"Well, as the old folk I'll take this bottom bunk here thank-you very much. Can't be doing with climbing ladders in my old age you see, plays havoc with my back." Samm replied goodnaturedly, even if it was obvious given how he darted around aboard the ships that he had no problem with them, unless it had developed in the last couple of hours. As he lay down on one of the bunks, tucking his trident underneath it he drew forth a lump of, well, something. It's corners were mostly rounded off, and its surface studded irregularly with some small, black, wrinkled-looking lumps, along with the occasional pit where one had clearly fallen loose. It was vaguely cream in colour - the uncharitable would have called it grey - and speckled with fine dots, which may or may not have been dirt. He tossed it towards the huntress. "Here, have yourself some hard-tack. Aged to perfection it is, and not a weevil in sight! It'll fill you right up, and it's good for yer teeth," he cackled as he stuffed his net into his rucksack to form a makeshift pillow.
Willow did not so much catch the hard tack as deflect it into the larder, quickly closing the doors behind it in case it got out during the night. With that she grabs a blanket and pulls it around her, making a hood out of it to hide her features. She sits at the window and watches out, the huntress taking first watch, the darkness in the hut getting darker then that outside, her eyes adjusting to the monochrome wilderness, anything approaching this side of the hut would stand out against the snow on the ground ... and hopefully nothing would.
She sits watching out for the next six or so hours, knowing her friends will be well rested and recovering from the day's horrors before she wakes Travok for his watch, the dwarf having far superior vision to her, and so he could then get more rest after his few hours on watch, she kisses him on the cheek when he settles into the chair the huntress was sitting in, then, with the blanket she has had wrapped around her still around her, gets under her heavy winter blanket, hoping she doesn't dream of fleshless beings with blue blood and those eyes of pain and torture staring at her ...
Travok's dwarven endurance seemed to have reached it's limit, as he silently watches Willow and Corvana arch their backs at each other (both figuratively and literally) his mind full of fuzz, preventing him from interjecting with his usual wisdom to try defuse the situation. He breathes a sigh of relief as Samm steps in and calms them somewhat. The dwarf stands numbly, trying to decide if he's capable of walking anywhere, much less leading everyone, before they decide on a travelling order to take themselves to the cabin. He silently thanks all the gods and spirits that the walk is short, and throws his blanket down in a corner of the shack and promptly falls asleep.
The dwarf feels greatly rejuvenated when Willow wakes him. He gives her an affectionate hug before sending her off to sleep, and taking up his watch.
As Kadal begins to prepare rations for everyone, Corvana walks over and silently aids him before the two of them ahdn out the meal: cold beans, some hardy bread and an apple each. With the food handed out (Willow given hers by Kadal), you all sit around for a quick, quiet and uneventful meal (Corvana grabbing a chair next to Samm, close enough that when the old sailor lets his legs bow out for comfort, his knee brushes against hers).
During the meal preparation, Willow and Ashara search the obvious and not-obvious locations within the cabin for false bottoms to drawers, loose floorboards and the like and succeed to some degree: they find a relatively well-hidden sliding panel at the back of the larder but it has already been ransacked and emptied, leaving only a small ledger written in some kind of code language.
As the night passes and Willow sits up on watch, Corvana stirs and cautiously walks over to her, sitting on a chair across from her and looking out into the darkness. She sits in silence for a half hour or so before finally speaking, her voice soft, not much louder than the falling snow. "You were right," is all she says and then continues to watch the night for the remainder of Willow's shift, staying up with Travok as well.
The night is mostly restful if a little cold, quiet outside as the snow falls, the wind dead and still. The next morning, as you rise, you feel rested enough but your wounds still ache, the blood from many having seeped through your bandages and wrapping and each of you feels sick to your stomach, light-headed and weak. The forest outside is cold and still gloomy from the thick canopy and cloudy sky and the island of Nethicar stands open before you.
Willow nods at Corvana when she whispers to her during the watch, Willow nods almost imperceptibly, though no smirk or smile reaches her face. She gently squeezes the witch's shoulder when she arises to wake Travok, a form of apology to the witch at her behaviour.
