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"My name is Carith Drarthane, where I am from, was destroyed, it is gone, they are all gone." She says simply saying nothing about sleeping, sleep was a luxury, life was a luxury these days, hand still on the Axe she watches him curiously "Why are you here Bill?"

She too watches the Mage walk off, magic.. Magic Users were far worse, you really couldnt trust them. Rather like most Elves, still she'd met a few, their phsyical prowess making up for a lack of stamina.

"I from old country, far to north. Is strong land, of stone and wood and snow. Make mayns large and brave. Strong like bull. Make womayns busty and mean. Mean has woooly rhino. Is kind of land mayn can be proud of. That is where I from." Bill states, his voice taken on a softer tone.

"Is great land, I miss, is true. But I make leave. I kill man. Need go. Is small thing, not of import."

An angry old man emerges from a nearby tent, white whiskers dotting his face, a beat-up tin coffee cup in his hand. "Can't an old man rest his bones around here?" He walks to the edge of camp and relieves himself. After amorning shake to finish off in the brisk air, Gus Henderson looks around to see a number of new faces. "Where's the boss? This caravan's taking on water! We can't feed all of these people!" His eyes settle on the huge Northerner. "Something tells me I had better start camping out at the front of the chow line on account of the extra beef we're hauling around here."

Gus settles down after getting his cupfull of stew. "I've been trying to sleep and all I can hear outside is a bunch of braggin. Well I'm a 62 year old man, and let me tell ya, you don't have to talk, you'll get the chance to show what you can do. There's plenty of dead on this rock for all of you. Till that time when you all can prove it in a real fight, you ain't going to impress me none. You want to survive to my age, be my guest, but till then (he looks to the tall woman with the axe), how bout you shut your toothless yapper?"

"haHA! What old mayn speak is truth. I brag much, yes? Mean very little in compare to age. In world like such, age is mean much. HA! I rhyme. Is GOOD!"

Bill chuckles to himself at his quip. His respect for the old man is genuine. Not many people this old around. And to have two elders in one camp, thats saying something. Old people were a bonus thrice over. To survive that long they usually knew all the right tricks when it came to outmaneuvering the zombies. And if the time came for running, they were easy to outpace if you had no other choice. And of course, the older they are when they turn, the weaker the walker they make. Yes, old folks were good for many reasons.

Bill halts these thoughts with force. He remembers an old man he made a promise to, a promise broken because of drink. A sobering thought to be sure. Sipping on the last of his bowl of stew Bill gives the man a serious nod of respect.

Carirth listens to Bill quietly, she listens intently when he discusses his homeland, nodding in understanding at the thought of killing a man, she had killed her share, some in bar brawls, the occasional one died sharing her bed... Having no care, meant well.. You were adventrous..

She goes to speak when the old man appears, his words cut, grated, yet she decides not to show it, instead giving him a wry smile and a pout, showing off her single broken tooth, lost in the throes of passion. "Who are you calling toothless Old Man?" She smirks, "Lets let the old man have his peace and quiet.." Still grinning she smacks Bill on the backside.

"Aye Carith of Axe. Have you tent? Night is GOOD. Good food, and good company. Luck with Bill tonight!"

"Tent? We sleep under the stars, afriad of the cold Big Man?" She laughs quietly, glaring at the Old Man. "Of course we need to share body heat." She winks and grips the axe tightly...

Old Gus looks around. He could have sworn he heard a kid out here earlier. Between a child, Dee's music and the roughhousin that was obviously about to happen on the other side of camp between the he-brute and she-brute, it was a good thing he already got his shut-eye. Gus finishes his meal with a look on his face like if you talk to him he is just going to get pissed off about something.

The old soldier takes out a piece of leather to chew on. Without a steady supply of drink, its the only thing to take his mind off of his aching knee. What Gus wouldn't give for a settlement with a tavern or an abandoned cellar with a stash of the hard stuff. Its not often the caravan comes across anyone on the trail... One of these newcomers may have a bottle on 'em, so Gus wades into the band of people looking for the new folks.

Slade taps Dee on the shoulder and makes a few finger wiggle-signs showing that he's going to go find a drink. Mostly to see if Dee understands the Silent Speak. These days, it's hard to tell how far language travels, especially secret languages.



