With the assistance of some quickly gathered Baldmoney and Vetch and the lads fire making talents, Famh soon has a small pot of Head Stew boiling away as the others gather around and keep watch on the road and hills.
Ori will sit and wait on the stew, not sure he really had an appetite, even before thinking of what's in the pot. Thankful that Famh is around to eve attempt suc a thing, Ori would have never known about it. He starts to let his mind wander, in hopes he forgets how he's feeling currently. Eventually he finds himself wondering about Fergus and Tana. He hopes the courtyard wasn't the last time seeing either of them. "What do you think the other are doing right now? Sitting in some compy chairs around a nice fire, eating finely prepared food and drinks. Good thing we are not with them aye!" Ori wasn't talking to anyone in particular, just breaking the tensions while waiting.
Still distracted and disoriented after the short skirmish, Thatch uncovers nothing in the dark of the night as he makes a quick circle of the area. Still, he helps Cainneach and Famh gather what extra ingredients he can and gladly unpacks his iron pot as Famh cooks up the soup. He wrinkles his nose as he soup simmers “I think Sir Almeric straightened me out when he laid his hands upon me. I will skip the soup, although you are doing fine work, Famh, given the main ingredient and all.” He settles into an uneasy watch as the group takes a short halt.
"Are ye sure, Thatch?," Famh teases. "I could save ye some for later, seeing as I still owe ye for the pot." Then the breeze swirls around so a wisp of the steam curls up to her nostrils, and her mouth puckers into seriousness again. "On second thought, never mind. That smell's nae jesting matter. Unless it serves as a purgative ... " She sighs. "Only ane way to tell, I suppose."
Drawing out a flat wooden box from her pack, she opens it to disclose a two tined fork and a neatly carved wooden spoon, nestled into a battered tin cup with a curving handle of horn. She takes the cup and spoon and uses them to ladle a small portion of soup into the hollow box top. And with a final gulp and grimace, she takes the first sup.
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
"Are ye sure, Thatch?," Famh teases. "I could save ye some for later, seeing as I still owe ye for the pot." Then the breeze swirls around so a wisp of the steam curls up to her nostrils, and her mouth puckers into seriousness again. "On second thought, never mind. That smell's nae jesting matter. Unless it serves as a purgative ... " She sighs. "Only ane way to tell, I suppose."
Drawing out a flat wooden box from her pack, she opens it to disclose a two tined fork and a neatly carved wooden spoon, nestled into a battered tin cup with a curving handle of horn. She takes the cup and spoon and uses them to ladle a small portion of soup into the hollow box top. And with a final gulp and grimace, she takes the first sup.
Its not too bad....though the Vetch is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that department...she almost immediately feels hale and whole. ( +2 Temp HP and Poisoned condition vanishes for any who partake.)
Ori, trying to put on the big man who can take on anything act takes a nearby portion of the stew. He instantly regrets it as he sits back down and remembers its main ingredient. With a fake smile still on his face The show must go on. "Down the hatch, best get it before I go for seconds." The taste really wasn't that bad, but like a small child who has their mind set on not liking their vegetables, Ori's mind had build up the dislike to the taste based on the smell of it cooking. He still struggled to get it down, the fact that it was tolerable did help. "Ahhh well that hits the spot don't it lads, right in the feel bads as it seems. I don't know hiw you knew about the stew but whoever told you the story with that in it, I think we owe them aye!"
After seeing Famh and Ori benefit from the stew, and of course being wholly confident in Famh's culinary abilities, Cainneach bravely takes a serving of the stew using his mess kit. Knowing better than to get a hint of the taste by taking a sniff, he simply dumps a heaping spoonful into his mouth and quickly swallows. "Aye, that's really not so bad ..." The forester takes another spoonful just to be sure and, sure enough, immediately feels much better. The heady stew was surely the antidote for whatever venom had been conjured in his gut by that foul beast. "Famh, brilliant work as always! Tana would be proud and, as Ori said, Morkaan bless whoever imparted that peculiar knowledge to ye." He then turns to Ori, "I've been wondering about Tana and Fergus as well. It would be nice to have them alongside us on these treacherous roads, but I wouldn't wish it upon them. Here's to hoping that we are reunited again soon!"Cainneach takes one last spoonful of the soup for good measure, wipes off his mouth, gives Famh a thankful peck on the cheek, pets Salt, then stands up and stretches, thankful to feel like himself again.
"Almeric, Vardi, are you well? The stew's quite restorative! Let's get moving again."
