Tora no Senaka - The Back of the Tiger (Inactive)

Game Master Dreaming Warforged

Pavel pours himself a very large tankard of ale to go with his breakfast.
"Suh'so... we're really gonna do it. Over the top of the wuh'world to the other side. Hmmph. Guess I'll need some luh'language lessons."

Raith tears off a piece of bread and swabs up the bacon grease on his plate, "I reckon we are. That's where Ameiko is going, so that's where I'm going. Near as I can tell this lord that rules over yonder is a real goblin's prick. I can't imagine what it might be like to be ruled by such a man. The people of Minkai must be suffering under such a man. I reckon we're the ones that are going to have to knock him off his throne."

Sorin steps in the conversation: "I have been thinking about recruiting staff for the caravan and discussed it with Sandru. He's planned on adding a few wagon, perhaps even doubling our actual size, in order to make the trip worthwhile. There is a practitioner of the arcane arts I've met thanks to our innkeeper. He's been helping me with some of my research and we've been sharing discoveries. He's an upstanding fellow, and I would wish to offer him a spot on our crazy trip! In fact, he's so good, I would like to include him as a partner. Perhaps sharing our purpose, but only once we're away from here and we've had a chance to test his fiber. What do you guys think?"

"Any help we can get, we'll take. If you trust the man, then he's good with me...assuming you've done your sorcerous investigations of him. Seems this Lord uses a lot of servants that can change their appearance."

"On the subject of shapeshifting adversaries, we should make a point of not spending much time alone, as we proceed. That creature that impersonated Théoden's father is likely not the only deception of this sort we may face, and it would be best if we at least travel in pairs, when we go into town to purchase goods." Garand cautions.

"We should also never speak aloud of matters which we all know, and would not wish a spy, impersonator or even foe disguised as a bird in yonder tree to overhear."

"That said, I need to spend some time in prayer before we travel forth, and so I welcome the news that Sandru wishes to outfit a few more wagons, as it will give me a day to center myself. Would someone be willing to accompany me while I find a quiet place to commune with nature? It will be terrible dull, as I will mostly be sitting quietly, but I would prefer to not defy my own counsel and risk the dangers that come with solitude, in these uncertain times..."

Garand will need to spend 24 hours attempting to call a new companion, and probably shouldn't attempt such a thing in a muddy encampment full of people just outside the walls of the biggest city in these lands...

Stretching as he rises, Théoden smiles as he's feeling far better. As he finishes dressing, he heads to meet the others for breakfast.

"On the subject of shapeshifting adversaries, we should make a point of not spending much time alone, as we proceed. That creature that impersonated Théoden's father is likely not the only deception of this sort we may face, and it would be best if we at least travel in pairs, when we go into town to purchase goods." Garand cautions.

"We should also never speak aloud of matters which we all know, and would not wish a spy, impersonator or even foe disguised as a bird in yonder tree to overhear."

"That said, I need to spend some time in prayer before we travel forth, and so I welcome the news that Sandru wishes to outfit a few more wagons, as it will give me a day to center myself. Would someone be willing to accompany me while I find a quiet place to commune with nature? It will be terrible dull, as I will mostly be sitting quietly, but I would prefer to not defy my own counsel and risk the dangers that come with solitude, in these uncertain times..."

"I shall accompany you, Garand. It's the least I can do. Especially after you took care of that nasty bit of poison that was nearly my death. Well... barring the large woman beating me to death of course," he grins wryly. "Let me know when you are ready to leave. Pride and myself will be your guard."

Ameiko smiles at all of you. "Your loyalty, resolve and resourcefulness honor you and humble me. You have spoken wisdom and brought to my mind a course of action I would wish to submit.to your counsel upon Garand's return. Until then, be safe!"

Garand will pray for spells to help him on his quest, and in the early morning, call upon the spirits of the wind to bend their backs beneath his feet and allow him to walk into the sky, there to get a good view of the surrounding terrain. Seeing the roads leading from Kalsgard, and the cluster of farmsteads and fishing villages paralleling the river, he instead focuses on points to the north and east, away from the river, where there is no trade to be done and the land is less settled. If instead, the areas south, across the river, seem less settled, he uses another spell to allow himself and Théoden (and any horse brought along) to walk across the surface of the great river, crossing it in less time than a boat would take. In either case, he travels until he is out of sight of the city, and can see no settlement or farmstead, which might take several hours, or even a half-day, given the sparse nature of the local terrain.