Dorir takes the mage to the edge of camp, just beyond the fire light. There, they find a pair of guards, their backs turned toward the camp, each facing toward the dark. "g'even, Sir. Is this one of the foundlings?" Asks one guard. He's not very old, maybe 16 or 17 at most, and he's wearing a padded gambeson with a second-hand helmet, it's nasal guard protruding well below his nose. Dorir grumbles a bit and says, "Aye, he is. You're in luck boyo, you may be about to get a show!" He chuckles and turns to Caine and points toward a chopped up tree stump 50 yards away. "There's your target. Now....what is the nature of your skills? Sorcery? Can ye make plants grow? (My Gods, we could use a Plant Shaper!) Fire? If it be fire, please be cautious. We are nearing the Pine Barrens."

The man in the red robes look at the stump and then back at the man. "I can set fire to it." he says after a moment. "I would try some nature magic but... it is not my strong suit." he admits reluctantly. He turns back to the stump and focuses on it intently for a moment as he cups his free hand as if holding a ball.

He murmurs a few words under his breath and there is a small light as a small ball of fire appears in his hand. The ball gets a bit bigger as he does an underhand toss motion at the stump and the ball of fire goes flying towards it.

(( I will leave it to IL to describe the amount of damage I do as I don't have a good feel for the magic system right now. ))

With little effort the flaming sphere grows to the size of a fist, sputtering a white-hot flame. Caine tosses it toward the stump with an underhand motion, arcing the ball of fire through the air causing it to billow and sputter in it's path. He wasn't making much of an effort to aiming it, so he doesn't exactly strike the stump itself, but for the purpose of the demonstration, it's close enough. The ball strikes the damp grass around the sump and bursts with a liquid like effect, spreading flaming droplets around the epicenter. The stump catches a majority of the spray and quickly ignites. The small amount of magic prevents it from burning for long, and the stump is soon left smoldering.

"That's a neat trick. A bit messy in a scrum, but useful none the less. Is there anything else you can do with flame? The biggest problem we face is the lack of light most of the time. Shamblers don't always have the courtesy to attack during the daytime." Dorir drawls in a gravely voice.

Gus steps near the fire and witnesses a couple of Slade's hand gestures, oblivious to their meaning. "Hey there, Slade, you know I notice you touching your nose quite a bit. Not enough young people carry a hankie these days. If you need one, I carry a spare, just in case I have to tie a tourniquet or shut up a noisy civilian when we're hiding from zombies. Wouldn't want you to catch cold on the trail. Not meaning to butt in you guys, but (turning to Dee) I don't think we've met, Blondie. Name's Gus Henderson. I see you carry an instrument there; what kind of music ya fancy? I don't suppose either of you carry a spare bottle of booze for a rainy day? You'd be making a good friend."

The man frowns slightly at how sloppy his throw was, he will have to put more effort if they actually get attacked. He turns back to Dorir. "I can provide some light, but unless you want me to set something on fire it will be limited." he tells the dwarf. He lays his free hand on the crystal in his staff and concentrates for a moment.

The crystal flares into light, not very bright all things considered. It does provide a clean blue light to illuminate the immediate area, only about 20 feet out. There is some shadowy illumination beyond that, but not much.

"Is that satisfactory Master Dwarf?" he asks with polite respect.

Carith looks Bill up and down, she smiles and stands slowly, raising her hands above her head, making a long arch shape.

"Carith of the Axe?" She laughs quietly and lowering the axe to the ground. "I have been called many things, most are not polite, some deserved, I make no pretense as to who I am."

Seeing Bill's confusion she stops, thinks and bites her lip. "People say I am bad, I say: I am me."

"I need to exercise before bed." She leaves the axe by Bill, slips her cloak off her shoulders and proceeds to stretch, in the middle of the camp, she appears oblivious to the looks she receives.

Dee waves to Gus. "I'm Dee. Just call me Dee for now. What kind of booze are you partial to, Gus?" He asks knowing full well that booze is not a option out here in the wilds. He watches Carith do her thing as he speaks.