Ori: "Ya last I checked when something stinks to high hevens as that thing did, only way to rid yourself of it is bury it deep in the dirt."
"It will be, nay fear, just as soon as Famh has tha one ingredient tha' we need from it."Vardi solemnly assures him, then adds in a practical tone "And as ye say, getting rid of tha rest quick may help clear tha air a bit too, but I must admit, tha stink stopped bothering me quite so much tha very moment it stopped breathing."
The Lyften lass takes a dozen steps away from where the fire is being lit, clears the stones away from the ground, and cuts a section of sparse turf away with her dagger. After that, with Skoggi assisting with his forepaws, she digs away at the exposed dirt with her bare hands until a hole some three feet deep is made.
She waits until Famh has cut off the beast's head, her eyes bright with curiosity at the strange blade she uses to carve it away from the rest of the remains, but all too aware she has a task to finish herself, keeps her questions for later, and quietly adds some extra stones to the campfire's ring.
Vardi cuts the turf under the corpse away, and uses it to drag the whole mess up to the fresh dug earth without touching it. Once in the pit, she prods the turf down further to the bottom and begins to cover the lot in soil until level. She stamps it down, adds more earth and stamps it down again, then piles rocks on top of that. The piece of turf she cut away at the beginning she places over the spot where the creature fell.
The goat's corpse she studies carefully, her intention to be able to describe it accurately later for the benefit of its former owner's peace of mind over missing livestock, and then buries it in the same way on the opposite side of the fire to the water rat of unusual size's resting place.
"May ye find where ere Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr graze in Valhalla and eat yer fill 'til Ragnarok comes."she says softly over the second cairn, then cleans her dagger and dusts the dirt from her hands off on her traveling cloak.
Cainneach:"Almeric, Vardi, are you well? The stew's quite restorative! Let's get moving again."
The warrior woman smiles and answers "I am surprisingly well, and thank ye for asking, but I'd rather have a serve of tha' soup Famh has been kind enough ta cook up just ta be sure afore I leave this place."then lifts her eyes to the sky, then back to the fire and says "May tha gods smile upon whoever whispered that wisdom in yer ears, Lady Famh, for I nay know tha lore of such odd mainlander beasts as that one."
Thatch lets out a small chuckle “No thank you, Miss Famh. No need to save any for me, I would fear it would spoil.”He looks around at the others as they finish “Shall we push on, or camp here for the rest of the night? I would like to get away from the remains at least, no matter how deep Vardi has buried the beast.”
Almeric takes a portion of stew to show comraderie though he feels quite well now..., " Thats.....certainly something unique..."
" Yes, lets move on. We should be able to get there by dawn, and that will give us a days rest...the Sheriff mentioned the attacks occurring at night only."
He nodded to Cainneach and Thatch, " The road is becoming more and more of an approximation than a path as we go on, we'll need your keen eyes not to lose it."
Famh's eyes twinkle at her companions' remarks. "I bless my teacher's memory too, ivery day. He wis the only ane 'twas truly kind tae me when I wis a lass. Brither Cadfael wis his name, Vardi, and I fully believe he coud have been a filidh if Gatanades had no callit him tae be a monk. He wis surely wise enough. And Sir Almeric's words are wise too. Thare's naething tae be gainit stayin' here." She stands up and takes Cainneach's hand, ready to Help him seek for the increasingly elusive path.
Ori will pick stand up and give a great stretch, he used to travel a lot at night but it had been some time and his body got used to sleeping during the night. 2 nights in a row of this was starting to add up on his body. Most of the others looked like they were a decade or more younger then him, some more then 2. Except Almeric, Ori thought that he may still be the elder of the two of them but Almeric years were much harder of him then Oris pretend fighting life. Looks were important in that lifestyle so he had been tough how to maintain his complexion. Not that it was rather important to Ori, that was the first thing he stopped doing when he started off on his own again.
Bending both legs in turned until he got a few cracks out if the joints, he picked up his great club and set to helping break camp. He almost started barking out orders, but stopped himself, with Almeric back, that was no longer his obligation.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
“Some rest would be nice. Too many forced marches, I feel like I have been walking my legs off lately. I miss Shuck, I hope the grooms are treating him okay, for their sakes” He picks up his iron pot and tosses the remains of the broth into the brush before cleaning it out and stowing it in his pack. Ready to move, he joins Cainneach and Famh in the front of the group and alternates his time between searching for the trail and watching for trouble.
The companions walked on for a solid four hours more watching the suns light creep closer and closer to the horizon. Then up ahead they saw a small wooden thatched mound-like structure on the hillside surrounded by a sizeable herd of coos, penned in by a simple wooden fence.
