(LN team building exercise)

"Please Stranger,"

Flindrinkin swallows hard and forces,

"Rules .. Were .. Meant .. To be .. Bent."

(Let me know if I should roll a deception check on myself.)

Ambrose raises an eyebrow and openly gapes at the goliath, surprised to hear of such a sentiment from the otherwise straightforward giant. It seems there is more to this one than first meets the eye.

With a deep sign and pinching the bridge of his nose the stranger says, Yes, that should be fine. I appreciate the self policing of this group. Now that we are done here I think it is about time you all start setting out. Hopefully you can make it a good distance before this snow storm sets in. I also have a sending stone that you can use to get in contact with me, I ask that you check in periodically, with that I believe you all should finish getting ready and start your mission. I hope you all are not a waste of good gold and can help this area. Head north until you start seeing signs of the old settlement of the Frozen King. Then you should be pretty close to the Maw there is a wide and deep crevice with a bridge that takes pretty much takes you to the mouth of the Maw.

Sig nods "I shall endeavor to be an inspiring example." He focuses on the orb he took, faces North and says a short prayer.

"May the wind be at our backs and the prize be in our sight, the road be bare, the weather fair, and we all be safe at night."

Looking at you in a slightly new light the Stranger nods his approval, gives one more appraising look and sweeps out the room.

Flindrinkin breathes in deeply, taking in the air outside the jailhouse. Though the stink of the town is still dominant, there is a hint of chill in the air which invigorates him. And unless he is mistaken, there is a whiff of storm that can be detected in the air.

”This is good!” He smiles and hitches up his gear. “Let us put some distance between us and this town.”

"And I think I feel a song coming on! 'In the Merry Month of...'" Amrbose strides out boldly for about three steps before pausing. 

"Wait, what month is it again? My cell didn't have windows, and I definitely lost track of time somewhere in there, between the daydreamed writing of my third Cantos, part 11, I think."

The 4 of you start your trek north as the minutes slowly tick on you feel the temperature start to drop, the wind begins to blow stronger, and the sky has started to prematurely turn a dark blue grey. Swirls of snow start falling around you and before long the snow almost falls like cotton getting bigger and bigger. 

((What do you want to do? Set up a tent? Try to find a cave? Whatever you decide RP it. I'll let you find whatever you need and you would have a tent in the bag of holding as part of the gear from the stranger))

Alex begins to looks around, trying to find anything flammable (not too flammable, like gunpowder or hydrogen, just something like wood)

"we need to make a fire so we don't freeze out here" Alex says. 

survival check if needed: 16

once he finds something flammable, he will dig a sizable hole on the snow, put the object in it, and cast fire bolt

Sig will begin helping set up a tent.

Already wearing his winter gear, Amrbose shivers and hunkers down in Flin's relatively calm leeward side. 

"Won't we get buried in snow?!" he shouts, hit voice muffled beneath a wool scarf.

"Easier to dig our way out of we don't freeze to death." (Would sig know how to craft a quick igloo?)

Flindrinkin will assist with whatever knowledge he has regarding the expected duration of the storm, the expected accumulation, the best solution for shelter, tent, snow cave, or searching for a rock cave.

Survival: 15

Being from this area, I would assume you all have knowledge on how to survive incase of stuck in snow. I also forgot to say there is a heat stone in the bag of holding. With the survival roles you all have created decent tent with an igloo type done over the top. All the heat from your 4 bodies plus the heat stone makes it feel almost hot. You have created an adequate structure and will definitly survive the storm.

"Being from this area, does anyone have a best guess as to how long it will take for us to arrive at Winter's Tongue?"

Flindrinkin will stick his head out of the tent to drink in the fresh arctic air and to guesstimate the severity and remaining duration of the storm.

Nature: 12

Perhaps the stench of the prison is still in his nostrils.

“So, while we are waiting out this storm, perhaps we can tell each other a little bit about ourselves. I’ll go first, because although my story is important to me, I’m sure it will pale in comparison to those told by my companions.”

Flindrinkin will occasionally go to the tent flap and open it to bring some of the chill in, to the complaints of the others, but he does it as a swimmer comes to the surface for air.

