Aluve scowls as he sees Murth tumble into the water with the captain. "Damn it" he yells. He turns, swords still in hand and takes in the scene of chaos. He sheaths his blades and heads off along the deck to try and help any of the wounded.
" Anyone seen the first mate!" We need to regain some kind of control" Aluve calls out.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Chatcho meanders about the deck, observing, listening. It doesn't take a lifetime to learn the basics of life on a ship, and as he takes note of that which stands out to him a picture begins to form in his mind. One of the crew breaks from the huddle that had been forming to answer Hanson and Bramble's calls, rushing up to the helm and heaving on the wheel. But where worry had imagined the wheel would spin free of the rudder's weight, the man found it wouldn't move at all. "I-it's jammed."
Something was definitely off. Even Chatcho had grown accustomed to the steady rhythm of the ship in the time they'd spent on it. Rhythm... Yes, that was it. The rhythm of the boat, the incessant teetering, the back-and-forth as it rode over the hills and troughs of the lake's waves. Even as people rushed about, there was no shift in the balance. As steady as a rock, the boat remained motionless. Despite this, water still churned beneath them, a steady, almost calming sound that existed now in the background of all else going on. It babbled away, yet the ship did not move.
Moving across the deck he heard it, a speculative word from one of the crew, busy examining the ship's rigging which was in terrible disrepair. It strained credulity, but sure enough. Approaching the rear of the ship and leaning over to peer into the darkness below, just barely visible through the fog, it was there. How could it be? Only moments ago they were an hour from the closest shore out in the middle of a lake, and yet there it was.
Land.
The rudder was jammed not because the mechanism had failed, but because a great weight of wet soil pressed up against it on both sides. And there was a current, splashing up against the hull futilely. They were run aground, no longer even in the lake, but caught in the current of a river. How this could be entirely escaped the insectoid, but there was no doubt about it in his mind. It was most certainly the bank of a river.
People worked as Chatcho roamed the ship, back-and-forth, clicking to himself in a language entirely incomprehensible to the others. Hanson, and Archibald secured the prisoner, while Aluve moved from person to person, looking for injuries. Nothing more than bumps or bruises were to be discovered on most people, but there was Zue and the Nevael brother that had fought her. An arrow protruded from where it'd pierced Zue's arm, and blood stained an open gash in the leather lining her stomach. She was in terrible shape, but no worse than her enemy. Though she'd landed no attacks of her own, Archibald had battered and bruised him nicely, and when the wooden spar fell on him he didn't get back up. He breathes shallowly, now, in short raspy breaths. His compatriot, his brother, has already pulled him from the wreckage and tends to his wounds to the best of the his ability. It's an... acceptable job.
10
"Saboteurs." A voice spoke from behind Aluve, looking down at their new prisoner. "I'd 'eard that they've tried some things like this in the past, but I ne'er expected this. No doubt about it, though. They're King's men. Servants of one'a 'em lords. Crafty, too. That fire alerted their ship to our position, and crippled us as well. We won't be able to fly either sail for some time. There's always the paddles, but... It's slow going. We might be able to rig something up, though, the jibs'l escaped harm, mostly. The main, though?" He eyes the ruin that had fallen from nearly the top of the mast. "That wood's no good to us now. By some divine providence the cloth didn't catch alight, but without spare wood to fashion a new spar, it's for naught. Not to mention the new hole in our deck..." As he talks, it quickly becomes apparent that the man is thinking aloud, and has only used Aluve as an excuse to do so. He speaks and acts with an air of authority, however, and by the crew's glances in his direction it seems fairly evident that this man is the first mate that'd he'd called for.
Dazed and confused, and bleeding slightly from where some object had toppled over and walloped him in the noggin, Alfried the Merchant stumbles out of the cabin.
Aluve helps a man sit upright, props him against the side of the ship and is careful not to cause more injury. The first mate had made himself known, and also given insight into the condition of the ship. The ranger looks out towards the black. His darkvision helping him make out some of what lay beyond the ship. He wanted to see if wherever they had become stuck was a big enough island to gather some reasourses....at least enough to repair some of this ship.
