Immersive Ink

waysoftheearth wrote:
Ulric conducts the morbid search of the slain Hobgoblins; their thick purple tongue and glazed eyes already beginning to bloat even as their ghastly wounds begin to attract the interest of flies...

Each has a flaccid leather purse containing a scant copper and silver coins, a severed Goblin finger-tip (evidently not belonging to any of these corpses), some teeth which might just as easily have been pulled from a Man's jaw, and a bovine knuckle joint.

Two of the Wargs have no possessions, not even saddles for their riders, but the third one wears a thick, spiked leather collar which a coin-sized iron token hangs from.

For their part, the Hobgoblin weapons are crooked spears and short, curved swords of crude but effective construction, and they wear greasy, lice ridden, padded jacks and boiled-leather helms. Three of them carry satchels that contain their filthy water skins and what passes for (cough) supplies -- that which Wibert has already examined.

None of them wear any shoes -- their feet are hard and calloused, with horrible, black toe-nails, thick as talons.

waysoftheearth wrote:
Ulric collects whatever he considers valuable from the corpses, while Gustave re-takes his heavy sack of spilled silver, taking care not to miss a coin, and Olaf helps Pelenwin get back on his feet.

Highbough performs his augury with the severed goblin paw, and places the wooden dice just so upon it where it lies in the mud. The remainder of the party tighten their belts, stow their weapons and shoulder their heavy packs and prepare to get underway.

(1d6).

waysoftheearth wrote:
The long, hungry hike back to Ket gets underway once more.

Your sacks full of silver are all the heavier for your lack of breakfast, and your many, MANY cuts, bruises, scratches, and genuine wounds.

"If we live through this... I tell ya..." complains Mondes with almost every pace.

The one consolation being that the weather is cool against your hot work load. But it does indeed look like rain clouds are gathering ahead of you...

waysoftheearth wrote:
by noon, or perhaps shortly after, everyone agrees it is time for a break. You are all half-starved, ragged, and at a wits end. The Halflings have even tried eating the thin, dry tufts of grass, but it tastes... like grass, and it is not filling in the least.

During the short rest, every takes a good fill of water, which is thankfully plentiful, while Highbough again tries his hand at spear fishing in the stream (1d6=1) but his luck is ill... for due to his famished state all the strength has left his arm.

Wibert and Olaf spend half an hour trying to shoot small game (1d6=3,6) and while Wibert only wastes a few arrows (3), Olaf finally shoots a fat hare.

It isn't much, but roasted it might make for a couple of mouthfuls each...

Everybody is so hungry by now that there is no question of continuing on without devouring Olaf's catch...

It is perhaps an hour after noon, and it does look like there will be rain in perhaps a few hours.

eris wrote:
"If we're going to cook and eat this now, we need to be quick about it." Olaf says looking over his shoulder in the direction he expects to see goblins and wargs approaching from, "Hanging around is a bad idea, me thinks."

danhem wrote:
Ulric collects the copper and silver coins from the dead goblins and the iron token from the collar of the warg before they resume the march.

During the break, while the others try their hand at hunting and fishing, Ulric moves a good distance from the rest along the stream. He asks Gustave to keep an eye on him.

"If you see me collapse, come and get me. I'll be asleep. If you see me fall into the water, come fast."

Once he is out of range of the rest of the group and sees a spot in the stream with some fish, Ulric will unleash the Somnolence upon them.

OOC: I'm not sure if this has been done before, but it's worth a shot. ;D

waysoftheearth wrote:
While the others decide on how to prepare the hare, Ulric ambles a way along the stream searching for a pool where fish might be found. This takes a third of an hour, but finally he locates something of a tiny lagoon to the side of the running water.

Though he is no fisherman, he eventually spots the silver reflection of smallish fish darting about beneath the water, and thus prepares to conjure his magic...

(1d6=5)

... the Draconic verse rises once more from his mind and takes control of his tongue, and the spell is uttered.

(2d6=1,2)

And quite amazingly, Urlic himself is not overcome by Morpheus. Instead, he observes a small school of white fish bobbing listlessly near the water surface.

danhem wrote:
"It worked!" Ulric laughs. He then quickly gathers up his catch stuffing them into a small sack. He brings his prizes back to the others to be quickly prepared and eaten.

waysoftheearth wrote:

danhem wrote:"It worked!" Ulric laughs. He then quickly gathers up his catch stuffing them into a small sack. He brings his prizes back to the others to be quickly prepared and eaten.

How does Ulric intend to gather the fish, floating as they are randomly throughout a pool which is 20ft across, and perhaps 3 or 4ft deep in the middle?

danhem wrote:
Ulric will remove his boots and wade into the shallow part (1-2 feet) of the pool trying to collect as many fish as possible by hand.

OOC: Details. Next time I'll pack a fishing net. [img]images/smiley/wink.png[/img]