He finally finds a spot, surrounded by late-blooming blackberries, each bush with it's own prickly defense, and with a muttered invocation, causes them to ripen and fall free into his hands. He gives a few to Théoden (and his steed, if present), and each single berry bursts with flavor and energy, providing the sustenance of a full meal, and an invigorating rush. goodberry spell, he keeps a few for himself

He then sits down and meditates, surrounded by thorny scrub and buzzing honeybees, opening his shirt to the wind, and keeping his eyes and ears open for signs and portents from the Horned Hunter, while trying to avoid thoughts that would distract him from this quest, such as remembrances of bear-spirit, or doubts regarding his ignoble death.

Near the start of his vigil, a brief rain-shower leaves him sodden and miserable looking, rising to stand, and allow the rain to clean his clothing and self, and the sun returns, along with a cool breeze that leaves his teeth rattling, but dries his clothing.

Mid-evening, a trout falls from the sky, flopping at his feet, and the frustrated kirl of an eagle sounds overhead. He kneels and draws his dagger, cutting away the head in one smooth motion, and then striking off the tail fin of the now-dead creature, before tossing it's body as far as his arm can manage away from himself and in the opposite direction of where Théoden stands. The eagle circles suspiciously before swooping down to recapture the fish, which, reduced in weight, and no longer struggling, it bears aloft with less effort than it had previously. The eagle takes its prize away, vanishing into the gathering gloom, while Garand quietly reflects on what lesson might be gleaned from this encounter. Do not lift up more than you can bear alone? Ambition and greed will overburden you, and must be tempered with restraint? Or was the lesson that some tasks are not meant to be shouldered alone, but can be made easier by sharing the burden, or accepting the help of others, perhaps even those who one would not normally trust, such as this new magician Sorin wishes us to meet?

He regards the head and tail of the fish, lying on the ground. Or were you the lesson, my unblinking friend, that death comes to us all, and your heroic struggles may have saved you for a moment from the eagles grasp, but left you in no better position, far from home and surrounded only by enemies?

He waits throughout the night, motionless for so long that his limbs are cramped and numb, with only the sound of a wolf's howl in the distance to mark the time around the witching hour. In the morning, as the sun rises, an indistinct lump can be seen on the horizon, like a mound of earth, with a many-branched tree or limb rising from it's eastern edge. It is exactly in the direction he has been staring for hours, although he cannot be sure that he has not drifted off at some point or another, having felt himself sway as if about to fall to the ground more than once. A buzzard circles overhead, curious as well, and he stirs to clumsy motion, after hearing a distant groan. His legs feel like two stilts, and he lumbers forward, unable to move quickly as his knees throb like those of a tribal elder. As he approaches, the figure is that of an enormous elk, that seems to grow impossibly larger, the closer he gets, truly a monster among it's kind, and greater than any stag he had seen in distant Varisia.

The beast seems more dead than alive, it's fur matted with it's own blood, and missing in patches. It's ribs are visible and it's stomach a shrunken thing, as if it has been denied food for days, if not weeks, and a black shafted arrow with red feathers protrudes from its flank. The flesh there is black, and flies cluster around a wound that has gone to fester. It's brown eye rolls in it's head as Garand approaches, and as it starts and attempts to move away from him, failing to rise on unsteady legs, he belatedly remembers his training, and speaks to it in the language of beasts, "Lie still my brother, I am no wolf." He removes the remaining blackberries from his pouch and slowly feeds them to the fallen elk, providing it both days worth of nourishment, as well as a small amount of magical healing, as the potential life that could have fueled the growth of entire blackberry bushes is transferred to the elk. He calls upon his skills, both mundane and divine, to carefully remove the red-feathered shaft from the elk's flank, and then seal the terrible wound it left behind, driving forth the larva that cling to dead flesh and making it pulse again with new life.

An hour passes as he tends to the fallen brute, until it has strength again to rise unsteadily to its feet. Seven tines adorn it's mighty rack of antlers, longer than daggers, and while the stag itself is malnourished and injured, with fur having fallen out in clumps, it's antlers are truly magnificent, and it follows Garand back to where he stood vigil among the blackberry bushes, their connection almost visible to Théoden's eyes, as if they speak silently among themselves.

No fisher-eagle, nor lone wolf in the night, Garand returns to the encampment astride a somewhat sickly looking elk of great size.

Seeing how this would be an all day deal, Théoden will learn this spell: Keep Watch

Théoden accepts the berries and reluctantly tries one as Garand moves off, "Mmmm. Not bad." He proceeds to eat it heartily. As Garand moves off by himself, Théoden makes sure he's within sight and then pulls out a brush and tends to Pride's coat. Just as he does, it begins to rain. "Seriously? I did not prepare for rain. This is going to muss me terribly." Shrugging, he continues to brush his mighty steed before he goes through his training regimen with him.

