Luke's eyebrows rise at the sound of his home, Cisewella.
Aye, Droost, we plan áscrútnian that area after our visit with Quern.
When Muli gets his mead, he pulls a stuffed chipmonk out of a pocket. He unscrews its head, shakes a few flakes of something into his drink which then sets to foaming. "Muli likes a little spice in his mead. He proceeds to screw the rodents head back on and tuck in back into a pocket.
He raises his mug in Skølrykk's direction. "Good to have crossed paths." He takes a swig which sets one of his eyes to twitching. But then sets it down and extends a very hairy hand to Skølrykk.
@Luke: Sundfulnes! Skølrykk replies, raising his tankard as well. I am pleased to have a local for our ládmann, you will be weorþlic! I heard tell of an egesgríma in an ærn am strand. Could this be the source of the trouble?
@Muli: Aye...it is good to have company in dark days. Skølrykk says thoughtfully, observing the man's strange habits and containers. Tell me, Muli. What do you þiging?
@Skølrykk: Aye, could be, but we are hoping that Quern will cunnan. Gódniht, all.
Luke heads outside to relieve himself and returns to find a comfortable spot to bed down for the night, knowing that the day will be long and possibly filled with danger.
Oh this? as Muli hefts the foaming tankard. "It's an asquirreled taste. Hur-hur" He laughs into his beard which foams up as he takes another drink. He finds the chipmonk again and screws its head off and shakes a flake onto the table. "It's Monk's Cloth, a black feldswamm that grows on the roots of the nightshade that get exposed to air in mús dens. It collects the unlybba and turns it to a woody tasting wyrt ."
Sipping down his mead, Kevkul rues the impotent kick of the local brew. When this is all over, I would make a brew strong enough to warm toes after a little sip, and then some.
Let whatever is devastating the puca do its worst to the foul creatures. A concern if only it threatens the doughy folk of this land.
Mentally noting Muli's exotic collection of spices, Kevkul sets in the back of his mind incorporating recipes for his new Kustnir brew.
Friend Muli, any chance you have used wyrts in flavoring the local medu?
Aaahh! Skølrykk sighs, draining his tankard. He, too then exits the mead hall to relieve himself. He nods to Ragnar on his way past Gódæfen. All seems friþsum, ne? He stands outside with him for a while, then retires to the lodge to sleep.
Gódniht, then. he says, knocking on the table where the others are seated. He then retires to a corner bed, leaning his spear against the wall and laying his hide armor and backpack on the floor next to him.
When the night has long set in and the moon is in the sky as Ragnar remains outside. The waking hours spent in quiet reflection and almost begging for some interruption where he could bring Skäggig to bear.
As the evening passes without interference, Ragnar is heavy of heart as he falls to slumber inside. Liten Mun sleeping at the foot of his cot.
Fireday 12th Lamashan (Late Autumn)
Dawn in village of Kustir
Weather is as Luke thought, a crisp autumn morn. Light snow has fallen overnight leaving a hoar frosting across the realm..
You are awoken by Wym's chirpy preperation of breakfast; gulls eggs, smoked kippers, bread and buttermilk.
Soon he is dishing up and keen to share some news;
"Good ærmorgen my friends! So today you léaf us eh? Well you've ábróden me of a láþgeníðla , regardless of how successful you are at liberating us from the áwiergednes... Gilstur has left the village, gone into the wilds to lick his sárslegeas no doubt hah!"
Rising to water his preferred tree outside the Net, Ragnar returns after spitting the taste of morning out into the snow. He takes a seat and eats of kippers and bread - passing some meatier chunks of fish to Liten Mun as he is everpresent at his heel.
At word of Gilstur's departure "The sop has likely found a hole to crawl into and hide. And though we leave, we shall eftcyme when our business done"
Skølrykk is nowhere to be found when the others awake. He rejoins them only as they are sitting down to eat, his hair still wet and slightly frozen. Aye, Wym, gut ærmorgen. He says, sitting down and helping himself to some eggs. A man who is not with us is easy to mock, Wym. Who is this Gilster?
Luke rises early, relieves himself outside, and uses the snow to clean himself. Upon returning and hearing of Gilster, he responds to Skølrykk.
