Around here it is best that one doesn't run or make too much unecessary movement.  Predators seem to notice things like that. Calmly answering Ynvaar about the unknown beast Rand keeps pace with the team, but does not move to quickly.

Observing the position of the sun, and Ynvaar's prayer session, Kuruk is himself reminded he must pray to his god for the powers given to him each day.  He communes with his animal companion just at the edge of the jungle, facing the sun.

"Ah, continuing on."  Upon hearing the sound of the approaching something, Kuruk suggests a brief foray into the jungle, away from the main path along the river, in order to try to avoid whatever may be coming towards them.

"I like the idea of not being here when it arrives, personaly. Let's be gone."

Niailee considers the horrors that lie within the jungle, and whatever's approaching, trying to determine what the biggest threat would be.

Stepping into the jungle is like stepping into a new world.  Sounds are muted, and darkness closes in about you as the mid-day sun is hidden behind the thick canopy above.  You travel for several hours with little incident, making sure to follow in the druids footsteps you are kept out of harms way of some of the more dangerous plants.


OOC: Kuruk let me get a survival check from you to make sure you don't get the group lost in the jungle.

Rand follows along, rapier drawn and ready.  He knows all to well how quickly death comes in the jungle.

Kuruk fearlessly trods ahead, leading the group through the dense jungle foliage.

[Private to DM FoxPaws: 19:00, Today: Kuruk Jobtawk rolled 31 using 1d20+15. Survival check.  ]

Kuruk unerringly follows a path that only he can see, heading a good ways into the jungle before turning to follow the path of the river from a good distance.  Continueing deep into the jungle it is hard to tell when day turns to evening, to night as you march ever deeper into the jungle.  The sounds of the deep jungle at night only intensify, the soft hum of the day giving way to a small roar at night that only ends for a moment with the scream of a dead animal before taking up again where it had left off.


OOC: and we come to the end of day one, feel free to RP your camp site, any discussions you'd like to make and what not.

Leaning back greatfully against a gnarled tree, Ynvaar begins to hum gently to himself as he runs a whetstone over his axe. Greatful to at last be out of the burning sun and reflecting on the days events, the pace of the whetstone gradually increases until it moves in time with his refrain as Ynvarr gently (if tunelessly) begins to sing

"Brood of Tempos,
Strong and fine,
on to victory,
hold the line...

aid the faithfull,
lord o' mine,
on to victory,
hold the line..."

Running a finger lightly along the freshly sharpened axe -and apparently satisfied- Ynvaar removes his helm and begins to unpack his hammok and insect netting, although by the perplexed look on his face he clearly hasn't the slightest notion of what to do with it.
"I... ah .... might we chance a fire this eve to keep at bay some o' the flies or do you think that might attract more predators?"

OOC: This ok by everyone for a watch rotation? (since doubtless foxy will ask)
1st:Ynvaar, 2nd:Rand, 3rd:Kuruk & Mr Snake, 4th:Nialee
Rand if you need to memorise spells you can have a lie in.

ooc: Actually I was hopeing you wold forget ;)
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:44, Fri 09 Sept 2005.

Niailee wipes her forehead down with a damp rag, and leans against a tree, somewhat fatigued. She loosens her robes a little and fans herself, wishing she'd learnt magicks designed for getting by in such weather.

"It might be an idea, or we'll have to make do with netting. Of course, i don't particularly like the idea of attracting predators. With any luck they could fear fire though?"

OOC: I don't have a problem with that shift rotation, though before we all go I'll need to spend time memorising spells myself.

Rand picks a spot in the clearing that is clear enough to allow his bedroll but with some overhanging limbs to hangs his bug net on.  As the group begins to settle down for the evening Rand takes out his waterskin and takes a small drink.  Not wanting use up all his water before a fresh supply can be found he is sparing with the use of his water.  Hunger seems to be kept at bay for the time being, but if a fresh meal could be caught he surely would not pass that up.  Watching Ynvaar sharpen his axe makes Rand think of doing the same, but with no whetstone Rand is confident in the blade he carries to keep it's edge for quite a while yet.  With heavy eyes as Ynvaar sings Rand sits and mindlesly taps his foot to the rhythm of the song.

Ynvaar where do you hail from and who is this god you pray to? Rand asks ask the song ends.  Rand knows of singingm but only in battle or when a comrade is fallen.  Not while idly sitting around a fire at the end of the day, that is the time for women to sing.  But, Ynvaar is not from Chult and Rand is not completely naive that other people have different practices.


