Rusty stands stock still, not reacting in the least as the children have their fun around him. Their prodding isn't strong enough to damage him, and he reasons no need to halt their behavior. Even when they are shooed away, he remains unfazed by the situation and silent in his watching. He has worked out that the group consists of entertainers, and he is interested in them because of this. His time as a kind of entertainer is still fresh. When one of the folk ventures near enough, but is not involved in the conversation about the weather, Rusty turns his furnace-like head toward them. "Have y-y-y-you heard of The Blade? He yoo-yoo-yoo-used to be my master. We ter-ter-ter-traveled the Sword Coast together, ent-t-t-tertaining with blades and humor. And I-I-I-I was a spectacle."
Throughout this exchange, an orc has been just out of sight in the darkness, no lights around. He's been quietly observing, and listening, both to conversations happening, and a voice that only he can seem to hear. If anyone looked over, they would see him occasionally hold his large hand up to his ear or talk towards a ring on his finger, which if light shone on it, would be inscribed with runes in an unknown language, with veins of red running through it.
The rest of the party know Grummash. He's a gentle soul, though won't hesitate to hurt anyone who threatens his friends or himself. But most people don't think that of orcs, hence staying out of sight. He's lost count of the number of times he's been alienated or assaulted becuase of his race. Things got easier when he found Blaze in the ring. Of course, that's not the genies real name, it wouldn't give him that, or even the full power of the genie in the ring. But it was enough to give him magical abilities that he could use to help protect himself. Times like this however, especially with children involved, he finds it good to let the others go first. Too many strange races at once can be overwhelming, especially when an orc is one of them.
"Ye got anythin' te drink 'round here? Me beard's been too long without foam dripping from it!" Felmar asks the Halfling with a laugh. "Happy te help with anything in exchange for yer hospitality!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Kaelan Thornfell - Wildhunt Shifter Beast Barbarian - Horde of the Dragon Queen
Gustuck "Grumpy Gus" Clayshaper - Deep Gnome Astral Self Monk - Malady of Minarrh
Shelmo Sherrinford - Fairy Inquisitive Rogue - Vae Victus
Rusty stands in the shadows, just at the edge of the firelight. Technically he is within the camp, a hulking form blocking the thin passage between carts acting as the entrance to the fire and raucous life within. The dancers twirl in the firelight, the flames creating a swirl of color, a confusing blur as they spin, this way and that to the music. Kisking up their heels, and locking within each other. The music is lively, rising in tempo, pushing the dancers faster. Leaps and flips seem to throw one before the other only to slide past in a chaotic, sensuous rhythm. A young Halfling female ventures too close in her dace, swaying as she slides past the mechanical man. Startled at the spoken words she stares overly long before rushing away to a wagon and with a brief flash of light disappears inside.
The Large Halfling slaps his knee at Felmars suggestion. "A Foam it be, but not just any foam. I got this cask a while back, it'll curl your toes, even you master Felmar" He calls to a lad, the name slipping past your ears like a wad of tangled string, too large for the opening intended. Turning back with a grin he loses himself in the music. his hand slapping his knee to the rythm. "Oh nonsense, nothing required, oh dear no. Tell us your knowing sir. We are always open to the experience lived, the tragedy, the sorrow. We need knowings to help us craft our tales"
The lad returns, a small cask with a spigot in his hand. He hands them over to the large Halfling, "Here ya go Papoose." The man turns with a grin, suddenly crest fallen "Oh goodness me, where are my manners, I forgot introductions, they call me Papoose, poose if ya like is fine. Where do I start..." The spigot has entered the cask, a rich spicy aroma flows from the opening. From nowhere, well truly from somewhere, yet you didn't see them before; a tray of small mugs, chalice, tankards, steins and other assorted drinking vessels. As the drink is poured, a small dram that fills the glass with a smoky richness. foam and mist coil in the glass. "Ive been saving it for a special occasion, but what more special than new friends on the road. And a about those introductions. He begins to point to and introduce each and every member of his troupe. The names rattle along for many minutes. Each a flowing rythym of sounds and syllables, until it blends into one long ramble of gentle noise upon your ears. Indecipherable from the music itself. As you think he has covered everybody he starts again, pointing to the carts, is he naming the carts? Is he telling you were everybody sleeps?
