Solvistania rouses herself from her slumber with difficulty to take her watch, and is thankful it passed without incident. She overhears the references to the worgs out there, but decides to let her companions figure out how to avoid them. She says nothing, just watches the activity, and enjoying what little peace there is before it is tme to go.
Ilona awakens with a yawn, stretching the kinks out of her system. Doffing the long linen shirt she used for sleep, she guestures,her hands making a few quick movements that called forth a wave of energy taking the form of a dozen tiny fairies that swarm around her, scrubbing away the previous day's dirt and grime from her body and armor.
Hopping around to stave off the cold,she quickly changes bak into her armor and glances out into the fog.
"Well, looks like we made it through the night. Do we have a plan?"
... she guestures,her hands making a few quick movements that called forth a wave of energy taking the form of a dozen tiny fairies that swarm around her, scrubbing away the previous day's dirt and grime from her body and armor.
"Any chance you could work one of those for me?" Chops pleads.
"Any chance you could work one of those for me?" Chops pleads.
Solvistania walks over to Chops, and murmers, "Allow me." She waves her hand over his garments and then her eyes glow an eerie shade of crimson, which passes through her face and arms, to flow out towards the clothing, and then clearing the accumulated dirt and grime from it.
"Ah, babas güne bless you. I haven't felt this clean in months. Here I was hoping for an icy stream or pond and here is this lovely lady..." Chops looks away suddenly, bashful. Then he decides to answer Gillians question about the groups plans. "We should hunt the worgs for meat and fur. We are ill equipped for the mountains."
Solvistania sees Chops walk away, and is momentarily confused, was he talking about Ilona. But she was already on the other side of the camp talking with one of the Dorn.
Was he talking about me? I am no lady, not like Ilona or Zafina, or even Gilian.
She looks at the retreating form of Chops, with a thoughtfull look in her eyes.
At some point in the night the fire was lit in the center of the henge. Ragnar spent the night leaning against one of the stones, bowl in his hands, his hood pulled low, breathing long and deep. He did not move nor make a sound. It was impossible to tell if he slept or not, but eventually the fire in the bowl burned low and went out. The tiny blinking pinpricks of light that drift about him eventually sank low to the ground and two by two, went out. As they did, a number of pairs of brighter pin pricks some six or more feet up began to appear, unmoving, as if in vigil.
Muni the raven eventually found a perch atop the stone Ragnar was leaning against, his head tucked beneath a wing, fluffed for warmth.
As morning comes and the camp wakes, Ragnar has still not moved. His spear is planted in the ground next to him, it's faded and tattered pennant, a white tower on a black background, flapping lazily in the misty breeze. He looks like nothing so much as a fallen warrior on some ancient battlefield, the raven above him marking a place of the dead.
Having slept the last part of the night, Gilian gets up with dawn and revive the fire to brew an invigorating herbal tea for the journey. She pours some over dried roots and chew on them silently while every one gets ready.
"I'm not sure we will get any sign from the elven spirit. Any thought of a direction we could take?" she asks the two early risers.
"We will surely meet worgs this morning, Pete told us yesterday he met some in the forest."
"There had better be a sign," grumbles Eyvindr. Although he had first watch and stood vigilant throughout, those on last watch noticed that he frequently kept his eyes open, then as well, even though he laid on the ground near the fire wrapped in his bear skins. The damp fog and limited sleep do not seem to have left him tired in any way. He appears to be his usual if grumpy self again, with no sign to suggest that he even suffered the previous day's momentary and inexplicable seizure.
"I thought we would have found that elf's brother in the tunnel. Now, through some sorcery, we've been spirited to some unknown part of Eredane... at least, I think we're still in Eredane. Finding his brother in the open wilderness without some sort of sign could be very frustrating... especially since we don't really know who or what his brother might be, or where he might be kept... I don't enjoy these cryptic games... They seem to be more in line with the methods of the Shadow..."
The big Dorn sits by and his brother rummages through his pack and pulls out a few strips of jerky, gnaws at them for a bit, then looks at the meat with disappointment. "Just don't taste like anything anymore... they haven't for many great arcs," he mumbles disconsolately to himself, tossing a strip at Pete, who seemed to relish it much more than he the night before...
"Maybe worgs would taste better," he says in afterthought...
Pete yawns, his jaw cracking with stiffness, and stretches his back.
"If worgs are here, then must be food here too. At least we don't starve.
Let's move."
"OK, follow me", Sky says and begins descending the mountain in what he believes is a western direction. "We can tell nothing till we get out of this mist". "Perhaps the worg's aren't as active during the day, but regardless we must move from here". "Either the orcs will find a way through in which case we'll be caught between two enemies, or we chance the Worgs". "Even if they do attack, if we stick together, and work as a group we should be OK".
Then without waiting to see who's following him, Sky starts to move outside the area, bow at ready.
Survival (1d20+6=9) to try and determine direction
After Sky'tor speaks, Chops looks around at the group, then follows. This elf seems like he knows how to survive in the wild, better than this city dworg anyway. Still, Chops tries to figure out which way north lies and he too, keeps his eyes and ears open for worgs.
