Apr 9, 2021 4:30 pm
Official XP and Time Tracker
It’s around ten or eleven in the morning when the party leaves Hommlet behind them, setting out to the ruins of the moathouse, where they intend to examine any as-yet unexplored rooms on the first level, and hopefully delve deeper down into the lower level, where rumors of strange sounds emanating from below have been whispered.
The fall day is bright and sunny with temperatures somewhere near the mid-forties (around 7°C), and a light wind blows dead leaves across the road in front of the group of travelers as they make their way on the road to the branch turning north.
A half hour has gone past with the party listening to the wind swishing through the tallgrass to each side of the smaller road, while occasional stronger breezes send the seeded heads waving in unison like waves across a vast ocean. The reed-and-cattail-riddled bog you must pass over to get to the ruins begins just a few hundreds yards ahead, though thankfully, this time there will be no need to bushwhack or cut away overgrown brush. Everyone is silent, lost in their own thoughts, preparing themselves for what’s likely to be more or much worse of what they’d suffered only a couple of days ago, when suddenly a buzzing, fluttering of wings, like that of a large insect or a small hummingbird vibrates past your ears and faces. Startled and brought out of your thoughts, you each look around for the source, but find nothing. Yet the reactions of those riding ahead and behind you indicate that you’re not the only one who experienced the strange phenomenon.
Just as you all calm down and prepare to move forward again, to your right, another vibrating buzzing races quickly past each of you, and your mounts, those not riding disciplined warhorses in any case, start showing signs of getting nervous, stamping their hooves a bit, trying to turn their hindquarters away from the sound, and giving neighs and grints of agitation.
It’s around ten or eleven in the morning when the party leaves Hommlet behind them, setting out to the ruins of the moathouse, where they intend to examine any as-yet unexplored rooms on the first level, and hopefully delve deeper down into the lower level, where rumors of strange sounds emanating from below have been whispered.
The fall day is bright and sunny with temperatures somewhere near the mid-forties (around 7°C), and a light wind blows dead leaves across the road in front of the group of travelers as they make their way on the road to the branch turning north.
A half hour has gone past with the party listening to the wind swishing through the tallgrass to each side of the smaller road, while occasional stronger breezes send the seeded heads waving in unison like waves across a vast ocean. The reed-and-cattail-riddled bog you must pass over to get to the ruins begins just a few hundreds yards ahead, though thankfully, this time there will be no need to bushwhack or cut away overgrown brush. Everyone is silent, lost in their own thoughts, preparing themselves for what’s likely to be more or much worse of what they’d suffered only a couple of days ago, when suddenly a buzzing, fluttering of wings, like that of a large insect or a small hummingbird vibrates past your ears and faces. Startled and brought out of your thoughts, you each look around for the source, but find nothing. Yet the reactions of those riding ahead and behind you indicate that you’re not the only one who experienced the strange phenomenon.
Just as you all calm down and prepare to move forward again, to your right, another vibrating buzzing races quickly past each of you, and your mounts, those not riding disciplined warhorses in any case, start showing signs of getting nervous, stamping their hooves a bit, trying to turn their hindquarters away from the sound, and giving neighs and grints of agitation.
Rolls
Secret Roll
Wandering Monster roll
Secret Roll
Secret Roll
Secret Roll
Secret Roll
Secret Roll