Roll Perception : 13+4 = 17
Aluve turns back to the first mate. "What's your name sir? He places his hand on the mans shoulder. " I don't know a lot of the others on board your ship but they seem like they are willing to help. Looks as though we have run aground. Perhaps we can gather some useful materials and get this ship in a somewhat functional condition?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
What in the world is going on? Branch is trying to settle herself now that the immediate threat of the two bandits and the fire have been taken care of. What was with this fog? It was almost unnatural. While the crew raced back and forth trying to get things back up and running, she tried to figure out what seemed to be going on.
Bramble sticks with Branch, unsure of what exactly is happening. He'll offer to assist the crew should they need anything, despite his lack of experience with sailing.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Han confused by the abrupt wave and tipping of the ship looks out at the ground in bewilderment. “There is no way we have reached the other side that quickly where the hell are we?” Try to contain his inner panicking he looks out into the misty shoreline trying to get a glimpse of the rest of the bay? Beach? What ever it was.
Chatcho falls into pace with Archibald and reaches out to his mind.
I'm perplexed. By all accounts we've hit land though my meticulous study of the route revealed no islets on the way to our destination. It looks as if the Ikriik/Water Priest and Ikthok/Earth Priest are reaching the same k/end/conclusion. Shall we compare notes?
Archibald finds himself waist-deep very quickly, but no more. As the water soaks into his boots and clothing, the muddy shore rises up to meet him. Going is slow, getting out of the water. The mud clings to his feet, squelching as he tears them free one after the other and again. But, sure enough, they are beached against a shoreline. Stepping away from the ship a few feet reveals forest growth, sprawling into the night beyond.
The first mate looks to Aluve, interrupted by the questions. "Oh, ah, you can call me Jack. It's not my name, but, it's what everyone 'ere calls me. I doubt we might find anything useful ashore, unless by sheer luck we managed to land near some town. Depending on what they find down there, we might be stuck here anyway. But if not, we could row the rest of the way, though we'd be stuck going downstream. And furthermore..." His voices quiets, not sure if he wants the rest of the crowd to hear. "I don't know where we are. We weren't anywhere near shore, let alone a river. We must've gone very lost before that ship even found us, to've ended up here. If that's the case, there's no tellin' where we actually sailed to. There's only a couple rivers that connect to the lake, but, I don't recognize this one. What we need is to flag down another boat, but... That'll have to wait for the morn', we can't flag anyone down tonight, for the obvious reasons..." And again, the man starts rambling to himself.
Aluve tunes him out, looking over the ship for himself. At this point, most of the crew have come to the same conclusion as Jack, and are milling about, retiring to the cabin, or idly watching Archibald over the stern railing. As he surveys the scene for himself, he notices something. It's not something he sees, but something he hears. A noise, just barely audible above the background. Struggling to place it, he thinks hard. What was that noise, where was it coming from? Was i-- "Wait a minute, none'a yas have seen my flask, have ya? It seems to've fallen out me pocket during all that excitement!" Snaps the pot-bellied crewmate who'd been talking to Hanson earlier. His announcement completely drowns out the sound, and when he's finished his moaning, Aluve can't seem to pick it up again.
Hanson doesn't have much luck, though peering over the stern railing he can see now as most everyone has realized, that they are indeed beached. Next to him, Branch vaults the stern railing in one steady motion, landing in the mud next to the rudder and Archibald with a wet impact. She sets about the scene much like Chatcho had been doing moments ago on the deck, taking in every detail, discarding nothing.
The ship's stern rests up and out of the water, the rest of the ship sticking out into the river's current, but held fast. Enough men, sure enough, could probably free the boat. Except for that, there seems to be nothing to hint how or why they'd ended up here. The ship was nestled in the bend of the river, where sediment had been deposited over time and built up this tiny muddy shore. Past the mud, was a forest. It was an old forest, the trees reaching past the fog and out of her view, and the undergrowth thick and tall enough to hide a fully-grown owlbear in its midst. The only thing that outright struck her as odd was discovered accidentally. Inspecting the aforementioned undergrowth, she shouldered past a branch and found that it left a chilling, wet mark. Upon further inspection, the entire area around their ship seemed utterly soaked. Water climbed up the trees a number of feet, taller the closer the tree stood to the ship's resting place. It was as if a great wave had crashed through, dissipating as it traveled further from the river.
The fog slowly dissipates now. In the minutes since they'd arrived, the treeline has now become visible from the ship's deck, and more of the shore below the ship's stern can be observed from the railing.
