"Sane? Of COURSE your sane! I can vouch for that!" Manny declares fervently.
"Just because your paranoid doesn't mean that they aren't out to get you!" He mutters as he regains his bearings.
"No, you're definitely insane. Just insane enough to be totally confident, mind you, but still insane. Besides, sane people don't make good stories. They just stay safe at home. The real crazies, the ones who go searching for a skull carved into a mountain because a nebulous urge told them to, they're the ones who make things happen."
Sister Naenia gathers her remaining followers and informs you that she will be waiting at the hill to the south. You recognise from her description that it is one you passed earlier on your journey (albeit from different sides to the other half of the group).
As you are leaving, the little albino girl runs after you and grabs Akahale's sleeve, motioning that he should bend down to hear her whisper.
"Ahem. In the interests of accuracy, you should note that my dreams were filled with slugs rather than a nebulous urge ..."
Akahale's voice trails off and he flinches slightly as the un-nerving child ranges alongside.
"May I assist?" He kneels politely to he can look her in the eye.
The girl whispers to Akahale:
The girl then runs back to the three old women who are standing some distance away and looking at you with inscrutable expressions.
"Thank you. I am grateful for the information."
Akahale looks slightly disconcerted, but shares the curious information with his comrades.
"Hmm, do you think she means we are safe to sleep outside under the stars?" Grafire asks with a confident look upon his face.
The trail isn't hard to follow, but snow has drifted in the woods, and the tangled brush makes for slow going.
A great silence fills the forest, the kind that seems especial to snow-covered woods. All you can hear is the crunch of your own footsteps, the crack of branches pushed out of the way, and the occasional rustle of snow falling from barren trees.
"Hmm, do you think she means we are safe to sleep outside under the stars?" Grafire asks with a confident look upon his face.
"Well, it's perfectly obvious isn't it?" The mage expounds dramatically.
"The stars are safe because THEY have enough sense to stay up in the sky and not get mired in the mush! Really, If I have to explain EVERYthing I'm NEVER going to get to take a breath,..." The mage grumbles as he shakes some more slush off of his foot before continuing on,...
Wrapped in thoughts of rampant slugs, Akahale plods along silently.
A glazed look passes by Grafire's face as he tries to visualize Mandrake's statement, folowed by a smirk as he thinks of asking more questions of the mage. However he bites his tongue and heeds Akahale example and truges along through the snow up at the front of the line.
"Come on, don't let the cold get to you. It's good for you, the cold. Keeps the blood from going too fast. Otherwise everything gets all tangled..."
Otto's mumbled attempt at an inspirational speech is either intended to actually inspire the rest of you or distract himself from the fact he's wearing several pounds of metal, you can't be sure which.
Manny slowly turns his head to look at Otto, and slowly turns his head back. (As if they won't notice him looking that way.)
"Hmph. And they say I don't make sense!" The elderly mage mutters.
Shaerynn chuckles a little at the verbal interplay. Mostly, though, she's focused on keeping her cloak around her to stay warm.
Manny slowly turns his head to look at Otto, and slowly turns his head back. (As if they won't notice him looking that way.)
"Hmph. And they say I don't make sense!" The elderly mage mutters.
"I have an excuse. It's called mild hypothermia. Besides, you know what they say about writers. Can't tell the truth from fiction. That's what makes them good writers, an unfailing belief that what they're writing is completely true."
"Besides, my ramblings don't make your ramblings much better by comparison, you know. It just makes us both look mad."
"Besides, my ramblings don't make your ramblings much better by comparison, you know. It just makes us both look mad."
"Writer? More like writer's block if you ask me,... Speak for yourself sir! I am not mad, I am a genius! Now mind you, it's a very fine line, and I may have stepped over it at some point or other, Maybe even taken a big leap somewhere, it's hard to tell,... BUT that the risk you take being a geni,... OOH! Frozen rutabagas!"
