Khazan sits near the campfire, polishing his axes while singing a dwarven war song.
Bart sits next to him, and stares at the ground. “Hey uh... I don’t know if I said it before, but thanks. For back there. I think it might have ruined me in the long run but I can’t tell you how much I wish I’d have done what you did. So thanks.”
Khazan puts down the axe he has in his hand and pats Bart on the shoulder. "Yer welcome, kid. Next time ye see an arsehole who needs a beatin' just tell me." He then resumes in polishing the weapon.
Wulcrath shifts for comfort in his armor as he peers into the trees from his spot just outside camp, memories of the last few days buzzing in his head.
The kidnapped Villagers. The abomination deep beneath the earth. The Man On The Poster. The Knife Wielding Woman and her "Master." The Seed Of Black?
His expression tightens into an almost pained grimace, desperate for some kind of Answer, any kind of explanation, his foot rhythmlcly tapping on the forest floor.
The day rolls into the evening which rolls into night, but the winds persist bringing a chill.
Taking it in turns for watch, the fire is definitely kept going, with buttons and straps tight to keep the creeping cold at bay. The travellers thin on the road, and you hear a caw from the forest nearby and the scurrying of a small mammal, but nothing more threatening rears its head.
Dawn breaks with the air sharp and fresh. You all wake early seeing both clouds and grass splashed with sunlight; a remaining mist hangs in now still air.
The new day, the events of Tamor practically left in the night as the cold makes it seem so far away...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Survival checks: Khazan - 19 Wulcrath - 7
Despite Wulcrath leading the way, his uncertainty in leading the way is evident to the dwarf used to the wilds. Sure, not of this particular area, but the wilds nonetheless. Khazan steers the red dragonborn with corrections and warnings through a forest of a floor of grass and mulch, with plenty of bushes bubbled up all over.
The green are now quickly fading to a golden brown, the smell of the smell of the ripe beginning to rot is on the broken winds undercurrents. Wildlife scamper and take flight at the appearance of clear stranger, while they greeted by a chorus of birdsong.The dwarf pipes up at the sight of tracks of large predators; impressive scratches from an owlbear one particular oak that gives a sudden layer of intensity to the travels...
This is broken, much like the forest, by a notable river; the beginnings of the Silver River. The ground gnarled by roots flattens to a bank of a steady flowing river roughly quarter of a mile., not looking to be interrupted. In the distance, you see a bear on the other side, eyes peeled for a fish caught unawares. Clear, cool, fresh water provides a moment's respite as how to get across arises...
“Maybe we can make a raft? Might be better than hoping to find a ford which may not exist.” Bart starts looking at trees that could be used to make such a raft.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The bear is several feet on the other side. He makes a sudden dive and catches an impressive fish in its jaws, still flapping for dear life. It stops to notice you, but remember's lunch is ready disappears into the bushes to dig in...
Perception checks: Bart - 12 Khazan - 5
Bart finds a few logs here and there that could float, sure. But their size varies and enough to carry a medium person? Unlikely...
Khazan scans around, not seeing any boats exactly, but does notice someone standing... waiting. A fisher! In the distance, roughly 60 ft. following the river's course, is a humanoid with tan skin sitting with a rod before them...
"There's a guy over there, he seems tae be fishin'. I'll go talk tae him, see if he knows a place to cross the river." Khazan walks towards the tanned figure, waving his hand and shouting "Heyo, there!"
She sets her rod to one side, putting on her belt holding various pockets and pieces of equipment, before taking a few steps to greet you. Her head is covered with a hood, but you see messy dark brown hair underneath. Her grey eyes aren't alive with excitement, but the young adult gives you a warming, small smile nonetheless.
"Good day, folks. What's a mismatch crew doing around here scaring away the fish...?" There's a tone suggesting the humour isn't entirely false.
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Khazan sits near the campfire, polishing his axes while singing a dwarven war song.
Bart sits next to him, and stares at the ground. “Hey uh... I don’t know if I said it before, but thanks. For back there. I think it might have ruined me in the long run but I can’t tell you how much I wish I’d have done what you did. So thanks.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Khazan puts down the axe he has in his hand and pats Bart on the shoulder.
"Yer welcome, kid. Next time ye see an arsehole who needs a beatin' just tell me."
He then resumes in polishing the weapon.
Wulcrath shifts for comfort in his armor as he peers into the trees from his spot just outside camp, memories of the last few days buzzing in his head.
The kidnapped Villagers. The abomination deep beneath the earth. The Man On The Poster. The Knife Wielding Woman and her "Master." The Seed Of Black?
His expression tightens into an almost pained grimace, desperate for some kind of Answer, any kind of explanation, his foot rhythmlcly tapping on the forest floor.