On the summit above it was the main building: a great round structure of stone surrounded by smaller structures with thatched roofs contained within a stone wall.
As they approached a tall red haired man called out to them from the gate.
"You'll be carn fro' Marrowglen?", he said in a thick accent.
"Aye.," Famh calls back. "Are ye Rory Mor? The Sheriff o' Marrowglen sent our knicht an' us tae help ye."
She takes a quick breath, trying to remember the proprieties for such situations. "Allow me tae introduce Sir Almeric an' the rest o' his retinue. Guid folk aw. Oh, and I'm callit Famh." As she finishes, she can't help glancing wistfully up at the thatched buildings above her, hoping to see the smoke of a cozy fire. The past two nights. and particularly the encounter with the lavallan, have distinctly lessened her enthusiasm for nocturnal travel.
Famh: "...Brither Cadfael wis his name, Vardi, and I fully believe he coud have been a filidh if Gatanades had no callit him tae be a monk. He wis surely wise enough..."
Vardi looks slightly puzzled by the Brither designation but understanding dawns across her face as she replies cheerfully "He was an All-Brother then? I have heard of them." then adds by way of explanation "We have an All-Sister back in Hrosskelda, name of Dunlevy. She taught me courtly manners, or at least as much of them as would stay in my noggin and a little of her own god's ways. An odd woman, but a kindly one and a woman wise in the ways of goats and cats as well."
On the word that this is but a short while, and that there are more miles to go before sleep, the Lyften lass shrugs, feeds Skoggi a snack of dried cod bits, douses the fire and gathers up her things before following on, lantern's beam aimed at the ground ahead of them, wary of things in the dark, but finding the road comes first.
When dawn dimly makes itself known, she douses the light to save the oil for true dark. Skoggi drops down to the ground, and trots along beside her, curious about their surroundings. As wilds give way to cattle pasture and high walls, Vardi stifles a yawn and gathers her wits.
When Famh announces their arrival, the warrior woman stands up straighter and attempts to look professional under the dust and grime of travel, her cat once again on her shoulder, proud as any palace guard despite the oddness of his perch.
Cainneach can hardly keep his fatigue masked at this point, but sees Vardi straightening up and figures he'd best do the same. This was certainly not the time to bungle a chance at hospitality. He could only hope that this man, the presumed Rory Mor, would give them leave to rest before taking up their assigned task. Cainneach doubted he'd be much good at anything asked of him at this point, aside from keeping a bed from getting up and walking away.
Salt looked jealously up at Skoggi, wondering why the cat got to ride along while he had to tread the same ground as his master. Their gross discrepancy in size didn't seem to register with the hound. Salt's poor paws were awfully sore and he looked up at Cainneach and whimpered. The forester looked down and silently apologized for the brutal trek.
"Aye.," Famh calls back. "Are ye Rory Mor? The Sheriff o' Marrowglen sent our knicht an' us tae help ye."
She takes a quick breath, trying to remember the proprieties for such situations. "Allow me tae introduce Sir Almeric an' the rest o' his retinue. Guid folk aw. Oh, and I'm callit Famh." As she finishes, she can't help glancing wistfully up at the thatched buildings above her, hoping to see the smoke of a cozy fire. The past two nights. and particularly the encounter with the lavallan, have distinctly lessened her enthusiasm for nocturnal travel.
" Appreciated, Aye, I am.", he grinned.
" Fir nicht? Come wi's. We'll get ye squared awa'.", he pointed at the smaller wooden thatched building towards the rear of the compound.
Famh: "...Brither Cadfael wis his name, Vardi, and I fully believe he coud have been a filidh if Gatanades had no callit him tae be a monk. He wis surely wise enough..."
Vardi looks slightly puzzled by the Brither designation but understanding dawns across her face as she replies cheerfully "He was an All-Brother then? I have heard of them." then adds by way of explanation "We have an All-Sister back in Hrosskelda, name of Dunlevy. She taught me courtly manners, or at least as much of them as would stay in my noggin and a little of her own god's ways. An odd woman, but a kindly one and a woman wise in the ways of goats and cats as well."
On the word that this is but a short while, and that there are more miles to go before sleep, the Lyften lass shrugs, feeds Skoggi a snack of dried cod bits, douses the fire and gathers up her things before following on, lantern's beam aimed at the ground ahead of them, wary of things in the dark, but finding the road comes first.