The guard points out to Papoose, yelling across the swirl of chaos. "Another in the field, just outta light..." His shout hangs, Papoose yells out to the dark. "You aint doing any good out there, come in where its warm. Or get ya going on."
A square of light erupts from the back of a wagon, the small door swinging open. A bulbous nose leads first, flowed by perfectly coifed eyebrows jutting from above thin wired spectacles. An Old gnome finally emerges, a cane placed carefully as he descends the stairs. Slowly he makes his way to the construct, barely reflecting the fire light. He studies it, making tssk and taask sounds, hmms and haahs. a steady cadence to his expressions, his acute attention to every detail. Looking at the young halfling woman Rusty spoke to, "You said it spoke to you, hmm curious", he turns shouting to the group, "who made this thing"...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Krikas
Entering the circled wagons, Krikas is assaulted by the smell of food, mead and merriment. Any apprehension about this group is soon waylaid as he gets caught up in the dancing. He moves gracefully, although not quite as fluid as their hosts. During one rather frantic crescendo he pauses his footwork and watches as the dancers move in a twisting circle. Inspired he grabs the boomerang strapped to his thigh and imbues it with a bright glow, he then throws it making it circle in the opposite direction to the dance. The effect is quite mesmerising.
Now that things were moving along smoothly with their new friends, Wren took a minute to look around the area. In doing so, he noticed Krikas pulling out his boomerang and making a quick gesture towards it. Not sure what was about to happen, he flew over to get a closer look at the commotion.
Papoose continues, nonplussed by the silence of his companion, still waiting for the Dwarfs knowing and that of his companions. As the night deepens, the dancers and musicians seem to continue tirelessly, the moon rising to its height. Poose ensures the Dwarfs cup is full and continues with his own tell. "We passed thru Lielon two nights ago. The rebuilding of the town seems to be going in spades. Last we passed, it had just been re-founded but I guess, do to the depth and length of this years winter they have pushed on. A wall, only a palisade has been built to the east, I think more to keep the blowing snows from the street. Are you headed that far?" he asks.
"Stayed last night at the Hearth, beware between here and there, we encountered an Orc war party out in the fields that night and during our morning travels. A small group they didn't attack but, well if there one orc, there's many unseen in the weeds and grub, you know"
The drink is strong, stronger than Felmar is used too. A deep rich Dwarven ale, others might call spirit or liquor. The foam sticks to his beard with a beautiful fragrance. After a couple cups, refilled while not watching he feels a little heady from its strength. Constitution Save versus Poison: DC 12 or poisoned until after a Long rest
“If yer lookin’ for stories, me friends got lot of them, even the Tin Titan over there! Me? I’m just putting one foot in front’a th’other til I run outa road!”
(As a Mountain Dwarf Felmar has advantage against poison)
A square of light erupts from the back of a wagon, the small door swinging open. A bulbous nose leads first, flowed by perfectly coifed eyebrows jutting from above thin wired spectacles. An Old gnome finally emerges, a cane placed carefully as he descends the stairs. Slowly he makes his way to the construct, barely reflecting the fire light. He studies it, making tssk and taask sounds, hmms and haahs. a steady cadence to his expressions, his acute attention to every detail. Looking at the young halfling woman Rusty spoke to, "You said it spoke to you, hmm curious", he turns shouting to the group, "who made this thing"...
Rusty instantly feels what a humanoid would call comfort at the sight of the old gnome. This always happened with the small folk were around. In response to this gentleman's question, Rusty pipes up, "A gn-gn-gn-gnome by the name of Adolpholees Crackenbr-br-br-break," he responds in his usual monotone. "May I-I-I-I ask your name, sir?"
