If Ceoluulf had been sullen before, he was practically simmering by now.  They'd been on the road for hours, yet the dark mood clinging to his face didn't seem likely to dissipate anytime soon.  Perhaps Renolf's words had gotten to him earlier when his need for supplies delayed them further, or perhaps it was the fact that he had forced them all to sit outside the shrine to Silvanis for a good half hour before finally setting out.  On this he had been adamant--whatever the man's temperament, it was more than apparent that he took his faith with<em>deadly</em>seriousness.<br/><br/>Like he had mentioned earlier in the Frisky Goblin, the mountain man took the lead while directing the women into the center of their little band.  He was equally insistent that Seka take the rear, having the most armor to ward off a potential arrow to their backs, but did not press the issue if she refused.  Renolf he allowed to wander where he wished, perhaps counting on the other man's eyes to notice whatever he failed to see.<br/><br/>Thankfully these precautions proved unnecessary for the journey through the farmlands, the day calm and without threat of attack.  If anything that only seemed to set Ceol more on edge, as though the very fact that nothing was happening was proof in itself that danger lurked around the next corner.  He eyed their prospective camp warily, pacing around the trampled earth like a hound inspecting its territory, peering at every wayward twig or leaf as though it might be hiding something sinister.  Stolid though the man was, perhaps the assassins had rattled him more than he'd ever admit.<br/><br/>[Survival] 1d20+7 = 24 (http://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=20645)