Gilster is a oferdrincere who we had to set straight. We need to watch our bacu for awhile because he is also known as a sneak who likely has fæhþ in mind fer us.
Kevkul would have headed into bed a bit late, taking advantage of the free flow mead, being merry (in his own way), counting his blessings for being a cleric of the deity of ale and wine, and lastly thanking Wym for his hospitality.
Come morning, as a testament to dwarven liver, he wakes refreshed. A quick splash of water, Kevkul prays.
Donning his armor and rechecking his equipment, Kevkul heads towards the dining area, greeted by smell of newly cooked food.
He sits, ladling a helping of eggs.
The grig ran with finta between legs. A moment is what he needs to grow herðan.
Kevkul munches with relish, knowing a hot meal like this would be awhile to come round.
The stirings of making breakfast, rouse Muli from his spot curled up by the fire. He goes to his pack and pulls out his pipe and tobacco pouch. He sits outside the door to the hall and watches the weak sun rise while adding his own small clouds to the pink and oranges ones hanging low over the Lake at Dawn.
Afore long fast is broken, gear is packed and set, and hands warmed upon the glowing coals of the gatehouse brazier.
Klenna and Pater Fisc are among the thin ranks of shivering Kustnir villagers who huddle in the morning frost to watch their would be saviours leave. As you march out of the stockade and into the wilds of Iobaria, you catch Droost the Kipper curtly nodding from the watchtower, his words from the previous night still echoing;
Tend the fire, share the gewring an' watch out fer the ceald... It'll take a finger or fríese a heart just as easy as a Trow or Puka will!
Alright, Let us go then!
Skølrykk starts off breaking trail, the hood of his thick cloak pulled up and his hands sheathed in wool and leather. He walks quickly with long strides and uses his spear as a walking stick along side him as he goes.
Luke will take the point, ranging as far as 50 feet ahead at times, being extra careful to look out for the passage of any human element. he carries his Long Bow, strung and ready to fire, if necessary.
Everyone will notice how at home Luke appears outdoors in the winter elements. He moves with cat-like grace and a wariness that demonstrates his true abilities.
Perception:
Muli shrugs into his enormous pack and hefts it off the ground. He gives Klenna a shy wave and falls in with the group. He initially starts off near the front with Luke, but as they walk, Muli will often pause to look at a shrub, collect some berries, or peer into a burrow. As a result, he will in most cases be found at the back of the group trying to catch up.
Kevkul steps from the stockade gates. Feeling the chill then, he casts Endure Elements before he goes on further.
Trudging on, Kevkul would be found second last from behind, often looking over his shoulder at Muli, who often wanders often investigating shrubs, burrows or gaze at some far off thing.
Ragnar marches in full armor with Skaggig drawn and laid across his shoulders. Reveling in the cold weather he is obviously happy to be doing something more than sitting and waiting. He walks in the main pack near the front, leaving the scouting to Luke.
Liten Mun ranges in and out of the convoy, but never outside of sight range.
Upon the walk Ragnar occasionally breaks into singing a Northlandic ode in a quiet voice.
About half way to the Ferry point the sparse tundra gives way to rolling frost kissed hills and small copses of trees and ice-thorn shrubs;
:
:
As you trudge through the bracing autumnal country of Iobaria, something catches the eye of your trailblazer: Crouching like on the hunt Luke cautiously peers between some thicket and a sapling, his attention clearly drawn to something...
Some 60-70 metres ahead, nestled in a copse of trees, is the camp of a traveller or hunter. It appears unoccupied, but at this distance it is impossible to be sure.
Here's the MAP
Meanwhile some 30 metres behind, at the tail of the party Muli notices a large, interesting burrow nestled between roots of a icethorn bush to his left...
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Skølrykk peers around trying to find what Luke is looking at...
Perception:
...but his eyelashes have frozen his eyes shut.
Luke slinks back to the parties position. He whispers in a low voice.
Just ahead in a small hryding where there is a fierdwíc set up. I will try to approach quietly to learn more.
Luk stays low and circles closer to see if there are inhabitants. His bow is drawn.
Stealth:
Perception:
Nodding at Luke's words, Ragnar drops a warding hand to Liten Mun so he knows danger could be afoot.
Trying to keep eyes on Luke as he approaches the camp, he grips Skaggig in both hands.