"Hey Bramble, get down here!" Branch shouts as she tries to figure out how they ended up in on a river bank, when they were just in the middle of a lake. As she realizes how everything is wet, like the entire area was underwater, she shouts again, "Not sure how, but this entire area is completely soaked, like it was all underwater. Whether by a great wave or what, I do not know." in a normal voice, almost to herself, "Is this how ships disappear at night? Find this river that seems impossible?"
She then notices Archibald working himself up to shore, "Doing alright? Not sure if we've met yet, the name is Branch. What do you think of those trees over there? Seem to be the only thing on this shore? At least from what we can see."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Bramble hops down, taking note of the new environment. He scoops up a pinch of mud and rubs it between his fingers. "This... definitely feels like river sediment, nothing that one would find on a lake. We were... smack in the middle of a lake, and now we're suddenly on a river, run aground on the bank? Ah, something doesn't add up here..."
Bramble then sets about looking toward the forest's edge and trying to find any tracks in the wet mud, or maybe some sort of trail into the forest.
"You two" Aluve points to two crew members trying to head off to bed. "Grab some axes and shovels, let's join the these men on the shore and see if we can lend a hand."
Aluve jumps overboard and joins the few souls who have chosen to do the same. He pulls himself through the mud and catches the Firblog and Gensai. "Greetings, my name is Aluve. That was a petty wild ride back there. You two found anything useful?. I caught a sound on the wind but I couldn't work out what it was. We need to be careful. I have asked a couple of the crew to come down with some tools....see if we can get some materials for some basic repairs."
Chatcho watches the others disembark before scouting a secluded part of the ship. Sitting cross-legged with his spell-book across his lap, Chatcho joins both pair of hands together and stretches his mind beyond its physical confines.
Chatcho begins to ritualistically cast detect magic.
Retreating to the cabin, Chatcho focuses his mind calling forth the arcane energy around them to show him what they're missing. As he searches the deck or beyond, however, nothing makes itself evident. It doesn't take much to come to the conclusion that magic had some hand in their new predicament, but if it were the case it must've faded in these minutes after their arrival.
"No, not likely!" One of the crew calls back to Archibald. "I mean, we probably could, but it'd take some time to fell the tree, strip the bark, and attach all the hardware. I suppose, if we've got nothing better, though..." He joins the two men Aluve had singled out, grabbing an axe and joining the rest on the shore. Exploring, probing, searching for a suitable young tree.
Aluve pauses, searching for the sound once more. For a long moment, he wonders if the squelching boots of the crew and passengers now milling about the muddy shore would drown it out again, when suddenly it is there. Yes, there! A sharp, ringing sound, like a bell, or... swords. Out there, deep in the forest, muffled by the trees. Some two people, at the least, are locked in combat, the ringing of their weapons colliding just barely reaching their position.
To investigate further would be a daunting task, however. Though the fog rises quickly enough to suggest it might be gone entirely by the time they reach these two people, in that direction lies a dense mass of forest undergrowth, forming what seems like an unbroken wall just at the tree-line, tall enough to swallow them whole. However, as he regards this undergrowth with growing apprehension, he watches as the firbolg among them marches into it unphased, picking through a path that it seems only he can see.
Indeed, there is a path. A game-trail, forged by the passage of many animals in their search of the river's water. These kinds of trails often wind aimlessly through forests such as these, and there is nothing to suggest anyone has come through recently.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Chatcho repeatedly clicks his horizontal mandibles in minor annoyance.
Fine. Hunter-mind it is.
Chatcho leaves the cabin to look over the ship’s edge. He jumps into the river, mindful of the direction the party took and hopeful the mud will yield tracks.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
“Wait up, Branch! The forest is definitely more your territory than mine!” She runs to catch up with him, trying to look for a trail into the thick tree line that looms in front of her. This was not what she signed up for when she boarded the ship.
Aluve scowls as he sees Murth tumble into the water with the captain. "Damn it" he yells. He turns, swords still in hand and takes in the scene of chaos. He sheaths his blades and heads off along the deck to try and help any of the wounded.
" Anyone seen the first mate!" We need to regain some kind of control" Aluve calls out.
"I will check for wounded!"
(are things still foggy?)
Archibald starts tying up Zue to the mast.
