As questions about the rock are bandied about, Aldric chuffs and then says abruptly, "There's no way to sneak up on it, so a direct route is our most strategic option."

He scowls at the others. "Once we are within 200 paces of the rock, we should fan out. Put space between us. Give anyone who might attempt to attack from a distance several targets instead of a mass. But we should be close enough to provide aid if needed. Two to two-and-a-half paces. Then we run."

Aldric slaps the side of his face, assumedly at a bug. "Keep an eye on each other and your surroundings. If anyone spots anything, wave your arms and point — do not call out," he stresses. "Pass the message down the line so we all know something's up."

Looking up at Rylan, he says, "While on horseback, you have the advantage of speed, but you will also be a larger target." He looks away, but adds, "Do with that what you wish."

The half-orc's shoulders and back go through a series of movements, causing his mail to jingle. "Any questions?"

Rylan shakes his head and beams, looking to the others. "This is exciting, no?" The words are barely out of his mouth before he's off, riding forward at an even pace.

As he pushes toward Lance Rock, he scans the horizon for threats, shield at the ready. Bending forward, he whisper's in Brandy's ear.

"Alright, girl. We all know your wits are sharper than mine. So, if you catch a whiff of something foul, you let me know, alright?" He gives her neck a loving pat. "That's a good lass."

Sylra listened quietly as the others weighed in, her attention divided between the crunch of their boots in the grassland and the faint shift of the wind across the open terrain. Rylan’s question earned the barest shake of her head, the whisper of hair brushing her cheek. “Stone does not bear good or evil,” she said evenly. “It only stands. What we bring into its shadow, and what chooses to dwell there, is another matter entirely.” Her voice was calm, but edged with caution, as though reminding them all not to be distracted by the shape of the landmark itself.

When Aldric laid out his plan, she gave a small, thoughtful nod. His brusque tone did not bother her—she had seen enough in her travels to know that weariness and years both sharpened a person into something harder. “A direct approach will leave little doubt of our intent,” she agreed. “If watchers lie ahead, they will see us coming regardless of the path we take. Spreading out will serve us well, though I would add this—watch the ground as carefully as the horizon. Such places are as often guarded by hidden snares as by men with bows.” She adjusted her staff against her shoulder, letting her words fall into the air with steady conviction.

As Rylan urged Brandy forward with eager words, Sylra glanced after him, then turned her gaze back to the others still gathered. “He is eager, but at least his eyes are open. Let us keep to Aldric’s formation. If there is danger ahead, better we meet it with steady feet than scattered ones.” With that, she shifted her pack and staff into place, ready to follow as the group pressed on toward the looming stone needle that pierced the horizon.

Rumble appeared to listen with such rapt attention to Aldric, one might mistake the genasi to be hearing the gospel of some divine figure, if the bright grin and liveness in his gaze was anything to go by. All of his nervousness seeming to disappear in response to the promise of not just action, but familiar sense of direction given by trusted superior. And yet, there were moments his gaze would wander to the way ahead of the group. Not out of sudden boredom or overeagerness to spy something that might earn praise in turn, but rather within those brief bits of time, his expression harden and eyes narrowed as he tried to plot and imagine a course that would serve him best, and by extension the group.

He nodded faintly and absent-mindedly as Sylra gave her two cents during the briefing, and he would accordingly adjust his focus. Yet words failed him twice over when offered a chance to speak. First in response to Rylan, who without really waiting for a response anyways, picked up the pace ahead of the group, clearly determined to bear the brunt of any potential ambush; be it from roaming bandits or some other unknown but potential hostile force. Then, they failed him again. What was even the right question to ask about the plan? Was there even time with Rylan riding just a way ahead of the group?

In the end, he just shook his head, then simply said, "I'm ready sir. If anything yet goes after for Mr. Arkun or Ms. Sylra, I'll be sure to draw its attention best I can sir." He further assured the Half-Orc, and after adjusting the grip of his axe, made ready to press on as well.

