[center][color=FFCE00][h2][u]The Snakeburrow Woods[/u][/h2][/color][/center]

[center][sub]16th of the Full Autumn Moon, 1698 P.A.
Evening - Overcast skies[/sub][/center]

A few drops of rain threatened a downpour, but the sky still held true and the rest of the day remained uneventful. Cerric’s seemingly endless chatter had him jumping from the current state of Relfin politics to the best names for dogs to the possibility that an air aetherbone may have touched a star. Even Esvelee was losing her patience with the man, having run out of words and care for whatever mindless shit was streaming out of the energetic half elf’s mouth, and she couldn’t sound more relieved when she announced her intent to pull off the road at a waystop for the evening. Not that it stopped Cerric. He kept a hearty one-sided conversation up until Esvelee all but shoved him off the cart and shooed him away so she could tend to the horse. Her eyes fell on Kyreth’s horns and for a moment a sneer curled at the corner of her lip, but she looked away quickly to focus on her task. 

[color=skyblue]“Now, before we call the day done and gone, let’s discuss the day. Nothing terrible, but a lot happened and based on what I saw, you don’t know enough to understand how dangerous what happened earlier was.”[/color] Cerric piped up from where he was putting another log onto the fire. He gave them a few moments to pull themselves from their conversations and their thoughts before continuing. [color=skyblue]“I doubt anyone here is ignorant of Rot. A nasty colloquialism, but an apt one, Rot is an affliction in which a living creature, or a corpse, suffers undeath. It is a perversion of natural aether, warping a creature’s very biology until they are no longer a mortal creature. Food, drink, air, and the pleasures and tribulations of life are no longer their concern, stripped away in the unrelenting crusade of hatred and despair. They become lifeless, violent creatures with only the intent to spread their vile disease, as we saw today. How rot happens, I’m not particularly sure, only that it does and when you encounter an undead, you give it wide breadth and let it pass or you put it down from as far as you can.”[/color] Cerric startled as the log slipped from his fingers and sent a whirlwind of embers spiraling towards him. 

[color=skyblue]“You were discussing a puppet master during and in the aftermath, but little was spoken about the consequences of Eila’s injuries. While yes, the beasts’ saliva clearly contained concentrated Rot, who is to say it couldn’t have been transmitted through the claws? Rot is an aetheric sickness and as our mental Animas friend here knows, its afflications and manipulations can be subtle and unseen. This means Eila is now a potential security risk to the operation, and to each living creature she comes in contact with, until we can be sure she isn’t at risk of turning.”[/color] Cerric explained, drumming his fingers on his legs he thought. [color=skyblue]“Normally, I would recommend putting her out of her misery-no offense Eila, but it is the most merciful thing to do rather than letting you suffer-but truth be told, she likely knows more on the subject of Rot than I do so I’ll leave that decision in the hands of her peers unless it becomes undeniable.”[/color] He patted Eila’s shoulder before continuing. 

[color=skyblue]“Furthermore, your… teamwork.”[/color] The pause was palpable as Cerric struggled not to include a colorful description. [color=skyblue]“I would also recommend you talk about that because yes you successfully defended the caravan, but you won’t always have an Animas aetherborn around to patch you back together. You each wield powerful abilities - talk strategy so the short term, you come out in better condition and the long term, you have an idea of what supplies and tools to purchase as stock supplies.”[/color]