Immersive Ink

Tonneau wrote:"eghhh...whats for breakfast?" croaks Gustave, finally rousing himself but remaining prone to rub sleep from his eyes.

"Hind leg of nothing." Olaf says dryly, "Let's get going! If we run across some game great, but today I think we need to put miles between us and the Abbey."

"Everyone keep your eyes open for ripe fruits and berries as we travel." Olaf says as he takes up his bow and prepares to lead out.

"Hind leg of nothing, eh?" mutters Gustave to himself as he stows his silken (and now rather soiled) bedding, "mmm...perhaps with a orange glaze?.

"Ah for the days of master chef Wibert..." he muses as he shoulders his pack, "...now that hobbit could make a soup fit for a Lairds wedding with a dry stick and a moldy leaf."

Wen will fall into line some lethargically... "It would be nice to nap a little longer under the sun don;t you think." Once the inevitable march starts he will keep his eyes open for any edible plants they happen to pass. Particular any root or greens that could be cooked later.

After drinking deeply and filling his waterskin, Dorgan herds the party back into marching order and takes up his position at the rear. He is alert for both danger and food.

Very good.

The company shoulder their packs, tighten their belts, and wearily set off at the best pace they can manage with a pair of blinded Hobbits.

The day proves warm and bright, and were it not for the lingering threat of pursuit and the lack of victuals, it would be a pleasant day for hiking. The route is mainly downhill for the best part of the morning, with Highbough and Wen leading the fellowship around most of the rocky rises, via gullies and dells as practical. There are numerous tiny brooks running down from the hills, so access to water is not a concern... but the vegetation is sparse and low, and there is nothing that is clearly edible...

d6

As evening approaches you have made good ground. There has been no sign of pursuit, and the hills are largely behind you. Before you are the great undulating grasslands. It took you two days to cover these lands at best pace. It will likely take you three, or perhaps even four, days to reach Ket in your present state.

Dusk is coming... every one is starving hungry, and feeling light headed for the effort of marching.

What to do?

Dorgan will recommend they start looking for a camp right away.

"No point 'n lookin' too hard for a good site. Just make sure we ain't atop a hill and let's call it a day."

Dorgan isn't much of a hunter but he'll meander around the site once it's settled, looking for firewood and anything remotely edible to bring back.

Protein is protein. Highbough scavenges for edible worms, grubs, ants, beetles, grasshoppers, etc. and, like a dark and ancient crow, eats them whole and wriggling. ("Sashimi from the soil" is the approximate Elfish translation.) He shares with any of the others who are brave enough to try this delicacy. While he is low to the ground, he would also notice any tracks or scat indicating game animals are nearby, or perhaps stumble across his personal favorite, bird eggs.

Wen would have shaken of his weariness as the dusk approaches. When a halt is called he would sigh... "Nothing is finer then walking in the grasslands at dusk, are we sure we need to stop?".

Seeing that the others are all for stopping he would of course stop. He would wander the perimeter looking for signs of life during the hours of dusk, always looking off into the dwindling light.

Gustave collapses to the ground with the metallic clunk of mail then rummages deep within his pack to extract a few dusty pastry crumbs; these he nibbles at haltingly, ecstatic murmurings dribbling from his lips.

"Too bad those bowls you grabbed from that room can't do something miraculous like conjure up food, Gustave," Desmond says, trying to silence a rumble of his stomach.

"Josiane, you figure anything out about that staff, yet?"