”My name is Flindrinkin Gruseslider Starfall. Starfall was my tribal name. That name, I am no longer associated with. And this is that tale. Goliath tribes are nomadic and entirely dependent on the land that they roam. Our tribe had grown too numerous to support due to a lack of resources. Goliath tribes are also quite competitive and “survival of the fittest” is woven into our blood. Those that are old, weak, or crippled cannot be given resources if it would make the strong weak.”

Flindrinkin looks at the hearers for expected rejection but continues,

”Our tribe was growing weak.”

He pauses longer here.

”We honor those that voluntarily separate themselves from the tribe when they become a burden. Their sacrifice makes their legacy strong. Songs are sung in their honor and their names and deeds are remembered for generations.”

Flindrinkin momentarily remembers the different days that his grandparents and mother “walked away”. But without break, he continues,

”Now let me introduce a couple of characters; Feefle, a strong and beautiful girl, and Snaw, a less strong boy, the son of our chief, Skelf, and myself were all born within two seasons. As we grew, it was assumed that Snaw and Feefle would be mated. I could not understand why. I was clearly stronger and more fit, but it seems that didn’t matter. My parents and elders counseled me to find a mate from the next generation, as it had been many seasons later before more children were born into our tribe. I agreed out of honoring them rather than understanding why. Seasons passed and Feefle grew more lovely, like a rare mountain flower, and my heart ached for her, not the childish girls that were still being carried by their parents. But my downfall was that she preferred me as well.”

Flindrinkin pulls in a deep breath that seems to take all of the air from the tent. He opens the tent flap to let in more air and exhales outside which produced a cloud of steam with such volume that it resembled the smoke from a burning building.

”Snaw would not be denied his mate, nor suffer that his rival distract his bride. I had to be eliminated. Skelf, Snaw’s father and chief of the Starfall tribe,  designed the competitions for the “culling” of our tribe in a way that would eliminate me. He pitted me against the champion of our tribe. A veteran 12 years my superior. Snaw, on the other hand, fought a warrior 36 years older who had suffered many injuries over the years and would have been expected to “walk away” in honor within a season or two. Instead, he was expelled from the tribe with me and six others. And he still died with more honor than Skelf or Snaw ever will. I was with him as his life left him.”

As Flindrinkin ends his tale, his tone had been growing more intense, as if a kettle about to scream. His breathing was noticeably controlled.

”Someone else go! I am done!”

"Wow! Tough act to follow, but I'll give it a try. I'm Sighdr I grew up in and around the Halls of the Howling Wind, a temple of the mighty North Wind that has blessed us with this storm and the opportunity to share. I am a Rime-Scour, a seeker and destroyer of heresy and mistreatment of religious power. I take my job seriously and when I've of my superiors was caught spreading falsehood about the faith I confronted him."

Sighdr lets out an impossibly long sigh, a good ten to fifteen seconds, before he continues.

"He unfortunately had connections in both the church and state. He drummed up false crimes of treason against me and that's how I ended up in there with... Well, you all. I will say though, even though you're all criminals, I am happy that we're in this together and I swear I will lay down my life for any one of you....   That's all I've got."

Ambrose uses one of Flin's long pauses to start taking notes in a looping, cursive hand, writing down about half a page in detail. As Sighdr shares, Ambrose rolls his eyes and scrawls out a hasty line. He turns and looks expectantly over to Alex, momentarily lowering his pen to blow on his hands and rub them together vigorously. 

"my story... is not quite as... impressive. I grew up in a tribe of hobgoblins, and trained nearly 24/7. (is that even a term in this world?) is was just too much. i left one day, in search of something powerful, to prove to my tribe i was strong enough. i took me months of searching, through all kinds of environments, with almost no food and water. finally, i found a powerful weapon. one that was so strong, it was only told of in legends. as i got near to it, it spoke in my mind... lured my consciousness close too it, and stole it. that day, i became controlled by it. i did its bidding for a while, but one day, when it was distracted doing something or someone else, i was able to escape its embrace, finally freeing myself. some of its power remains in me, and some times, when I am distracted, like in battle, i rises up within me, and controls me again."

after he says this, he becomes silent for a little while, as though lost in thought.

"Uhuh, uhuh - what kind of weapon, did you say, exactly?" Ambroses pen scratches on the rough parchment, almost a soft voice in and of itself in the relative stillness of the shelter.