The day rolls into the evening which rolls into night, but the winds persist bringing a chill.
Taking it in turns for watch, the fire is definitely kept going, with buttons and straps tight to keep the creeping cold at bay. The travellers thin on the road, and you hear a caw from the forest nearby and the scurrying of a small mammal, but nothing more threatening rears its head.
Dawn breaks with the air sharp and fresh. You all wake early seeing both clouds and grass splashed with sunlight; a remaining mist hangs in now still air.
The new day, the events of Tamor practically left in the night as the cold makes it seem so far away...
Bart gets up and ready for the day, packing to be ready to start walking.
Paladin - warforged - orange
Wulcrath shakily gets to his feet, checking his things and getting his gear as well.
"So. How are we all feeling about this?"
" 'bout tae head in unknown woods tae find someone who know about undead 'n cults. Feelin' like we're about tae do something worth me time, I'd say."
Khazan slings his backpack over his shoulder and he's about to head into the woods only to stop suddenly.
"Do we have a map or somethin'? Do we need tae search the whole forest fer this guy?"
“Oh, I guess I figured they’ll find us. They’re waiting for us after all, right?” Bart just shrugs.
Paladin - warforged - orange
The only map you have provided from the feathery messenger back in the Thildeholme:
Map: (1 Hex = 6 miles):
"Well..." Wulcrath mumbles looking at the the map then into the forest. "Nothing left to do but follow it's lead right?"
"Better than nothin', I suppose."
Khazan vigorously pats Wulcrath on the back and pushes him
"Shields up front! We'll follow yer lead!"
"Your right, I guess we bett- woah! HEY!"
Wulcrath tumbles forward onto the forest path as he recovers from Khaz's push.
"Alright then..." He says as he adjusts his bag, starting the walk into the trees.
Survival checks:
Khazan - 19
Wulcrath - 7
Despite Wulcrath leading the way, his uncertainty in leading the way is evident to the dwarf used to the wilds. Sure, not of this particular area, but the wilds nonetheless. Khazan steers the red dragonborn with corrections and warnings through a forest of a floor of grass and mulch, with plenty of bushes bubbled up all over.
The green are now quickly fading to a golden brown, the smell of the smell of the ripe beginning to rot is on the broken winds undercurrents. Wildlife scamper and take flight at the appearance of clear stranger, while they greeted by a chorus of birdsong.The dwarf pipes up at the sight of tracks of large predators; impressive scratches from an owlbear one particular oak that gives a sudden layer of intensity to the travels...
This is broken, much like the forest, by a notable river; the beginnings of the Silver River. The ground gnarled by roots flattens to a bank of a steady flowing river roughly quarter of a mile., not looking to be interrupted. In the distance, you see a bear on the other side, eyes peeled for a fish caught unawares. Clear, cool, fresh water provides a moment's respite as how to get across arises...
Peering over to the adjacent shore, Wulcrath stops in his tracks, as he sees the Bear at the edge of the watery barrier.
"That is... Not good." He mumbles as he takes it all in.
"What? That cub? Ha! Ye should see the bears near me hold, at least twice that size. But enough talkin', does anyone has an idea on how tae cross?"
As he speaks Khazan looks around to see if there's an abandoned boat or a bridge they can use to cross the river
“Maybe we can make a raft? Might be better than hoping to find a ford which may not exist.” Bart starts looking at trees that could be used to make such a raft.
Paladin - warforged - orange
The bear is several feet on the other side. He makes a sudden dive and catches an impressive fish in its jaws, still flapping for dear life. It stops to notice you, but remember's lunch is ready disappears into the bushes to dig in...
Perception checks:
Bart - 12
Khazan - 5
Bart finds a few logs here and there that could float, sure. But their size varies and enough to carry a medium person? Unlikely...
Khazan scans around, not seeing any boats exactly, but does notice someone standing... waiting. A fisher! In the distance, roughly 60 ft. following the river's course, is a humanoid with tan skin sitting with a rod before them...
"There's a guy over there, he seems tae be fishin'. I'll go talk tae him, see if he knows a place to cross the river."
Khazan walks towards the tanned figure, waving his hand and shouting
"Heyo, there!"
The figure makes a gesture of annoyance, "Hey!"
She sets her rod to one side, putting on her belt holding various pockets and pieces of equipment, before taking a few steps to greet you. Her head is covered with a hood, but you see messy dark brown hair underneath. Her grey eyes aren't alive with excitement, but the young adult gives you a warming, small smile nonetheless.
"Good day, folks. What's a mismatch crew doing around here scaring away the fish...?" There's a tone suggesting the humour isn't entirely false.