiating nothing but sincerity. "I'll be honest and say you could do worse than a handsome killer-cat when it comes to men. You know, past associations aside. I don't make a habit of thinking highly of people that bend the knee to the Dwemer." She wiped some sweat of her forehead and looked at Sirine intently for a second before adding: "Anyway, the past is the past. Are you guys planning to stick around to see Sora's mad idea through?" "Adorable, huh." That was a word Sirine had never associated with herself, it sounded amusing and wrong but she didn't want to ruin the Orsimer's mood. Besides, who was she to say what others saw? "I've been with many men who didn't care about me so long as they received what they wanted. So you are right in a sense- I know that he is the best sort of person I will meet. As for the dwemer..." Whatever warmth she had been feeling chilled immediately, and it showed in her eyes. "Zaveed was given no choice in the matter, at least no choice that would have let him live. I would not hold that against him... no one truly knows what they will do if it's to simply stay alive. But yes, that is why we will be staying with this group, until the dwemer occupation is over. They took from us our home and families, and we will make sure to deal them justice." “No one truly knows? Hah. I know,” Mazrah replied and smirked. “That’s one thing you people can learn from us. A good death is better than a bad life.” She looked at Meg and gestured for her to join the conversation. “What do you think? Nords believe the same thing, right? Sovngarde and all that?” Meg looked from Sirine to Maz, finding the conversation a little heavy, though she did nod, recalling the Companions from Whiterun as well as the warriors she would come across in Skyrim. "Reachin' Sovngarde is what every Nord warrior hopes for," she agreed, looking to Sirine. "T'die in battle an' reach the Hall of Valor, with gran' tables filled with more food than y'can ever eat." "I doubt any divines are going to look upon me favourably and invite me to their fancy feasts," Sirine replied, shaking her head. She couldn't help but be reminded of what Zaveed had told her the night before, and it troubled her. She had never been concerned with that sort of thing, but seeing his state yesterday… even if it wasn’t for herself, she wanted there to be a chance of a good afterlife for him at least. "Death has never looked good to me,” she finally added. “It has always been about survival. Being alive, that is good." “Being alive doesn’t last forever,” Mazrah said and shook her head. “But a good life and a good death -- you reap the benefits of that for eternity. That is why you should live your life with honor and in harmony with your gods, whoever they may be.” She laughed and added: “Or you find a Daedra to worship and hope they’ll take your soul. We Orsimer have a pretty good deal with old Malacath.” "I decided I didn't care for any higher beings quite a while ago." Sirine was busy running her finger over the red bumps on the opposite hand, finding the burning sensation a pleasant distraction from the conversation. "Before that, Kynareth was who I cared to spare a thought towards." Her tone was rather dry as she looked over at Mazrah. "What with being a sailor, it seemed the most obvious." “What changed?” Mazrah asked, her head cocked in curiosity. She failed entirely to pick up on Sirine’s attitude towards the subject. Sirine looked up from her hands, her lips drawn into a straight line, feeling tense at the subject. She knew the reasons full well, but it was much too personal to discuss, especially with people she hardly knew. Even [i]Zaveed[/i] didn't completely know why. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting the air out, she allowed herself a hint of a smile. "A little too much to discuss here and now," she finally replied, sounding almost apologetic. "Perhaps some other time? For now, we should probably meet up with the others." Meg nodded enthusiastically- she had noticed the tension but was feeling much too awkward to say something. "Aye, I'm feelin' kinda peckish too, would be nice t'get back an' eat sommat." [hr] “Well…” The mouth of the cave yawned like a wolf’s maw. Around it there were the tell-tale signs of spider infestation, large webs gathered around the edges like spittle on a mouth. There was also the matter of there being far too many sun-bleached bones outside, which hinted at the presence of something else that dwelled or perhaps still was in the cave. Mountain trolls, goblins, ogres. Nothing Finnen particularly liked the prospect of meeting. He booted what looked to be a fox’s skull towards the cave, bouncing end over end on the dirt. “Who first?” Fjolte fiddled with and wrapped his fingers around the string of one of his many necklaces, the round wooden beads clinking gently, that sound of the hollow spheres was broken by a deep sigh that he heaved. He was looking at the entrance of the cave, and wasn’t too happy about it. He’d been more than a little distracted by other thoughts… Thoughts of Meg’s smile and laughter, of Raelynn’s swaying hips and round bottom, Sirine’s long legs, of Aries’ chest... Yes, he’d been enjoying those thoughts, not to mention that his eyes had been enjoying the journey with this group so far... This cave was surely a punishment from the gods themselves for his sinful thinking. The Nord brought a hand up to his forehead, the other fell to his hip and his mouth twitched at the thought of trespassing. “How long we gonna have to dig around in there for?” He asked tersely, eyes not moving from the dark opening. “Not long. By the looks of it, it shouldn’t be too deep of a cave. The webs wouldn’t be so visible if they had space to make a nest in there.” As much as he was terrified of becoming nothing more than prey, Fjolte’s trepidation brought him more pleasure than it should, “Make sure you step light, they use those webs to