"My writings are always meticulous and accurate. I have many notebooks at Drachenholme. They are full of entirely truthful horrors. It is my dream to create a cross-index filing system to detail them properly for future use. At present, finding accurate information is often taxing."
Akahale continues to plod, looking around suspiciously, but fruitlessly as the cold eats into him.
The party travels for an hour through the woods, eventually coming upon a deer trail, that makes the going easier.
The trail you’ve been following and the bandit’s tracks lead to an opening in the tangled forest. Ahead in a small dell you see sunshine glimmer off ice. The bandits’ trail crosses a frozen creek and heads up the other side of the dell into the woods. It’s hard to know how deep the creek might be below the ice.
Akahale looks hopefully for any sign of a bridge.
Hadarai walks silently, his mind on the ancient battle.
Grafire looks at the edge and surveys the river looking for tracks to follow in.
perception -
Grafire
"So, which of you poor sods wants to try walking over first?"
"If the bandits crossed it, the ice must be safe." Shaerynn opines.
Grafire's nose turns to the air, nostrils flaring. "SHH!! I smell Pipe smoke. Keep alert we are not alone and it seems to come from across the river."
Grafire looks up and down the frozen river bank. "We will need to circle around to get the best surprise on them. Maybe even split up for a distraction. Anybody see a good path?"
"Safe. Sure. Right. Famous last words there,..."
MAnny mutters as he eyes the frozen stream with obvious suspicion.
"An ambush." Akahale contrives to sound smug. "I knew this would happen."
Hadarai's hand goes to his sword and he looks for potential attackers on the far shore.
"An ambush." Akahale contrives to sound smug. "I knew this would happen."
"Of course you did! Even a broken sundial is correct once a day. I should know!" Manny mumbles, sounding a little smug himself,...
Grafire quietly discusses potential plans to draw out the thugs.
"We could see if some can trips could make the thugs jump and draw them out from their hiding. Otto and I could then venture out on to the ice gaurd up but looking unaware to draw them out. If we know where they are then we can flank them by having the rest of you approach from the opposite side from which you can get them from behind. I think we can manage this if the can trips work."
Grafire draws out what looks like a military approach to the problem in the snow with rock as people. He moves them around to show the stratigic plan.
"I will walk with you as bait."
Hadarai's eyes gleam at the prospect of battle.
"I propose to lurk with menacing intent among the trees."
"I'm with Akahale. Not lurking so much as hiding. And not with Menacing intent, more like studious disinterest. Oooh! Are those Ice-apples?!? Those are supposed to be tasty!"
Akahale spots a leg sprawled out from behind some cover on the other side of the frozen stream.
Akahale points and in his enthusiasm crushes an inoffensive branch underfoot.
Hadarai does a little better ...
"Are you sure Hadarai? With your fey step you could easily be with us in a heartbeat. But I would be gladly stand with you as bait." A smile creeps across Grafire face.
Stealth check
"Once they reveal themselves, I shall appear behind them and flank."
Hadarai's eyes gleam with equal tactical enthusiasm.
"Sigh. Boys and their toys." Manny mutters to Akahale, indicating Hadarai and Grafire. And Somehow finding no irony in the fact that both he and Akahale clutch multiple objects of magical foci in their clutches.
"A rod has considerable utility outside the area of channeling arcane power capable of shredding the brains of the sadly deluded. One can, for example, use it as a temporary coat rack."
Akahale looks for a suitable tree to lurk behind.
Manny is tired. And wet. And cold. He impatiently waits with Akahale for some poor unsuspecting (and deserving) sap to unleash his frozen fury upon!
Akahale moves furtively behind the rock, but almost grinds to a halt when he looks at the frozen surface of the river.
"What are those?" he hisses suspiciously.
Manny peeks over the top of the boulder, looking like a 'Kilroy was here' drawing, with a long white beard.
"Tieflings. Hmph. They look hot. They should cool off,..." He mumbles with a grin.