Riding long distances was /possibly/ one of the most boring activities one can do. It was slightly more entertaining than darning stockings, or digging a ditch. Granted, for those first few miles it’s mildly entertaining as one watched the trees and grass slip by. After that it tended to get…monotonous…to put it mildly, however there were worse things than riding long distances.
Like riding long distances in armor.
Ceremonial armor.
This would be the reason that Aurin Demarc happened to be looking for an excuse. Any excuse that might distract him from the plodding sensation of saddle sores and the rolling gait of his horse.
So when that excuse presented itself in the form of a campfire up over the next ridge, he was quite happy to take it and run with it as far and as fast as he might go. Reining in his horse with a short jerk, the Templar stared at the light for a time before smirking slightly. His helmet had been removed hours and hours ago, the damn thing restricted vision anyway so it was left to hang from the side of the stirrups. Otherwise, the man was dressed in the typically gleaming, bright armor of the Templars; resplendent and glowing in the almost-white metal with its vibrant cloth additions and the flaming sword sigil etched on the breastplate.
Privately, Aurin believed it made him look like a blazing target. The symbol on the breastplate was like a set of rings or a 'please hit me' sign to apostates and blood mages that might see them. He didn't want them to run /before/ he got to them. However, it was tradition, and there were standing orders to wear them. So, when he went on one of his duty-bound errands like this little babysitting job, he suffered through it all.
Glancing back over his shoulder at the rest of the little procession of guards and mages, the dark haired Templar hooked a thumb towards the fire in the distance.
"I'm going to check it out," he called towards the rest of the group, with his eyes lighting up at the promise of /something/ of interest.
Besides trees...
...and clouds...
...and horses...
...and rocks...
"It /could/ be bandits," he added piously towards them all after a moments of contemplation. With any luck they might be hot, female, and having whiskey as well…
...of course the whiskey was what got him into this place in the first place. Getting caught with that was /why/ he was assigned to guard duty out here, but he might as well make the best of it all.