Solvistania sticks close to the middle of the group, she knows she has little in the way of survival skills.
Ragnar finally rises as the group begins to leave, pouring the ashes from the bowl on the ground. The raven swoops from the rock to his shoulder. He falls into step next to his brother. He eats nothing, drinks nothing, and says nothing. Behind him, the ghost-torches bob along in line. In the light of day the swirling pairs of glowing pin pricks are gone.
Behind him where he spent the night against the stone, the rock is worn smooth with age, the plants on the ground withered and dead.
Gilian follows behind Chops, looking for tracks or any non natural mark.
Survival
Perception
Ilona starys towards the middle of the group,ensuring at least one person with a blade, capable of keeping the casters safe. Her step is lively and uplifting, a sharp contrast to the environment.
"Great!" grumbles Chops. "Wild frikken goose chase. Sky, think we should just head strait down slope? Maybe find a stream or sumthin."
Solvistania looks around her surroundings, enjoying the trek. At least until Chops spoke up and ruined the journey.
Without even looking at him, she says in that cutting tome of voice, I am sure you know exactly what our destination is. Please enlighten to rest of us, if you don't mind."
"I for one happen to be quite happy that we've been in this area for over 9 hours, if you count sleep time, and nothing's tried to kill us yet. I'd say things are looking up."
Ilona's grin says that she knows how faceatous she is being, and yet chooses to do so anyway.
"Just sayin'." Chops grunts. "Not that I mind a peaceful walk in the hills, but that is what we've all been doing for the last several months. 'Cept before, we were being led by our visions. Now we're just walking circles. That acromegalic elf led us to the ruins, sent us in... well, there should be some clue to what the hell we are doin'." Despite his b!%++ing, he keeps trudging along after the wildlander elf. Chops sure doesn't know how to navigate the wilds.
Solvistania replies, "You need to learn patience, Chops. Once we get out of the mists, then we can find out what the next step is on our journey."
As soon as the group steps clear of the mist, Muni leaps into the air.
"It's about damned time..."
The raven soars in wide contented circles around the party, keeping an eye out for danger or anything interesting nearby.
Solvistania looks off into the distance, and sees the castle. Motioning to Chops, she murmers, "Ask, and ye shall receive."
"Well, well. Look at that." Chops says to Solvistania. "Next step straight ahead. You ever hear of anything like that, Solvi?"
Solvi? I am not sure I like that nickname. But I cannot ever remember having a nickname before, at least not a friendly one. I will have to find a better name for myself.
Solvi? I am not sure I like that nickname. But I cannot ever remember having a nickname before, at least not a friendly one. I will have to find a better name for myself.
Solvi? I am not sure I like that nickname. But I cannot ever remember having a nickname before, at least not a friendly one. I will have to find a better name for myself.
"Hm. No worg tracks today? Make no sense."
Pete looks up at the castle with suspicion.
Ilona looks ahead at the structure, staring quietly for a while.
Solvi? I am not sure I like that nickname. But I cannot ever remember having a nickname before, at least not a friendly one. I will have to find a better name for myself.
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The old castle rises from the sea of mist-covered trees like a bow of a ship from the waves. From your vantage point you can not see much. The castle has four towers connected to the square central building. It's made from black granite - the same type of stone as the circle of standing stones that brought you here. You can not even guess who build it. It's architecture is completely unknown to you, but you realize that the castle is old. Very old.
"Well at least that is a goal". "Maybe something there will give us a clue as to where we are". Sky then begins to lead the party forward, keeping a close eye out as he goes.
"Well on the plus side it looks like no one's been here in.....forever. So it's not full of orcs waiting to jump us."
"What about dead orcs?" Chops asks Ilona. "Seems to me that one of the biggest problems associated with Shadow is things don't stay dead like they're supposed to."
"What about dead orcs?" Chops asks Ilona. "Seems to me that one of the biggest problems associated with Shadow is things don't stay dead like they're supposed to."
** spoiler omitted **
"Even the fell are subject to the ravages of time." Ragnar says, speaking finally. "If it is as Ilona says, they would have had no food. They would have left, or been long since dust by now."
The big mans voice sounds hollow, as if his heart is barely in his reply.
[/b]"I'm glad that damned mist has finally faded away. It chilled me to my bones."[/b] Zafina says as the group breaks out of the fog.
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After an two hours long track, you finally reach the castle. It is situated at the beginning of a steep slope leading to impossible high peak, at least it seems so to you. The castle has no defensive works around it. When you approach it, you see huge gate in the front wall of central building, made of what seems to be bronze. On the gate there is an etching of crescent moon on one half and sun of many rays on the other. There is no obvious mechanism for opening 20 feet high gates.
"Well, well, well, this is a sight." says Gilian starring at the castle."Do you think it is still inhabited ? Maybe we can just push the doors open."
"Perhaps we should look for a way around the gates, I do not think I can pull them open, or fly up there."