Eoin
For the first time since Eoin appeared at the campsite there’s a crack in his affable veneer. He shoots Hayu a look of exasperation that all but screams ‘do you think I’m bloody thick?’
Credit where credit is due. They were good points to raise, once you mop up the condescension dripping from them, he thinks.
“First, good catch on the ring. Except, there’s fuck all we can do about that right now. So, unless you forgot to mention being a mage who can magic up some sort of ward, or containment box, let’s concentrate on what we can do.”
He pulls the blanket and bedroll from the top of his pack and set’s it aside, and rummages through his pack. He pulls out a wooden box as he continues to speak.
“Right. I was thinking of sorting us out first, but since you bring up the weapons..”
“There’s five of us, and most of us set out intending to travel so that’s at least four blankets. And I have rope, that should be enough to wrap the weapons up so they’re not easily identified. Or at least its worth a shot before jumping to wandering back and forth between here and the trading post - The less of that the better.”
He flicks a couple of latches and opens the box. The lid scissors up to revel a couple of small shelves, filled with brushes, pottles of make-up and paints of various fleshy hues, and a couple of other odds and ends.
“Let’s see if that works, then l’ll either fetch some clay and charcoal or see what I do with making us less us…”