Remnants IC

[TheGreatJabu]

Sir Quentin Moreau

Beneath his helmet, Quentin's expression was grim. Spent all this time looking for danger, and those men had the misfortune of danger finding them. Quentin bows his head in reverence for a moment, then lifts a foot into one of Claude's stirrups and mounts his horse. "Come then. Let us make way to Schuttgard. Our path is now clearly unsafe, so we must be prepared for an attack at any moment." Quentin reaches down and plucks his lance from the straps along Claude's side that had been cradling it since entering the woods. He held it aloft for a moment to visually inspect it for any wear (more from habit than utility - he probably couldn't have seen any cracks in this darkness anyway). "Shall I lead the way? I'd no doubt make an obvious target for our foes, giving the rest of you the chance to surround them after they strike."