As the sun sets and then rises, Théoden, with a blessing from Abadar, manages to remain alert during the entire night. Noticing a wounded beast coming from afar, he observes Garand move toward it, and then promptly attend to its wounds. "Fascinating. A magnificent creature, I confess. Well, not nearly as magnificent as Pride, but, nevertheless." Sitting upon Pride, Théoden spurs him forward, albeit slowly, so as not to spook neither man nor beast. "Garand?" he asks, awaiting a response so as to just play it safe.

Very nice piece Set!

The next day, Ameiko gathers you all in her tiny appartments. You sit on the various furniture of the room, most having never been designed for that purpose. Shalelu, Koya and Sandru sit among you. Everyone is there but Sorin.

"Friends," she starts, "Loyal retainers, I've asked you to meet and provide me with counsel. After our last conversation, a few things seem clear to me: We face a powerful enemy. It probably knows we are in Kalsgard and that we are coming. Our enemy's agents in Kalsgard have been crippled by us and can't deal with us at the moment."

As she speaks, you feel something is off. It's not so much her voice, or what she says, but the way she says it...

Noticing your frown, Ameiko stands and suddenly her features change. A moment later, Sorin stands in front of you with a sheepish smile: "Sorry guys..."

"I asked Sorin to do this for me. I like the theatrics, I must confess, and it makes my point better than anything else." says Ameiko as she extricates herself out of a small closet.

She marks a pause, replacing her clothes, and says, her voice charged with intent: "I propose we move within a month. We will make east, as a caravan returning south along the river, but after Ullerskad, we'll veer north west and rejoin the caravan route heading north. Meanwhile, Sorin will stay here and use my enchanted hat and his own tricks to confuse the enemy. Kelda Oxgutter wil help him. She knows the land and the ways, and she has connections here. He will be as many, and he will be as me. He'll make them believe we are waiting for spring to cross..."

"Yes, that means we will be heading north as winter creeps upon us. It sounds mad, I know, but I believe we can do it, and I believe this will be a safer place to be than sitting here in fear in this rathole while our enemy gathers its strength."

"I am asking honestly: What do you think?"

Pavel scratches the back of his head.
"Well it suh'sounds like a good trick and muh'makes sense. Can't say I'm happy to luh'leave Sorin or Kelda behind either. But it muh'makes sense."

"Goin' north in the winter sounds like suh'suicide to me, though. Even in spring that's a tuh'tough road from what I'm told. Muh'magic and planning can help, but not if we're trapped under an avalanche or fuh'fall through the ice..."

Raith sits seiza-style before his Empress, "Any path you take, I will take the first step to ensure it is safe." The blade and the heart of the man wielding it are one as Ameiko's protectors.

Pavel crosses his arms.
"Garand, Shuh'Shalelu: tell 'em how cruh'crazy that is. Sandru, you've got to knuh'know how dangerous that is. Think about muh'movin' a caravan in a Varisian winter and multiply it by tuh'ten at least."

"I am no expert on the dangers of the winters this far north, but is it not true that caravans that attempt this trail during the warmest summer months still end in failure and death more often than not?"

"Magic can protect some from dying within days, but it will not carry the wagons over snow drifts higher than a man's head, or help us find our way when we cannot see our hands in front of our faces. Or keep the animals alive, since no magic I know of will be sufficient to shield everyone from the cold, or locate them forage."

"If we mean to undertake this journey, which, as far as I know, none have ever succeeded in the winter, preparation is going to matter more than determination. Not a soul dead on that ice thought they were going to fail..."

Théoden ponders the idea a moment before a perfect smile forms, "It's BRILLIANT! If we all know it to be dangerous, then so do they. None would expect us, or anyone for that matter, to venture north during the winter. None. It is actually quite a fine plan. We shall be prepared, do not fear. Well done, madam." He nods.

"Theoden... I've tuh'taken more 'n my share of shots to the mug: and not juh'just from the ugly stick, y'know? But I think after that luh'last fight, we need to maybe buy you a huh'helmet...", Pavel says, shaking his head.

Ameiko takes it all in. You can tell it's not so easy to have your friends tell you it's a bad plan, but nevertheless offering support.

Her face gets munched by an intense thinking process, then she raises her head, ever so galantly: "This is wise counsel, and what I expect and value from friends and trusted advisers. I would then suggest the following: we take heed of the deadly danger the Crown represents, but nevertheless head north as soon as possible. We can go as far as we can for a few months, then hole up until spring. Our enemy will not know where to find us, and we shall be at his doorstep when he thinks we are still months away. Does that sound better, friends?"