"You folk have more energy than I can spare" he chortles as he sits heavy on a stool. "Some meat and bread would go down quite nicely after that little show. How bout we swap a plate full for a tale of far off lands?" He continues on to talk of his travels many years ago through the Greypeak Mountains and the Southwood. Talking of all manner of beasts and other travellers he met on the trip. If someone were to quiz him on specifics he'd simply say it was too long ago and complain of how his memory has faded.
The Gnome turns with a start at the words of Rusty, peering with renewed intrigue he smiles, "You are more than a construct, an automata, how fascinating, how incredible." he pulls out a looking glass, a contraption that fits to his spectacles, and a pouch. "Oh my, you are a wonder" He pulls out a leather roll and retrieves an instrument from within approaching the metal and wood man. Reaching in to poke he hesitates, "Oh my, ah I am sorry for my forwardness, I should ask if it is ok; Master Rusty, was it?"
He listens to the rest of the explanation of his origin, "Adolpholeese, the same one who lives in GrottaFendel? Now why would he let a magnificent thing as your self just wander." He talks continuously, asking questions and requesting Rusty to turn this way and that, the time slips by as the Gnome is incessant in his queries'. You have heard of GrottaFendel in your travels, a small Gnomish enclave in the Sword mountains, a tiny kingdom of inventors and crafters, quiet, secretive they protect themselves by remaining hidden.
Papoose listens to the telling of the group, even from those that are brief or have barely a word to add, filling in the space with knowings of his own. The night moves on, a swirl of color and music and commotion. The food is never exhausted, casks, bottles or barrels continue to keep the libations flowing, until in the wee hours before Dawn they begin to wind down, the Halflings retreating to the interior of their wagons. Your group tries to catch a little rest, impossible during the height of the festivities and with only an hour or so before the sunrise.
The day dawns bright clear and cloudless, the sky a blue pearlescence, little rest has been offered, and even less gained, yet the Halflings emerge almost as quick as they left and the wagons are packed and on their way. A kind farewell, and well whishing before your group is left standing alone once again.
Travelling South, great smoky colored plumes of snow and frost seem to rise off the Sword Mountains, still many miles away. A curtain of twinkling frost in the Air. Th temperature drops the closer you get until midday, when the first dusting of snow and drifts of packed ice form along the fields and road. Krikas points out that a handful of Orcs have been following them for the last hour, keeping their distance but always present.
The words of Papoose ring in your ears, 'If there is one, there will be many" The next way point wont be reached until the day sets, an old Hearth, the stones of the fireplace and chimney all that remain of a once grand Inn. It sits at the crossroads of the Trade Way, and the Triboar Trail, where your travels to Phandalin changes course from South to East.
You stop for a short repast about midday, the weight of a sleepless night sitting heavy within your bones. Exhaustion DC 10
The Gnome turns with a start at the words of Rusty, peering with renewed intrigue he smiles, "You are more than a construct, an automata, how fascinating, how incredible." he pulls out a looking glass, a contraption that fits to his spectacles, and a pouch. "Oh my, you are a wonder" He pulls out a leather roll and retrieves an instrument from within approaching the metal and wood man. Reaching in to poke he hesitates, "Oh my, ah I am sorry for my forwardness, I should ask if it is ok; Master Rusty, was it?"
"I tr-tr-tr-trust your inspection will not cause damage. You m-m-m-may look all you want."
He listens to the rest of the explanation of his origin, "Adolpholeese, the same one who lives in GrottaFendel? Now why would he let a magnificent thing as your self just wander." He talks continuously, asking questions and requesting Rusty to turn this way and that, the time slips by as the Gnome is incessant in his queries'. You have heard of GrottaFendel in your travels, a small Gnomish enclave in the Sword mountains, a tiny kingdom of inventors and crafters, quiet, secretive they protect themselves by remaining hidden.
While familiar to him, the name GrottaFendel does not hold any special meaning to Rusty. But the question of Adolpholees's location registers as an anomaly. Where is Adolpholees? It has been only five years ago. Why doesn't he know ... Rusty makes a little click sound, lost to the old gnome in his tinkering. "I'm a-a-a-afraid you must be referring to a diff-ff-ff-fferent gnome," the metal man says benignly.