OOC:  I am ok with my spells, I merely need some rest to regain them.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:00, Sat 10 Sept 2005.

    Smiling broadly beneath his shaggy beard, Ynvaar greatfully abandons his attempts to hang the insect netting above his hammok and takes a seat next to Rand. Leaning over to rummage around in his backpack, his large hands emerge brandishing a wheel of cheese and one of Samirs' excellent roast fowl wrapped in muzzlin. Offering the simple fare amongst his companions, Ynvaar looks to each one warmly before answering
"My people are the tribe of the Wolf and we hail far, far to the north  beyond the spine of the world. We travel as the Elk do, from  the steppes north of Lac Dinneshere in Icewind Dale by summer and to the south across the mountains afore the midwinter snows block the trail 'ere we return with the spring thaws." he makes a walking gesture with two hairy fingers as the other hand holds up a roasted drumstick to be devoured. Tearing a large bite, he leans back contentedly and his eyes seem very far away as he gazes off into space, chewing a mouthfull of meat as he continues
"Ahh ...home, a land such a you could never imagine. The crystal clear waters of Lac Dinneshere, plains of snow as far as the eye can see and the cool clean air, filled always with the fresh smell of the pines. And cold. very cold. So chill a man can see his very breath as it leaves his body ... it seems very far away now indeed..." His eyes take on a sombre, wistful look for a moment but he quickly brightens again, his customary grin broadening with each passing word as he says proudly
"Mighty Tempos, Lord of battles is my god, and a stauncher ally or harsher foe than any man can know is he. Tempos does not fight a mans' battles for him, rather he grants each of us the strength to fight and win our own victories, he teaches us not to fear war but to see it as a natural thing, as natural as these trees around us, for war is the storm brought by men and just like any other storm it washes away the dirt and curruption of the old and leaves the world clean and new." Clearly warming to his subject now, his voice growing steadily loader, he gestures wildly with his arms, threatening to clunk Rand on the head with a turkey leg at any moment...
"Tempos shows us how to behave in war, and to show respect for our allies and even ones foes, for the noble heart of a warrior may be found in each of us be they orc, or man or woman. He would have us arm all for whom war is needful -even thine enemies- and to remember those who have given their lives and fallen before us. This is why I sing the Lament for the fallen at sunset, to honour those who now feast with the Lord of battles in Heros' rest." Turning his attention back to his mace like turkey leg and finding it bereft of meat Ynvaar casually tosses the bone over his shoulder and rummages around in his pack again before removing a large saussage. Peeling the rind from the saussage and offering it around he asks:
"And what of the rest of you? from whence do you all hail, and what gods do you call your own?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:19, Thu 15 Sept 2005.

Evening turns to night, the darkness of the deep canopy grows darker as true night falls outside of the jungle.  The soft glow of your small cook fire illuminates the immediate area, unfortunatly it also attracks quite a few of the local insects, you can't help but swat at them as they fly around you.  Only Kuruk seems to really not be bothered by them.

ooc: Keep going guys, I'm waiting to see if Elsa is still with us...if not I'll bring Daemon out to join you.

I do not think I could ever imagine myself seeing a place where it is so cold that I could see my own breath.  I have only known this place.  I was born in a small village just a few short miles from Mezro.  Growing up I learned to hunt and fish, but I left my village and traveled to Mezro to study at the mage school, but was denied access since my skills were innate and not learned from books. Flinging his arms into the air a few times to swat the bigger sized insect Rand looks down at the ground.  Now, I just travel into the jungle with foreigners looking for work for if I were to ever go home I would most likely be killed.  Around here leaving your village is about the worst thing you could do.  Leaving is like giving up and turning your back on your own people.  Even though you left to learn to control your abilities and put them to better use for the people in your village, you still left and that's all they can see.   Obviously referencing himself Rand talks to the group as if they were his former village.  Seeing what he has done Rand tries to cover his slip by adding something witty to his story.  Not quite as exciting as Ynvaar here, but colorful none the less.  With that Rand slips forward onto the ground and rests his head on the log he was just sitting on.  Stifling a yawn he listens to the group as they talk about themselves some more.

"I come from a large, busy city called Waterdeep, a place that is often mistaken for being peaceful and free of danger. Beneath it lies an entrance to one of the most terrifying places in existence, the Underdark. Devoid of both life and hope, it is inhabited only by creatures of pure evil. It is from there that I ended up escaping. Ever since, I've been on the run, just trying to put distance between there and myself."

