Okay--this is where I'm going to try out some of my new location oriented threading to help keep campaign notes in tighter order. So each 'place' you pass through is going to have its own thread, and things you do in that place will happen in that thread. In this case there are several way stops between Bowshot and Daggerford, so I'll be opening a few new threads. If we hit a random encounter on the road, I'll start a road thread. I'll include a campaign date for each entry as we go. Narration incoming as soon as I can ascertain the current date and travel times involved..
Uktar 01, 1357
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Temperature:
Low: 15
High: 40
Winds: From Arctic at 40 mph.
Precipitation: Moderate snow becoming rain or sleet
Relative Humidity:
Morning: Moderate
Evening: High
Dawn is at: 7:00
Number of daylight hours: 10.00
Selûne: 3rd Qtr
The newly minted party of adventurers are greeted in the pre-dawn hours by Olaf Stoutsheaf. "The sun will soon rise, and we who must work the day through must rise earlier to meet it. With tools and skills and hearty appetites filled, we must rise to meet the day of labor." Edrie groans--her academic life and artificial sources of light cause her studies to be seldom bound by celestial phenomena. Her snarled brunette locks are in stark contrast with her roomate's seeming immaculate awakening. Celadhel thanks the agrarian priest for his care, but her gratitude is formal rather than authentic.
The North wind fairly roars against the rafters as the goodwives of Bowshot prepare tasteless pottage for the workmen and their guests. Your mild hopes of Garth having already claimed ownership are revised the serving board appropriately are dashed as you pass the familiar deep snores rumbling from his room rivaling the howling wind. Ever deep in his cups, the evenings' celebration clearly has bested the brash warrior. The highlight of the morning is hot tea, which not even the goodwives of Bowshot can botch too badly.
The tea is all the more valuable as you pass the line of workmen and exit the door to find that the howling wind has borne snow to the doors of Bowshot. Olaf ruminates a moment and after testing the wind declares that the snow will give out by mid morning yielding sleet, or perhaps merely a light rain.
Celadhel appears unperturbed, Edrie as if she would rather be back in the caves, and Olaf merely accepting the circumstance. To him, this is merely the day's work, and there's no use having an opinion about it.
Your boots and horses face North.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:47, Sat 09 May 2020.