Marpenoth 18, 3167 DR - Year of the Shield
Ennor Domandio remained silent, choosing to lean on his staff as he stood in silent appraisal the cleric, Coryn.
"Ah, blessed are those that walk in the light of Torm. Well met sirs," the cleric continued greeting and offering the blessings of Torm.
"Well met good priest. May Torm's protection fall on our caravan today," Justian responded as he secured the rest of his pack and hopped up next to one of the wagon drivers.
"Religion aside my fellows," Coryn continued, "I am available to succor any and all who follow paths of righteousness. Just so sir just so" Coryn grasped his holy symbol, offering up a prayer to Torm for safe travels. Remenissions bowed his head.
Haeming looked away from the cleric of Torm, feigning disinterest at every mention of Torm.
“Bless you, good sir. Bless you." Ennor Domandio as he paid lip service to the god of his companions.
“Enough with the morning formalities and prayers,” the Captain shouted, interrupting the prayers and conversation of the newcomers. “We got a day’s travel ahead and I wanna make Daggerford by nightfall.”
Passengers loaded, packs secured, and guards in place the caravan was finally on its way. The sunlight from the rising sun quickly melted the morning frost, and evaporated the water that remained. The dampness that would have kept the dirt from the road down disappeared. The wagon train kicked up dust. The wooden wheels creaked in a chorus that almost mimicked the birds.
“Keep an eye out,” the Captain warned his guards, “closer we get to Daggerford, the taller the grass on the plains gets. To the west we got the Lizard Marsh. Lizard men make it their home and they’re not shy about taking on the occasional caravan.”
The guards acknowledged the captain and once again went back to their idle conversations or vigilante silence. Everyone passes their travel time slightly different. The Captain didn’t mind the quiet conversation as long as everyone pulled their weight when the time came.
The sun climbed higher into the sky. The sweat from exertion and the stink of the horses all combined into that distinct odor that defined life on a merchant train. The Captain reached down between his feet, searching for some of the pipeweed he had just purchased in Waterdeep. He found his satchel, but the knot was too tight. Handing the reins over to Justian, the Captain leaned over and continued working on the knot.
His center of gravity started shift, and sensation of a forward tumble made him dizzy. He knew the horses must have come to a stop, and began to curse the gods for his foolishness as he knew he would soon end up head first on the dirt road in front of the wagon. His cursing interrupted by the strong grip of Justian, as the warrior stopped the Captain from his forward fall
The Captain turned to thank his rescuer, but stopped when the thought occurred to him. What had made the horses stop?