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[Harry Baldman]

Averrco, truth be told, had found the Bale's story quite humerous...not that his companions could tell. The mannerisms of the Sal Leifnin had always been confusing to other species; Averrco's first human had thought his sarcastic growl as a threat of some kind. He never did learn what exactly the human heard but suffice to say, he wasn't welcome in her inn any more.

"A fine tale and a finer actor. Why you are here rather than in a theatre is an excellent avenue of research."

"Oh, if you could only know true Bale theater! The malleability of shape brings out a depth to it very few other theaters manage to create. Though you do need certain appendages to get the most out of it. I admit I am somewhat of a dilettante in matters of Bale theater - why, if you had a proper actor, they could have managed the percussion, the props and no less than three roles at the same time. A proper one bale show is something to behold," Mudren continues as it follows along with Mara. "But that is a discussion for another time! Right now, we must discover the first of our proper obstacles for the day."

[IronyOwl]

"Smoke. Probably from an extinguished campfire, up there," she pointed. "If they want trouble, they know where to find it. What are your orders?"

Feeling it would be best for her instructor to give the orders, both due to respect and deferring to her instructor, she added a question.
"Do we have any information of any other going along the path we take? Lora, how did the surrounding terrain look like near the campfire and ahead of us?"

"Hidden behind rocks. Elevated terrain, good vantage point."

Her eyes flicked to Ralai for a moment.

"Our path takes us up the slope of a giant ripple. Something shifted the earth here, and not slowly."

[Tiruin]

A wary tick nudged Joan's foresight.

"Our path takes us up the slope of a giant ripple. Something shifted the earth here, and not slowly."

"We're pretty obvious, then. That, or its set-up for someone else. Teacher, with your permission, I would like to lead a small detachment ahead to investigate. I think Lora is fast enough to bring news back; could someone call Mudren up? I also think we need a spotter here."

[Draignean]

Lora and Joan
Ralai's eyes cracked upon again and he rolled back to his feet. "Of course. The defense of this expedition is your task. Mara's navigators are at your disposal, but I would advise a certain amount of care when dealing with her. She can be... stubborn." Ralai's swift smile ruffled the feathers around his eyes again, and he extended a wing skyward, stretching out the gnarled fingers at its tip. Brief spheres of light flared into being at the fingertips, pulsing brightly with color for a moment or two, then being replaced swiftly by another color and pulsed again. A quick message in flashsign, easily seen from the top of the wagon. Ralai lowered his hand after the message was done, still absently flexing the appendage. "I'm too old to like the idea of fighting, Joan. If there is a problem, I trust you to resolve it as diplomatically as possible. If that can't be done..." Ralai shook his head, resettling his wings. "Do what you must, but come back safely. There are a few things we need to discuss when you return."

Ralai hopped down from the top of the wagon, landing firmly on the back platform and pulling the slatted door to the wagon's interior open. He stopped with the door half upon, and his gaze swung back to his former student. "Warm winds carry you, and send for me if anything happens."

Averrco and Mudren
Brief pulses of light flare on top of the lead wagon, following Murdren's words by a heartbeat. Simple flashsign, made to be understandable, not elaborate or beautiful. 'Unusual object spotted. Murdren Gude requested at expedition head by Joan Hawkwood. All is well.'

"Huh," Borou grunted. "Our actor is a man in demand. You send a sign back if we're needed."

Mara nodded, her eyes scanning the horizon and her expression controlled. "Deal with whatever it is fast, I want to know where you heard about Bale theatre."

[Harry Baldman]

Mudren does a bow at Mara, Borou and Avercco, then gallops off in its chattel form over to where Joan and the silly Keelai are.

"I came as fast as I could," it says upon arrival, imitating breathlessness. "My apologies, but Murdren Gude is unavailable presently. Will you be able to make do with its less lethal and illustrious twin, Mudren Gude instead?"

[Tiruin]

Joan smiled at the faint difference in pronouncing the Bale's name. He reminded her of how silly Tala could be. If she could talk.

"You will do fine, sir Mudren. When we're done with this, send my regards to Murdren - he has a fine twin for a brother."

Noting the speed of her allies, she felt very confident with just the three of them scouting directly ahead. Her, Lora, Murdren, and Tala. All they needed was a flash of light back, and the rest of the caravan would be warned.

Though she aptly wondered who else could be camping in the hinterlands, and if there was anyway the expedition could be waylaid given the structure of the path they were taking.

Let's do some scouting!

Assuming no hesitations or interruptions in between, Joan leads the advance, giving a quaint inquiry towards her ally.
"Is there any reason you're posing as a chattel, by the way?"

[Harry Baldman]

"The chattel form, dear captain, has only two fewer legs than my actual form, and is thus very practical, stable and aesthetically pleasing, markedly unlike certain other shapes. I suppose I could take on a different shape now that I'm here, of course," Mudren explains, slowly changing into a Morisal. "The Sal-Leifnin have an aesthetically pleasing shape, I'll grant you, but the truth is there's just too many limbs to keep track of, and I sometimes trip over myself as a consequence. And bipedals tend to be unstable, if more practical."

