The Grey Tower

Conor Palfrey They rode for only a few short hours away from the Grey Tower until they came to a simple clearing that was encased in large and small trees. The bed of ground uneven but soft enough to make beds without completely breaking ones back while they slept. What he did though was stop their train of horses on the outside of the clearing and dismounted, "Off we get. Time to water and set up camp." He said, and takign his reigns, he lead the horse to the crossing stream and just a little down the way did he let his horse drink plenty before tying him up to a safe tree that would hold him enough but not break the bit if he needed to run.

"Water your horses and then lets settle in and set up camp. If you need to pee you can wait until your horse is at least watered and tied up. Down stream, if you must do your business. Don't want that stuff in your drinking water. Once you are all done grab your saddle bags and meet me in the clearing we just passed."

Conor proceeded to unsaddle his horse with deadly efficiency and was already carrying his bags to the clearing before the others were complete.

Muireen do Morny a'Lordeine Her partner edged his stubborn horse towards her, and she couldn't help but smirk a little at his widened eyes; mares had phenomenally bad tempers. Didn't he know that? She patted her gelding's neck affectionately. Pickles knew better than to be a brat. Or more likely, he's too tired to be one. He blinked at her lazily as she ran her hand absently through his coarse mane.

"NOT like the horses at home... Not at all." he muttered under his breath. Muireen tried to keep from snorting, but didn't quite contain herself. Thankfully, the Gaidin was distracted with head-counting. It seemed that a novice was missing, which Muireen thought was typical. Channelers could just magic themselves a gateway to wherever they wanted to be. Why would a novice bother with a horse? In fact, why would they bother with the great outdoors at all? It wasn't as if an Aes Sedai would ever need it: the Tower paid generous stipends.

Eventually, the young man's hose cooperated, even if the pale mare seemed reluctant. "Greetings, I am Shoar Daeran. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." He smiled at her - not too charasmatically, but not too stiffly, either. "It looks like we'll be partnered for this trip."

"Muireen," she offered in return, grinning at him. "Muireen do Morny a'Lordeine. It's Murandian," she clarified, mostly out of habit now. Despite the melting pot that Hama Valon was, long names weren't often common. "And I assume you're some sort of a Borderlander?" He was gigantic, even in comparison to people who were of average height - and he had an awfully funny haircut.

Says the girl that chopped her hair off at the ears.

Connor Gaidin kept up an excruciatingly slow pace as they moved from the city and into the wilderness. It was never like this in the stories. There was a lot of galloping in the stories. It seemed to Muireen that Warders did a whole lot of walking. Just how far did he expect to get walking?

[OOC: I figure they can chat a bit before they get to camp. ]

Shoar blinked his eyes three times when she mentioned her name. It was the longest name he had ever heard in his life. He had heard tales of Murandy, but never actually met anyone from there. The only foreigners he had really seen were in the city when he visited - Hama Valon had been a big eye opener to the rest of the world and it's peoples to him so far. "Aye, I am from the Borderlands. A small farm a short distance from Fal Dara." He carefully negotiated the mare forward - the slow pace was helping, but he was sure he could handle her in a gallop if needed "At least I hope I can..."

"I've not met anyone from Murandy before. Living on a farm, the only time I would travel to the city was with Da to sell our goods." He smiled and stared ahead, to their destination. "What kind of place is it? If you don't mind me asking, of course." He was genuinely interested - his life up until the moment he had decided to leave had been quite sheltered, in that he didn't know much about the other nations at all.

Shoar Daeran
Drin'far'ji

Samuel Falchin Stretching his legs and arching his back, after even a few hours of riding, was an excellent if brief reprieve to Sam, helping prevent cramping from being in the saddle too long. He knew that it would be short lived as they would soon start the chores of setting up the camp, collecting wood for the fire, and ensuring that the horses were somewhere they could graze. Sam unbuckled his shield, sword and pack from the saddle, and followed Conor to the stream with his own horse, a painted gelding. As the horse drafted the clear waters, Sam whispered, more to himself than for the horse,

"I have no plans to become like you this trip, mate."

He giggled a little at the comment and tied his horse once it had finished drinking. He then rejoined Conor to begin the setup. Leaving his belongings where he could see them, save his sword which he had strapped to his waist. He then picked up a hatchet and moved off to find dry wood for the fire as close to the clearing as he could, in case he encountered trouble.