Their second day in the wilds was much like their first; a lot of wandering through boggy swampland, trying to stick to the dryer ridges and avoid the worst of the muck, interspersed with the occasional fights against either small bands of darkspawn, or what remained of the more aggressive local wildlife.
Daveth had been pouring over a journal they'd found among the scattered belongings in the camp of the night before, and was excitedly pointing out what he identified, based on descriptions in the journal, as Chasind trail sign, leading somewhere in the swamp. Having no real idea of where the particular ruins they were searching for were, they decided they might as well follow the trail marked by the subtle signs. They worked their way some one grassy hummock to the next, zig-zagging their way slowly across the swamp, sometimes finding themselves recrossing ground that they could have sworn they'd previously seen.
They stopped briefly to consume a cold lunch, then set out again. They hadn't gone far when the noise of a battle reached their ears. They exchanged looks, then quietly slipped up the hillside before them, only to find it wasn't men they heard battling, but more darkspawn – darkspawn, set upon by wolves. Even as they watched, a particularly tall darkspawn – a hurlock – slaughtered the last of the beasts. The darkspawn only then became aware of the human's presence. With roars of rage, they charged up the hill towards the group, the noise attracting the attention of a second, sizable group of darkspawn on a nearby hilltop.
The battle was lengthy, but thankfully the darkspawn's lack of co-ordination once again counted against them; rather then charging the men in a single group, they picked they way down one hill and up the next at their own speeds along their own routes, arriving at the fight in easily killed ones and twos instead of in the potentially overwhelming mass they might have been.
It was only after they were all dead and the men were looking around, Daveth already starting in on skinning the wolves the darkspawn had killed, that they found the body; a missionary from the Chantry, it seemed, based on the documents they found in his possession, one with a predilection for amateur treasure-hunting which had led to his fatal encounter with the darkspawn war band.
"I think it was his camp we stayed at last night," Alistair announced after looking over all the papers they'd found. "Poor man. He writes of a cache of valuables hidden somewhere at his camp that he'd like brought to his wife in Redcliffe. I suppose we can try to find it, if we chance to pass by the camp again on our way out."
Right grunted, thinking of the lockbox and the gem he'd found the night before. "If there's even anything to find," he said acerbically.
"Right, well, we'd better get a move on," Alistair said, stowing away the papers. They set out again, still following the Chasind trail signs.
Daveth squinted up at the darkening sky after a while "We've been heading pretty much south-east," he observed. "I hope we don't go so far south we run into the horde."
Right glanced at Jory, who'd been unusually quiet all day. The man's face was set in a fierce grimace, but his eyes were unusually wide, darting nervously around at every stray sound or movement. "Look there," he exclaimed, slowing, pointing at the way ahead.
Another random stretch of ruined wall, but with clear signs of darkspawn presence about; human bodies hanging from the arches, bearing clear sign of the torment they'd suffered before they'd died, bodies and stones dyed ruddy colours by the lowering sun and the spattered blood. Enough to turn a man's stomach. Even Alistair looked pale as they looked up at the hanging bodies. "Poor slobs," he said softly. "That just seems so... excessive."
They moved on, cautiously, not liking the growing gloom but liking even less the idea of stopping in an area that was clearly infested by darkspawn. After a short walk they rounded a wall of thorny bushes and spoted a rude wooden bridge ahead of them, little more then a rough platform of peeled logs laid down across a narrow stream. A tall, dark form stood motionless on the bridge; another hurlock. It spotted their approach, bellowed. More dark forms came running from the dimness behind it. They hurriedly fell into their usual positions, Alistair and Ser Jory stepping forward to engage the attention of the darkspawn, Daveth dropping back a few paces to have proper room for use of his bow, Right fading off to one side, ready to step in and pick his targets once the darkspawn were sufficiently distracted by Alistair and Jory.
A rustle in the bushes at his back were his only warning of a flanking attack by genlocks. "Ware, flankers!" he shouted, diving away from the bushes just in time to avoid a dagger plunging for his back. Alistair cursed, leaving the initial mass of darkspawn to Jory as he hurried over to engage the additional force.
They battled fiercely, killing the darkspawn on one side of the bridge, then charging across it in the face f a barrage of arrows to take on the darkspawn on the other side. More swarmed up from a camp off to one side. They battle raged for at least a half an hour before the last darkspawn fell to the ground, one of Daveth's arrows jutting out from its eye.
It was almost full dark now, the only light that from some crackling fires the darkspawn had already lit before the arrival of the men. Alistair looked around tiredly. "Well, this should be safe enough now," he announced. "We'll camp here tonight."
The four moved away from the carnage at the bridge, down into the hollow to one side where that last rush of reinforcements had come from. A fire flickered low in a stone ring at the centre of the little dell, some logs pulled close around. Alistair and Ser Jory dropped to the ground by the fire, wincing. That long of a fight took a lot out of the two. Daveth and Right, both much less tired by the lengthy melee, set about putting the camp to right, Daveth heading off in search of reasonably clean water while Right started putting the ingredients for stew together in their one cook pot. He put it aside when he was done – it needed the addition of water before it could go on the fire – then started criss-crossing the little dell, gathering up deadwood to feed the fire. He was investigating the hollow end of one of the logs near the fire, with a mind to breaking off some of the wood to burn, when he frowned. "Isn't this another trail sign?" he asked, pointing at an arrangement of rocks on the ground.
Alistair rose and walked over, then grinned. "Not just any trail sign, Right – that's the one that means a cache. Come on, let's look around, there could be something valuable around here."
That made Right want to kick himself for having brought the sign to the attention of the others. He hid his disappointment and joined Alistair and Jory in the search.
By the time Daveth returned, a leather bucket of water in hand, they'd located the skin-wrapped bundle crammed well up in the hollow of the fallen tree. Too far for any of them to reach; in the end Daveth unstrung his bow, and used the stave to reach in and drag the bundle within reach.
They peeled back the skins protecting the bulky bundle, and found an assortment of items within; a huge maul, a horned helmet, a slender bow, and a rolled up bundle of something leather.
Alistair picked up the horned helmet, and set it on his head. "I don't know, do you think it's me?" he asked, grinning broadly.
Daveth was already checking over the bow they'd found, a grin spreading across his face. "Nice bow," he said enthusiastically. "Better then mine, and mine is the best I could stea... err, buy."
"All yours, then" Alistair said generously.
Jory was looking over the maul, giving it an experimental swing or two. He wrinkled his nose, shrugged, dropped the heavy weapon back to the ground. "I think I prefer my sword," he said firmly. "I like weapons to have an edge to them. Wielding this would make me feel like I was back in my father's smithy."
Right, meanwhile, was undoing the ties holding the bundle of leather together, then rolling it out. Armour, boots, and gloves, all of supple leather, soft as butter and black as night, set off with gleaming steel studs and buckles.
"Oh, nice," Daveth breathed, reaching out and reverently fingering the leather. "Makes me wish I was half the size I was," he said enviously.
It was only then that Right noticed how small the armour was; none of the other three had a hope of fitting into it, even assuming either Alistair or Jory were willing to give up the protection of their heavier mail for it. A wide grin spread across his face. "I think I'm starting to like these Wilds," he said, already reaching to undo the buckles of his old set of leathers.
A/N: I run with the Shadow Warden armour set available. Right had a level up when they found the cache, which co-incidentally gave him the last of the strength he needed to be able to actually equip the set; I figure this was a Games Gods Hath Spoken moment as to just where his snazzy armour came from :)