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With their introductions out of the way, the trio set about preparing for the journey ahead.

North, in his desire to be prepared for anything, took to looking obsessively through each and stand and store in the Market square, purchasing or using his status to obtain any objects, books or tools he felt may, in any way, be useful. By the time he was done, he had purchased: a small sack of salt; a small box of kindling; a whittling knife; two fictional novels about rituals; a bag of sand; and a small bag full of quartz dust, which he promptly tied to his belt.

Richard, by comparison, was busy in a tavern in the corner of the market square, attempting to convince any number of men and women to join him in the bedroom before he left. Which he failed spectacularly at.

Following his failure, he decided that if he couldn't go on this journey satisfied, he could, at the very least, begin the trip completely and utterly sloshed to the eyeballs. This decision dragged him head first into a drinking contest with several other bar patrons. A contest he won, earning him a small bag of coppers that had become the wager.

Aranea, being the most adult of the three, was nowhere near the market district. She had made her way to the outskirts of town and was making a deal with a merchant caravan that was heading in the general direction of Grayseed. An exchange of coins and some quick words secured her and her traveling partners a trip with the caravan to the town nearest to Grayseed, where they could easily walk the remaining distance.

The sun began to set on Regis that day, and the three of them met outside of the front gates by the stables and the caravan, which was preparing to depart.North, with a full load of luggage, and an empty purse, began talking about his purchases, prompting the drunk Richard to toss his bag of salt into a nearby water trough. An act that would have come to blows, had the Caravan Master not called out to let the trio know they were heading out. Which prompted North to quickly run and retrieve his drenched salt.

Loading the various pieces of luggage onto the cart that was going to take up the rear, the Caravan master approached the three, telling North and Richard they'd be sharing the rearmost carriage because the presence of a knight and a witch hunter would easily be more than enough to dissuade any would -be bandits. He then offered Araneae the front most carriage, and while it was apparent he just wanted to try and score, he reasoned she could be more use if they were attacked from the front by giving them a ranged, and explosive, advantage.

Taking a moment to search their luggage before setting off, North finally seemed content when he had a small, revolving crossbow, two quivers of bolts--One set of which had small glass ampoules full of liquid as part of their construction--and a small pouch full of similar bolts that had no liquid within in hand for the journey. He then turned to face Richard. "Aren't you going to retrieve a weapon for the journey?" he asked. Richard simply shook his head and took a seat on the cart, patting a spot next to him as an invitation to North.

Taking his seat next to Richard, North nodded to the Caravan master that he was ready to leave and with that, the caravan set off towards their destination.

The road the caravan travelled was a long, and boring one. To both North and Richard, a bandit attack would have been a welcome change of pace and Araneae, well, she would have relished the chance to set someone on fire, with the amount of unwelcome flirting the Caravan master was putting out. While Araneae had to deal with attempting to spurn the over-eager Caravan masters advances repeatedly, the two men in the rear cart had to deal with an uncomfortable silence for the majority of the trip. Richard took to fiddling with the armour plates on his arm and counting farm animals, while North began filling the empty glass bolts with salt.

When finally neither of them could take the uncomfortable silence, they turned to face each other and both said, "So, what are you working on over there?"

A chuckle escaped from Richards' mouth, and North cleared his throat, clearly somewhat embarrassed. Richard smiled politely, the sort of smile you'd trust to take care of your ailing grandmother, and said, "I'm readjusting the plates on my arm." He fiddled with his armour some more, then pointed to a plate that appeared to be misaligned with the rest, saying, "My armour is made to allow my arm as much flexibility as possible since it's effectively my shield. When a plate gets knocked out of place, it gets in the way and that's terrible."

North nodded slowly before Richard gestured to the ampoules full of salt, and the one that was half full in Norths hand. Looking down at the ampoule, then back up at Richard, North politely offered him the half full one to inspect. "I'm making salted bolts," he stated as Richard took the half full one, "One of the first things we learn as witch hunters is that salt can be used against spirits in various ways."

Richard looked over the ampoule, handing it back to North when he was done, and asking, "You mean like how a zombie can be forced by to the grave if it tastes salt?"

North nodded and smiled at Richard for the first time since they met. "How do you know about that little trick, though?" North asked. He knew full well that salt was well known as a common defence against spirits, but the zombie trick? He was certain that wasn't openly discussed in the inns and markets of the world.

Richard softly put an arm around North and leaned back somewhat with a laugh. "Not every knight thinks books are stupid. My father was a knight, once had to stop an assassination of the king."

Richard gestured to the salt, "The assassin was a necromancer, old school, zombies and skeletons. Turns out he had trained up one of his zombies to act like nobility, took the place of a lord from out in the country for a banquet."

North nodded intently, listening for the hidden knowledge Richards story might contain. "My father became privy to the nature of this visitor after seeing him kill and eat a store owner in a back alley. Now, my father was no fool, he knew if he slew the imposter without proof, he'd be stripped of his title," He said, taking a pause for dramatic effect, "He then recalled what he had read in a story once about the undead. So that night, my father added salt to the imposter's meal, and when he took a bite, bam, the lord toppled over dead, the spell was broken."

North paused to think, then asked the obvious question, "How can you be sure he simply wasn't poisoned then?"

Richard was struck dumb, his father had never imparted to him the magical means by which he knew the imposter was actually bested by the salt. "I...I....Um..." Richard couldn't respond, and with that, he realised his father might actually have been rather stupid.

Suddenly Norths paw shot up in front of Richard, and he loaded a few small wooden bolts into the revolving crossbow in anticipation. Following not far behind the caravan was a small group of five armed men upon horses, and they didn't look like the local militia come to say hello, that's for sure. The men rode up toward the caravan, brandishing their weapons and making it so very apparent they were bandits that they may as well have been wearing banners that said, "I rob, loot and pillage for a living." In a flash, North had taken aim with his crossbow, and with a sudden _twang,_a bolt shot forth, punching right through one of the marauder's heads. Taking a moment to acknowledge one of their own had been utterly dominated in a single shot, the rest of the crew began a mad dash to reach the caravan and disarm the dangerous shooter.

As soon as they began to charge at full speed, Richard slid off the back of the cart onto the road, and for dramatic purposes only, landed on one knee, rising into a fighting stance with impeccable grace. "Don't worry, I'll catch you up," he yelled back at North, who had a quizzical look on his face. Knight or not, what could one man do against a group when unarmed. As if to answer that question, the nearest marauder charged Richard, prepared to unleash a killing blow on the knight. With a flash of steel and a loud clang, the man was pulled from his horse, the blade of his sword gripped in Richards armoured hand. With a lightning fast motion, the red wolf flipped the sword into his unarmored hand, while delivering a brutal, and no doubt fatal stomp to the downed bandit's soft squishy meat head. Blade in hand, Richard charged the remaining men, his blade performing a ballet of death. Running to the left of the first of the remaining survivors, his commandeered blade danced out, clashing against the riders once, before the rider toppled off his horse to his left, his right forearm and calf toppling to the ground on the other side of the now panicked horse. The second didn't even have a chance to respond, and this gave Richard the opportunity to drive his blade through the bandit and drag them from their horse. Finally, the last man, who had realised how screwed he was, had promptly soiled himself and turned to flee. Richard turned back to the cart and started to close the distance, gesturing for North to finish the job.

Another twang and another corpse on the road, this time with a brand new neck piercing, courtesy of North. Clambering back up onto the cart, Richard turned to look at North, flashed him a grin and said, "Now, where were we with our stories?"