[Draignean]

Mudren, Lora, and Joan

Tala flicks her ears at Mudren, pulling them into an annoyed half-pin until he gives up his chattel-like form. She's not afraid of the chattel-that-isn't-a-chattel, but it's clear that the shape annoys her.

---

Despite the lack of a clear trail, scouting ahead of the expedition was an easy enough task. Brynd, the pathfinder with the Nav-Squad, had set trail markers at regular intervals. Small shapes made with rock piles, saplings bent to one direction and weighted, and symbols scratched into the cold soil all marked various directions and left suggestions for the drivers on how to handle the terrain. [Mudren, Finesse+Wisdom: 24, Pass] The markings were a language all their own, but following the most basic directions was a simple enough task. Mudren, however, notices something else along with the trail markers. Wagon ruts. They were faint, weeks or even months old, and washed out in more than one place, but definite grooves in the ground. Their width was narrower than that of those used in the expedition, but that wasn't uncommon. The ruts don't always parallel the pathfinder's signs, occasionally diverging to take narrower or rockier straight paths that Brynd's course guided the caravan around, but always rejoining when the path goes straight again. 

The hinterland was quiet now that the expedition's wagons were at Joan's back. The leaves of the whispy trees rustled softly, and the occasional buzz and rattle of some calling insect or lonely cry of a hunting bird gave counterpoint, but the loudest sounds all seemed to be the product of Mudren or Tala's quick pace. [Joan, Brilliance+Finesse: 8, Pass] Almost all. Something rustled ahead on the trail, a faint sound of shifting soil and grating pebbles. Tala's ears perked up and focused on the noise, her pace slowing slightly.

From above, Lora's view of the scouting was imperfect. She could see Joan and Mudren on the trail, but even her sharp eyes couldn't reliably pick out the trail markers on a flyover, and the path of the party below seemed erratic and unpredictable without them as reference. [Lora Brilliance+Speed: 86, Fail] The wandering made it impossible to accurately scan ahead of the party, and Lora was forced to wingover and backtrack more than once to follow the two figures on the trail below. She could tell that their current course would take them well out of the way of the rock formation that hid the fire, but whoever had been at the fire there would still be able to keep eyes on the entire expedition without real difficulty.

[The Ensorceler]

"That's settled, then? I'd be happy to help with the repair itself, but until then, goodbye and good luck."
Finished with his task, Svurrl climbs out of the wagon, looking at the roofs of each wagon in turn for somebody new to talk to.

[Tiruin]

Picking up Tala's notification, Joan slowed their pace subtly, appearing to appreciate the scenery as her eyes scanned the surroundings. Her breathing slowed as she took deep breaths, gripping her spear casually at her side.

"I think we're quiet enough for others to not notice us. I don't think we're facing wildlife ahead though. Mudren, what's your insight?"

The imagery of poofy, furry wildlife made a comical illusion of her predictions. It was turned away as she pondered on the idea of Lora's words.
I wonder who could be living in these lands to stage an attack?

[Draignean]

Svurrl

Both of the Temani gave Svurrl seated bows as he ros. They murmured noncommittal assent to his first statement and a grateful thanks for his second, but neither made a move to stop him as he left.

The platform of the middle wagon was still empty, as it would likely remain until the wagon was fixed. It didn't matter that the wagon was unlikely to break because of a small amount of added weight, nor did it matter that such a break (if it occurred) would only serve to disconnect the wheels from the engine. A devastating blow for the usability of the wagon, but not as dangerous as a boiler rupture or a heating crystal overload. Still, people had heard that the wagon might break, and that was enough to ward them away.

Svurrl scanned the wagons, though, from his current vantage, the best he could take a look at were the wagon roofs. Not many people stayed on top, perhaps because of the height and lack of railing, perhaps because they felt it unnatural, but there were a few people that could be trusted to stay up top as long as they were able. The Fanai on top of the last wagon in the chain was one of them. His plumage was brilliant, but he was small and lightly built. His facial feathers had been amputated, leaving behind a number of cartilaginous ridges and puckers on his scaled head. You're fairly certain that he goes by Cam, and you know that he's on of the peggers, but that's really all your know about him. At that moment he was perched behind the wagon's light collecting array with a long sheet of paper in front of him, flattened against the wagon roof. You can't see what he's doing exactly, but it looks as though he's drawing or writing on it.

[Harry Baldman]

"Ah, well, someone has been moving through here. On a wagon, no less. Some weeks ago as well, with no return tracks as far as I can tell. Adventurers like our lot, perhaps? Or merely a suicide gang of some kind, like you can often meet in the Darklands?" Mudren hypothesizes as he moves along in Morisal form.

[MrVoid]

Rol maintains his position.  There is no point in worrying too overly much about the shaft till it was either fixed or shattered.

[The Ensorceler]

Climb up to the top of the wagon, manifesting more lampades to assist.

"Hello, mind if I stay up here?"

[ATHATH]

I'm calling it now, Cam's gonna die.