(group 2) Chapter 1: The Price of Survival

(group 2) Chapter 1: The Price of Survival

Ascending through the streets and up the seemingly countless stairs through the tiers, you all eventually trek up the great stairs up to Northwatch Keep, then through the long tunnel through the middle of the fortress, broken now and then by arrow slits and murder holes. The Scurdaegans don't like to take chances with invasions from the savage northern wilds.

It's a little after 7 in the evening, and the sun has since set and darkness befallen the world. The snow falls thickly straight down, almost no hint of a breeze; everything is almost completely silent, even the quiet trodding of farmers going home or the odd benign creature scuffling through the underbrush muffled by the newly fallen and still-falling snow.

For about a mile, the land is dimly and patchily lit by lights from farmhouses surrounded by stables, cornfields and such. But after that even that scant light will be gone, and complete unbroken darkness will rule. Several inches of snow have fallen already, and it is cold; not the extreme, mind-numbing cold of late winter, but just cold enough to register in your senses that winter has indeed begun.

Adorned in a great deal of fur, L'lef adjusted his snow goggles as the group continued lumbering on. He held within his right hand, his ever-burning torch. Sure, the animals might know where they were, but the giant lad knew that most animals would stay away. Burdened upon the man's back was but a portable hut, a scroll case, and an Iron Pot dangling from the folded up hut.

L'lef glanced upwards and a strange smile formed upon his lips as he spotted a low flying cloud, that had seemed to be following them ever since they had left the halls of the castle.

"Gonna be slow goin' in all of this." Corynn says as he finally gets his tobacco pipe lit. Despite the weather he seems quite comfortable, his gloves are tucked in his belt and he hasn't bothered pulling his cloak tight or his hood up. His accent has also gotten noticeably thicker since he's clearly isn't bothering with cleaning it up now when it's just them and the wilderness.

As they walk he keep an eye on their surroundings as best as he can in the snow and dark. There most likely aren't any people out and about this late, and most likely not any predators this close to civilization, but he's learnt to never assume things.

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

"Well, it's easier on my eyes at least," Deresk mumbles with a slightly upturned grin. The early evening means his dark eyes turn red in the ever growing darkness, but that always means danger, especially as the cold encroaches. The quiet farmlands puts his mind ill at ease. He is used to tundra and taiga, empty, lonely places of course. But these settled lands feel like they should have more activity. He constantly looks back, and checks every direction for some unseen enemy. His darkvision means he can see enemies with ease, but the darkness that permits this means there are more enemies about. He clutches his axe tightly.

"Slow it may be," he says to Corynn. "But if we march in the night, our feet must move faster than the weather. I have raided enough to know this is the best time to make a move."

"Best time for you 'n your lot maybe. Me? I don't like havin' to use a torch to help me see my own two feet." he says with a chuckle. He sees the sense in what Deresk is saying of course, and he is glad that someone is still able to see well enough. Either way he won't deny that it's going to be nice to get out of Scurdaeg for a bit, not to mention actually feeling like he has something important to do. Granted they could have sent pretty much anyone to do this, but at least it's a honest job, which is more than he can say about some of the things he's done lately.

As he finally passes out of the tunnel and into the lands beyond, Ruln seems, if anything, to relax as the walls and buildings and people which made up the city faded away to the occasional farmhouse. He glances occasionally this way and that, but looking about rather than seeking threats. It was dark, perhaps, and not the best for seeing things, but, as they drew away from the city, he felt, once again, a familiar presence lurking at his flank. An almost-smile came over his features, lingering there as he walked in silence - now bearing across his back a length of wood with a spiked iron ball bound to it by a strip of leather, which he recovered after having left the palace.

Eventually he breaks his silence to add, "It is true of most. Yet, in the night, it is easiest to disappear." One might gather from his tone that he means this as a point in favour, rather than meaning you can get lost and vanish in the darkness... though to be fair, both are likely true.

The world is utterly silent except for the noise of your boots crunching and swishing through the snow. The snow continues to fall at a steady rate, but thanks to L'lef's magical torch, your light source is not in danger of going out. The snow is just above your ankles, but has not yet gotten deep enough to cause any impediments to your movement.

After an hour, you have traveled about 3 miles, and recently left the tilled fields and farmlands behind. The wilds of Drenheim stretch before you. The snow keeps falling, and by now it has risen to about calf-level, falling even heavier than before, though there is still not any wind. The torch illuminates clearly for several feat, then the light gets obscured by the falling snow, beyond which everything is blackness.
Bout 8 pm now. I would like you 4 to determine how long you decide to travel tonight before setting up camp for the night.

L'lef continued treading, the lad looked over at the others. A smile began to play upon the boys lips as he became accustomed once more to what he was in fact used to. He was becoming a bit weary, but he had no idea of how the others were holding up. He whispered, knowing the others should be able to hear him as the sound of his voice reverberated off the snow. "Shall we make camp in
Or the equivalent.
two hours and then turn in?

Deresk's thick legs propel him forward, even in the snow. It is falling thick, however, and his darkvision is faltering with some much obstruction. He knows some spirits that can help in these situations, but does not know them now. L'lef is correct it seems. "I agree," he says. "In this, we will be safe from beasts, they cannot see. But neither can we. Lets us move and see how far we go, but we should look mostly for a protected place to make camp."

Ruln's eyes are narrowed in the darkness, as though to squint further ahead through the falling snow as it reflects the light of the torches back towards them; the expression makes his face no better-looking, certainly, but he nonetheless seems content to walk into the darkness ahead. L'lef gains a silent nod of agreement when he speaks, but he does not interrupt the crunching sound of the snow underfoot to answer, not until Deresk speaks. "The beasts can smell us, hear us. Here, though, I think they have easier prey, easier food. But let us do so."


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