A voice insinuates itself in your mind. You recognize the metallic ease of the family's heirloom sword: "You seem worthy Ameiko. I shall support this expedition. I was the one who suggested we cross over the Crown in the first place! I can help you all handle the cold..."

Warmth suddenly rushes through your bodies. The slight chill of the room all but disappeared.

Ameiko lets a smile shine as she looks at all of you. "It seems we now know how my family made it across the Crown! Kazuko no Hogo, you honour us with your blessing. May we always be worthy of your trust."

Sandru looks at her: "Ok, I must say, I didn't want to say anything, but I agreed, this was madness, but this heirloom gives us an edge. I think we can make it! Of course, I still think the idea of hiding north and not to cross in the middle of winter makes more sense... I'll equip each wagon with a small stove. This will help when it gets really co-old."

Over the course of a month, everyone was busy with acquiring items for the long and cold road ahead, as well as finding and buying new wagons and improving all of them for defense and for the toughest roads there must exist on Golarion, when roads can be found. In particular, each wagon is, as Sandru insisted, outfitted with a small stove. Many discussions take place on how to prevent them from burning their wagon... Eventually, you think you got it.

The last week, crates and crates are carried to the caravan and your back ache from the hard work of packing the wagons. Commerce is a different kind of battle. Sandru is often seen pulling his hair and rolling in the dirt as he argues with traders.

You hear no more of Sorin and Kelda, but the word on the street is that the Frozen Shadows are all but disbanded for now. Still, the simple sight of a raven in the sky makes you pause and sends shivers up your spine...

Daeron joins the group as the main arcanist in the caravan. As such, his skills are often needed or useful and you get to know him enough. Still, all of you remain silent on the true destination and goal of the expedition...

Ameiko remains out of sight during that time, though a fellow named Mike comes from time to time to give you a hand with the infinite number of chores.

And then one day, finally, the caravan sets forth, with Pavel and Theoden in the lead, astride proud mounts, and Sandu sitting in the first wagon with Shalelu and her fierce bow. A few miles later, an elk appears on the horizon, with Garand on it, looking at the sky. Daeron is with Koya in the middle of the caravan, while Raith closes the long line of wagons, taking a long last look at the city, looking for a red-feathered raven.

The caravan makes its way slowly, seemingly heading back east and south, but veers back north and west after Ullerskad, towards the Path of Aganhei, towards the fabled Crown of the World.

Then End of Volume 2 - Night of Frozen Shadows

I'll leave some space for final comments before starting Volume 3.

Having performed the last few checks to guarantee none of his possessions would be left behind, Daeron nods and turns to the impish elemental sitting on his desk. He pauss, thinking, before continuing in auran, "İndi biz yaxşı siz gizlemek üçün necə mənim tanış qərar verməlidir. Mən az Kalsgard xalqı, cəhalət, bir şeytan üçün təşəkkür edəcək şübhə etdik. Çox çox, həll edilməsi lazım narahat beləliklə biz sizə gizlətmək lazımdır."

Manulani mimes gagging, "You mangle my language worse then a Terran would. Please stick to your crude monkey-tongue, for sake of my sanity. If I must hide from the cretins, so be it. Work your wonders, magnificent magical master." The little mephit rises and bows mockingly before hovering to within arm's reach.

Sighing, Daeron reaches into his component pouch and withdraws the needed eyelash and holds it in his palm. Muttering the needed words of power, the eyelash lifts from his hand of its own accord. Arcane runes form around it midair before the lash disappears in a spark of light. The runes coalesce and disappear as his hand begins to glow with bright white light. Nodding, satisfied with his work, Daeron reaches out and touches his familiar and speaks the needed trigger word. The impish elemental and the glow wink out of sight in an instant. "Very good. Please follow me out of the inn and then take to the skies, following from some distance. It is safe to approach when I indicate."

Here's hoping he causes minimal fuss with this caravan. With a slight shake of his head, the slender elf strides to the door and opens it. "I believe I am prepared, it's just the chest. Follow me please." Without further dawdling, Daeron left the inn in the Stone quarter that had been his home for years and left to meet his new travelling companions.

Arriving after some time at Sorin's caravan, Daeron thanks the valet and pays him for his trouble. The chest containing his belongings was rather large after all. He pauses, studying the caravan and the corresponding bustle. Quite a lot of people for a trade expedition. Still, it will be a chance to travel if nothing else. Sorin vouches for them as good people, so that will suffice for now, I think.

