"Fjyn, is there any way you can heal him some more, I am all out of healing power until morning and he is still unconscious", she says pointing to Quirk.
"All I can do is treat his wounds. I had not thought that we would need so much healing, so I didn't prepare myself for that. I'm sorry." Fjyndel responds.
"What do we do now? My stuff is somewhere in the forrest, and we lack of sleep. And we are far off the point we should be to get the things for Laurel..."
Drint feels the magic enter him, and he awakens. "Thank you, Coralee. That...hurt."
Girther walks towards the burning tree. The dancing flames entrance him. With a loud sigh he rocks back on his heels and raises his head taking in as much of the wild energy as dwarvenly possible. Picking up Fjyndel’s thought he speaks without taking his eyes off of the burning tree, “Yes, my gear and armor is somewhere in the woods. Hopefully still at our original campsite. We are battered, scattered, and hopelessly behind schedule. I’m afraid Laurel’s trust in us was misplaced. Let us rest, heal, and discuss our options.” Putting his idea into action Girther plops down with his back to a tree. He positions himself so that he can watch the tree burn and ignores the rain to the best of his abilities.
"Some might believe, that the burning tree might be a sign for something. Do we hope, that the rest of the wood does not catch fire?" asks Fjyndel, irritated by the actions of the dwarf.
"Do we hope, that the rest of the wood does not catch fire?" asks Fjyndel.
Yeah, I was thinking the same thing myself actually., you know because we still have all of our stuff back there at the camp along with Monarch and I'd hate for there to be a fire rush through there. Hey where is the camp anyway, does anyone remember which way we came? And where does everyone think that witch went? I think she jumped over the cliff to get away from us because we had her, but she did seem quite powerful, so maybe she teleported away. Oh yeah, the fire," Coralee pauses long enough to call upon Desna's Blessing a couple of times and suddenly water appears above the tree over the fire, dousing it a little.
"There that should help a little bit. So, I think I came through thosae bushes over there, so that means the camp should be in that direction right?" She turns to stare at Quince and batts her eyelids at him, "so what do you think O Fearless Leader?"Then she turns to Fjyndel, "do you think you can find our way back Fjyn?"
"I surely do hope so. And Grendel will surely help me with it." the gnome replies.
Still thinking about the missing scythe-woman, Quince is distracted until Coralee addresses him.
"Which way? Oh, uh, I'm sure we came...no...wait..." Quince looks around helplessly.
Survival (1d20-1=0)
He breathes a sigh of relief when Fjyndel points out the way back to camp.
"Yes, I was just going to say that way myself." He pulls the hood of his cloak tighter around his head and follows the resourceful gnome.
Quirk is still in the land of dreams. And the dreams are terrible indeed.
The dark woman has found the way to the village of the fairies. And he has to find a way to warn them before she gets to kill all his friends. So he is flying through the woods and is smelling smoke. Haste and panic override his fears and he barrels on unaware of the leaves and small branches swatting at his face, hands and wings.
As Girther watches large gouts of water cascade down on the burning tree. He listens to his friends discuss the situation in silence. As a miner life was so simple. Now everything is so complex…and dangerous. Girther pictures himself sitting under a tree, watching a tree burn, with rain running off his beard. He thinks he must look like some kind soggy boulder. The image makes him laugh. To himself at first but ending with Girther letting out a laughing bellow that could be heard for miles. He stands up and strips off the top of his sleeping leather. He carefully lays it out next to Quirk. Then he gently lifts Quirk and lays him on the garment. He makes a snug bundle around Quirk and lifts him up. “I can carry the little guy. Will one of you please bring my axe and shield?” he asks.
Seeing the dwarf lifting Quirk, Fjyndel looks to Grendel, checking him once again. "You are hurt, I know. But will you be able to carry Quirk? Ah, yes you are, aren't you?" he asks the riding dog, getting a lick over the face as answer.
"Girther, Grendel is able to carry him, or your equipment, if you like."
After getting this done, Fjyndel leads the way back to the spot where they started the night.
