"I agree with Solva, we should trust to the hollering of Dwarves.  Let us hope that he returns soon, and we do not wait overlong."

Boneclaw nodded to Lukas.

In reply to Conspirator (msg # 44):
This message was last edited by the player at 08:48, Tue 06 Oct 2020.

Boneclaw ran after Tidelan and held out a claw when he'd reach him.
"We will wait until he returns.", Bone claw said in Lukas' voice and then followed up with Tidelan's voice:"Alright. You're the boss".

As a two familiar voices range trough the snowfall, Tidelan's blue, slightly inhuman ears perked up. Hearing the sound of his own voice from outside of him made a shiver run down his spine more than any cold had ever done.

He felt a claw grab onto his tunic, and he stopped, recognizing Boneclaw. He turned around to face his expectation, and spoke to the bird-folk.

"All you have not followed me. I see that there is... um... caw shun, yes?"

Tidelan walked back to the group and stood with them. "This journey bores me much. I wish to move quicker." He took a long breath, and then sighed.

"But, we will wait more for the... guide" the genasi's shoulders shrugged as he resigned himself to patience and lingering with stillness in the irritating cold.

PM

Brohm finds a safe route forward, and can return to lead the party further ahead. After a few more hours of walking, you find that you are well ahead of schedule, and the camp is only a few hours away. Unless you wish to approach the village in the dark, it might be wise to find a place to camp nearby.

"We should find a place to camp.".  Brohm rumbles, in the low tones of a distant avalanche.  "We can wake early, and be at the village by sunrise.  Agreed?"

Tidelan responds to the gruff dwarf with a simple, evenly-toned statement, "I don't want to sleep in the cold again..." his voice seemed quieter than normal, and even more severe than was usual.

He continued after a moment of shivering and swallowing, "I will follow the group"... whether he was playing up his anguish, or the cold was getting to him, it wasn't clear.

When Tidelan spoke of being cold, and the even colder night ahead, Santio immediately began foraging about nearby looking for firewood.
He allowed their self-appointed guide to search out an appropriate space for them to make camp.

Boneclaw wrote on his chalkboard and presented it to Tidelan.
"Real bears sleep all winter in the cold, surely you can manage one night".

Solva nods, "We are trying tah shock and awe 'em with the 'ead of 'eir leader, so we shouldn't be telling 'em that we're 'ere. Otherwise they might get a wee bit curious and pay us a visit before we're ready." She makes a gesture at the moon that would illuminate the smoke from their fire.

Brohm is able to find a good place to camp where a fire would be hard to spot, and builds a low, smokeless fire.

Boneclaw pulled a bed roll from his bag and swept any debris away to create a spot to sleep.

Santio reheated some cooked and salted meat, for the company to have with other rations.
Then prepared for sleep with his allies.   As they all settled in, he pulled a small flute from his pack, and soft, quietly played a gentle tune for a while.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:57, Fri 16 Oct 2020.

"I've got first watch.". He grinds out, as he eats the rations and forage he easily found to supplement the groups food.  Truth was, he could have fed the lot of them without using rations, but the rations were a bit quicker.  Coupled with tubers and greens, they ate well.  Quiet that.. He rumbled in a whisper, like a shifting pile of stones.  "There will be time for music after we meet them.  We do not want attention now.

Verbannt had said little when Brohm had returned, or when he advised that they find a place to camp.  It was only once they were all settled that he said a word.

"What did you find in your ranging, Brohm of Clan Stonehelm?"

He scowled when Santio pulled out his flute, and was about to speak, when the Dwarf spoke up first.

Santio did as directed.

He put away his instrument; then sat then quietly observing these seasoned adventures and hardened warriors.
For surely, there was much he could learn from them.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:13, Fri 16 Oct 2020.

Boneclaw gave his chalkboard and a piece of chalk to Santio to give him a creative outlet.
On it was written: "Relax. Eat. Sleep soon. Early morning rise".
He threw his woolen blanket over his shoulders and wrapped himself into a ball: "Wake me up for last watch", he mumbled in the voice of a grumpy cityguard.

Brohm nods his head once, in approval of Santios' response to his statement, then replies to Lukas.  "Paths.". He says with dry humor.  "And stoats the size of wolves.". He continues after a moment, in a low gravelly voice, barely above a whisper.  "Good hunting for later, maybe.  Not good to be caught by them while travelling."

Santio, having packed away his flute, instead pulled out a small whittling knife that he had, wrapped in wax cloth with a small item he was currently crafting.  Anyone taking particular attention would notice that he was whittling another flute, just the same as the one he'd been ready to play.

As the evening set in, and dinner settled, he prepared to work his handicraft for a while before lying down for sleep.
He suspect that someone would wake him, at some point, to share the watch-cycle.

You all sleep undisturbed, and wake up before dawn. You are about 2 hours from the village. Brohm feels very tired, sore, and has a sore throat and a runny nose. He's struggling to think clearly, as well. Does he still want to scout ahead of the party?

Seeing their guide ‘under the weather’, Santio ventures, “Perhaps I should go ahead today?”

"We are moving in force."

Verbannt answered firmly.

"Brohm, cover your face with cloth or helm.  If they see weakness they will pounce.  Let us go, and show the Red Foot their new warchief."

He pounded his chest, his voice a dangerous growl.

"Sure", Santio said.     It wasn't like there'd be any sentries, or any need for subtlety.

Grabbing up his pack and staff, and placing the Wizzard's Hat on his head, to give the impression that he was a caster, he was ready to follow the great and dangerous warcheif.