Big Blue Feud Adventure

This will be the game play thread.
Dialog will be in italics.
New/important information (names, places, objects) will be in bold.

It's late. You're tired. It's been a long day and nothing sounds more appealing than finally climbing under some warm blankets, lying your head down on a soft pillow, and sawing logs! As your eyes blink lazily, slower and slower, you smile at the rectangle of soft, blue moonlight projecting against the wall. The shadows of tree branches swayed back and forth across the wall, dancing in the pale light. As you close your eyes for the last time, some small awareness in the back of your brain notices something different about the shadows. The branches have been joined by a familiar shape, balanced along the bottom of the rectangle. It's your companion... and it's carrying a message. Your brain urges your eyes to open again and confirm that you're just "seeing things". You aren't.

Your companion leaps from the window sill onto the foot of your bed. You sit up and notice that it's carrying a note. You take the note and realize that, tonight, you won't be sleeping. You're needed in Storia.

Elmlode the Leafbrarian has invited you to his forest, The Ancient Forest to recount some details from your last adventure in Storia. He has it in his mind that Roxin and Luna single-handedly defeated a gang of Soggy Bottom Froads, but then he heard some whisperings on the wind that maybe Emma and Violet were there too, and he wants to know what really happened.

To get to the Big Blue Forest, you'll need to follow your companions through the magical portal behind the bookcase in your room. When you arrive in Storia, you should stop in at the Hero Shack if you need any supplies, then follow the Way Back trail northwest, past Croaking Castle and beyond to the Ancient Forest.

The Hero Shack (or The Shack of Heroes as it says on the shingle hanging above the entrance) sits along side the Way Back Path, across from a small fishing pond. Gnomsky, the proprietor, is a short-bodied gnome, with great long legs and arms, and looks a bit like a grasshopper wearing a felt suit. He greets everyone with a smile, welcoming you in to his shop with his long arms spread wide.

"Well, well, what have we here!? This is quite a crew! How can I be of service to you my good friends?" says Gnomsky, pleasantly surprised by his inadvertent rhyme of crew & you.

His shop is packed to the rafters with dusty odds and ends, as well as items that look as if they were made yesterday. In the center of his shop is a glass case containing all sorts of small vials, jars, pots, tubes, and flasks made from clay, wood, leather, and blown glass. He has a twinkle in his eye, and he very clearly seems to have been expecting you.

"It seems like a Hero Pack might be just what the doctor ordered. The cost is 3 coins, but if it meant selling four today, I'd let them go for 2 each." He gestures to the wall where four hero packs were hung with care.

"These are strange times indeed for Storia. Curious things are afoot in the North." Gnomsky says as he polishes, probably for the 100th time today, the top of the glass display case.

"My life is going fine, for the most part. Thanks for asking! I did get a disturbing message from one of my pigeons this morning: someone found some odd prints in the mud up by Croaking Castle, like someone or someones was walking around on their hands like a crazy person. No footprints, just handprints. Imagine that!… Now, about those packs."

Gnomsky retrieves the backpacks from the wall and sets them on top of the shop counter. Busying himself with a quick peak into each pack to make sure it is complete, he talks aloud to himself as he confirms the contents in each pack:

"Yes, hmm, okay, let's see here;
20 feet of paracord,
oiled tin cloth,
bandaids (hope you don't need these),
matches,
multi-tool (what'll they think of next!),
compass and map (no sense being somewhere where you don't know where where is),
water flask,
mirror (t'ain't for looking pretty, 'tis for signalin', though no one wants to be walking around with jelly on their cheeks),
fishing hooks and some steel gossamer,
...aaaaand some fruit leather... (mmm, is it lunch time yet?)
Alright my friends, that's four complete packs."

Gnomsky clasps the top buckle as he finishes looking through the last pack. Then, he looks up at the group of travelers, and gets a keen look on his face.
"Now," pointing at Luna, "You asked about a sale and it just so happens that this very morning, I received a new shipment that I haven't had a chance to open yet."

Gnomsky reaches up high behind his head and pulls a package down from the top shelf. Quick as a whip, he draws a pair of scissors from his apron, severes a twine binding the package, and whisks the scissors back into his apron pocket, from whence they came. Then, carefully, like he was handling a new-born baby, he unfolds the wrapped canvas and pulls out a stone tablet.