feel. And do be quiet, the vibrations of your voice echoing off the walls might as well be us stomping around in iron boots.” The Nord cast a glance from left to right at Finnen and Jaraleet both, his blue eyes holding a cool gaze to them before he gave an indifferent shrug of his shoulders and stepped quietly forwards, deeming it appropriate to keep his trap shut for the time being. Even if he was well and truly in his element, he was very much out of it too. He had received more than one or two colder shoulders on the way from the prison to the Reach, and while that was probably normal - Fjolte wasn’t used to it. He wondered how different a mission into the cave this would be with some of his own hooligans by his side. He could step near silently too, even for being of such a tremendous size and stature. He wore sandals after all, and they moved softly across the ground unlike steel boots might. If he was not speaking for fear of disturbing a beast - inside, there was a full blown monologue playing around in his mind. Mostly about how the fuck he’d found himself in such strange company, and whether or not he would have been better off taking a solo expedition. As the darkness seemed to encroach more and more, he took smaller and smaller breaths, focussing his breathing so as to make even less noise. He could hold his breath for minutes at a time if need be, if anyone was going to disturb a pest in this cave - it was not going to be him. Jaraleet looked at Fjolte as they made their way through the cave, surprised to see the man who had been so boisterous and loud but a few moments ago moving so silently. The assassin mentally chided himself for having underestimated the monk, there was always more to a person under what laid at a superficial glance, both he and Finnen were proof of that after all, and making such mistakes could be costly in the long run. But they had a job to do and distractions could only be cause for troubles, so Jaraleet pushed the errant thoughts to the back of his mind and devoted his full focus to his surroundings. It didn’t take too long for Jaraleet to detect signs of the occupants of the cave, his eyes, used already to poor light conditions, could see the vague shapes of the spiders as they moved near their nest, his ears hearing the chittering sound that the giant arachnids made as they went through the confined space. He motioned to both of his companions to stop moving, waiting until he was sure that the three of them were in place before he turned to look at Finnen as one of his hands reached for the hilt of his sword, unsheathing the blade slowly before pointing with his free hand in the direction from which the sounds came from and then to Finnen once more. He waited until he was sure that the Breton had understood what he meant before he turned to look at Fjolte, silently mouthing a ‘Wait here’ and then, immediately afterwards, Jaraleet began moving towards his target. But of course, Fjolte could not distinguish just what the Argonian was communicating. His face scrunched up in confusion, and he followed Jaraleet as he continued on - assuming that had been what he had been trying to say [i]”follow me”[/i]. As silently as he had been, he kept a small distance from him, but close enough so that should the man need him for anything, he was ready for it. He too could hear the sounds of the spiders - wretched, ugly creatures that they were. Finnen nodded, freeing his axe from its hoop. The spiders would be easy to deal with. Juveniles just mature enough to mate, but small enough to not pose too deadly a challenge. It still remained that they were inside their realm and everything was stacked against them. Even so, Finnen drew in a breath through his nose, letting it out as quietly as he could. He looked to Jaraleet and Fjolte again, nodding once and they did the same. It was over as quick as it had started. Finnen has buried his axe just behind the eyes of his spider and Fjolte and Jaraleet had taken care of the other. Before long, they were carrying the eggs out of the cave, Finnen grimacing at his disgusting cargo. Spiders. “I’m glad that’s over with. I don’t ever want to see another spider again.” “You and me both,” came the deeply dull, moody voice of Fjolte from behind Finnen. He shook off some of the splattered entrails that had found their way to his forearms in the scuffle. Fighting in the dark, when he had already found himself feeling suddenly low of energy wasn’t sitting well with him. Even if it was just spiders, if he had been feeling lighter, there might be a joke to be made about a time he’d cleared out a nest of dozens… But his usual smile had been replaced by an uncharacteristically stoic expression. He saw that the other two had their spoils in hand, and he took a good look at the outside of the cave, the dangerously rocky surface - the sharp edges and the way the breeze was whistling off of it. It was incredibly inviting. “Some herbs on that list right? Think I’ll take a gander for ‘em” he said, not waiting for a response from Jaraleet or Finnen. Instead he just took to the cliff and began to climb gracefully, in the direction of a ledge high up. “Don’t wait around for me, I’ll see myself back to camp…” He sighed and kept moving, the desire for some privacy overcoming any moment that he would have taken to be affable. He was not one to ignore emotional instinct, he was in need of a brief escape. Jaraleet nodded in acknowledgement of Fjolte’s words, seeing no point in trying to change the Nord’s mind. “Be sure to show me the herbs once you’ve gathered, that way I can verify that they are the correct ones. It is easy to make mistakes when it comes to herbs and what their properties are.” The Argonian spoke as he carefully deposited the egg that he had been carrying. With his hands freed, the Argonian briefly turned to look back at where they had left the corpses of the spiders and then back to Finnen. “I’ll be back