The Old Forest

Syrena gestures to follow her away from the massive brood mother. "There is nothing we can do for him. Time to save ourselves from the same fate." She moves off at a brisk pace, to put distance between herself and the threat.

"Here... Here... We must pause a moment... Here..." Gennadius says, gasping between words. He bends over, one hand on knee to catch his breath while waving a wobbly hand towards Xenophon.

Recovered slightly, he continues "That wound of... his needs to be treated before... it gets worse or infection takes."

"Stay a moment, Gennadius, before you begin the binding," Gundus says, seeing the bard clean Xenophon's wound.

"The power is given to me to aid those who fight in the cause of justice, and to undo wrongful harms," he says. "It is not something I do lightly - I am vouching for you in the eyes of my god. You must understand this, but I'll spare you the sermon," he adds with a wry smile. "You've suffered enough today."

He lays his hands on Xenophon's wound. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he calls upon Türas to heal the wounded man.

"Many thanks, Gundus," Xenophon says as Türas's healing energy soothes his blistered leg. "You'll find no more penitent a man than a soldier on a battlefield."

Gennadius clicks his tongue as he prods at the edges of the still blistered wound. Feeling Xenophon tense his muscle he comes to a conclusion, despite the valiant effort by Xenophon to minimize the impact of the wound. "It still burns, I know not if so, but possible poison. Hold still a minute more."

Gennadius sets down his pack and rummages through it for a moment, pulling out a wineskin and pouch. The pouch is filled with various herbs wrapped in parchment. He sifts through the bundles of herbs, walking his fingers over them until he finds what he is looking for and sets it aside. Then, unceremoniously, he uncorks the wineskin, sniffs it and takes a swig, then pours it over a small cloth bandage held in his hand over the wound. The wine saturates the cloth and spills out onto the wound. Laying the cloth on the wound for a moment, he then takes some of the herb and twists it and mashes it with his hands. Finally he places the herb on the wound and secures it in place with the bandage.

"That will guard against poison, should any take hold. Now, I need your spit." He holds a cupped hand in front of Xenophon. After receiving the gift, he tears a thin strip of parchment and rolls it in the saliva, mashes it into a ball, leans over and throws the small wad between his legs as hard as he can, and then places his still-damp palm over the poultice for a moment. "I've pulled away the energy of the wound, you should feel better soon."

Her hand goes reflexively to her bow, but Syrena calls out the legionnaire, "Hail and hold! We seek out Saromen Gen and a respite from the elements for a night. Ours is come from Amanuctum by edict."

"Greetings." Syrena says as she takes scroll in hand. "By commission of Curule Aidele, these are a public works team charged to coordinate with Imperial Legion forces for special duties, supporting commanding cadre on the Lusetem Trail, to plan for statues, temples, roads, and forts north of this position. It is shelter sought against rain and coming night. Not banditry."

The coarse voiced optio reads the paper and assesses the group. He then hands it off to the Centurion, mounted on the horse, before turning back to press further.

"Sculptors? Templars? I doubt it."

He paces around the group, scanning them up and down. "Heavily armed for religious, Commander!", he shouts out so that all of the men can hear.

He zeroes in first on Gundus, a lengthy and deliberate assessment, but in silence.

He gives the same treatment next to Xenophon, noting the wound on his leg but moving on without comment.

He shifts next to Damanadros. After a quick look, sizing him up, "What about you, fricco? You say you're an architect, sent from the Civitus? Why would the Prefect send foreigners out here to Lusetem?"

He gets close to Damanadros face-to-face, speaking quietly now. "Maybe you wrote that paper. Maybe you are committin forgery along with your trespass.

Do you know the penalty for all crimes here is far worse than back in The Harvest?

Maybe those soft hands of yours have already written their last letter."

Gundus is weary in body from the rigours of the journey, and in spirit after the death of Culchas - and highly insulted by the accusation of banditry. He knows it is beyond dangerous to provoke these men on their own turf, but he can't entirely keep the irritation out of his voice.

"I am Tavius Gundus, a servant of Türas and recently with the 7th," he declares sternly, stepping forward. "We are armed due to the dangers of travel in this region, which I am sure you know well! As to the Prefect's reasons - it is not for us to wonder why, any more than you! You know how it goes, soldier, when the brass say jump, you don't ask questions! You jump! And when they say go out and survey the bloody wilderness, we bloody well step to it!"

Xenophon keeps his nose down and tries to bring little attention to himself. He's supposed to be a labourer of sorts, and he feels rather well armed for the role. Fortunately, the pain from the beetle's acid has taken some of the fight out of him, and he finds it easier to play the role of meek labourer. He works out a story in his mind, just in case they question him.