Prologue: Fight and Flight
 

The afternoon sun burns down overhead as the day drags slowly onward. You find yourself slowly circling the top of the make-shift palisade around the village. Food has been scarce of late and most of the tribe have been called to a hunt. Chief Ragor has called upon the village youth to keep watch on the walls while the rest of the Oldok are away.

To the North and West the distant horizon is obscured by the waves of heat rising from the grasslands. To the South and East visibility is only a few hundred yards until it meets the trees of the forests beyond. The wall is only about 16 hands high but it offers a decent, although hot, vantage to view the surrounding countryside. Your tribe has only been here a month or two and the shoddy wooden wall was the best the village could manage.

The day has been a miserable one, and it seems even the birds have taken shelter from the summer heat. You have been on the wall since just after sun-up and you haven't seen so much as a Spearow in hours. Your companions look equally as miserable and board, but at least offer conversation to pass the time.

Zednik Iron-Heart
 

Bottom of the Southern Wall

Daeron kept under the shadow of the wall as best he could, outside the wooden perimeter as he watched over the Mareep while they grazed between the woods and the fort. The heat was almost staggering for the slight boy, Stitch trying his best to hide in the darker shadow of his partner, beady eyes glazed in weariness, hood drawn over his round head. Daeron's wool overshirt was open and practically hanging from his shoulders, showing the pale frame beneath, slick with sweat.

He looked up to hear Zednik's comment and nodded, if a bit sheepish. Even with a hearty diet, he still looked ready to fall over in a strong wind. But he soldiered on and only took his fair share, even in the slim times. He was made of tougher stuff, maybe not of muscle, but of mettle and he knew it. He whistled lightly towards Sven to grab his attention and managed, "Do you think they'll use one of the flock if it gets worse?"

Dice Roll: 1d20+3
d20 Results: 16 (Total = 19)

Keeping an eye out

Sven Straw-Skein
 

Bottom of the Wall

Sven kept himself on the bottom of the wall. Squinting from behind raggly hair obscuring his eyes, he scanned the surrounding horizon once more.

Still nothing.

Shrugging, he paused a bit and stretched his stiff limbs. His long days doing pretty much the same thing for the tribe's flock had long since taught him it was no good devoting 100% of yourself to watching out. You'd only make yourself tired and stiff in less than an hour, and then you'd be of no use to anyone as a lookout. Rolling his shoulders to loosen them up, he looked back at Duggles, his Mareep. The poor fella wasn't doing to well in the high sun, but he didn't dare shear him with the other mareep. Somehow, doing so seemed to weaken their strange ability to bring forth those little shocks of lightning, and he relied on Duggles for that.

Daeron's whistle brought him back to reality. He had gotten used to his signals long ago, and didn't hesitate to reply. "Maybe, but it won't come to that," he says confidently. "Just you wait, soon the hunters will be all gathering back with enough food to stuff us all full for a week. My da said there was good game to be found around here." Of course, he had said that two months ago when the tribe first arrived here, and even then Sven knew his father Oglaf Back-Foot had only said that to put his mind at ease. His father had a habit of saying that every time the tribe found a new place, but if his transparent lies could make at least one person feel better....

Perception:
Dice Roll: 1d20-1
d20 Results: 8 (Total = 7)

Daeron nodded with a soft sigh. It was a phrase he'd heard before, more often when things were getting worse than better. "Hope so..." He looked out over the flock, wondering which ones might end up being eaten first. Likely any of the weak or older ones, as the hardier ones could live better. Stitch roused sluggishly and inched his way up the back of Daeron's leg, making him squirm a little at the sensation, still not used to the little gripping feet after all these years. "How long, you think?"

Nydia Star-Counter
 

Sven Straw-Skein
 

Sahara Heart-Seer