in a second, recon it would be a waste to not harvest their poison glands.” Was all that the assassin said before he headed back into the depths of the cave. “Suit yourself.” Finnen mumbles, looking at the cave as Jaraleet found himself back inside, drawing a blade. He shook his head and went back to where this all started... [hr] Finnen sat, the big eggs cradled in his folded legs as he whistled the time away. Now the killing and the danger was past him, he felt good again. The wind on his face, through his hair, across his bare chest. He felt like a man of peace again, and times like he’d these were few and far between, small moments to be relished. He heard footsteps and talking, not opening his eyes to see who it was, and not caring to stop his whistling. If only he had his lute. “Hey-hey.” He said to whoever the voices belonged to. "Heya La- er Finnen!" Meg slowly made her way over to the familiar man, dragging the game she had hunted with her, a tired but cheerful expression radiating from here. "Ya'll're done too?" Sirine wasn't far behind the Nord woman with the two rabbits Meg had caught slung over her back, ignoring the stinging on her hands for the time being. She wasn't sure what to make of the Reachman still, even though it seemed he and Zaveed were no longer completely at odds. Jaraleet turned his head at the sound of Meg’s voice. “We are, Fjolte said that he’d go and gather the herbs on the list by himself.” The Argonian said, nodding at the trio of women in greeting. “Said that he was going to head straight back to the camp once he was done. I’ll have to look over what he picked once we are back at camp, make sure that he didn’t bring anything poisonous by accident.” The assassin spoke, dipping his hands into the nearby water to scrub them once again. After he was sure that he had washed off all the ichor that stained his hands and forearm from gathering the poison glands from the spiders, Jaraleet dipped a piece of cloth in the water and began to clean his blade in turn. “Not much left to do. Me and Finnen were waiting for you three, and I took the chance to clean my blade. Though I do suppose we could take a moment to relax before we returned to camp.” He said as he wiped his blade with the practiced ease of a man who had done the task a hundred times. It took only a short few moments for the Argonian to finish cleaning his blade and, once he was satisfied with his handiwork and he was sure that he had dried the blade properly, he returned the weapon to it’s scabbard. Following his own advice the Argonian assassin quickly made himself comfortable, feeling the nearby sound of the waterfall lulling him into a sense of peace and calm. It had been a lucky thing that the spot they had chosen had been near a waterfall, otherwise he’d have had to wait until they got back to camp for him to wash his hands off of the ichor from the arachnid’s corpses. His eyes briefly moved to the pool of water, an errant cross passing through his mind briefly. There seemed to be no threats in the immediate vicinity, and what they were sent to gather didn’t seem so urgent as to require them to head back to camp immediately so, surely, there wouldn’t be a problem if he allowed himself a brief moment of respite? The inner debate quietly raged in his mind for a moment before finally settling that, no, a brief period of relaxation wouldn’t hurt. Propping his weapons against a nearby tree log where he could easily get to them in the eventuality that some sort of problem occured, Jaraleet made his way to the edge of the pond and quickly began to strip himself of his clothes until he was only in his underwear. “If something happens, shout.” He said as he turned to look at Finnen and, once he was sure that the Reachman had heard him, then the Argonian submerged himself under the surface of the water. Meg couldn't help but seem a little disappointed that Fjolte had left and wouldn't be heading back to the camp with them, but she shrugged it off and instead looked at the eggs in Finnen's lap. "Sure glad I didn' havta go after those," she muttered, imagining the spiders from where the eggs came couldn't have been too happy to relinquish them. "Agreed," Sirine replied. She'd had enough with bugs for a good while. Once more she was being reminded of why she always preferred the sea to the land. “Wasn’t bad.” Finnen shrugged as if most people just traipsed into monster dens as a good hobby, opening his eyes to another returning companion. Mazrah had returned with the two other women and she scaled up the side of a tree like a cat, making herself comfortable on a thick branch, much like she had done at the start of the day, keeping one eye on their surroundings and one eye on the others. The pile of dead animals she'd killed had been unceremoniously dumped at the roots of the tree and she pointed to it with a smirk. "Indeed, something with fur is much more my speed. What do you think, Finnen? Good haul, right?" Finnen again looked up to the woman just above him, eyes again almost lingering on what she’d probably laugh at him being embarrassed of. He cleared his throat and admirably regained his composure, answering as if he wasn’t just fighting a battle between her eyes and her ass, “Good haul, friend.” He chuckled, enjoying this gathering of friends as he shifted to a more comfortable position on the tree trunk, “Good haul.” [hr] As time rolled on, and the afternoon came around - the group, having shown off their respective spoils elected to make their way back to camp. It had been Jaraleet who pushed them onwards once he had been satisfied with his swim. On their way back, they marked out the path to the spring for the rest of their party should they choose to take a freshwater bath during their stay in the mountains. It didn’t take long for a quiet serenity to wash over the pool again, with occasional and distant laughing of the individuals the only sound for miles around.