Re: Return to the Western Heartlands
On the Road
The gnomish shepherds wave you on your way cheerfully, seemingly enjoying the brief respite in their daily work. You're able to refill your water, and after a quick conversation, Kitheras leads you onward along a path that is friendlier than any you've encountered so far in the Hills. As evening approaches, the group finds another small dell, with a rill of water going through the bottom, to serve as a camp site.
Though the group is tired, all of the rescued look stronger and more determined than when they left the dungeon that morning. It's remarkable what freedom and sunlight will do, not to mention Krackor's ioun stone. There isn't a great deal for evenfeast, though with the promise of Triel tomorrow, there aren't any complaints, either.
Soon, everyone is finding a rock-free spot on the hillside to bed down. Night falls, and the crickets start to sing around you.
((ooc: Someone please roll 1d10.))
Underground
Corym, Krackor, and Torvek take some time and thoroughly investigate the room. Walls are checked and then tapped quietly, beds and chests tugged one way and then another, hands are placed on nearly everything to check for anything that feels off.
By the end of the inspection, you are very certain that there are no hidden doors, traps, or illusions. The room is as it seems to be. But you're also increasingly convinced that the room itself is much older than the beds (or the skeletons, for that matter). Dating hewn rock just on its own is a near impossible, but there's a definite sense of great age that isn't mirrored by the room's contents.