The Bird is the Word...
With a heave of her wings, Malach leaps from her perch in the tree into the pre-dawn air, wings beating silently. The owl wheels to the south, and is gone. Villhalas receives the sense of flight over the darkened countryside, but only for a few moments. Soon, his familiar has passed beyond the range of her mental link with the sorcerer.
Perrato, having brought Hau'dn back from death's door and expended the last of his healing spells on Totmacher, lays down tiredly and prepares to sleep away the last of the darkness. While the priest had no further divine magicks left, addtional rest would allow him to perform his daily prayer rituals later in the morning, and receive the Mithran blessings for the day.
While Villhalas stands gazing through the darkness to the south, Asher paces, muscles still coiled tightly, willing himself to relax. Totmacher, stinking and snoring, sleeps obliviously. Caylin finishes bathing the worst of his wounds, casting a neutral glance at Perrato, and then begins to gather wood to start a fire and breakfast.
The time passes, and the eastern sky pales and begins to show an aurora of red and gold beyond the horizon. Villhals relaxes as Malach comes back into his mental contact range. As the rim of the sun sears into view across the eastern plains, the black silhouette of Malach is seen winging her way to the camp from the southeast. Apparently, the horses had run far and hard, after the terrified manner of their kind, through the last of the hill country and down into the plains. They had slowed and halted prior to sunrise, and Malach had turned back. Villhalas' limited ability to communicate with his familiar makes it impossible to know exactly how far away their mounts were, but he gets the sense from Malach that she flew quite some distance in order to return to the camp.
OOC: Plans?
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:23, Sat 21 May 2005.