(015) Near Saxxon's Gatehouse

[waysoftheearth]

heartless wrote:
Wibert intend on cooking dinner says, "If we are going to move on then I will get some meat for the stew from the old mule before we go". He uses his sharp dagger to cut off some meat to cook with later.

[waysoftheearth]

ehiker133 wrote:
Wondering if the southeast face of all of these ravines might be rocky, Desmond will first climb the easier northwestern slope to check the southeast face of that hillock. If that fails to reveal a rocky cliff face, he'll head back southeast and climb the more difficult southeast face to see what he can find further up.

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
A Gully South of the Party (Desmond)

Demond hikes relatively easily up the slope of the north-west gully wall, and looks out over the adjacent vale. It is much wider than the gully he was just in, and additionally his sharp Hobbit eyes spy several bodies of fallen Men. These must be the brigands this company of adventurers had recently fought, he realises.

However, the hillock upon which he stands is equally grassy and gentle-sloped on both sides, offering no protection whatever from the elements.

Desmond shrugs, and heads back the way he came...

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
Meanwhile at the party, Wibert removes the simple harness from the dead mule, and heaves the heavy beast over so that he can get at its unscratched side.

Now the beast ordinarily adds an animal tang to the air, but once Wibert cuts into it with his dagger the odour turns positively rank. As the Halfling continues the messy butchery, pulling off sinewy slabs of stringy meat, the others are in little doubt that the smell might attract scavengers... or worse...

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
A Gully South of the Party (Desmond)


Now Desomd works his way up the steep, rocky face of the south-east gully wall. It is tough going for the short fellow, but in due time, and with a couple of risky hops, he scrambles to the top.

Using a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow, Desmond surveys the next valley to the south east from his new vantage. It is a much broader valley again -- more than twice as wide as the last one he overlooked. But of more interest, the rocky outcrop does indeed protrude haphazardly from the gentle slope which descends to the south-east from where he stands.

At worst, Desmond reckons (wisdom 6), a lean-to shelter could be constructed between some of the more prominent rocks...

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
A Nearby Gully (Gustave)

Meanwhile, Gustave finds himself tramping along another gully. It's far more dignified than scampering up the rock faces like some kind of insect.

Ahead, he spies movement, and immediately slows. What was that? He cautiously advances, peering intent to the shrubs and heath along the west face of the gully, some 30 or so yards ahead whence he may have seen something.

Ah, there seems to be some kind of path winding between two ridges. And look! Just beyond that heath there is a nice little bench for a weary traveller to rest a moment. He must have reached the grounds of the keep!

Gustave advances with growing confidence now, and suddenly -- only a dozen strides from the bench -- an old Man in a dusty brown robe hobbles into view, taking a few steps before he notices Gustave at all.

The old Man leans heavily upon a gnarled walking staff, which he grasps with both hands at shoulder height, for he is near doubled over. A long cowl is drooped over his head, so that Gustave can only make out the tip of the fellow's nose and his long white beard.

"Come, Sir," says the old Man at length, "Be welcome. Share this bench and a tale with me, ere my dusk duties call,"

[waysoftheearth]

tonneau wrote:
"My dear Sir!", exudes Gustave, quelling his surprise and putting on his best beaming grin, "Well met indeed".
His eyes dance around the hills quickly in a brief search for accomplices as he strides toward the bench.
"I must admit I was not excepting to encounter any friends out here", he adds, pulling out his wine skin and pulling the stopper with practiced flourish, "but if you do indeed have a few moments, perhaps we can share a little something to warm the bones?", he concludes, waggling the wine skin as if trying to attract a horse to straw, and proferring it to the old man, brow raised.

[waysoftheearth]

danhem wrote:
Ulric's nose wrinkles as the stench rises from the butchered carcass of the mule.

"We should move as quickly as possible. I'm sure that rocky ridge was there. Let's start moving the cart in that direction. Hopefully Desmond will return with news. I don't like having so many people wandering off alone. It reminds me of that first night we left Ket and we were stumbling around in the dark looking for one another. But then..." Ulric looks around the company as if counting faces, "most of you were not there. Anyway, lets get this wreck moving. Wibert, finish your work quickly but cleanly. No blood drops or trails to guide scavengers to our camp."

Ulric waves up to Olaf on the ridge motioning him to join them.

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
The Party

Ulric signals Olaf to come down from his perch, and by the time he has rejoined the party Wibert has stripped most of what he deems to be the "good cuts" from the dead mule. Enough for all.

These slabs of raw meat are thunked onto the back of the righted cart on top of an empty sack. The meat bleeds off substantially at first, but this slows to a drip now and then within a few minutes.

"It's a good thing it ain't high summer," grumbles Victor. And spits.

Preparations are then made to move the cart from the kill site to wherever Desmond is...

It will take at least two strong Men to move to cart along -- one pulling from the front, and one pushing from behind. Dieter is the strongest (17), then Andaros and Olaf (14). Boris and Highbough are both capable too (13).

Who will do what?

[waysoftheearth]

eris wrote:
Olaf takes a last look around, worried that two of the party have left the group and not returned, but seeing nothing moving from his perch atop the ridge, he shrugs and comes back down the party.

"Where did the fancy man and the little man get off to?" Olaf asks when he rejoins the group.

"I'll push the cart." Olaf offers, but adds with a grin, "But nobody rides."

"Where are we pushing it, too?" Olaf asks as he puts his shoulder to the back of the cart and strains to get it moving.