washed away the worst of the trail grime with water warmed by lying in a leather flask against their mount’s bodies all day, wolfed down a meal of hard trail biscuits, dried meat and raw potatoes, and rolled into their blankets.
Durek briefed Bridget, Janna, Gottri, and Kurt as to the morning’s events, and turned in himself, glad that the planning was coming to an end and the doing would soon start.
Lying atop his saddle blanket on a cart tailgate, his blankets wrapped in a fully-encasing cocoon, Arian Thyben was sleeping as comfortably as could be expected in the field when someone kicked the bottom of his feet, jerking him instantly awake; from the soft cursing to his left, he knew that Trellan had been awakened as well. A tap to the foot was to wake a Badger for sentry duty or at dawn; a slap anywhere else was a call to arms.
Squirming deeper into his blankets, the former cult-hunter sighed and wished for another hour of sleep. The thought seeped in through the sleep-residue that today would not be another thirty miles spent in the saddle, which was very good news; on the other hand, it meant that they would be entering Gradrek Heleth , which was not. Initially they had planned to rest for a full day before going underground, but the increasingly cold weather had caused Durek to change the schedule.
Groaning in anticipated suffering, the monk sat up and wriggled free of his musty blankets, the warm me tal of his broadsword (which he had slept with) serving to remind him of the coming day’s risks. His breath belched out in a white fog before him, and frost shone on his saddlebags and shield, stacked on the ground at the head of his ‘bed’. Starlight and a partial moon provided the only light at the moment, although the peaks above them were beginning to gray with dawn’s first hint. Soft mutterings, the occasional hissed curse, and the sounds of people moving about gave their little clearing a sense of life and familiarity to the mercenary. Kurt had had the last watch so the place to his right was empty; shuddering at the touch of the cold mountain air, Arian stood on his blankets to stretch and twist to get the kinks out, the sharp, clean morning air wiping away the last traces of sleep.
He had slept in an old undertunic and breeches, with soft camp shoes on his feet as it would not do to fight barefooted should the ca mp be attacked in the night. He had laid out his clothes, boots, and washing gear in a hide sack the night before to keep the frost off; sack in one hand, sheathed sword in the other, he made his way to the little stream that ran a few yards from the meadow they had camped in, cursing softly when frost covered grass found the bare skin between the end of his breeches and the tops of his shoes. Janna had designated wash areas for males and females and latrine placement the night before; after years in the field, the Badgers had refined night camps into a highly efficient undertaking.
Morning ablutions performed with water from a mountain stream on a frosty fall morning are done with speed and a keen eye to priorities; Arian skipped shaving, contenting himself with a hasty wash and a thorough scrub of his teeth. As usual, climbing into cold clothing and stiff boots on a chilly morning produced an experience that left him with a vague desire to sign a confession just to put an end to it.
Sparks were jumping out of the deep firepit and the aroma of food cooking brought to mind the fact that his last meal had been many hours in the past. His padded undertunic and stout wool trousers were absorbing and retaining his body heat nicely, making the graying day much easier to face. He was just turning to go check on his horse when Janna loomed out of nowhere in full battle gear, cheerfully punching him on the shoulder
“Go draw four day’s rations at the first cart, and stow the gear you’re leaving behind where Bridget says. Food, bedrolls, and full battle array, less your crossbow since you
Durek briefed Bridget, Janna, Gottri, and Kurt as to the morning’s events, and turned in himself, glad that the planning was coming to an end and the doing would soon start.
Lying atop his saddle blanket on a cart tailgate, his blankets wrapped in a fully-encasing cocoon, Arian Thyben was sleeping as comfortably as could be expected in the field when someone kicked the bottom of his feet, jerking him instantly awake; from the soft cursing to his left, he knew that Trellan had been awakened as well. A tap to the foot was to wake a Badger for sentry duty or at dawn; a slap anywhere else was a call to arms.
Squirming deeper into his blankets, the former cult-hunter sighed and wished for another hour of sleep. The thought seeped in through the sleep-residue that today would not be another thirty miles spent in the saddle, which was very good news; on the other hand, it meant that they would be entering Gradrek Heleth , which was not. Initially they had planned to rest for a full day before going underground, but the increasingly cold weather had caused Durek to change the schedule.
Groaning in anticipated suffering, the monk sat up and wriggled free of his musty blankets, the warm me tal of his broadsword (which he had slept with) serving to remind him of the coming day’s risks. His breath belched out in a white fog before him, and frost shone on his saddlebags and shield, stacked on the ground at the head of his ‘bed’. Starlight and a partial moon provided the only light at the moment, although the peaks above them were beginning to gray with dawn’s first hint. Soft mutterings, the occasional hissed curse, and the sounds of people moving about gave their little clearing a sense of life and familiarity to the mercenary. Kurt had had the last watch so the place to his right was empty; shuddering at the touch of the cold mountain air, Arian stood on his blankets to stretch and twist to get the kinks out, the sharp, clean morning air wiping away the last traces of sleep.
He had slept in an old undertunic and breeches, with soft camp shoes on his feet as it would not do to fight barefooted should the ca mp be attacked in the night. He had laid out his clothes, boots, and washing gear in a hide sack the night before to keep the frost off; sack in one hand, sheathed sword in the other, he made his way to the little stream that ran a few yards from the meadow they had camped in, cursing softly when frost covered grass found the bare skin between the end of his breeches and the tops of his shoes. Janna had designated wash areas for males and females and latrine placement the night before; after years in the field, the Badgers had refined night camps into a highly efficient undertaking.
Morning ablutions performed with water from a mountain stream on a frosty fall morning are done with speed and a keen eye to priorities; Arian skipped shaving, contenting himself with a hasty wash and a thorough scrub of his teeth. As usual, climbing into cold clothing and stiff boots on a chilly morning produced an experience that left him with a vague desire to sign a confession just to put an end to it.
Sparks were jumping out of the deep firepit and the aroma of food cooking brought to mind the fact that his last meal had been many hours in the past. His padded undertunic and stout wool trousers were absorbing and retaining his body heat nicely, making the graying day much easier to face. He was just turning to go check on his horse when Janna loomed out of nowhere in full battle gear, cheerfully punching him on the shoulder
“Go draw four day’s rations at the first cart, and stow the gear you’re leaving behind where Bridget says. Food, bedrolls, and full battle array, less your crossbow since you
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