Daeron will act as follows if no one approaches the well dressed elf openly studying the caravan.

A stocky bruiser of a man approaches the elf. His clothes are worn and patched, but his gear is well-cared for. He has shaggy hair and a crooked, busted nose.

He inclines his head at Daeron.

"Hey. You Suh'Sorin's guy? Th'The spellslinger?", he asks abruptly in Skald.

Daeron nods politely at the burly and disheveled man as he approaches, trying to hide a slight nervous tic. Not the image I would prefer to present to the world, but at least his gear is in good order. The man speaks, suddenly, and Daeron nods again in affirmation.

"Friend of Sorin Saldward, spellslinger, engineer, alchemist and wizard of no small repute. My name is Daeron Lareththor, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. ...uh? I suppose I didn't catch your name." Daeron says, cocking his head slightly in curiousity. Hopefully dropping Sorin's surname establishes I am who I say I am.

Noticing Pavel speaking to someone, Théoden finds that quite odd so he moves to investigate, figuring it's probably the newcomer. Managing to just catch the wizard's name and most of what he said, "Good morning to you, my good man! Théoden. Théoden Orrick." He nods in greeting. "And this here is my good man Pavel. He's just Pavel." He gives a shrug, smiling.

I was a little too slow to post. I'll assume you didn't ask the trailing question and you heard my response. We can retcon if needed.

Performing another bow at the approach of another tall human. He replies in Skald, "Ah, Mr. Pavel. Or do you prefer, simply, Pavel? A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well Mr. Orrick. I take it you are part of this trade expedition as well? I admit I know little about it, save that you're bound for foreign lands."

Manulani, impatient as his kind tends to be, chooses this moment to dive from the air in front of his master. The little horned elemental bows extravagantly, flourishing his wings like a cloak. In Taldane, "Don't allow the droll elf to turn talk to business so quickly! He's enough of a bore even without that. I am -you humans butcher my true name horribly- Manulani, assistant to the oaf behind me."

Edited.

"Yes. Yes I am. Although, I barely know these scoundrels much more than yourself." He winks, grinning wryly as he glances at Pavel before continuing. "Anyway, there truly is little to know. Just follow where the road takes you, I say. That's what makes it so fantastic!" Immediately taken aback by the entrance of the new creature, Théoden grins at the fascinating being. "Well good day to you... what was it again? Wait! Don't tell me. Let me have a go at guessing. Okay, was it Manunaly? Malanali? Mahna Mahna?" A skeptical look upon his face, Théoden can only shake his head as he just can't seem to figure it out correctly. "Sorry, friend, but I don't think I've got it right. Anyway, you are a fantastic one, aren't you?! So as an assistant, you do have this one trained properly, don't you?" he asks as he motions toward the wizard, grinning at his jest.

Daeron smiles and begins to respond to Theoden before stopping abruptly, startled by the entrance of his minion. He struggles to stifle a groan while Theoden addresses his irreverent familiar. The groan quickly turns to a slight smile at Theoden's inability to pronounce the Elven name. His smile grows into a chuckle as Manulani begins to sulk and twitch his wings irritably. "Don't worry about the little fiend's name, friend. I'm sure Manu will suffice. He's about as 'trained' as one could expect from an elemental of air. That is to say, telling him to do something is like trying to control the wind itself."

Manulani narrows his eyes and glares up at his master before taking to the sky and begins to loop and corkscrew. "Don't mind him too much, friends, he's harmless but capricious. I'm fairly sure he's off to sulk for a while. As for the expedition, a little adventure would suit my blood. I've lingered overlong in this city doing trivial work. Hopefully something more worthwhile will meet us come tomorrow, eh?"

Raith takes a look at the new fella talking to Pavel and Théoden. He makes his way over.

An athletic man with dark eyes set in a handsome face wearing a serious expression approaches Daeron. He is wiping the sweat and dirt from his working man hands with a well-used cloth. He's dressed in thick wool pants and wears a well-kept, old wool coat with a few patches. A beautiful scabbard with an extraordinarily ornate hilt extending from the top is strapped to his belt. He extends his hand to Daeron and says in Varisian, "Good to meet you. So you're the finger-wiggler Sorin's talked into giving us a hand. I hope he told you we're dealing with some dangerous folk from another land. This ain't no Desnan Holiday we're going on. You sure you want to join us?"

Daeron takes the offered hand and shakes, his brow furrowing as he frowns slightly at the man's words. Finger-wiggler? Not a name I've heard before. Cocking his head and concentrating on his hands, Daeron moves through the necessary arcane signs meticulously, muttering words of power while observing his hand's movements. With a flash, his hand begins to glow with a steady white light as he completes his spell.