OOC- it is an Exhaustion save: You got little sleep the prior night and after a half days travel may be [Tooltip Not Found]. It is a Constitution Save against a DC 10.
You may take a short rest to eat or you may simply move on towards 'The Hearth'. Exhaustion will remain until a Long Rest is taken.
OOC- Try to put action into your posts, Do something, Say something, make decisions based on the character you are playing within the narrative. I need something to adjudicate otherwise...
Deciding not to stop, you trudge silently down the road, a quick nod is all you give to the pronouncement of Orcs on the trail behind. The tops of your boots are a brown and mottled grey where the leather has become worn. The crunch of snow and gravel is all you are aware of as you stare pensively at the road 10' ahead, unaware of anything around you.
"Tell you what Rusty, I think you may have had the better deal" Krikas pauses in their drudging and lifts one leg at a time, rubbing at his calves. "I see you and your whir-thumping and wonder if you feel the aches and pains of people like me. That doesn't offend you does it? Being called a not person. You know what I mean though." He continues to put his foot deeper in his mouth as he tries to unsay what had just been said. The automatons lack of conversation was actually quite comforting. Sort of like a captive audience for his own ramblings.
When they finally pause for a rest he is quick to take a swig from his waterskin. "I'd love to say we should rest here for a while, but I fear the sun will set long before we reach the Hearth if we do so. I don't really like the thought of being on the road what with a bunch of Orcs at our heels." He stows his gear, stretches out his tight legs and stands ready to continue on if the others so decide.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Rusty stands stock still, not reacting in the least as the children have their fun around him. Their prodding isn't strong enough to damage him, and he reasons no need to halt their behavior. Even when they are shooed away, he remains unfazed by the situation and silent in his watching. He has worked out that the group consists of entertainers, and he is interested in them because of this. His time as a kind of entertainer is still fresh. When one of the folk ventures near enough, but is not involved in the conversation about the weather, Rusty turns his furnace-like head toward them. "Have y-y-y-you heard of The Blade? He yoo-yoo-yoo-used to be my master. We ter-ter-ter-traveled the Sword Coast together, ent-t-t-tertaining with blades and humor. And I-I-I-I was a spectacle."
Throughout this exchange, an orc has been just out of sight in the darkness, no lights around. He's been quietly observing, and listening, both to conversations happening, and a voice that only he can seem to hear. If anyone looked over, they would see him occasionally hold his large hand up to his ear or talk towards a ring on his finger, which if light shone on it, would be inscribed with runes in an unknown language, with veins of red running through it.
The rest of the party know Grummash. He's a gentle soul, though won't hesitate to hurt anyone who threatens his friends or himself. But most people don't think that of orcs, hence staying out of sight. He's lost count of the number of times he's been alienated or assaulted becuase of his race. Things got easier when he found Blaze in the ring. Of course, that's not the genies real name, it wouldn't give him that, or even the full power of the genie in the ring. But it was enough to give him magical abilities that he could use to help protect himself. Times like this however, especially with children involved, he finds it good to let the others go first. Too many strange races at once can be overwhelming, especially when an orc is one of them.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
"Ye got anythin' te drink 'round here? Me beard's been too long without foam dripping from it!" Felmar asks the Halfling with a laugh. "Happy te help with anything in exchange for yer hospitality!"