Be wary, Luke, and we shall be ready.
Kevkul shoulders his shield and hammer and readies himself with his heavy crossbow, training its sights ahead.
Muli crouching by the opening trying to determine if its occupied and by what.
It's obviously empty so Muli sticks his hand in trying to see if anything unusual had collected in there.
Skølrykk levels his spear and gets better footing, spacing himself from the rest of the group to gain full use of his spear's range. He pads quietly up with Luke to get a better view of the camp.
Stealth:
Perception:
Too late Muli recognises the lair as that of a tundra forca-tægl or "tundra forky tail" - a large, voracious, armoured insect.
As he pulls back his investigating hand, it is pursued by a shining rust red carapace, and a set of hungry snapping mandibles;
The creature's pincers attempt to grasp at Muli as the creature skuttles from its tundra lair...
Luke as you creep closer to the encampment you notice an unoccupied bedroll, unlit firepit and perhaps more sinister; the rusted tips of bear-trap teeth poking from their cloak of twigs, scrubs and moss.
"Welllll, hello there. You are going to try to sting Muli now aren't you?...Muli knows that is what you do...But Muli did not know you were in there.." Muli sees that reasoning and kindness will not work on the mindless creature.
Initiative:
Skølrykk turns at Muli's strange talk but refocuses on what is in front of him. What can you see, Luke? he whipsers.
Initiative:
Luke heads back to Skølrykk at B4, and whispers.
Appears to be an empty fierdwíc, but there are bear traps set this side of hryding.
Initiative:
Init:
Luke points off in Muli's direction.
Skølrykk, it looks like Muli needs your help, I will take geheordung of our backs.
Luke notches an arrow, and backs slowly towards Muli's position to
-B0 while scanning the area of the clearing for activity.
Perception:
Stealth
Initiative
Luke's keen eyes, pick out slight movement SE of the group in the eve of a large blud-pine.
The cloaked figure is also notching a bow, ready for release...
Initiative Order:
17 Luke & Skølrykk
16 Cloaked Bowman
15 Ragnar
11 Forky Tail
7 Kevkul & Muli
Round 1
Perception:
Noticing the bowman, Skølrykk dashes across the clearing to the bushes on the other side.
Sneering at the oncoming Northman, the bowman instead aims towards the gathered others and fires off two quick shots;
:
:
The bowman's first strike lands short, skitting harmlessly across the hard, frosty ground. The second however finds its mark, embedding itself in Ragnar's shoulder, soliciting a wheezing hack-laugh from beneath the hood...
:
Fort Save:
Round 1:
Taking the hit with little more than a grunt, Ragnar does not even stop to remove the arrow. "I will help Muli, go and end the bowman."
Moving to where Muli is being attacked by the animal he brings Skaggig down in an overhead chop onto the beast.
Greataxe: for
Round 1
As the insect frantically writhes its in eagerness to embrace Muli in its mandibles Skaggig miises the mark, cleaving a furrow in the hard ground.
Undeterred the forca-tægl hungrily attempts once again to grasp its hairy packbearing prize;
:
...but again the creature fails to gain purchase on the overburdened alchemist as its pincers clack together in frustration ...
Between the two targets, Kevkul raises his crossbow and sights the bowman before firing.
heavy crossbow vs bowman:
damage:
"Feisty little bugger!" Muli nods at Ragnar's approach and help. He pulls out a dagger and pokes at the creature
"Northman, after your next swing stand back. Muli needs space."
Muli's dagger spars with the flexing pincers of the forca-tægl, but does little else than keep the oversized earwig at bay.
L Perception
K Perception
Simultaneously, but seperately, both Kevkul and Luke glean the possible identity of their foe... Kevkul recognising the fletch of the arrow just missed, and Luke the familiarity of the hacking laugh...
Seems old Gilstur has grown some herðan after all...
Initiative Order for Round 2:
17 Luke & Skølrykk
16 Gilstur
15 Ragnar
11 Forky Tail
7 Kevkul & Muli
Luke rushes to G-4 and fires an arrow at Gilstur.
LB ATT:
LB DAM:
Round 2
Skølrykk lowers his spear and charges across the small distance left between him and the bowman, thrusting his spear at him with all his might.
Longspear Charge:
Damage: