Game Posts

"I agree with you, Ulfren. Once widespread knowledge of our extended sleep passes amongst the crew we have no way of knowing how they'll react. Sailors are a superstitious lot and they might treat Dirk's body as a bad omen. I think we owe it to him to bring him with us where we can keep him safe."

Phineas descends down onto the ice, his gear carefully checked and stowed. The chaos of what is going on - Dirk's death, the time jump - is gnawing on the peripheral edges of his mind, but it's nice to be back in the wild again. He takes comfort in the fact that despite everyone's lives being turned upside down, snow still crunches satisfyingly underfoot and wind still whistles through one's hair. He anchors his emotions to the steady eternity of nature, and prepares for the foot journey ahead.

Gunnar gives his finished sled an appraising look, making adjustments here and there. He's just glad for something to do. The master smith finds nothing quite as unbearable than having his hands idle. Which is not to say he's unable to lie perfectly still when necessary, such as when he's on sniping duty, but that's something different altogether. He uses the Endurance's hoist to lower the sled onto the ice after Phineas.

Ulfren waits for the hoist to be freed, then steps up to lower Dirk's body to those below.

"You have our thanks," Baern says as he leaps over the side of the boat, landing smartly in the snow. "Where to now," he says solemnly.

Having laid Dirk's body onto the sled, Gunnar shrugs into the harness and prepares to take first shift pulling the load. He points in the direction of the Endurance's current bearing. He then waves to the ship's captain and starts walking. "Watch out for thin ice!"

"We might as well see if our original job's still there," Ulfren suggests at Baern's question. "If it is, we honor the promise made by our King. If it ain't, we come back to the ship and get Dirk home."

"I second that notion. Though, it is fairly safe to say that if things have been like this for awhile, there wouldn't be enough food to support a large population here, at least not through any agriculture technique that I know."

Ryyrik pulls out two poles from his bag "Who wants to take the front with me?"

"I'll move as scout," Baern says in answer to Ryyrik. "I suggest we head to the center of the island, and get the lay of the land surrounding the keep."

Ryyrik nods and tosses a pole to Baern "Help you to find any deep pockets, hidden holes, and thin ice."

Baern nods. "You have my thanks," he says, jamming the stick hard against the ice.

Baern kneels, looking for any sign of what could have caused this in the ground and surrounding area.

Baern spits. "Orcs," he growls, his skin turning a greenish-brown hue and a shoot sprouting from his shoulder as he speaks the word. "They're all dead now, but we should move carefully."

Ulfren has taken a quarterstaff out from his bag and uses it to push the sled along from behind. "Weren't we coming here because of orcs?" he asks. "Ey, is they froze the same as Dirk?"

"Frozen solid," Baern says, "Though their bodies show signs of a battle--before they were frozen, of course."