Kaelan Thornfell - Wildhunt Shifter Beast Barbarian - Horde of the Dragon Queen
Gustuck "Grumpy Gus" Clayshaper - Deep Gnome Astral Self Monk - Malady of Minarrh
Shelmo Sherrinford - Fairy Inquisitive Rogue - Vae Victus
Solstice Nightchill - Winter Eladrin Hunter Ranger - The Yawning Portal
Captain Duskstar - Human Hex "Gun" Warlock - Airships and Whiskey
Rusty stands in the shadows, just at the edge of the firelight. Technically he is within the camp, a hulking form blocking the thin passage between carts acting as the entrance to the fire and raucous life within. The dancers twirl in the firelight, the flames creating a swirl of color, a confusing blur as they spin, this way and that to the music. Kisking up their heels, and locking within each other. The music is lively, rising in tempo, pushing the dancers faster. Leaps and flips seem to throw one before the other only to slide past in a chaotic, sensuous rhythm. A young Halfling female ventures too close in her dace, swaying as she slides past the mechanical man. Startled at the spoken words she stares overly long before rushing away to a wagon and with a brief flash of light disappears inside.
The Large Halfling slaps his knee at Felmars suggestion. "A Foam it be, but not just any foam. I got this cask a while back, it'll curl your toes, even you master Felmar" He calls to a lad, the name slipping past your ears like a wad of tangled string, too large for the opening intended. Turning back with a grin he loses himself in the music. his hand slapping his knee to the rythm. "Oh nonsense, nothing required, oh dear no. Tell us your knowing sir. We are always open to the experience lived, the tragedy, the sorrow. We need knowings to help us craft our tales"
The lad returns, a small cask with a spigot in his hand. He hands them over to the large Halfling, "Here ya go Papoose." The man turns with a grin, suddenly crest fallen "Oh goodness me, where are my manners, I forgot introductions, they call me Papoose, poose if ya like is fine. Where do I start..." The spigot has entered the cask, a rich spicy aroma flows from the opening. From nowhere, well truly from somewhere, yet you didn't see them before; a tray of small mugs, chalice, tankards, steins and other assorted drinking vessels. As the drink is poured, a small dram that fills the glass with a smoky richness. foam and mist coil in the glass. "Ive been saving it for a special occasion, but what more special than new friends on the road. And a about those introductions. He begins to point to and introduce each and every member of his troupe. The names rattle along for many minutes. Each a flowing rythym of sounds and syllables, until it blends into one long ramble of gentle noise upon your ears. Indecipherable from the music itself. As you think he has covered everybody he starts again, pointing to the carts, is he naming the carts? Is he telling you were everybody sleeps?
The guard points out to Papoose, yelling across the swirl of chaos. "Another in the field, just outta light..." His shout hangs, Papoose yells out to the dark. "You aint doing any good out there, come in where its warm. Or get ya going on."
A square of light erupts from the back of a wagon, the small door swinging open. A bulbous nose leads first, flowed by perfectly coifed eyebrows jutting from above thin wired spectacles. An Old gnome finally emerges, a cane placed carefully as he descends the stairs. Slowly he makes his way to the construct, barely reflecting the fire light. He studies it, making tssk and taask sounds, hmms and haahs. a steady cadence to his expressions, his acute attention to every detail. Looking at the young halfling woman Rusty spoke to, "You said it spoke to you, hmm curious", he turns shouting to the group, "who made this thing"...
Krikas
Entering the circled wagons, Krikas is assaulted by the smell of food, mead and merriment. Any apprehension about this group is soon waylaid as he gets caught up in the dancing. He moves gracefully, although not quite as fluid as their hosts. During one rather frantic crescendo he pauses his footwork and watches as the dancers move in a twisting circle. Inspired he grabs the boomerang strapped to his thigh and imbues it with a bright glow, he then throws it making it circle in the opposite direction to the dance. The effect is quite mesmerising.
Performance 20
Wren
Now that things were moving along smoothly with their new friends, Wren took a minute to look around the area. In doing so, he noticed Krikas pulling out his boomerang and making a quick gesture towards it. Not sure what was about to happen, he flew over to get a closer look at the commotion.
Papoose continues, nonplussed by the silence of his companion, still waiting for the Dwarfs knowing and that of his companions. As the night deepens, the dancers and musicians seem to continue tirelessly, the moon rising to its height. Poose ensures the Dwarfs cup is full and continues with his own tell. "We passed thru Lielon two nights ago. The rebuilding of the town seems to be going in spades. Last we passed, it had just been re-founded but I guess, do to the depth and length of this years winter they have pushed on. A wall, only a palisade has been built to the east, I think more to keep the blowing snows from the street. Are you headed that far?" he asks.