Nodding with satisfaction, he addresses the serious newcomer, "Yes, I suppose I am a 'finger-wiggler', as you put it. Daeron Lareththor at your service, sir. Sorin mentioned that the expedition itself would be dangerous, but I can't recall him mentioning a specific threat beyond those expected of the road. These 'dangerous folk' you mention are rival traders or something of the sort?"

TCB: What did Sorin tell me about the expedition? A rough idea would be helpful since Daeron won't be aware of the party's true purpose for a while.

"The name's Raith", says Raith, "No rival traders. More like fiends. They lurk in the shadows coming out now and then to try to kill us. Best watch your shadow close. I've got to get back to work. Go to talk to Sandru. He might have something around here for a finger-wiggler to do. No lazing. Everybody helps keep the caravan moving." Raith wanders back to checking wagon wheels, mending tents, and installing stoves.

Garand will take note of the new arrival. He's a fairly lanky Shoanti, with one mangled hand and some impressive scars, in place of the more common tattoos favored by his kind. He was attempting to train a somewhat bedraggled looking elk of great size, having it charge one of three posts he had selected, and then back off and charge another. He gives the animal some grain and fruit, before approaching Daeron.

"I welcome you," he says, first in rough Elven, and then again in more fluent Varisian, continuing in whichever language Daeron seems more comfortable with. He checks the skies for ravens, before speaking, "We are bound for the north, and in the full brunt of winter, no less. If you would travel with us, bring warm clothing, and if you have magics to bring fire into the world, I'm certain that we will find great use for that learning."

"We have magic sufficient to allow us to endure natural cold, up to a point, but an extra level of protection would be a good idea, and we should strive to never be reliant entirely on a single source of protection, so that a common abjuration does not leave one exposed to the full force of winter."

"The journey itself may take months, and you will not see home for a year or more. Do not commit to this undertaking lightly."

Squinting into the sky after the mephit, Pavel finishes responding.
"Yuh'yeah, man- juh'just Pavel right? I ain't wuh'one to stand on formalities y'know... So, in a fight it's probably muh'me an' Theoden between you and the s#+!. Don't wuh'worry about it: we took care of Sorin we'll tuh'take good care of you."

"And duh'don't worry about Raith... Thuh'that's how he is. He's got a sense of humor in there someplace.", he chuckles to himself.

After Raith and Garand carry on so 'encouragingly', Theoden just looks at the elf with an awkward smile for a moment before breaking the silence. "Well then, welcome aboard the Doom and Gloom caravan, my good man! We are here to make sure your time with us will be absolutely abysmal with all the death in one corner, fiends in the other, the cold just waiting to freeze the very blood that courses through your veins, and last but certainly not least... you will NOT be enjoying any holidays!" He pats him on the shoulder, smiling fantastically. A smile that makes you wonder how his teeth are so perfect. You swear a tiny light gleamed somewhere off of them. "And not necessarily in that order," he winks. "Outside of that, my 'finger-waggling' friend, I shall call you Daeron, if that suffices. And your loyal and steadfast assistant I shall most definitely go with Manu. Let's face it, it's just simpler." he says, winking again. "C'mon, I shall introduce you to Sandru. He will show you the ropes. Unless of course you have already met him?"

After Raith and Garand carry on so 'encouragingly', Theoden just looks at the elf with an awkward smile for a moment before breaking the silence. "Well then, welcome aboard the Doom and Gloom caravan, my good man! We are here to make sure your time with us will be absolutely abysmal with all the death in one corner, fiends in the other, the cold just waiting to freeze the very blood that courses through your veins, and last but certainly not least... you will NOT be enjoying any holidays!" He pats him on the shoulder, smiling fantastically. A smile that makes you wonder how his teeth are so perfect. You swear a tiny light gleamed somewhere off of them. "And not necessarily in that order," he winks. "Outside of that, my 'finger-waggling' friend, I shall call you Daeron, if that suffices. And your loyal and steadfast assistant I shall most definitely go with Manu. Let's face it, it's just simpler." he says, winking again. "C'mon, I shall introduce you to Sandru. He will show you the ropes. Unless of course you have already met him?"

Jade Regent Volume 3 - The Hungry Storm

The caravan picks up its steady pace as it veers absolute north. During the day, the plains on each side of the path are slowly browned by the lack of sunshine, while migrating birds hint at your folly by flying resolutely in the opposite direction you are heading. At night, stars dance in circle around the polar star that sits immobile just above the trail ahead of you, though you've never seen it quite high.

