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[Beirus]

Rathgar grunts after hearing the previously meditating man speak. "Sounds more exciting than the busy work around the base."

[Silcugar]

The man gingerly separates the vegetables-- on the bare ground no less, and sprinkles powder on the piles. "Oh-- er, I'm not actually certain what they want of you. Pesc will be here shortly with whatever task the wise commanders have thrust upon him. And you, by extension. My apprentice and I will no doubt be consumed by the task, if my visions are any indication." He grabs the seasoned veggies, along with some dirt, and pushes it into a matted ball, which he deposits into a cup. "And my visions are always an indication." He throws the cup towards the entrance, over Nix's head. Just as the brew reaches its apex, a scrawny young man rushes into the tent, just barely catching the cup.

"Whoa!" Some of the contents spill on his robes, finer than the rags of the wild mage. Well, minus the new stain.

"My apprentice. As you can see, he lacks the foresight of an adept seer." He rises from the ground and slings his satchel over his shoulder. "Vernon, he was called before his curious fingers got the best of him." The apprentice bows his head in shame, and mumbles something under his breath. "No need to get upset, I'm sure these lairds will hear your excuses in time. And Jureel?"

"Right here." A lean, tall woman armed with several blades and a sharp glare strides into the tent. She takes her place at the mage's side, along with the apprentice, dwarfing them both.

"Good. And Pesc, as usual, falls behind the rest. Well, we can rest while we can. There's a long hike through rain and mud ahead of us."

The mage walks to a small table and retrieves a small pouch from his bag. Jureel stands between him and Tyr, but keeps her eyes on Rathgar. She makes no effort to hide a scowl.

Vernon keeps to himself, though he steals a glance at Kat's not-weapon between sulking fits.

[S34N1C]

Tyr waits patiently for Pesc.

[Beirus]

Rathgar looks back at Jureel, his mouth shifting to form a slight frown as he note the persistence of the glare and scowl. " 'S there somethin' you want to say to me? Or you just gonna keep givin' me the stink eye?"

[Shadestyle]

Rohan simply waits and thinks, listening to the idle chatter.

[NRDL]

Nix observed the people who had just entered, especially the weapons on the Jureel woman.  She definitely wasn't one to cross under sane circumstances, if you wanted to keep bits of you attached. 

[Silcugar]

Jureel wrinkles her nose and flashes a grimace before adopting a conceited look. "Can't be trustin' a wild man. They's quick to killin' folk whose got their back turned," she mutters, as if reciting a dour, obvious truth. The mage behind her stops digging through his bag for a moment, looks back to give Jureel a dry look, and quickly returns to his search.

[Dwarmin]

Vernon keeps to himself, though he steals a glance at Kat's not-weapon between sulking fits.

Kat had a different way of dealing of people than Rathgar.

"Well then, do you see something that you like?" She said brightly, taking a fairly clean wiping cloth from her hip satchel and handing it to him with a dry smile, motioning to the stain on his fine robes.

[Beirus]

Rathgar snorts disdainfully at Jureel's response. "Seems like the only things you can trust some civilized folk to do is assume they know everything, make broad statements about folks they never met, and take what they didn't earn. Hell, even the lowest bandits know the things they take ain't theirs, instead of acting like they already own everything."  He responds in a deep voice.

[S34N1C]

Tyr, attempting to drown out the squabbling of his compatriots, pulls a whetstone from his belt and begins sharpening his knives.

[Silcugar]

Vernon's look shifts from one of dour apathy to apprehension. He accepts the cloth after a few moments and gives a rigid bow. "Thank you... I, uh, was admiring the craft of it. The instrument. I've heard of them before, but such traditions are rare." He keeps hold of his master's concoction in one hand, and lightly dabs the stain on his robes with the other.

Jureel maintains her conceited look as she retorts, "Ye can also trust 'em not to crush your skull in. Can't be sayin' that about you, wildman."

[NRDL]

All this chatter was getting on Nix's nerves.  "The one we're waiting for, how long till he gets here?  I wasn't hoping to spend the better part of the day in a tent."

[Dwarmin]

Vernon's look shifts from one of dour apathy to apprehension. He accepts the cloth after a few moments and gives a rigid bow. "Thank you... I, uh, was admiring the craft of it. The instrument. I've heard of them before, but such traditions are rare." He keeps hold of his master's concoction in one hand, and lightly dabs the stain on his robes with the other.

"Not a comment I am one unused toward, sira. Everybody did remember how to make a sword, axe or bolt-shooter from the old days it seems...but nobody not as near as many remembered how to make a pleasant thing like this not-weapon, which have no use to anyone in a physical sense, but merely makes life beautiful to live, and spreads joy to all."

This particular line was a speech she had given dozens, maybe hundreds of times.

[S34N1C]

"I agree, we've been kept waiting long enough."

[Beirus]

"The only reason they don't crush skulls is because they don't have the strength to do it. That won't stop them from throwing someone they called 'friend' under the cart to improve their own situation. At least we 'wild' folk will make our displeasure known instead of acting kindly until we have the perfect chance to screw you over, like some city folk. And we don't act like every person we meet is just like others who may have come from similar circumstances, unlike you. Bigot." Rathgar retorts, a slight growl creeping into his words.