Although the huntress is probably warmer than most, her fine fur helping to keep a bit of the cold away under her heavy winter blanket, those dead, tortured eyes haunt her throughout the night with the young shifter constantly tossing and turning and not getting the rest she sorely needed to recover from yesterday's battles.
Waking up after a mostly uneventful nights sleep, Thorn remarks, " Aaaa,, a good rest after a fun day, just what the mad doctor ordered" , grinning as he grabs a mug from the night before, topping it off, before heading out the door, finding a decent place to sit and enjoy a bit of quiet. Of course enjoying the quiet, quickly becomes an exercise in pointless use of his power and stretching his control, attempting to shoot small bolts of chaos at falling leaves and snow flakes, and as always, juggling, and playing with small acid orbs. Resting one on the back of his hand, before rolling and bouncing it around, he let's his mind wander a bit, thinking back to the girls from the pari ship, then back to his fun little fling from before that, coming to the conclusion, that it was definitely in his benefit (and the ladies of the worlds, he thinks to himself) to see the other side of this, with a dead baron sitting here, besides it would make one hell of a story later. Laughing at the last thought, Thorn flips the orb up into the air, before 'grabbing' (eg, going for the grab and disappearing the orb before he touched it) it outta mid air, and heading back inside.
"Alright, whats the plan from here on out? Beyond dealing with this baron, and finding a nice tavern with some pretty women?" Thorn asks with a laugh, and his typical confidence, to the rest of the group.
The sound of Thorns voice pulled Samm out of his slumber in the morning. Stretching, he noticed he still feels very stiff from the previous days battle, although that was perhaps unsurprising considering how hard fought it was. He double-checked his wounds and saw that they were all still together at least, and changed some of his dressings, discarding the used bandages into the huts fireplace.
"Well I don't know about everyone else - but I feel I could do with a whole 'nother days sleep." Samm grumbled back to Thorn. "That probably wouldn't be wise though. They might not have checked here last night, but I doubt it will be long before they do. When they trashed this place they were probably looking for something else, rather than ourselves, considering we hadn't landed yet."
He pulled himself off the bunk with great trouble and show, planting his feet squarely on the ground before heaving himself to his feet.
He nudged Ashara in the ribs to make sure the thief was awake. "Don't suppose you found anything suspicious last night eh? Some scroll marked 'The Baron's Dastardly Plan' or 'To Catch a White Cloaked Man'?" he asked, only half joking.
Willow giggles at the fighter, feeling disappointed that they didn't manage to find anything in the hut, "Maybe he didn't hide it in the hut, he was an elf. We need to check for anything well hidden around the hut maybe Ashara," the huntress getting excited. She packs her things, puts on her warm coat and gloves and sets out to look around the
Dungeoneering / Nature / Perception / Stealth are all +8 (OK, Dungeoneering may not strictly be an outside thing, but I'll risk it
Dice Roll: 1d20+8
d20 Results: 14 (Total = 22)
Dice Roll: 1d20+8
d20 Results: 16 (Total = 24)
Dice Roll: 1d20+8
d20 Results: 11 (Total = 19)
Dice Roll: 1d20+8
d20 Results: 7 (Total = 15)
hut, she works her way around clockwise while Ashara goes anti-clockwise.
Travok sighs as he sees everyone begin to wake up. He knows that for himself, the sleep has helped but there is a still a feeling of exhaustion in his core. As a healer, he also notices that his wounds haven't recovered as much as they should have, so he suspects that the poison has prevented everyone from resting easy. Once everyone has clawed their way to consciousness, he sets about distributing food about. Thankfully everyone seems to be in good spirits, so after everyone has eaten he speaks up. "Samm is right on both counts, we all could use another day of rest, but we can nay stay here. We have 'te make a decision. We have a mission 'te question this Baron Sorrowind. I'd like 'te start by askin how he knew we'd be here." He pauses as Samm and Willows comments. "Good thinkin' lets search the area, then we need 'te move on."