Randal
*Sirros looks down at his map, exasperated. He'd left Dalery trying to find the road to the capital, but somehow managed to end up in this forest instead... The warlock has been following the river, hoping it would bring him back to the main road, but the sun was starting to go down and he hadn't had much luck in finding it yet. He stuffs the map back in his pack and surveys his surroundings. There were plenty of reeds along the riverbank, perhaps some of them were edible? And he could've sworn he'd seen mushrooms a while back... The tiefling's stomach growls and he utters a curse. All he had left in his pack were a few strips of jerky and a pouch full of berries that had given him a stomachache.*

*Moving back towards the trees, Sirros begins to collect some firewood. He picks up small branches and snaps them over his knee, tucking them under his arm. Returning to the river, Sirros begins to configure his campfire, rifling through his belongings for his flint and steel. The kindling ignites after a few sparks. The tiefling looks at the size of his firewood pile and grumbles. He'd have to get more before settling in for the night... With his good eye, he scans the treeline of the forest, ears flicking.*

*Seemingly thinking that he's alone, the warlock removes a steel cup hanging from the side of his pack, and scoops up a mug full of water from the river. He plucks a couple of reeds from the riverside that he's* Pretty sure *Are edible, and places them in his mug, alongside his remaining strips of jerky. Carefully, Sirros slides a thicker branch through the handle of his mug and balances it gently over the small growing flames. Not the finest of dinners, but it would have to do for tonight, it was too late to look for much else, and the last thing he wanted was to go deeper into the woods with no way out. The warlock closes his eyes and begins to hum to himself as he waits for his 'stew' to boil.*
Thelma
Not far from the campsite of the Tiefling, a lone woman could be observed wandering through the forest. She didn't look at all lost, merely walking around and scanning the surroundings. It was almost as if she was looking for something, which was exactly what she was doing. The woman was using the forest as a way to look for potion making materials and possible catalysts for spells, as many had to do if they didn't want to spend money to buy it. Although, she didn't look like the most normal thing in the forest. She looked almost entirely like a shadow. One might've even mistaken her for shapes dancing in their peripheral vision if they were tired enough. In truth, she was just using shapeshifting to blend into the oncoming dark just a bit better. The only thing that might've given her away was a cloak that had gold-colored highlights.

Midway through a routine scan of her surroundings, she observed a small fire flickering between the trees. So someone else was out here, neat. Morine wasn't the most social person, but she was often curious when she stumbled across someone out in the woods this late. From the looks of it, this being had a small camp going. She couldn't see what exactly was happening, but it didn't look like the largest encampment she'd ever seen. After a moment of thinking, she decided to move closer to see what was properly happening. After all, the worst thing that could be there was some grumpy grandmaster necromancer who hated seeing people. Even then, she was a little harder to see in the shadows of the trees due to simple transmutation spells. Once she got close enough, she realized that it was a Tiefling with something cooking in a small pot. She stood and watched the man for about ten seconds before moving a bit closer and deciding to sit, the ruffling of his cloak just audible enough as she moved it out from under her to sit. She'd been walking for a while, it'd be nice to have a seat a decent distance from a calming fire.
Randal
*The tiefling's ears twitch at the sound of her cloak. It was close to him, practically beside him so when-?*
*Sirros nearly jumps out of his skin once he notices the figure sitting next to him. She'd sat down on his left, the side of his half-blind eye, but even with his good eye it took him a moment to really perceive her figure in the dark. He curses and shouts,* 

"Gods-!" 

*The tiefling visibly stiffens, though he doesn't reach for his blade. He instead brushes his long white locks out of his face and tucks them behind his pointed ears. His eyes flit to his pack that was resting on the other side of the fire. He worries for a moment, but the newcomer doesn't seemed poised for combat... Perhaps he's judging her too harshly. Sirros tries to relax his face.* 

"Can I... Help you? I have no food to offer if that's what you're after." 

*The wind rustles the canopy above them, filling in the silence as he sits and stares. The branches crack and snap as they burn. Sirros' gaze has softened but his eyes are still questioning the woman's sudden appearance, cloaked by magic, no less.*