"Stayed last night at the Hearth, beware between here and there, we encountered an Orc war party out in the fields that night and during our morning travels. A small group they didn't attack but, well if there one orc, there's many unseen in the weeds and grub, you know"
The drink is strong, stronger than Felmar is used too. A deep rich Dwarven ale, others might call spirit or liquor. The foam sticks to his beard with a beautiful fragrance. After a couple cups, refilled while not watching he feels a little heady from its strength. Constitution Save versus Poison: DC 12 or poisoned until after a Long rest
“If yer lookin’ for stories, me friends got lot of them, even the Tin Titan over there! Me? I’m just putting one foot in front’a th’other til I run outa road!”
(As a Mountain Dwarf Felmar has advantage against poison)
Con Save: Dirty 20
Kaelan Thornfell - Wildhunt Shifter Beast Barbarian - Horde of the Dragon Queen
Gustuck "Grumpy Gus" Clayshaper - Deep Gnome Astral Self Monk - Malady of Minarrh
Shelmo Sherrinford - Fairy Inquisitive Rogue - Vae Victus
Solstice Nightchill - Winter Eladrin Hunter Ranger - The Yawning Portal
Captain Duskstar - Human Hex "Gun" Warlock - Airships and Whiskey
Rusty instantly feels what a humanoid would call comfort at the sight of the old gnome. This always happened with the small folk were around. In response to this gentleman's question, Rusty pipes up, "A gn-gn-gn-gnome by the name of Adolpholees Crackenbr-br-br-break," he responds in his usual monotone. "May I-I-I-I ask your name, sir?"
Krikas
"You folk have more energy than I can spare" he chortles as he sits heavy on a stool. "Some meat and bread would go down quite nicely after that little show. How bout we swap a plate full for a tale of far off lands?" He continues on to talk of his travels many years ago through the Greypeak Mountains and the Southwood. Talking of all manner of beasts and other travellers he met on the trip. If someone were to quiz him on specifics he'd simply say it was too long ago and complain of how his memory has faded.
The Gnome turns with a start at the words of Rusty, peering with renewed intrigue he smiles, "You are more than a construct, an automata, how fascinating, how incredible." he pulls out a looking glass, a contraption that fits to his spectacles, and a pouch. "Oh my, you are a wonder" He pulls out a leather roll and retrieves an instrument from within approaching the metal and wood man. Reaching in to poke he hesitates, "Oh my, ah I am sorry for my forwardness, I should ask if it is ok; Master Rusty, was it?"
He listens to the rest of the explanation of his origin, "Adolpholeese, the same one who lives in GrottaFendel? Now why would he let a magnificent thing as your self just wander." He talks continuously, asking questions and requesting Rusty to turn this way and that, the time slips by as the Gnome is incessant in his queries'. You have heard of GrottaFendel in your travels, a small Gnomish enclave in the Sword mountains, a tiny kingdom of inventors and crafters, quiet, secretive they protect themselves by remaining hidden.
Papoose listens to the telling of the group, even from those that are brief or have barely a word to add, filling in the space with knowings of his own. The night moves on, a swirl of color and music and commotion. The food is never exhausted, casks, bottles or barrels continue to keep the libations flowing, until in the wee hours before Dawn they begin to wind down, the Halflings retreating to the interior of their wagons. Your group tries to catch a little rest, impossible during the height of the festivities and with only an hour or so before the sunrise.
The day dawns bright clear and cloudless, the sky a blue pearlescence, little rest has been offered, and even less gained, yet the Halflings emerge almost as quick as they left and the wagons are packed and on their way. A kind farewell, and well whishing before your group is left standing alone once again.