"Hmm, I haven't seen one of these in a dog's age," he says, holding the stone tablet for all to see. "It's a tablet made of Thinkem Stone… leastways that’s what I call it. " He holds the stone out in front of his chest, and then looks up as if he's trying to see through the roof of his shack. He points the tablet towards one corner of the room. "If you point the Thinkem Stone towards the West, which is where it comes from, you can ask it a question, and the answer gets etched right here onto the face of the tablet." He looks at the stone for a minute, then adds, "each stone has a certain kind of information, so the first question you ask it is Whatcha thinkin'?, I think."

As soon as he finishes asking the question, the surface of the tablet rearranges itself so that the words Gristleback's Compendium of Storia’s Natural Flora & Fauna etch themselves in to the surface. "Ah, so this is a com-pen-dee-um of plants and animals. Could be useful..." Gnomsky sets the tablet on the counter.

Next, he reaches in to the wrap and pulls out two crimp-top vials, each stoppered with cork and slung in a leather koozie. The first vial's contents looks clear as water, but moves like thick, syruppy honey. The other holds a deep purple liquid that looks more like fine sand.

Gnomsky places the clear vial on the tabletop, saying, "Ah, Kittle Salve, or as I call it, Tickle Lotion. If you're too ticklish, this is the cure for you!" Then, Gnomsky places the purple vial next to it, "And this one is called Anti-Apis, or an-tee-bee-sting." Gnomsky shivers, clearly thinking about bee stings. "I got stung by a bee once, right on my eye ball...couldn't see anything but the color yellow for a month out of that eye!" he says with a wink.

Gnomsky breaks his reverie, and reaches back in to the wrap once again, pulling out yet another tablet, this time made of a thin plane of wood, curved like one side of a cylinder. It has 5 holes in it: one big hole at the top, two small holes in the middle close to each other, and two larger holes below those and a little further apart. It almost looks like someone had bit holes in to it, like a tortilla, making a simple, upside-down face.

"Hmmm" Gnomsky says scratching his head. "I haven't seen this before... 'cept maybe round the dinner table!" and laughs to himself, as he drops it on to the counter. "I’d be willing to give these up for 3 coins apiece. Any takers?"

Gnomsky squints his eyes as he looks up and away, thinking about the offer.
"Hmm, that's how much I paid for it... but..." his scrunched up face breaks in to a wide grin. "Tell you what, if you can pay me three, I'll throw in something special for Emily, and then everybody's happy!"

Gnomsky lifts the thick, clear vial off the counter. "I call it Tickle Lotion. Basically, you put a drop of this on your head and you're immune to tickle-attacks. It lasts about an hour... or so I'm told."

He puts the vial down in front of Bill. Then he lifts up the curvy, wooden tablet.

"Hmm... I wonder. I'll be right back." Gnomsky looks curiously at the piece of wood in his hands. Then, he turns and crab-walks out of the room, his knees nearly scraping against the top of the door jamb.

A few minutes pass. Bill places his coins on the table and takes the clear vial of Tickle Lotion. Then, Gnomsky, from the back room, exclaims triumphantly "Aha! Just what I thought!" A minute later, and he teeters back in on his folded legs, a huge smile on his face.

"And to think I was going to throw this on the fire. I should charge more for it... but, I said three coins, so I'll let it go for three, but nothing less." He places the wood tablet back in the wrap and quietly moves it below the counter, out of sight. At the same time, he scoops up Bill's coins and then rests his hands on the table top.

"Well? Anything else I can help you with?"

Gnomsky, hesitates, giving Roxin a hard look.
"Blast! I shouldn't 'a said nothin'" and reaches down beneath the counter and pulls up the wooden artifact.

Gnomsky is holding it so the large single hole is on the bottom, and the two larger holes are on top. Peering at Roxin through the two upper holes, he pulls the wood on to his face, saying "Roxin!"

A quick, sucking sound emits from the piece of wood as it clings to Gnomsky's face. It grows outwards, covering his face and head, and turns Gnomsky the Shopkeeper into Gnomsky the Shopkeeper—only, with the head of a dinosaur!