Girther thanks Fjyndel (and Grendel) for carrying his equipment. Walking as though he is carrying a fragile package Girther follows Fjyndel back to the campsite. Setting Quirk down in a safe, comfortable, and dry looking spot Girther begins to make a bed for Quirk out of whatever materials are available. He makes Quirk as comfortable as possible and then begins to put on his armor. “Ya’ll get some sleep. We still have a few hours of darkness left. I will stand guard,” he says.
|
The corpses of your defeated foes litter the ground around the campsite.
For those inclined to search the Zs, Perception DC 15
Three (3) pairs of torn pixie wings, one (1) razor of dubious quality, twelve pieces (12) of gold, a pair of dice [d6s to be exact], a dragon-hilted dagger [made of cold iron, extremely sharp], an ivory amulet carved in the shape of a unicorn's head.
As Girther begins to patrol the area he checks any zombies he comes across. However, he doesn’t notice anything of interest. The nauseating smell and amount of gore prevent him from searching with any real diligence.
Quince casts floating disk and uses it to cart the bodies away from the campsite, giving them a quick search.
He comes back to the campsite and tells everyone what he found. "Well folks, it appears our attackers had a little bit of treasure on them, so it wasn't a total loss!"
Quince lays out what he found: a razor, 12 gp, a pair of dice, a dragon-hilted dagger, and an ivory amulet carved in the shape of a unicorn's head.
"Anybody mind if I hold on to the dagger for now?"
Rad:
Fjyndel tries to get some rest, after he helped Quince get the bodies away from the camp.
He does not want anything from the belongings of the lumberers.
Crawling in his bedroll, he calls Grendel to get next to him, and the riding dog curls up within reach of the gnome.
Coralee looks wearily around the camp site, before going over to check on Monarch. Once she is sure he is alright, she curls up in her little tent and goes to sleep after saying goodnight to the others and thanking Girther for keeping watch.
In the morning, she wakes up still a little bleary eyed from last night's escapade, but ready to say her morning Prayers to Desna and regain the use of her abilities.
|
|
Despite everyone's fervent wish for rest, the weather does not want to cooperate. Two hours after everyone has turned in to sleep, with the exception of Girther who is patrolling area, water flowing from further up is streaming down to the campsite to flood it, abruptly ending your well-deserved rest. The water is now ankle deep and the ground muddy.
A slight brightening of the storm clouds in the East heralds the dawn. But the storm refuses to cede its dominion and simply continues to dump rain over the forest.
Fort-Save DC10 (1d20+5=11)
During the night, when it got colder and colder, Grendel came closer to Fjyndel, warming him. But he could not help when the flood came.
"Dear God Gozreh! I knew you are the God of the Sea, but why does the sea have to come to us?" the gnome curses after realising what happened.
Coralee wakes up as her little tent starts to fill with water. She quickly grabs up her blanket, but it is too late and she gingerly steps outside to the sodden campsite.
"We really need to find somewhere to rest properly. I can't begin to try and heal Quirk until I have regained my healing abilities by Praying to Desna, and I can't do that on couple of hours sleep."
The rest of you notice that this predicament has taken the cheeriness from even Coralee's normally sunny disposition.
Quince wakes up feeling at least a little refreshed. He's been on the road long enough to some sleep is better than none, and there are worse things than water. He even enjoys the feel of the cool water between his toes.
As dawn peeks over the horizon, however, Quince mood dampens. Some rest is better than no rest, but some rest isn't enough to recharge his powers. He grumbles about the campsite, picking up his gear, while a very wet and bedraggled Risk sniffs around a bush.
"We better not run into anything else dangerous today," Quince grumbles out loud. "Or I guess I'll have to just throw a stick at them."
Quirk is still unconscious.
1d20+2=7
Drint starts sneezing and shivering. "I...(atchou!)...think I may have...(atchou!)...a cold..."
|
|
You trudge along a forest trail up a steep angle to avoid the flood. The rain and muddy ground conspire to hamper your progress. Your mood is not improved by the absence of hot food for lunch. Dark clouds still hover in the sky yet you pray that the rains stop soon.
For Quirk
After checking the wounds of his comrads and getting Quirk on Grendel's back to carry him, until the pixie got conscious again, Fjyndel tries to concentrate on his prayers, while riding Grendel. Not only did he pray that the rain would stop, but he also tried to get some access to Gozreh's divinations .
