Day 8, Nytdain, Thaumont 8th, Dymrak ForestWith your marching order established, you continue your journey on foot toward Sukiskyn. Tret and Jarek set a healthy pace for the vanguard. Renardius and Athelsan, not wanting to be outdone by a couple of Traladaran peasants from the Black Eagle Barony, push the rest of you in the main guard to keep moving. Soldath and Bizenghast, free of armor and heavy weapons, have no problem keeping up. Igli and Marion most likely share a differing opinion...
rredmond wrote:Oi! What about the dwarf? Huff puff, huff puff!
You heard many tales as a child about the horrors rumored to lurk within the depths of the Dymrak Forest. In the light of day, though, with the sun shining through the budding branches, you have trouble reconciling these tales with the beauty that surrounds you. Woodland creatures go about their business, from the rustle of squirrels in the undergrowth to the occasional glimpse of a deer bounding across the path up ahead. Puddles from last night's rain flood some parts of the road, but they impede your progress just enough to force you to rest once in a while and enjoy yourselves. As you break for lunch you vow that, should you ever meet Misha in this world, you'll be sure to thank her for the staples she provided.
As the day wears on, the sun begins to set behind you, pulling night with it as daylight fades. A twilight hush settles over the forest, along with complete stillness amongst the shadowy trees on either side of the trail. A whiff of wood-smoke reaches your nostrils.
Then the silence is broken! A faint cry drifts on the evening breeze. Ahead, you catch a glimpse of flames rising beyond the trees. The sounds grow louder; shouts of men mingle with harsh, guttural war-cries and the clash of battle, while the flames grow higher, bathing the forest in a pink glow.
Actions?
Get thee to the dungeon. Get thee to the dungeon forthwith. Pass not the barbican. Amass not 200 GP.