Re: Questionable dissection techniques...
Totmacher, wounded, bloodied, and covered in the peritoneal fluid he had used to slick back his hair, lays down to sleep. The big half-orc smells foul.
Caylin proceeds down to the stream, where he washes away the grime and blood around his own wounds, wincing a bit at the pain. He nods to Perrato, saying, "Any aid or healin' ye can spare would be much 'ppreciated, man o' Vagrani. An' th' big man'll need some help...sooner or later. He's some'at thick in th' head, but I misdoubt 'tis more t' get a wee rise outta folk, an' less a lack o' native cleverness, eh?"
The hot night is ending as sunrise draws near. A mounting chorus of birdsong heralds the dawn, and the day promises to be another hot one. Asher paces the campsite, looking to the sky.
The sole remaining horse with the party is Caylin's little pony, too small to tear free of its traces during the griffon's assault. Totmacher is pretty badly wounded, and Hau'dn can't travel without further healing...as it is, the ranger-bard is lapsing in and out of consciousness. Without horses, the party is currently about two days' travel outside of Borderton, and about one full day's walking from where the caravan was supposedly ambushed.
OOC: Actions? Activities? Plans? Let me know...