Paladin - warforged - orange
Chatcho meanders about the deck, observing, listening. It doesn't take a lifetime to learn the basics of life on a ship, and as he takes note of that which stands out to him a picture begins to form in his mind. One of the crew breaks from the huddle that had been forming to answer Hanson and Bramble's calls, rushing up to the helm and heaving on the wheel. But where worry had imagined the wheel would spin free of the rudder's weight, the man found it wouldn't move at all. "I-it's jammed."
Something was definitely off. Even Chatcho had grown accustomed to the steady rhythm of the ship in the time they'd spent on it. Rhythm... Yes, that was it. The rhythm of the boat, the incessant teetering, the back-and-forth as it rode over the hills and troughs of the lake's waves. Even as people rushed about, there was no shift in the balance. As steady as a rock, the boat remained motionless. Despite this, water still churned beneath them, a steady, almost calming sound that existed now in the background of all else going on. It babbled away, yet the ship did not move.
Moving across the deck he heard it, a speculative word from one of the crew, busy examining the ship's rigging which was in terrible disrepair. It strained credulity, but sure enough. Approaching the rear of the ship and leaning over to peer into the darkness below, just barely visible through the fog, it was there. How could it be? Only moments ago they were an hour from the closest shore out in the middle of a lake, and yet there it was.
Land.
The rudder was jammed not because the mechanism had failed, but because a great weight of wet soil pressed up against it on both sides. And there was a current, splashing up against the hull futilely. They were run aground, no longer even in the lake, but caught in the current of a river. How this could be entirely escaped the insectoid, but there was no doubt about it in his mind. It was most certainly the bank of a river.
===================================================================================================================
People worked as Chatcho roamed the ship, back-and-forth, clicking to himself in a language entirely incomprehensible to the others. Hanson, and Archibald secured the prisoner, while Aluve moved from person to person, looking for injuries. Nothing more than bumps or bruises were to be discovered on most people, but there was Zue and the Nevael brother that had fought her. An arrow protruded from where it'd pierced Zue's arm, and blood stained an open gash in the leather lining her stomach. She was in terrible shape, but no worse than her enemy. Though she'd landed no attacks of her own, Archibald had battered and bruised him nicely, and when the wooden spar fell on him he didn't get back up. He breathes shallowly, now, in short raspy breaths. His compatriot, his brother, has already pulled him from the wreckage and tends to his wounds to the best of the his ability. It's an... acceptable job.
10
"Saboteurs." A voice spoke from behind Aluve, looking down at their new prisoner. "I'd 'eard that they've tried some things like this in the past, but I ne'er expected this. No doubt about it, though. They're King's men. Servants of one'a 'em lords. Crafty, too. That fire alerted their ship to our position, and crippled us as well. We won't be able to fly either sail for some time. There's always the paddles, but... It's slow going. We might be able to rig something up, though, the jibs'l escaped harm, mostly. The main, though?" He eyes the ruin that had fallen from nearly the top of the mast. "That wood's no good to us now. By some divine providence the cloth didn't catch alight, but without spare wood to fashion a new spar, it's for naught. Not to mention the new hole in our deck..." As he talks, it quickly becomes apparent that the man is thinking aloud, and has only used Aluve as an excuse to do so. He speaks and acts with an air of authority, however, and by the crew's glances in his direction it seems fairly evident that this man is the first mate that'd he'd called for.
===================================================================================================================
Dazed and confused, and bleeding slightly from where some object had toppled over and walloped him in the noggin, Alfried the Merchant stumbles out of the cabin.
Aluve helps a man sit upright, props him against the side of the ship and is careful not to cause more injury. The first mate had made himself known, and also given insight into the condition of the ship. The ranger looks out towards the black. His darkvision helping him make out some of what lay beyond the ship. He wanted to see if wherever they had become stuck was a big enough island to gather some reasourses....at least enough to repair some of this ship.
Roll Perception : 13+4 = 17
Aluve turns back to the first mate. "What's your name sir? He places his hand on the mans shoulder. " I don't know a lot of the others on board your ship but they seem like they are willing to help. Looks as though we have run aground. Perhaps we can gather some useful materials and get this ship in a somewhat functional condition?"
Archibald closes on the merchant.
"I hope there's a mast in your wares. Or at least food."
Archibald paces the deck, weapons out as he tries to release the stress
Paladin - warforged - orange
What in the world is going on? Branch is trying to settle herself now that the immediate threat of the two bandits and the fire have been taken care of. What was with this fog? It was almost unnatural. While the crew raced back and forth trying to get things back up and running, she tried to figure out what seemed to be going on.