Niailee absentmindedly swatted at one of the insects as she spoke, trying to speak about it without thinking too hard, without remembering.

Again, never could I imagine such a place exists.  This truly is a strange world we all live in. Shaking his head is disbelief Rand unconciously pulls his sword closer to himself.  Kuruk, what of you?

Quietly nodding his agreement as Nialee tells her tale, his eyes raise in surprise as she speaks of her trials in the Underdark and the big Northman  could not help but shivver despite the heat at the thought of the horrors she must have faced down there as he shuffled nearer the flames out of long habbit and reflexedly added another branch to their small fire. Scrabbling around in dank caves like a Dwarf was no way to live, and certainly 'twas no place for so frail a looking maid as she.

Underdark. Home of the Drow.....

He had seen a dark elf once at the battle for ten towns, had witnessed first hand the whirling blades cut a crimson swathe through a line of warriors twice his size yet never once did he see the dancing killer smile. Oh he was touched by Tempos to be sure, but still.... a colder and more passionless, diciplined  killer he had never seen.... no wonder the girl was scared.
"I too have walked the streets of Waterdeep on my way south, some call it the 'city of splendors' I believe, and well is it named. A fairer city I have never seen, broad cobbled streets and market stalls filled with goods from lands near and far. They say you can find anything there, and having seen it, I can understand the boast. I stayed for but a short time 'afore the trading galley brought me down the coast but never have I seen so many ways to part a man from his coin!"
Ynvaar declared brightly, attempting to lift the lass from her melancholy and lighten the mood as he again offers his waterskin around the ring of companions.
"aye Kuruk, an' what of ye? How does so handsome a man as yerself come to be in the company of so strange a group of fellows?" he adds with his customary warm smile and a conspiratorial wink to Nialee before concluding with a slight frown and somewhat less enthusiasm
"and where in the nine hells did that damn serpent of yours get to?"

Kuruk relates his own tale of how he came to be where he is today.  "I come from village on far side of jungle.  My mother be human and my father be orc.  I never meet my father.  I didn't fit in very good in village, so I left very young.  Ubtao look after me, and now I look out for Ubtao.  I meet Mr. Snake in jungle, too.  He not very bright, try to squish me.  But I convince him otherway, and we be good friends since.  I never leave jungles, so being with adventurers is close as I get to leaving."

As his tale winds down, Mr. Snake come slithering through the campsite with a hiss, past Ynvaar's foot and towards Kuruk just as Ynvaar voices his concern about Kuruk's animal companion.  "Ah, there you are Mr. Snake.  We was just talking 'bout you."

As early evening turns into later night, as the cook fires die down the darkness of the jungle seems to press in even further.  The light of the moon makes a beautiful sight on the top of the canopy, the shadows falling on leaves high over head making for a breathtaking sight...that few, if anyone will ever see, including yourselves.

[Private to Kuruk Jobtawk: Make a listen check for me, since you have darkvision give me a spot as well.]

As the night slowly draws on and his friends drift off to sleep, Ynvaar quietly sets about removing his armour a piece at a time. Had any of his companions been awake they would surely have smiled at the ludicrous sight of the big Northman lovingly cradling his armour like a mother with new born babe. As he studies each piece thoroughly in the waning light from the fire he carefully eyes every strap and buckle for damage before once again turning to his backpack where his large hands emerge bearing rag and oil. Being careful not to wipe away the blood from the days victory Ynvaar begins gently burnishing each part lovingly with the rag to leave a fresh sheen of oil. Holding each piece up before him he inspects each one critically and smiles in satisfaction as the freshly oiled plate reflects the firelight beside him.
Without removing the last piece of his armour -one greave- Ynvaar quietly creeps a few paces into the trees to relieve himself before coming back to stand at the fireside. Looking up into the canopy above for the occasional glimse of moonlight Ynvaar judges his time on guard about done and he quietly comes to one knee beside Rand. Resting a hand on the sleeping mans sword arm lest he wake with a start, Ynvaar gently shakes Rand awake and says simply "It's time." Gingerly adding another deadfall branch to the fire Ynvaar steps over his armour to stand before his hammok. Deep lines crease his brow as he frowns at the discarded insect netting and ponders to himself ...

Now what in all the hells am I supposed to do with that?

