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.

Atop the Southern Wall

Zednik paces back and forth on the southern wall, silently bemoaning the oppressive heat.

Dice Roll: 1d20
d20 Results: 7

He scans the tree-line for the hundredth or so time and, not surprisingly, there is still little to be seen.

He next spares a look inside the wall, at a shady spot next to a hut, to check on his pokemon companion, Kehrra. She is exactly were the young man expects her to be, lying back in a puddle the piplup created herself. Zednik smiles, imagining how refreshing a nice swim would be right about now...

Pulling himself away from his musings, Zednik Iron-Heart returns his attention to the task at hand. He starts to speak to the other youths nearby, saying, "I hope this hunt goes better than the last... some of the children are looking frail and could really use some good meat."

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

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?"

Atop the Wall

Nydia lets out a sigh as she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. Her own unique job is hard work in it's own right: She must attend to Jhahara's needs, keep her serpents well-fed and milked, and assist the healers and herbalists when she can, all while keeping up with her studies. But at least the wise-woman's hut is dark, even if the exotic, musty scents grow worse with the sun beating down. She's not accustomed to being out in the sunlight, as one can guess by her unusually pale skin among the tribespeople. She pulls at her tunic and swishes her many-layered long skirt in a vain attempt to get air on her skin.

Finally, the wise-woman-in-training leans against the wall, listening to the men (well, boys) talk. "I've seen little when I went out scavenging." She mutters, tugging on the end of the scarf that keeps her long hair from her face. "More likely everything that can is hiding out in whatever holes and caves and dry creeks there are to be had." Realizing her pessimist attitude won't make the sweltering heat any more bearable, she rolls her shoulders, glancing at the hut. She can see Basil sleeping just inside the door, legs twitching as he chases something in his dreams. "...but perhaps they are taking so long because they've found a great haul and it's slowing them down." At least it's a comforting lie.

Wisdom:
Dice Roll: 1d20+2
d20 Results: 20 (Total = 22)

Bottom of the Palisade, Southeast corner

Sven sends a grumpy look up at the source of the grim words. Sometimes he couldn't stand the wise woman's young apprentice, what with her pragmatism and her grounded realism. Sure, hopeful thoughts wouldn't magically bring home a good hunt, but neither would dark grumblings. At least you could feel a little better by being overly optimistic.

"Yes," he says in reply to her sudden shift in tone, using a tone of voice that is jokingly firm and formal. "I am sure that is the case." Rousing Duggles from the ground, he began pacing around the wall to the South-Sastern corner of the palisade to get a

Perception: Dice Roll: 1d20-1 d20 Results: 18 (Total = 17)

better view of all angles of the forest.

"What do you think they'll haul in?" he pauses to ask no-one in particular in his normal voice, apparently already forgetting to be angry. Or more likely, it was just too dang hot to go through the effort.

Bottom of Southern Wall, looking to Western side

Daeron smirked a little at the girl's flip flop between gloom and hope, running a hand over the rounded knobs atop Stitch's head, leaving him trilling at the sensation. He hoped for a good haul of Stantler, maybe a Tauros would be nice. It'd been too long since the tribe had a good source of red meat. Sighing softly, he tried to quell the rumble in his belly and the drool in his mouth at the food fantasies, before his attention snapped to a wandering Mareep. It had begun meandering towards the

Perception: Dice Roll: 1d20+3 d20 Results: 9 (Total = 12)

western grasslands in search of more food, so Daeron gave a sharp set of piercing whistles, making it perk its bulbed tail before it bleated and made back to the rest of the herd.

Top of the Southern Wall

As the other tribe members spoke while keeping watch, Sahara remained quiet. She sat near the edge of the wall with her feet hanging over the side, not bothered by the height or the sun beating down on her. It was hot, yes, but she was used to the heat. She had spent many days lying in it with her companion, Lily, a Chikorita that adored soaking in rays from the sun. Even now, Lily lay on Sahara's lap, her mouth curled in a small smile and her eyes closed. The large leaf on top of her head was emitting a sweet scent, one that indicated she was quite happy. Sahara

Dice Roll: 1d20+0z d20 Results: 1 (Total = 1) Perception (1)

continued to keep watch while petting Lily. The headband Lily wore, with several colorful flowers stitched on, made her look even more adorable.

Even so, Sahara does not say anything, or show traces of an expression. She has not had much contact with these people, and their talking makes her feel uneasy. It is not like her mama and papa, who knew what to say to her and how to cope with her silence. But the job is a temporary one. Surely they will be done soon, and once she goes home, the other tribe members will once again forget all about her.

Atop the Southern Wall

Leon was exceptionally quiet atop the wall. He had been brooding ever since his father told him he could not go out on the hunt. Apparently, sitting atop the wall was more important of a task then gathering food for the village. Leon believed that his talents were wasted here, and he might have been right. Keeping his mouth shut and his

Dice Roll: 1d20-2
d20 Results: 18 (Total = 16)

eyes on the wilderness before him, something was obviously wrong.