"Voilà! This is none other than the ancient Viz of the Changeling Prince, the most famous of the Mirror Masks of Olde. You wouldn't know it to look at it, but this humble piece of wood transforms your face into a simulacrum of whomever you are talking to. The Changeling Prince was a master of diplomacy because whenever he wore this mask, his familiar looking face would elicit some level of empathy and break down any predisposition to oppose a compromise. This is a very valuable treasure. Take good care of it Roxin. May you serve it well."

Gnomsky carefully removes the mask from his face and places it on the counter in exchange for Roxin's three measly coins.

"Okay, you all, you have got the better of old Gnomsky today. But, me thinks you're worthy of the prizes you won. I'll be here if you need anything else. Good luck with your travels."

Gnomsky walks outside with the group as they leave his shop.

"Well, don't quote me on it, but ol' Miss Jenkins said she seen some crazy prints in the road up north by the Croaking Castle. I never seen 'em. And, she can be pretty daft some times." Gnomsky chuckles to himself. "You know, those prints could likely have been hers, crawling around in circles on the ground looking for something she dropped. I wouldn't worry about it, necessarily, just keeping you abreast of the goings on hereabouts."

A large wet splash in the middle of the pond across the street grabs Gnomsky's attention. "Hmmm, looks like it IS time for lunch!" He reaches back inside the door of his shop with his long arm and pulls out a fishing pole. He tips his hat at the group, and standing, takes one LONG step across the street to the edge of the little dock, and sits back down on his haunches. A scratching sound slowly comes to a stop on the front window of the shop. It's a sign that reads Gone Fishin'.

Bill looks at his map, and chooses the road leading away from the Shack of Heroes towards the northwest. As they walk down the road, they discuss Gnomsky's comments about a hand-walker that was supposedly lurking around the Croaking Castle.

After a few hours, they road starts climbing a small hill. It is very muddy. Towards the top, the group comes across a horse-drawn cart... minus the horse, and missing a wheel. Across the road from the cart is a camping tent. Much sniffling, crying, and murmuring is coming from inside the tent.

Roxin lifts off the muddy ground and glides up the hill towards the tent. The sniffling and sobbing comes to a brief halt. Roxin can hear someone say, "It's all gone. All gone. Everything. Gone." And then, the sobbing picks back up again. There is obviously someone very sad inside this tent.

Roxin flies back to the group and reports what he heard coming from inside the tent.

The group gathers around Roxin as he recounts what he heard at the tent. Someone is evidently crying because all their stuff was taken. The tent is off the road a little ways, near some trees. On the other side of the road is a broken wagon. The road through this stand of trees is thick with mud. The sun will be setting in the Left soon.

The group gathers around as the magical stone rearranges itself into a large question mark.

Roxin lifts off and out of sight. Emma, Luna, and Violet* march up the hill towards the tent, and acted as if they were just noticing the camp and the disabled wagon.

The sobbing inside the tent stops abruptly. There is the quick sound of rustling from within the tent, followed by a brief silence and then a deep breath. "Who's there? Why don't you leave me alone? I don't have anything left to steal!"

The group of heroes stands backs, looking at each other, wondering what to do next. Suddenly, the tent flap is brushed aside and out steps an angry looking Squirrel wearing a brown hooded cloak. The young squirrel, wiping a runny nose with a forearm, is clearly confused. She can't decide if the group is friendly or hostile. Nervously, she keeps a paw on a toy wooden sword pushed in to her belt.

In a much quieter voice she says, ''I don't have anything left to steal."

She is a very young squirrel and should probably not be out on the road, alone.

The little squirrel girl twists the corners of her cloak with her hands as she stares at the ground. "Me and my brother were taking a load of goods to sell to Mr. Gnomsky. We camped here last night. This morning when we woke up, everything from our cart was gone, including one of the wheels. Who would take a wheel!?!?" Her cheeks reddened slightly for a moment as her angry little face lifted up from the ground.

Now, looking everyone in the eye (except for Roxin who is invisible), she says, "My brother and I were trying to figure out what happened, because we didn't really hear anything the night before, when this old lady came crawling down the road. She was sniffing the ground and mumbling Curious. Very peculiar. Can't make heads nor tails of it. When she noticed us, she stood up and patted off her hands and knees."