When dawn dimly makes itself known, she douses the light to save the oil for true dark. Skoggi drops down to the ground, and trots along beside her, curious about their surroundings. As wilds give way to cattle pasture and high walls, Vardi stifles a yawn and gathers her wits.
When Famh announces their arrival, the warrior woman stands up straighter and attempts to look professional under the dust and grime of travel, her cat once again on her shoulder, proud as any palace guard despite the oddness of his perch.
Rory gives her a nod, obviously not overly used to seeing folks approaching his own height.
Cainneach can hardly keep his fatigue masked at this point, but sees Vardi straightening up and figures he'd best do the same. This was certainly not the time to bungle a chance at hospitality. He could only hope that this man, the presumed Rory Mor, would give them leave to rest before taking up their assigned task. Cainneach doubted he'd be much good at anything asked of him at this point, aside from keeping a bed from getting up and walking away.
Salt looked jealously up at Skoggi, wondering why the cat got to ride along while he had to tread the same ground as his master. Their gross discrepancy in size didn't seem to register with the hound. Salt's poor paws were awfully sore and he looked up at Cainneach and whimpered. The forester looked down and silently apologized for the brutal trek.
" Mest o'ye look ha' dead. get some kip forst then we'll talk. Theres a lang spell forran sundown."
Sir Almeric nodded , " Appreciated, Master Mor.", he nodded to the others to take the lead here in speaking and....other matters. An isolated farmstead was more their terrain than his own.
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(Oh shoot, I think I'm still Poisoned, so take the lower of the above and below rolls.)
Investigation 18
Nature 4
Survival 14
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
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With the assistance of some quickly gathered Baldmoney and Vetch and the lads fire making talents, Famh soon has a small pot of Head Stew boiling away as the others gather around and keep watch on the road and hills.
Ori will sit and wait on the stew, not sure he really had an appetite, even before thinking of what's in the pot. Thankful that Famh is around to eve attempt suc a thing, Ori would have never known about it. He starts to let his mind wander, in hopes he forgets how he's feeling currently. Eventually he finds himself wondering about Fergus and Tana. He hopes the courtyard wasn't the last time seeing either of them. "What do you think the other are doing right now? Sitting in some compy chairs around a nice fire, eating finely prepared food and drinks. Good thing we are not with them aye!" Ori wasn't talking to anyone in particular, just breaking the tensions while waiting.
The night is dark and full of terrors......well, currently mostly full of a rather medicinally scented cooking pot....all is quiet.
Still distracted and disoriented after the short skirmish, Thatch uncovers nothing in the dark of the night as he makes a quick circle of the area. Still, he helps Cainneach and Famh gather what extra ingredients he can and gladly unpacks his iron pot as Famh cooks up the soup. He wrinkles his nose as he soup simmers “I think Sir Almeric straightened me out when he laid his hands upon me. I will skip the soup, although you are doing fine work, Famh, given the main ingredient and all.” He settles into an uneasy watch as the group takes a short halt.
"Are ye sure, Thatch?," Famh teases. "I could save ye some for later, seeing as I still owe ye for the pot." Then the breeze swirls around so a wisp of the steam curls up to her nostrils, and her mouth puckers into seriousness again. "On second thought, never mind. That smell's nae jesting matter. Unless it serves as a purgative ... " She sighs. "Only ane way to tell, I suppose."
Drawing out a flat wooden box from her pack, she opens it to disclose a two tined fork and a neatly carved wooden spoon, nestled into a battered tin cup with a curving handle of horn. She takes the cup and spoon and uses them to ladle a small portion of soup into the hollow box top. And with a final gulp and grimace, she takes the first sup.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Its not too bad....though the Vetch is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that department...she almost immediately feels hale and whole. ( +2 Temp HP and Poisoned condition vanishes for any who partake.)
Ori, trying to put on the big man who can take on anything act takes a nearby portion of the stew. He instantly regrets it as he sits back down and remembers its main ingredient. With a fake smile still on his face The show must go on. "Down the hatch, best get it before I go for seconds." The taste really wasn't that bad, but like a small child who has their mind set on not liking their vegetables, Ori's mind had build up the dislike to the taste based on the smell of it cooking. He still struggled to get it down, the fact that it was tolerable did help. "Ahhh well that hits the spot don't it lads, right in the feel bads as it seems. I don't know hiw you knew about the stew but whoever told you the story with that in it, I think we owe them aye!"