Investigation 12
Bramble sticks with Branch, unsure of what exactly is happening. He'll offer to assist the crew should they need anything, despite his lack of experience with sailing.
Han confused by the abrupt wave and tipping of the ship looks out at the ground in bewilderment. “There is no way we have reached the other side that quickly where the hell are we?” Try to contain his inner panicking he looks out into the misty shoreline trying to get a glimpse of the rest of the bay? Beach? What ever it was.
Perception: 6
Chatcho falls into pace with Archibald and reaches out to his mind.
I'm perplexed. By all accounts we've hit land though my meticulous study of the route revealed no islets on the way to our destination. It looks as if the Ikriik/Water Priest and Ikthok/Earth Priest are reaching the same k/end/conclusion. Shall we compare notes?
Chatcho points to Branch and Bramble.
Archibald stops pacing at the new information.
"Chatcho, are you sure? Maybe it's just a rock or an overturned boat or something. I'll go make sure."
Archibald heads for the side of the boat and tries to climb down, searching for land or water. He'll take a few steps, assuming he finds land.
Paladin - warforged - orange
Archibald finds himself waist-deep very quickly, but no more. As the water soaks into his boots and clothing, the muddy shore rises up to meet him. Going is slow, getting out of the water. The mud clings to his feet, squelching as he tears them free one after the other and again. But, sure enough, they are beached against a shoreline. Stepping away from the ship a few feet reveals forest growth, sprawling into the night beyond.
===================================================================================================================
The first mate looks to Aluve, interrupted by the questions. "Oh, ah, you can call me Jack. It's not my name, but, it's what everyone 'ere calls me. I doubt we might find anything useful ashore, unless by sheer luck we managed to land near some town. Depending on what they find down there, we might be stuck here anyway. But if not, we could row the rest of the way, though we'd be stuck going downstream. And furthermore..." His voices quiets, not sure if he wants the rest of the crowd to hear. "I don't know where we are. We weren't anywhere near shore, let alone a river. We must've gone very lost before that ship even found us, to've ended up here. If that's the case, there's no tellin' where we actually sailed to. There's only a couple rivers that connect to the lake, but, I don't recognize this one. What we need is to flag down another boat, but... That'll have to wait for the morn', we can't flag anyone down tonight, for the obvious reasons..." And again, the man starts rambling to himself.
Aluve tunes him out, looking over the ship for himself. At this point, most of the crew have come to the same conclusion as Jack, and are milling about, retiring to the cabin, or idly watching Archibald over the stern railing. As he surveys the scene for himself, he notices something. It's not something he sees, but something he hears. A noise, just barely audible above the background. Struggling to place it, he thinks hard. What was that noise, where was it coming from? Was i-- "Wait a minute, none'a yas have seen my flask, have ya? It seems to've fallen out me pocket during all that excitement!" Snaps the pot-bellied crewmate who'd been talking to Hanson earlier. His announcement completely drowns out the sound, and when he's finished his moaning, Aluve can't seem to pick it up again.
===================================================================================================================
Hanson doesn't have much luck, though peering over the stern railing he can see now as most everyone has realized, that they are indeed beached. Next to him, Branch vaults the stern railing in one steady motion, landing in the mud next to the rudder and Archibald with a wet impact. She sets about the scene much like Chatcho had been doing moments ago on the deck, taking in every detail, discarding nothing.
The ship's stern rests up and out of the water, the rest of the ship sticking out into the river's current, but held fast. Enough men, sure enough, could probably free the boat. Except for that, there seems to be nothing to hint how or why they'd ended up here. The ship was nestled in the bend of the river, where sediment had been deposited over time and built up this tiny muddy shore. Past the mud, was a forest. It was an old forest, the trees reaching past the fog and out of her view, and the undergrowth thick and tall enough to hide a fully-grown owlbear in its midst. The only thing that outright struck her as odd was discovered accidentally. Inspecting the aforementioned undergrowth, she shouldered past a branch and found that it left a chilling, wet mark. Upon further inspection, the entire area around their ship seemed utterly soaked. Water climbed up the trees a number of feet, taller the closer the tree stood to the ship's resting place. It was as if a great wave had crashed through, dissipating as it traveled further from the river.
===================================================================================================================
The fog slowly dissipates now. In the minutes since they'd arrived, the treeline has now become visible from the ship's deck, and more of the shore below the ship's stern can be observed from the railing.
