Kjan responded to the Phantom's look with an expression of perfectly feigned innocence, but the moment Dante's back was turned, he silently mouthed a single word. Kyth'awi. Utterly nonsensical and entirely unrelated to their current conversation, as far as anyone was concerned. Unless, of course, they happened to have paid uncharacteristically rapt attention during a certain herbology lecture and happened to have learned that the kyth'awi plant was a weed whose leaves were flavorless but conveniently dyed teeth a rather unique colour, then happened to have employed said knowledge in 'preparing' tea for a certain sister's would-be courter who may or may not have been named Dante Salone. Or if they might have aided a friend in the aforementioned hypothetical endeavour.

But for the most part, it was utter nonsense.

The Phantom's mirth, tastefully silent, would have been described as a snicker behind his hand if he had not been aged thirty-three and rather too old for snickering. As it was, he looked positively mischievous for a moment. A rebel leader is hardly described as mischievous overtly often, but then, he was hardly a typical rebel leader.

A glance in Kjan's direction to conclude their silent conversation promised further discussion on the matter, and the Phantom strode up to walk beside the somewhat disgruntled-looking Dante in order to appear properly leaderish and responsible.

A few hours brought them to the edge of said river, which was decidedly swollen and looked somewhat formidable as far as attempting to cross went. The Phantom regarded it contemplatively for a moment, and looked round at his motley band with a raised eyebrow. "Anybody know more about raft building than sticking two wooden objects together?"

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"You need rope," Kjan supplied helpfully, using the tip of one of his knives to clean some dirt out from under his fingernail.

Silvryn merely threw him a withering glance before facing the Phantom again. "We will need wood, obviously," she said. "Nails would be preferable in holding the wood together, but unless one of you brought a hardward kit, rope could no doubt be used in lieu....Assuming, of course, that someone did think to pack enough rope."

((Don't anybody else post or anything Last I checked there were more people here than PotR and FM and I))

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((Oh, if you insist. lol 'Course, LDM is off at DragonCon *jealous stare towards Georgia*))

Ash was lagging behind the main group, talking quietly with Jais. Again Kjan's name seemed to be mentioned quite frequently. Overhearing Silvryn's comment, Ash hurried up to join the group in the front. "I packed some rope." He said. "It should be enough... Incidentally, how much rope is usually need for a raft?"

Jate finally spoke up. He had convinced himself that no, the newcomer was not a friend of the Phantom, nor was he someone come to rescue him.

"Well, it's got to hold together about 10 logs, pieces of wood, whatever. So my guess...about 12 lengths? Somewhere around 25 feet?"

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going on a journey through my old claims

"That sounds about right" Threng said, leaping gracefully from the branch overhead. He had climbed the tree the moment he saw Dante arrive: the hieght and concealment the tree top gave would come in handy if the new comer proved to be hostile. "I have half that in my pack"

The Phantom regarded the swollen river before them with a thoughtful air, and appeared to be judging the distance. "I don't suppose," he said suddenly, "we have enough rope to raft just one of us over, and string a guide over the river?"

Unslinging his own pack, he rifled through it momentarily, unable to quite recall if rope had been one of things he stuffed inside. An examination of the contents revealed three or four spare bowstrings, none of which were longer than five feet at most, and all of which he did not intend to use for crossing a river. No rope. He looked up, squinting against the sun. "Kjan, you didn't happen to bring a conveniently long rope that we can use to get over that river, did you?"

Accepting Threng's offering with a nod of thanks, he squinted out across the river again. "What would you call that, a hundred feet? Hundred twenty-five?"

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"At least." Threng replied, fishing the rope out of his pack. He pulled out a rope 15 feet in length, and tossed it to the ground. "Only 115 feet left to go." he said sullenly.

"I have a bit more." Ash offered. He slung his own pack to the ground and knelt beside it, shuffling through the contents. Never known to be a tidy packer, it took him several long moments before he produced a length of coiled rope. "Twenty, twenty-five feet it looks like."

Kjan somewhat doubted that rope had been among the items that he'd thrown in at the last second, but it never hurt to look. Dropping the pack on the ground unceremoniously, he began pulling items out at random. Blanket...spare boots...loaf of bread...extra throwing knives...a length of ribbon...a book...a frying pan...a bottle of mead....No rope. Naturally. "None here," he announced, using the ribbon to pull the wet hair out of his face and only succeeding in making it look all the more bedraggled.

"You mean to tell me that...those-" Silvryn waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Ash and Threng "-had enough sense to bring rope, and yet our esteemed leaders did not?"

"If the need for rope was so glaringly obvious," Kjan pointed out, "then surely my lady brought plenty herself?"

Silvryn did not reply immediately, gazing at him in dignified silcence before finally replying, "I had assumed-"

"And that, milady, was your first mistake," Kjan interrupted dryly, smirking and inclining his head slightly. He usually reserved his sarcasm for non-royalty -chiefly a certain non-royal Phantom-, but then, he also usually wasn't wet, tired, cold, and sore from sleeping on the ground all night. "Do we have a Plan B, Phantom? Unless we happen to magically come across ninety more feet of rope, the guide idea is seeming a bit unlikely."

The Phantom was looking with some discontent at their meager pile of rope. Once he got an idea it was extraordinarily hard to shake him from following through with it, and this looked to be proving no exception. Maybe those bowstrings would help after all...

Eledhe tapped him on the shoulder and mutely (if a little resignedly, and with an air of aggrieved genius) proffered a coil of thinly woven hemp line. When he blinked and looked at it in surprise, she arched an eyebrow. "Are you really surprised?"

This only required a moment's contemplation. "No, not really. Especially since it looks like it's going to break. Very characteristic of you."

The arched eyebrow became nearly high enough to disappear into her hairline. Kjan would have called that look 'approaching homicidal', but the Phantom merely grunted. "Right. Let's try it out."

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Watching all the going-ons from the sideline; and finding plenty of wonderful oppurtunities to practice his eye-rolling, Dante held his ground firmly away from the river. Crossing those tempetuous things hadn't exactly been his favorite hobby - and he was beginning to wonder what he'd got himself into by coming with this motley crew.

And then that one... that one whose -. There was something very awkwardly familiar about him, a vague wisp of something, an air p'raps, or a slight manner. The grungy strands of hair... something... but as much as he strained to remember, he could not recall who this man was to him.

"Right then," he said, clapping his hands together to break the silence, "Who wants to go across the swollen, life-endangering river first?"

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Kjan glanced around awkwardly, at long last coming to the conclusion that no one else was going to speak up. Not that he really blamed them; he wasn't particularly inclined to traverse the icy water himself. But they had to eventually, and that meant that someone had to go first. Since it was clear that no one else intended to take the initiative, he cleared his throat and magnanimously declared, "I volunteer Dante."

Something about the way Kjan pronounced his name made Dante Salone do a double take.

<i>Surely my ears deceive me...</i>

Squinting his eyes a bit suspiciously, he leaned forward on the edge of his foot. Something was eerily familiar here. "Have I met you before?" he finally ventured to ask tentatively. He glanced up into his face, before adding in a much louder voice, "We need to splice these ropes before we're able to use them."

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"I assure you, good sir, that I would recall encountering a face such as yours," Kjan replied in his most dignified tone, managing to keep a straight face for all of 4.27 seconds before smirking and turning away. "Right, then. Anyone actually know how to splice a rope?"