The First Sacrifice (RP)

Olden's face softens as he sees Daryl's distress. He fishes out a worn but comfortable-looking blanket from his pack and passes it to Daryl as he says in a quiet voice. "Wrap yourself son or, better still, wad it up and use it as a pillow. And, fear not, son. That hound will bark our heads off at the first sign of trouble."

He gives Daryl what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he continues, "We'll find your friends on the morrow lad, for we look like we've got ... two Gods on our side," the last said with a grin. "I can understand if sleep's hard to find today. Why don't you tell me about your friends then and, perhaps later, I can amuse you with a tale or two?" With that, Olden pulls his mallet out, inspects the beech handle, gives a grunt of satisfaction, and then starts dressing the face with practised movements, all the while giving Daryl more than a bit of his attention.

Olden glances briefly at Daryl and, judging by the ensuing silence, thinks the lad might have finally drifted off. He thinks back to their conversation and shakes his head, Let the lad's friends be safe, Selusia.

Olden rubs his eyes and thinks it might be time for a change of guard. He sets aside his whetstone and Roald's short blade carefully, then starts working on the sheath, snipping loose stitching, and liberally applying his favourite conditioner on the leather sheath.

He yawns and turns towards the sleeping forms before freezing as he thinks he hears rustling nearby. Was I imagining things or is there something out there?

He inches up to the closest of the sleeping forms - Albert he thinks it might be - and nudges him gently as he whispers, "Albert? I think ... someone might be out there. Could be wrong but it's best to make sure, I think."

"Huh? Hmm? Wha?"Albert wakes up, nudged by Olden. "Is it my turn?" He rubs his eyes, and looks around, mostly only seeing shapes from the flickering fire.

When the old man tells him about a rustling in the bushes, he wakes up a bit more. "What direction? I'll have a look. Probably just some rodent or something. Go ahead and use my sleeping spot if you need one." He grabs one of the longer bits of gathered firewood and holds it in the fire to create a make-shift torch. With 'torch' in hand he steps towards the shrubs not very far away. His broom handle is firmly in his right hand.

Getting to the edge of the bushes, he stands quietly for a minute, to check if anything makes noise here. He waves his torch left and right to cast light on the area.

Olden spreads his blanket out by the fire and stretches out, but sleep refuses to come. He shakes his head slightly and thinks, Perhaps the rustling was just in my head, but I could've sworn I heard, or perhaps, sensed something that was odd or ... not quite right.

He remembers mentioning the dog to Daryl and looks for a reaction ... and finds none. You and your active imagination, he huffs as he then watches Albert check for intruders.