After seeing Famh and Ori benefit from the stew, and of course being wholly confident in Famh's culinary abilities, Cainneach bravely takes a serving of the stew using his mess kit. Knowing better than to get a hint of the taste by taking a sniff, he simply dumps a heaping spoonful into his mouth and quickly swallows. "Aye, that's really not so bad ..." The forester takes another spoonful just to be sure and, sure enough, immediately feels much better. The heady stew was surely the antidote for whatever venom had been conjured in his gut by that foul beast. "Famh, brilliant work as always! Tana would be proud and, as Ori said, Morkaan bless whoever imparted that peculiar knowledge to ye." He then turns to Ori, "I've been wondering about Tana and Fergus as well. It would be nice to have them alongside us on these treacherous roads, but I wouldn't wish it upon them. Here's to hoping that we are reunited again soon!" Cainneach takes one last spoonful of the soup for good measure, wipes off his mouth, gives Famh a thankful peck on the cheek, pets Salt, then stands up and stretches, thankful to feel like himself again.
"Almeric, Vardi, are you well? The stew's quite restorative! Let's get moving again."
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Ori: "Ya last I checked when something stinks to high hevens as that thing did, only way to rid yourself of it is bury it deep in the dirt."
"It will be, nay fear, just as soon as Famh has tha one ingredient tha' we need from it." Vardi solemnly assures him, then adds in a practical tone "And as ye say, getting rid of tha rest quick may help clear tha air a bit too, but I must admit, tha stink stopped bothering me quite so much tha very moment it stopped breathing."
The Lyften lass takes a dozen steps away from where the fire is being lit, clears the stones away from the ground, and cuts a section of sparse turf away with her dagger. After that, with Skoggi assisting with his forepaws, she digs away at the exposed dirt with her bare hands until a hole some three feet deep is made.
She waits until Famh has cut off the beast's head, her eyes bright with curiosity at the strange blade she uses to carve it away from the rest of the remains, but all too aware she has a task to finish herself, keeps her questions for later, and quietly adds some extra stones to the campfire's ring.
Vardi cuts the turf under the corpse away, and uses it to drag the whole mess up to the fresh dug earth without touching it. Once in the pit, she prods the turf down further to the bottom and begins to cover the lot in soil until level. She stamps it down, adds more earth and stamps it down again, then piles rocks on top of that. The piece of turf she cut away at the beginning she places over the spot where the creature fell.
The goat's corpse she studies carefully, her intention to be able to describe it accurately later for the benefit of its former owner's peace of mind over missing livestock, and then buries it in the same way on the opposite side of the fire to the water rat of unusual size's resting place.
"May ye find where ere Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr graze in Valhalla and eat yer fill 'til Ragnarok comes." she says softly over the second cairn, then cleans her dagger and dusts the dirt from her hands off on her traveling cloak.
Cainneach: "Almeric, Vardi, are you well? The stew's quite restorative! Let's get moving again."
The warrior woman smiles and answers "I am surprisingly well, and thank ye for asking, but I'd rather have a serve of tha' soup Famh has been kind enough ta cook up just ta be sure afore I leave this place." then lifts her eyes to the sky, then back to the fire and says "May tha gods smile upon whoever whispered that wisdom in yer ears, Lady Famh, for I nay know tha lore of such odd mainlander beasts as that one."
Thatch lets out a small chuckle “No thank you, Miss Famh. No need to save any for me, I would fear it would spoil.” He looks around at the others as they finish “Shall we push on, or camp here for the rest of the night? I would like to get away from the remains at least, no matter how deep Vardi has buried the beast.”
Almeric takes a portion of stew to show comraderie though he feels quite well now..., " Thats.....certainly something unique..."
" Yes, lets move on. We should be able to get there by dawn, and that will give us a days rest...the Sheriff mentioned the attacks occurring at night only."
He nodded to Cainneach and Thatch, " The road is becoming more and more of an approximation than a path as we go on, we'll need your keen eyes not to lose it."
Famh's eyes twinkle at her companions' remarks. "I bless my teacher's memory too, ivery day. He wis the only ane 'twas truly kind tae me when I wis a lass. Brither Cadfael wis his name, Vardi, and I fully believe he coud have been a filidh if Gatanades had no callit him tae be a monk. He wis surely wise enough. And Sir Almeric's words are wise too. Thare's naething tae be gainit stayin' here." She stands up and takes Cainneach's hand, ready to Help him seek for the increasingly elusive path.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Ori will pick stand up and give a great stretch, he used to travel a lot at night but it had been some time and his body got used to sleeping during the night. 2 nights in a row of this was starting to add up on his body. Most of the others looked like they were a decade or more younger then him, some more then 2. Except Almeric, Ori thought that he may still be the elder of the two of them but Almeric years were much harder of him then Oris pretend fighting life. Looks were important in that lifestyle so he had been tough how to maintain his complexion. Not that it was rather important to Ori, that was the first thing he stopped doing when he started off on his own again.
