by tumblingdice » Tue Oct 22, 2013 1:38 am
Day 21, Moldain, Thaumont 21st, high moors, midnight
Torches in hand, you travel the three miles through the woods and out on to the moors. After that, quarter moon, and what seems to be a million stars, light the rolling grasslands that unfold before you, making torches unnecessary. Occasionally you see a herd of horses, grazing, resting, or asleep on their feet. A lone wolf spies your group, but disappears into the night before you can give chase.
You stop shortly before what seems like midnight. After some intense debate, a little practice, and some coaxing from Anja, it's determined that Meringered, timid Meringered, has the best whistle. You circle up your mounts and look expectantly at the young cleric.
Well, Meringered, this is your moment. Actions?
Get thee to the dungeon. Get thee to the dungeon forthwith. Pass not the barbican. Amass not 200 GP.