All this doom and gloom is fortunately mitigated by Ameiko's good spirit, Pavel, Garand and Theoden's mad races across the plains and successful hunting of venison, small and big, Sandru's laughter and it's merry violin, and Koya's subtle smile and words of wisdom.

During the course of their travels, Garand continues training his elk in the skills it will need as a companion, as much as possible while keeping up with the caravan. He will also attempt to extend the company's food supplies by magically enhancing any late-blooming berries he finds at the end of the day, using any magic that remains in his rod of metamagic to extend the duration to two weeks. If he can find sufficient berries, he will try to feed the mounts and steeds, rather than the people, as their fodder will be harder to find in icy terrain, since they cannot subsist on meat. With luck, he'll extend the duration of the animal's food supply by a week or so with this solution alone.

As the caravan travels north, Daeron continues to acquaint himself with the other members of the caravan while performing his day-to-day duties. He is friendly, but tends to come across as the snooty intellectual that he is. Manulani patrols the caravan constantly. He pauses to carefully examine a wagon rut for an instant before flitting off capriciously to eavesdrop on a nearby conversation. In executing his duties, Daeron pays particular attention to the state of the wagons, seeking to use leverage his previous experience as an engineer to find weaknesses before they become a greater problem. He supplements his mundane skills with his arcane prowess as needed; mending problems magically in an instant where they might take hours if fixed by mundane means. When the opportunity presents itself, the conjurer finds a quiet spot in which he can scribe arcane scrolls of spells that see infrequent use.

Other descriptions of activities during the first weeks of travel north?

As the weeks pass, the caravan heads steadily north. The air grows cold and clear as you progress, and the polar star creeps slowly north, confirming your progress. You spot large herds of bisons with thick wool coats moving through the plains and staying far from your caravan. The trail rises steadily and the Stormspear Mountains lie both east and west of you as you make your way through the Stormspear Hills. Ahead looms the even greater and terrifying Rimethirst Range, commanding the access to the Outer Rim, beyond which the sun never rises in winter. According to Sandru's research, the Path of Aganhei leads to one of the rare paths across the Rimethirst.

When he feels that his training is complete, Garand will turn his attention to foraging. Every morning, he will call upon the Horned Hunter's favor to help him provide for his companions, using his magical rod to extend the duration of Deadeye's Lore.

Survival check to gather food while traveling, thanks to the spell, he can do so without halving his travel speed and the duration is 14 hours, thanks to the metamagic rod. DC 10 Survival provide daily food and water for himself, and every 2 pts. above that provides for someone else. 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 32

11 people, plus self, the first day, but for simplicity, assume he takes 10 on all following days, weather permitting, providing seven people (and himself) with fresh food and water, and saving us eight people's worth of rations in case of other difficulties.

Nothing else for me.
Pavel looks back south for a silent moment, realizing that this may well be the last time he ever sees the continent of his birth... but these mountains and plains hold little meaning for him and any hope he had to encapsulate once and for all the sum of the people he's met, the things he's seen and what he may be losing ultimately fails. It all continues, and the land itself forgets in time. He pulls up his scarf and urges his cantankerous steed forward.

Raith spends time improving his Ulfen with Pavel. He trains with his new blade learning its personality both as a weapon and an individual. He watches closely over Ameiko when not busy fixing harnesses, wagon wheels, and stoves. He maintains his usual stoic silence enjoying the conversation of others rather than participating. He keeps his eyes on on the landscape and sky knowing any creaure might be a spy for the enemy.

Perception:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21

More weeks pass you by, as you make your way on the Path of Aganhei, through the Stormspear Hills. For most of you, this is the edge of the world. Yet, you seem intent on going further, which is puzzling to no end...

Days are mostly spent either on maintenance, guard duty, hunting for food and water, which Garand does like no other, and generally watching time pass by, at the slow pace of the caravan. Small raidings and banditry are, to an extent, a welcomed sight, as they break the monotony like nothing else. Even Sandru's fiddler has become a positive sight and no longer makes you cringe.

Passed the Hills, the trail carves through the impossible stone wall of the Rimethirst Range. The trail narrows and steepens, often standing between a mountain wall and a ravine, making progress slow and hazardous at best. To make things worst, flash ice and snow storms seem to move through the range, forcing the caravan to stop where it lay.

Finally, two months into your travel, with winter coming fast, you reach Rimethirst Pass. At your feet stands, south, The whole of Avistan. Your world, everything you know and love. And north, the Outer Rim and beyond, the very Crown of the World and the route to Tian Xia, the unknown, and where your future lay.

