Survivors from the Mists

Well, let's pick a direction and go, then. I will suggest we don't go that way. Pointing to the cliff. She scrambles into her leather armor, slides the shield on her left arm, and then grabs her bag.

Lead the way, one of you. I've got the back.

Sarah shakes her head at Flick's flippancy, and mutters under her breath, "I feel like I'm caught in a landslide." With a gusty sigh, she starts off in a westerly direction, presumably with the other two in tow. "I'm on point, then, Anna. Hope everyone brought their marching boots!"

The trio travels westward, roughly following the ridgeline. The sun quickly warms the dark stones to uncomfortable temperatures, encouraging the castaways to stick to the shaded jungle. The sun quickly rises overhead and as the fiery orb reaches it's peak in the heavens the trio begin to feel the heat even beneath the canopy. A decision presents itself as the heat and humidity sap the energy from the explorers: stop and rest, continue slowly, or press on and brave the heat.

Progress is difficult to measure. The jungle all look the same, and the cliffside views rarely change.

The trudge is as maddening as it is grueling. But then again, neither madness nor...gruelsomeness are strangers to Flick. If this jungle wanted to torture him, it'd better bring out the big guns. Then again, it wouldn't hurt to slow things down a bit.

As he marched along, one woman in front, another behind, he continued his absurd mumbling. Keeping it low enough not to (overly) disturb the others, he gives his assessment of the island.

"Yes...yes. This is a fertile land, and we will thrive," he says. "We will rule over all this land, and we will call it...This Land."

By the start of the afternoon, Anna was drenched in sweat as she wore her leathers. During one of the many breaks, she takes the armor off and stuffs it into her bag. Once the sun was at its zenith, Anna commented, Perhaps heading back to our shelter soon will be a good idea? I would prefer not to be in the jungle after dark.

It doesn't take long for the heat to burn away Sarah's enthusiasm; of which there was not much to begin with. She's been hitting her waterskin pretty liberally throughout the day, and as the sun creeps higher and higher, the temperature keeps rising higher than she thought possible.

Finally, when the sun reaches its height, Sarah just can't take it any more. She replies to Anna's suggestion of going back with, "Maybe you're right, but I don't think we're going anywhere until this heat starts to die down. I think you may have had the right idea earlier. Flick, I don't know how you haven't melted yet, but it's clear we can't travel in the middle of the day." Plucking a broad leaf off of one of the ferns, she has a seat right on it, and starts unbuckling her own leather breastplate. The sweaty mess of her tunic beneath is not pretty.

That done, she reaches for her waterskin, for a drink, but comes up empty. Somewhat sheepishly, she asks, "..can I get a refill, please?"

"Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink!"

"I kid, I kid," says Flick, casting a spell to refill Sarah's water bottle. Then, thinking further on it, Flick decides he may as well go all out. Casting the spell again, this time he aims it above his head, allowing a small deluge to pour onto him.

"Ach! Cold! Cold! Magic does nothing to warm it!" he shouts while flailing about miserably.

Sighing with relief, Sarah tosses the leather breastplate to one side, and finishes a substantial portion of that water bottle. "Aaa, that's a little better." She can't help but smile with amusement, and, truth be told, a little envy, as Flick invents the cold shower. "I'm curious... how often can you cast a spell like that? I don't know as much about magic as I'd like to."

"You mean there's a limit to magic?" Flick asks doubtfully. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

As far as you can tell, he is genuinely perplexed, not having the slightest clue what you're talking about. Without waiting for an answer, however, he casts another spell, causing a light flame to appear on his sleeve, scorching it and him alongside.

"Ach! Hot! Hot! Cold does not counter hot!" he yells, batting at his arm.

Anna sits and drenches herself with a casting of water to alleviate the heat of the afternoon. When she sees the results of the breastplate on Sarah, she raises an eyebrow at her and a smile. When Flick makes himself go aflame, Anna casts her water on him, then goes over to make sure he is not hurt.

Heal (8)