Arkun has a stern look on his face, not sure of what to expect, what they may be marching into.  He walks quickly, spread out from the others, using his staff to give him advantage in the steady push toward the rock.  He readied himself, if he saw a bowman rise up or peek out from the stone, his immediate reaction would be to hit the dirt, go prone.  “Make less of a target, that’s the best way.  I must bend and flatten myself like a leaf in the wind.”  He keeps moving, steady and sure, eyes scanning ahead looking for any movement.  

Sylra's addition to Aldric's instruction does not frustrate him. Almost in unison with Rumble, the half-orc gives a nod of acknowledgement and agreement.

When Rylan jumps forward, however, the knight grumbles and sighs. "Well, I'd considered asking him to scout ahead anyway, so perhaps he's a mind reader as well as an idiot."

In response to Rumble's declaration, Aldric takes a deep breath while is eyes bore into the genasi's skull. Finally, he responds with "You and I should be in the middle. That way, if one of us is occupied, the other can look out for them both." Turning to Arkun and Sylra, he says, "You two on the left and right."

He turns back toward the rock and readjusts his grip on his sack. "Let's move."

 Nothing disturbs your approach to the rock, the setting sun casting an orange-gold hue across the flat landscape as you fan out for your approach. A few hundred feet south of the stone, you come to a ravine choked with brush. You can see from here that the menhir is gray granite, unlike the limestone rock in the surrounding area.

A trail leads into the brush ahead, next to a neatly-painted sign that reads, in Common:

Rylan rides up to the sign and just stands there, pointing to it until the others arrive.

"Well, that's quite troubling..." He says, scratching his chin.

"Bandits and monsters are one thing, but I'm really not one for plagues." Without moving any closer, he looks around, craning his neck to see if he can see anything.

As if the thought just occurred to him (because it did), he hastily ads "Or... It's all a ruse and there actually is no plague." 

He looks to the others and he shrugs. "That's the thing of it, right? There really is no way to tell."

Aldric looks around to make sure they aren't being approached from any direction before looking at Rumble. He makes a quick sign at the novice and receives back no answer or look of recognition. The half-orc sighs. "You need to learn to sign," he says, looking at the message and then the rock. "You never know when stealth communication will come in handy."

Looking at the others, he says, "I'll go ahead. I can't get much more disfigured than I already am." His lips move around his tusks in a way that suggests a wry smile. He feels less of a threat from the sign and more of a warning. Still, it's best to be safe.

Looking at Rumble, the knight says carefully, "Follow me at half speed so that you can create a communication bridge between me and the others."

With that, he continues his march toward Lance Rock.

There's certainly a delayed and maybe vague recognition of the sign in Rumble's eyes; but regardless, no answer was forthcoming all the same. So, the earth genasi found himself biting back a retort, and with a clenched jaws and a thin-lipped smile, simply nodded in agreement. For now wasn't the time for petty arguments or careless remarks. "Hn. As you wish, sir. Though fer what little it's worth, do be careful. I'm thinking we're looking more at a madman than a plague, seeing as noone in town mentioned anything 'bout a 'Lord of Lance Rock' even once." He forewarned, then made ready to follow at a half and nearly half again pace if need be not to overtake the older knight by accident. 

Even knowing that odds favored Aldric or Rylan running into any trap ahead of the group, Rumble paid special attention to the ground going forward, as if leery something might come bursting out of it at any moment. 

As they are standing and considering the sign, Arkun hears Aldric’s comment about his appearance and chuckles.  At least he recognizes it… Arkun watches Aldric, then Rumble, then Rylan go further in, glancing over at Sylra he walks closer to the sign, making a strange mark on the bottom of the sign, hardly notable.  Then he continues in after them, saying a few words to his staff, it seems to almost glow and appear not as a simple wooden staff, but instead a fearsome weapon.  "Let's find out more about this Lord..." he says to himself, and Sylra if close enough.