Travelling South, great smoky colored plumes of snow and frost seem to rise off the Sword Mountains, still many miles away. A curtain of twinkling frost in the Air. Th temperature drops the closer you get until midday, when the first dusting of snow and drifts of packed ice form along the fields and road. Krikas points out that a handful of Orcs have been following them for the last hour, keeping their distance but always present.
The words of Papoose ring in your ears, 'If there is one, there will be many" The next way point wont be reached until the day sets, an old Hearth, the stones of the fireplace and chimney all that remain of a once grand Inn. It sits at the crossroads of the Trade Way, and the Triboar Trail, where your travels to Phandalin changes course from South to East.
You stop for a short repast about midday, the weight of a sleepless night sitting heavy within your bones. Exhaustion DC 10
"I tr-tr-tr-trust your inspection will not cause damage. You m-m-m-may look all you want."
While familiar to him, the name GrottaFendel does not hold any special meaning to Rusty. But the question of Adolpholees's location registers as an anomaly. Where is Adolpholees? It has been only five years ago. Why doesn't he know ... Rusty makes a little click sound, lost to the old gnome in his tinkering. "I'm a-a-a-afraid you must be referring to a diff-ff-ff-fferent gnome," the metal man says benignly.
@DM: Are we supposed to roll something against the DC 10?
(DirtyDog - roll a d20 and add your CON modifier. If the result is over 10 you are fine. If under you suffer one level of exhaustion)
Krikas
CON 14
Felmar Exhaustion Check: 15
Kaelan Thornfell - Wildhunt Shifter Beast Barbarian - Horde of the Dragon Queen
Gustuck "Grumpy Gus" Clayshaper - Deep Gnome Astral Self Monk - Malady of Minarrh
Shelmo Sherrinford - Fairy Inquisitive Rogue - Vae Victus
Solstice Nightchill - Winter Eladrin Hunter Ranger - The Yawning Portal
Captain Duskstar - Human Hex "Gun" Warlock - Airships and Whiskey
OOC- it is an Exhaustion save: You got little sleep the prior night and after a half days travel may be [Tooltip Not Found]. It is a Constitution Save against a DC 10.
You may take a short rest to eat or you may simply move on towards 'The Hearth'. Exhaustion will remain until a Long Rest is taken.
If it’s a con save then it would be 17, so I’m still good
Kaelan Thornfell - Wildhunt Shifter Beast Barbarian - Horde of the Dragon Queen
Gustuck "Grumpy Gus" Clayshaper - Deep Gnome Astral Self Monk - Malady of Minarrh
Shelmo Sherrinford - Fairy Inquisitive Rogue - Vae Victus
Solstice Nightchill - Winter Eladrin Hunter Ranger - The Yawning Portal
Captain Duskstar - Human Hex "Gun" Warlock - Airships and Whiskey
OOC- Try to put action into your posts, Do something, Say something, make decisions based on the character you are playing within the narrative. I need something to adjudicate otherwise...
Deciding not to stop, you trudge silently down the road, a quick nod is all you give to the pronouncement of Orcs on the trail behind. The tops of your boots are a brown and mottled grey where the leather has become worn. The crunch of snow and gravel is all you are aware of as you stare pensively at the road 10' ahead, unaware of anything around you.
(Apologies. I was headed out the door to work. Can retcon Krikas' actions when I get home)
Krikas
"Tell you what Rusty, I think you may have had the better deal" Krikas pauses in their drudging and lifts one leg at a time, rubbing at his calves. "I see you and your whir-thumping and wonder if you feel the aches and pains of people like me. That doesn't offend you does it? Being called a not person. You know what I mean though." He continues to put his foot deeper in his mouth as he tries to unsay what had just been said. The automatons lack of conversation was actually quite comforting. Sort of like a captive audience for his own ramblings.
When they finally pause for a rest he is quick to take a swig from his waterskin. "I'd love to say we should rest here for a while, but I fear the sun will set long before we reach the Hearth if we do so. I don't really like the thought of being on the road what with a bunch of Orcs at our heels." He stows his gear, stretches out his tight legs and stands ready to continue on if the others so decide.