He lets Grendel follow the others.
Girther smiles as Quince admires his new dagger. “It suits him,” Girther thinks to himself. He puts his hand in his belt pouch and casually rolls the dice he claimed between his fingers. He wonders if anyone would like to roll craps later…that is if they ever find a dry place camp. “Friends,” Girther says loudly, “we must find a dry place to camp. We are all exhausted and vulnerable. If Drint feels as bad as he looks then he is on the verge of death. We need to get dry, get rested, get healed, and then I suggest that we get on our way to gather the ingredients we were tasked with acquiring. We are hopelessly behind schedule but we must press on.” With that he falls silent.
As Quirk wakes up from his brush with death he blinks three times and yawns heavily.... "Uuuaaahhhhh...smack smack"
He sniffles around a bit and looks to the others. "Go a bit more to the right, Grendel. The Eldest is not far from here. I already smell the Old Trees of the Darkwood Forest." He looks around as he is still carried by the dog and watches as the others are looking at him puzzled. "Sure you can smell how old a tree is, can't you? You can also hear it by his groaning in the wind. This here is a very old part of the forest."
As Fyindel brows do not make one little twitch to get a bit of distance between them. Quirk thinks for a short time, looks down to Grendel and enlightened he says. "Thank you, Grendel. You have carried me through my ordeal, as the priestess brought me near to death. I will never forget that." Then his wings begin to hum and he lifts a bit into the air, so his feet are just off the ground and he looks expectantly into the round. "Well, we are the last hope of Falcon's Hollow, are we not?"
"Fine, let's find this tree. We'll be one step closer to finishing our mission, and maybe we can find a dry campsite as well. Drint's about to fall over, Girther didn't sleep all night (thanks, Girther, for keeping watch), and my head is all jumbled. None of us is going to be any use if we don't get some real rest."
Drint nods tiredly. "I hope it issss dry there..."
Girther spirits soar when he hears Quirk announce that the Elder Tree is nearby. The momentary elation is replaced by the fatigue that has been seeping into his very bones. Girther speaks in a strong steady voice that almost disguises the weariness that he is feeling, “Truly friends we are blessed. The first goal of our quest is within reach. However, I feel that we must rest. Drint and Quirk in particular have been put through the proverbial ore crusher.”
Girther begins to search the area for a suitable campsite.
After trying to get in contact with Gozreh for two hours, Fjyndel helps searching for a place to rest.
You all notice a definate change in Coralee. She isn't very talkative (except to speak quietly to Monarch as they walk together) and she still appears sodden from the flooded campsite. She looks very much in need of a rest and is only half paying attention to what everyone else is saying.
|
|
You find a small cave. A strange smell permeates it but at least it is dry though it will be very cramped tonight. The rains starts to pick up again and the wind makes it difficult to start a fire with flint and steel.
Perception (Smell) DC 20, get +2 bonus for 5 ranks in Knowledge (nature)
Smell based Perception (1d20+5=9)
Coming to the cave, the gnome is somewhat relieved to find a dry place. "I do not know why Gozreh tests us so hard, but I will contemplate. I hope I get to a conclusion."
Girther takes a deep breath. “A bear live here until recently…a month or so since it left. We should be safe here but we must post a guard just in case. If one of you could give me just a few hours sleep I will be refreshed enough to take over watch duty,” he says tiredly. Looking at his soaked friends he senses that some of them are not just tired but also feeling down. He tries to lift their spirits by telling a joke. Nodding toward everyone’s soaked clothing and the damp animals he says with a wide smile, “The bear would probably think we stink.”
"I've already slept, so i don't need the rest at the moment. Go ahead and go the the land of Dreams. I shall wait for your return."
“Thanks Quirk,” says Girther while flashing a tired smile. He hits the rack and is asleep in moments. His snoring is slightly more offensive than the smell of the bear.
Coralee pats Monarch gently before rolling out a blanket and instantly falling asleep.
Drint can barely roll out his bedroll before he collapses.
While the others are asleep, Quirk watches the forest as it is quiet for the night, very quiet.