Bending both legs in turned until he got a few cracks out if the joints, he picked up his great club and set to helping break camp. He almost started barking out orders, but stopped himself, with Almeric back, that was no longer his obligation.
“Some rest would be nice. Too many forced marches, I feel like I have been walking my legs off lately. I miss Shuck, I hope the grooms are treating him okay, for their sakes” He picks up his iron pot and tosses the remains of the broth into the brush before cleaning it out and stowing it in his pack. Ready to move, he joins Cainneach and Famh in the front of the group and alternates his time between searching for the trail and watching for trouble.
Perception: 19.
Survival: 11.
.
The companions walked on for a solid four hours more watching the suns light creep closer and closer to the horizon. Then up ahead they saw a small wooden thatched mound-like structure on the hillside surrounded by a sizeable herd of coos, penned in by a simple wooden fence.
On the summit above it was the main building: a great round structure of stone surrounded by smaller structures with thatched roofs contained within a stone wall.
As they approached a tall red haired man called out to them from the gate.
"You'll be carn fro' Marrowglen?", he said in a thick accent.
"Aye.," Famh calls back. "Are ye Rory Mor? The Sheriff o' Marrowglen sent our knicht an' us tae help ye."
She takes a quick breath, trying to remember the proprieties for such situations. "Allow me tae introduce Sir Almeric an' the rest o' his retinue. Guid folk aw. Oh, and I'm callit Famh." As she finishes, she can't help glancing wistfully up at the thatched buildings above her, hoping to see the smoke of a cozy fire. The past two nights. and particularly the encounter with the lavallan, have distinctly lessened her enthusiasm for nocturnal travel.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Famh: "...Brither Cadfael wis his name, Vardi, and I fully believe he coud have been a filidh if Gatanades had no callit him tae be a monk. He wis surely wise enough..."
Vardi looks slightly puzzled by the Brither designation but understanding dawns across her face as she replies cheerfully "He was an All-Brother then? I have heard of them." then adds by way of explanation "We have an All-Sister back in Hrosskelda, name of Dunlevy. She taught me courtly manners, or at least as much of them as would stay in my noggin and a little of her own god's ways. An odd woman, but a kindly one and a woman wise in the ways of goats and cats as well."
On the word that this is but a short while, and that there are more miles to go before sleep, the Lyften lass shrugs, feeds Skoggi a snack of dried cod bits, douses the fire and gathers up her things before following on, lantern's beam aimed at the ground ahead of them, wary of things in the dark, but finding the road comes first.
When dawn dimly makes itself known, she douses the light to save the oil for true dark. Skoggi drops down to the ground, and trots along beside her, curious about their surroundings. As wilds give way to cattle pasture and high walls, Vardi stifles a yawn and gathers her wits.
When Famh announces their arrival, the warrior woman stands up straighter and attempts to look professional under the dust and grime of travel, her cat once again on her shoulder, proud as any palace guard despite the oddness of his perch.
Cainneach can hardly keep his fatigue masked at this point, but sees Vardi straightening up and figures he'd best do the same. This was certainly not the time to bungle a chance at hospitality. He could only hope that this man, the presumed Rory Mor, would give them leave to rest before taking up their assigned task. Cainneach doubted he'd be much good at anything asked of him at this point, aside from keeping a bed from getting up and walking away.
Salt looked jealously up at Skoggi, wondering why the cat got to ride along while he had to tread the same ground as his master. Their gross discrepancy in size didn't seem to register with the hound. Salt's poor paws were awfully sore and he looked up at Cainneach and whimpered. The forester looked down and silently apologized for the brutal trek.
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" Appreciated, Aye, I am.", he grinned.
" Fir nicht? Come wi's. We'll get ye squared awa'.", he pointed at the smaller wooden thatched building towards the rear of the compound.
"Whaur d'ye bide? Usually? Sassenach, Nay?"
Rory gives her a nod, obviously not overly used to seeing folks approaching his own height.
" Mest o'ye look ha' dead. get some kip forst then we'll talk. Theres a lang spell forran sundown."
Sir Almeric nodded , " Appreciated, Master Mor.", he nodded to the others to take the lead here in speaking and....other matters. An isolated farmstead was more their terrain than his own.