Lanu packs up, a bit slower than normally she might. Her head is pounding a bit causing a bit of a distraction to her, making even basic tasks a bit more challenging. That being said, she doesn't want to let the others down, or risk letting Trush loose on the world. She tries to hide her struggling so that no one else changes their mind because of her.
Peregrine does as his companions do, packing up his own things. He knows that the warning they've been given is serious and dire though he is skeptical about their possibility if survival. Though he is determined to finish the task they've been given.
Morgid, his muscles protesting the strain of the previous night's march, slowly begins to pack up their camp. The overnight march had taken its toll, and he is acutely aware of the exhaustion creeping back into his bones. Yet, the urgency of the situation demands they press on. "Straight west to the fort at our normal pace?" he sighs, his voice heavy with fatigue. He glances at Lanu, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. He knows the bugbear's resilience, but the past few days had been grueling, and he is concerned that she might be pushing herself beyond her limits. He can sense her exhaustion but doesn't want to call her out on it. She is a warrior, as determined as any of them. He pauses before adding, "We could try double time if we want to prioritize speed to buy time," his voice barely a whisper. "Either way, it's going to be grueling for all of us to continue on without rest." They are racing against time, and every moment counts. But they also need to conserve their strength. Pushing themselves beyond their limits will be dangerous, but the stakes are too high to risk delay.
With a heavy heart, Morgid glances at the others. It is time to press on. The journey to Fort Venture will be arduous, but they have no choice. The red moon, now a fiery ball hanging low in the sky, seems to mock their haste. Time is running out. They have to reach Fort Venture, and they have to do it quickly. The fate of the swamp, and perhaps even more, depends on their success.
Sosen looks at her companions as they move about and shoulder their packs. She knows they all are on the edge of their physical limits but, time is not standing still for them.
"I am sorry you all were dragged into this. We are nearly to the fort. Depending on how this stretch of marshlands goes, perhaps we can sneak in another small rest before breaching the front gates."
With a louder grunt and groan than she had intended, she shoulders her pack and starts moving off the Stewards back and westward.
Sosen and Morgid whisper as they point and debate 'best ways westward' -- all while trying to choose the safest ground to travers and make 'best speed' time toward the fort.
(( As noted in the OOC PMs, Sosen rolled a CON = 4 for the first hex... Exhaustion Level 1 ))
Sosen was regretting her decision to 'go fast' to get to the fort. Between the lack of good, solid rest and food - and - the beating her body took from the giant constrictor snake, she was having a rough go of things. Her breathing was labored and her bones hurt. 'How can my BONES hurt?' she thought as she stumbled over another submerged bit of the swamp.
Looking at her travelling companions, she could see how this journey through the marshlands had taken it's toll. Sosen wondered what shape they would be in when they actually made it to Fort Venture -- let alone *DO* anything constructive to save the goblin warlock Bol'bara.
Sosen shrugs, "It would seem time is against us. Let us pack up and forge ahead. If we hestitate, we are certain to be too late."
So saying, she immediately begins packing up her bedroll.
Lanu packs up, a bit slower than normally she might. Her head is pounding a bit causing a bit of a distraction to her, making even basic tasks a bit more challenging. That being said, she doesn't want to let the others down, or risk letting Trush loose on the world. She tries to hide her struggling so that no one else changes their mind because of her.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Peregrine does as his companions do, packing up his own things. He knows that the warning they've been given is serious and dire though he is skeptical about their possibility if survival. Though he is determined to finish the task they've been given.
"Which way are we headed?"
Morgid, his muscles protesting the strain of the previous night's march, slowly begins to pack up their camp. The overnight march had taken its toll, and he is acutely aware of the exhaustion creeping back into his bones. Yet, the urgency of the situation demands they press on. "Straight west to the fort at our normal pace?" he sighs, his voice heavy with fatigue. He glances at Lanu, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. He knows the bugbear's resilience, but the past few days had been grueling, and he is concerned that she might be pushing herself beyond her limits. He can sense her exhaustion but doesn't want to call her out on it. She is a warrior, as determined as any of them. He pauses before adding, "We could try double time if we want to prioritize speed to buy time," his voice barely a whisper. "Either way, it's going to be grueling for all of us to continue on without rest." They are racing against time, and every moment counts. But they also need to conserve their strength. Pushing themselves beyond their limits will be dangerous, but the stakes are too high to risk delay.
With a heavy heart, Morgid glances at the others. It is time to press on. The journey to Fort Venture will be arduous, but they have no choice. The red moon, now a fiery ball hanging low in the sky, seems to mock their haste. Time is running out. They have to reach Fort Venture, and they have to do it quickly. The fate of the swamp, and perhaps even more, depends on their success.
Roll vs Constitution: 11+2 = 13
Sosen looks at her companions as they move about and shoulder their packs. She knows they all are on the edge of their physical limits but, time is not standing still for them.
"I am sorry you all were dragged into this. We are nearly to the fort. Depending on how this stretch of marshlands goes, perhaps we can sneak in another small rest before breaching the front gates."
With a louder grunt and groan than she had intended, she shoulders her pack and starts moving off the Stewards back and westward.
Sosen and Morgid whisper as they point and debate 'best ways westward' -- all while trying to choose the safest ground to travers and make 'best speed' time toward the fort.
CON: 17
(( As noted in the OOC PMs, Sosen rolled a CON = 4 for the first hex... Exhaustion Level 1 ))
Sosen was regretting her decision to 'go fast' to get to the fort. Between the lack of good, solid rest and food - and - the beating her body took from the giant constrictor snake, she was having a rough go of things. Her breathing was labored and her bones hurt. 'How can my BONES hurt?' she thought as she stumbled over another submerged bit of the swamp.
Looking at her travelling companions, she could see how this journey through the marshlands had taken it's toll. Sosen wondered what shape they would be in when they actually made it to Fort Venture -- let alone *DO* anything constructive to save the goblin warlock Bol'bara.