Every person on the caravan is silent as you peer left and right, taking in the sight of the worlds at your feet. A handful of people have been where you stand, and you feel like gods.

Ameiko is there with you and stares at the horizon, filled with the weight of destiny, tears flow down her soft cheeks.

Perception please. Feel free to make speeches or share what goes on in your character's mind.

Theoden spends his days talking to everyone and getting to know all the folks that he yet does not. When he's not doing that, he's astride his mighty steed, Pride, and taking in the sights and sounds(or lack thereof) of this new world he's experiencing for the first time.

As they stop at Rimethirst Pass and take in the majesty that encompasses it, Theoden takes a big deep breath and lets out a solemn sigh. "Well, I am leaving the land I've known all my life. This journey...," his voice breaks a bit as he's forced to stop a moment, covering his face with his hand to hide his emotions just before he throws his arms out wide and, "is going to be GREAT! I mean, look at all this! Fantastic, is it not?! I don't know about you all but I can't wait to see where this takes us, hm?! This is the day I have been waiting for, my friends! Just waiting!" He smiles brilliantly as he looks to the others, his smile morphing into a wry grin. "Had you all fooled, didn't I? I was born for the stage you know. I mean, seriously, look at me. Good looks? BORN with 'em. Talent? Natural, no less. So, if I do say so myself, I'd say perfect for it," he states as a matter of fact. "Well, I'm ready to continue on when you all are." He then turns his attention back to the land in front of them all, marveling at it.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18

Raith takes Ameiko's hand and gives it a gentle and supportize squeeze. He thinks to himself, This is hardest on her. She's leaving her life and the people she knows to sit on a throne in a land she barely knows to save people she barely knows. I know she's not doing this for herself. She doesn't have much interest in ruling lands or wealth. She's doing this for all those people being ruled by the evil that sits on the throne we mean to knock it off of. She's probably frightened and worried at the same time. There's not much we can do to comfort her. It's only going to get worse when we arrive in her ancestral lands. Desna, I pray you protect her and give us a hand from time to time. We'll need your luck on this one. He musters a rare smile, "Beautiful mountains. Seems worthy of a song or poem this place does."

Pulling his bearskin furs closer around his shoulders, Daeron steps free of the wagons as he looks around at the majesty before him. He ponders for a moment, trying to recall what he knows of the area. Quite remarkable! The primal forces responsible for this mountain chain must be tremendously powerful. Sad that these folk are eager to reach their destination. I wouldn't mind spending some time conducting further study on the geology of the region.

Shivering slightly, Daeron switches his gaze away from the tableau below and onto Theodan as he begins to speak. Seeing the giant of a man becoming visibly upset, the elf begins to step closer to console him. Daeron is caught completely by surprise -halting suddenly- when the paladin's move changes abruptly. "I shan't speak for the others but I found your acting to be commendable, friend Theoden. I was quite taken in by your little ruse." The elf says with a chuckle. "I rather think this expedition will be rather amazing as well. 'Tis truly rather beautiful here. A marvel of primeval majesty even!" He steps up beside Theoden as Manulani emerges from the wagon and flies into the cover of Daeron's cloak and furs. "Pretty fancy place, boss! Mighty chilly though..." says the little elemental in a sulking tone.

Woops. Sorry. That was me above. I thought I had switched to Daeron as my default. My bad.

Perception 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18

Garand's thoughts are on what lies ahead. His own people like to boast to themselves that they thrive in environments that would break soft civilized folk, and yet, before him now looms at expanse that would turn their proud boasts into ashes in their mouths...

Pavel's Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 16
Garand's Heal: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Raith's Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29

Ameiko squeezes Raith's hand back, with the other hand, she wipes the tears flowing on her cheeks and signs softly in the tongue of her motherland:

"The leaves float down,
Their veins heavy from time.
Pushed up by a tree,
Fed by the Sun,
Until Fall comes."

"Autumn plucks a leaf,
Leaves it dangling
In the sunset light.
From green, she grew red,
Ready to sore."

"Warm and light is Destiny
And it picks the red leaf
On its wings of ether,
Defying the Heaven, the leaf
Laughs in the wind."

"But the Heavens
Set the Laws,
Inexorable,
And the leaves sores not,
But tumbles down."

Her voice chokes and turns quiet. "I was a leaf and I feel like I'm falling... I will save my people, but I leave Avistan with a sour taste, for Avistan stole my youth, and Avistan stole my love..."

I'm hearing 'These are the Days of our Lives' music playing...

Raith embraces Ameiko, stunned at the revelation. He pets her head and comforts her saying nothing.