"Hey Bramble, get down here!" Branch shouts as she tries to figure out how they ended up in on a river bank, when they were just in the middle of a lake. As she realizes how everything is wet, like the entire area was underwater, she shouts again, "Not sure how, but this entire area is completely soaked, like it was all underwater. Whether by a great wave or what, I do not know." in a normal voice, almost to herself, "Is this how ships disappear at night? Find this river that seems impossible?"
She then notices Archibald working himself up to shore, "Doing alright? Not sure if we've met yet, the name is Branch. What do you think of those trees over there? Seem to be the only thing on this shore? At least from what we can see."
Archibald calls out: "Can we replace the mast with one of these trees?"
Paladin - warforged - orange
Bramble hops down, taking note of the new environment. He scoops up a pinch of mud and rubs it between his fingers. "This... definitely feels like river sediment, nothing that one would find on a lake. We were... smack in the middle of a lake, and now we're suddenly on a river, run aground on the bank? Ah, something doesn't add up here..."
Bramble then sets about looking toward the forest's edge and trying to find any tracks in the wet mud, or maybe some sort of trail into the forest.
Survival: 22
"I lost it....what was that sound?"
"You two" Aluve points to two crew members trying to head off to bed. "Grab some axes and shovels, let's join the these men on the shore and see if we can lend a hand."
Aluve jumps overboard and joins the few souls who have chosen to do the same. He pulls himself through the mud and catches the Firblog and Gensai. "Greetings, my name is Aluve. That was a petty wild ride back there. You two found anything useful?. I caught a sound on the wind but I couldn't work out what it was. We need to be careful. I have asked a couple of the crew to come down with some tools....see if we can get some materials for some basic repairs."
Aluve tries this time to listen to the wind......
Roll Insight :19 + 6 = 25
Roll Perception: 15+4 = 19
Chatcho watches the others disembark before scouting a secluded part of the ship. Sitting cross-legged with his spell-book across his lap, Chatcho joins both pair of hands together and stretches his mind beyond its physical confines.
Chatcho begins to ritualistically cast detect magic.
Retreating to the cabin, Chatcho focuses his mind calling forth the arcane energy around them to show him what they're missing. As he searches the deck or beyond, however, nothing makes itself evident. It doesn't take much to come to the conclusion that magic had some hand in their new predicament, but if it were the case it must've faded in these minutes after their arrival.
===================================================================================================================
"No, not likely!" One of the crew calls back to Archibald. "I mean, we probably could, but it'd take some time to fell the tree, strip the bark, and attach all the hardware. I suppose, if we've got nothing better, though..." He joins the two men Aluve had singled out, grabbing an axe and joining the rest on the shore. Exploring, probing, searching for a suitable young tree.
===================================================================================================================
Aluve pauses, searching for the sound once more. For a long moment, he wonders if the squelching boots of the crew and passengers now milling about the muddy shore would drown it out again, when suddenly it is there. Yes, there! A sharp, ringing sound, like a bell, or... swords. Out there, deep in the forest, muffled by the trees. Some two people, at the least, are locked in combat, the ringing of their weapons colliding just barely reaching their position.
To investigate further would be a daunting task, however. Though the fog rises quickly enough to suggest it might be gone entirely by the time they reach these two people, in that direction lies a dense mass of forest undergrowth, forming what seems like an unbroken wall just at the tree-line, tall enough to swallow them whole. However, as he regards this undergrowth with growing apprehension, he watches as the firbolg among them marches into it unphased, picking through a path that it seems only he can see.
Indeed, there is a path. A game-trail, forged by the passage of many animals in their search of the river's water. These kinds of trails often wind aimlessly through forests such as these, and there is nothing to suggest anyone has come through recently.
Chatcho repeatedly clicks his horizontal mandibles in minor annoyance.
Fine. Hunter-mind it is.
Chatcho leaves the cabin to look over the ship’s edge. He jumps into the river, mindful of the direction the party took and hopeful the mud will yield tracks.
Survival: 17
“Wait up, Branch! The forest is definitely more your territory than mine!” She runs to catch up with him, trying to look for a trail into the thick tree line that looms in front of her. This was not what she signed up for when she boarded the ship.
Survival 8
Archibald simply follows the others as they disembark, a bit confused at what's happening.
Paladin - warforged - orange