With a gentle sigh and small shrug of his shoulders he apparently decides not to bother and simply wraps it around himself like a blanket before lowering himself into the hammok. Glancing back over his shoulder briefly to make sure Rand has not fallen back to sleep and checking his trusty axe is stll reassuringly close to hand he closes his eyes to dream of home...
This message was last edited by the player at 06:05, Thu 15 Sept 2005.

  Rand's eyes creep open at the sound of Ynvaar, I really wish I wasn't such a heavy sleeper.  One of these days I'm gonna get killed in my sleep I just know it.  Blinking a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes Rand whispers, Yeah, ok, I'm up.  Stretching his knotted muscles he sits outside the fires light and watches Ynvaar stare at his bug net.  Rand can only speculate that Ynvaar is contemplating using it or not.  When the Northerner climbs into his hammock without the net Rand shakes his head, He's gonna wish he'd taken the time to set that thing up.  As Ynvaar's eyes close Rand arrives and begins to set up his net for him.  When you wake covered in welts and itching, or worse, carrying the larvae of some giant bug inside you you'd wish you'd taken the time to set this up.  Here's how it's done, it's rather simple really.  When he finishes he gives a wink to Ynvaar to show him his approval and then takes up position near the fire and sets in to his watch.
  Time rolls by and Rand listens and scans the surroundings as his mind wanders filled with the descriptions of the far away lands that his two foreign companions told of earlier.  Snow, seems to be one concept that Rand cannot truly fathom, I shall have to travel, some day, to these Northern lands and see this 'snow' for myself.  When his time is about up he wakes Niailee for their turn at the watch.

[Private to DM FoxPaws: 10:01, Today: Rand Al Thor rolled 10 using 1d20-1. Spot.   10:02, Today: Rand Al Thor rolled 16 using 1d20-1. Listen. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 14:02, Thu 15 Sept 2005.

Niailee had hit the sack early, peeling off her robes and using a light rug to cover herself completely. Sure, the air was stuffy but it did ensure more protection from bugs. There's always that one that manages to get past the netting and cannot quite be swatted, and she had no magic misiles left to deal with it.

It was about this stage that Orlann, her owl, woke up and poked his head out of her pack, almost looking comical. He flapped upinto one of the trees to look for insects and small rodents to consume, and to observe things out of curiosity.

And Niailee simply slept, exhausted, until awoken, at which point she puts all gear back on and begins her watch duty, with the assistance of Orlann.

I guess I can worry about preparing spells before we all set out. Rand needs sleep, so I'll leave him be for now, and I can't abandon watch to concentrate on my books.

On Kuruk's watch, he paces silently and slowly across the campsite, wary of any jungle predators that may try to ambush the party.  Mr. Snake slinks silently through the trees nearby, keeping his own eye out.  Kuruk's spear is in hand, and he is fully armored; he rarely takes it off anymore, except for when he intentionally bathes, which is not very often as many can well imagine.

[Private to DM FoxPaws:
13:32, Today: Kuruk Jobtawk rolled 16 using 1d20+4. Spot Check.
13:32, Today: Kuruk Jobtawk rolled 11 using 1d20+4. Listen Check.]

Keeping watch is a boring business, everything seems quiet, for the jungle anyway.  The night is suddenly pierced by soft thud of a javalin thunking into a nearby tree, switfly followed by one nicking the half-orc's arm[Private to Kuruk Jobtawk: 1 damage].  The night is alive with the cries of goblins attacking the small camp.

ooc: ok guys, sorry to hit you again so soon...but you've gotten to close to the last groups fun.  Ok Kuruk, lets get an init roll out of you...to bad the rest of the group is sleeping ;)

Beasties - 20 (init, not how many)
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:19, Fri 16 Sept 2005.

Minding his own business, Kuruk is surprised to see a javelin nick him in the arm.  With a loud curse, Kuruk rushes to wake the party; they are under attack.  He starts with Ynvaar, then goes to Rand, then Nialee.  Hopefully they will be awake before at the sound of his voice before he gets to them.  Mr. Snake makes his way toward the nearest foe and prepares to latch on.

[Private to DM FoxPaws:
20:23, Today: Kuruk Jobtawk rolled 16 using 1d20+2. Initiative.
20:30, Today: Kuruk Jobtawk rolled 4 using 1d20+3. Mr. Snake Move Silently.
20:29, Today: Kuruk Jobtawk rolled 15 using 1d20+10. Mr. Snake Hide. ]

This message was deleted by the player at 23:53, Sat 17 Sept 2005.