Immersive Ink

waysoftheearth wrote:
The company fan out and collect what little fuel they can find for a fire. Most of the plant life here about is low, wiry shrubs growing between rocks and boulders, and there is very little solid timber. And most of the dead brambles and briars that can be found are wet with the winter rain.

However, enough tinder and small woods are found to make do, but Wibert can't locate anything much in the way of roots or herbs. There simply isn't anything that looks edible growing around here.

With some determination (and lantern oil) a small fire is set, and Wibert produces his set of nested cooking pots in which to do some cooking.

It is unfortunate that the damp wood produces quite a lot of smoke as it burns, but fortunate that a great bank of cloud cover is rolling in ahead of you and the chugging wind soon breaks the smoke up.

waysoftheearth wrote:
Everyone salivates wildly as Wibert cooks the fish and hare, and even fried reptile look appetising when you've missed dinner, breakfast and lunch.

Pretty soon nobody can wait any longer, and everyone devourers their small allotment of grub.

Desmond has the further misfortune of having to share his portion with Mondes, who scoffs his part down in about two mouthfuls. "Is that it?" he complains.

It amounts to about half a meal per person, but it is certainly better than no meal at all.

waysoftheearth wrote:
It is early afternoon, and it looks like it will rain in a little while.

What now?

heartless wrote:
"Gustave come help fan the fire and I will let you in on some cooking secrets and give youa taste as we cook. Maybe Mondes would like sometime to eat too?", asks Wibert.

eris wrote:
As soon as we're finished eating...and Olaf keeps looking around nervously while the cooking and eating is going on...he says, "Let's get moving! If we hurry maybe we can make it to some farm or other before night falls, or the rains start coming down.'

waysoftheearth wrote:
All are in agreement about reaching a farmstead with haste; nobody wants to spend another famished night out in the rain.

Dirt is kicked over the small fire while Wibert cools and rinses his pots in the stream. Then everyone lugs their sacks full of silver and continues the march along the now swift flowing stream; following it into the south -- toward Ket.

...(1d6)...

waysoftheearth wrote:
At first you make good time, with your strength renewed by the bite to eat. But a few short hours later, everyone is flagging.

The treasure sacks are heavier with every stride, your bellies are aching for a decent feed, and to make matters even worse a steady drizzle has set in.

The pace slows to an abject crawl... but doggedly, the company pushes on...

waysoftheearth wrote:
Finally, when the light is beginning to fail, Olaf tops a shrubby rise and peers down over the river plain below and spies a homely farmstead, not half a mile further on.

It comprises a small group of thatched-roof buildings sitting handsomely atop a low hill overlooking a patch of tilled fields, with well worn tracks between them.

Olaf is greatly relieved to see smoke curling from the chimney, a welcoming yellow light in the window rims of the main building, and what appears to be a farmer herding his last few sheep and cows into a stable for the evening...

There is not a hour's light left in the day, and the wind is in a cantankerous mood, pushing squalls of rain and drizzle across the darkening sky...

tonneau wrote:
"My dear Wibert", whispers Gustave to Wibert as the party approaches the buildings, "I would not desire to know your secrets, as I fear my skills at the pot would be a mere shadow of your own."
"I would, however, request the chance to experience one day your full repertoire, unabashed, unlimited and unleashed - should fate bequeath us the opportunity..."

waysoftheearth wrote:
"You must be barmy!" snorts Mondes, "that so-called meal was almost as awful as it was meagre."

However Gustave is unmoved, still smacking his lips fondly and tweaning his now ridiculously unfashionable moustache. He has apparently become an avid admirer of Wibert's partially boiled snake and stick-flanged toad.