"Oh, hello there little darlings she said to us. Why the sad faces? Someone steal your breakfast!? Neither my brother nor I thought it very funny so she stopped herself from laughing too loudly. Oh... so someone DID steal your breakfast. Then she got a suspicious look on her face and she said, Say, you kids wouldn't be walking around on your hands would you? Playing tricks on poor Miss Jenkins now, would ya? She leaned forward to see if our hands were dirty. But they weren't." She raises her hands up as proof that she is telling the truth.

"We told Miss Jenkins what had happened and she showed us the funny tracks in the road. Told us that whomever had been walking around on their hands was probably the same hands that had stolen our wheel. Then, my brother told me to stay here with Miss Jenkins and he ran back up the road towards the old castle. That's where Miss Jenkins said she first saw the hand prints in the mud."

The little squirrel looked past the group as if she was looking for someone else. "As you can see, Miss Jenkins didn't stay with me. She saw a flock of Beetle Birds and started trying to sing them a song. She wandered off..." The little squirrel looked back at the ground. "My name is Taffy. My brother's name is Tuft. Can you help us? if we don't bring back the stuff that Boss Tat wants, we'll be in big trouble. He said he'd put us in a cage and leave us where Boss Hat could find us..." She pauses for a moment, remembering her brother, and looks back down at the ground. "But, mostly I'm worried that Tuft is lost..."

Taffy grows quiet thinking about what could be worse than being lost, and the tears start to well back up in her eyes. But, she puts on a brave face and looks hopefully at the group.

Taffy looks at the group and hope starts to creep across her face. Then she furrows her little eyebrows, thinking.
"You know, now that you mention it... I did think I heard something last night. But, I thought maybe it was a dream that woke me up. But, I do remember hearing some sort of laughing sounds...?" She looks back at Luna with a shrug of her shoulders.

Then she remembers Tuft. "He went up the road, following the tracks. Here, let me show you." Taffy runs back over to the road and starts scanning the ground for some sign she can show the group.

After a few moments looking, "HERE! I found it! Here they are. Don't they look like hand prints?" Her bushy little tail twitches with excitement as she points the group to some strange prints tracked in to the muddy road. "They went that way!" and she points her little arm towards the north.

As the group starts to walk away from her, Taffy gets a very pensive look on her face. Her bushy tail twitching with indecision.
"Please be careful!" she says, her voice strained with worry. "I will wait here for Tuft, in case he comes back while you're gone. I wouldn't want him to think I had gone missing." She looks around as if hoping to see Tuft walking over the crest of the hill. Then, before anyone can see that she's about to start crying again, she jumps back in to her tent.

The group doesn't travel very far before the sun has set in the Left. The road is still easy to see, but the light is fading and there is no sign of the castle, yet.

It's getting darker... the diurnal animals have gone to bed and the nocturnal are just preparing for the night shift.

The sun sets. Luna takes the first watch.

After the initial flurry of noises from the animals changing shifts, the sky darkens and a calm settles over the land. Luna smiles as she hears the restful sighs, snores, and murmurs of her companions asleep in their shelter(s).

When the shouting begins, one of the swinging shadows falters in mid-air and actually misses the branch it was aiming for. It falls to the ground with a bump and a squeak.

Roxin stumbles across the camp looking for jellyfish. He's looking up in the air, expecting that maybe they are flying/floating there. He trips and falls landing on something very much like a soft, plushy pillow. He was expecting grass and rocks.

Emma runs over to help Roxin get back up on his feet. Roxin also feels a little strange when he gets back on his feet. His back is warm and feels... heavy. Emma spins Roxin around to brush the dirt off his back when she sees his back is covered in fur... and in the middle of that fur is a big brown eye blinking back at her.

It is not an angry eye. It looks scared, or a little worried. It swivels in its socket, looking frantically for something. It looks like a sort of striped octopus with long wispy fur. One of its furry tentacles shoots up in to the air grasping for one of the branches overhead. But, they are too far away. So, it clings to Roxin's back, trying to hide from Emma.

After the third or fourth spin, the furry tentacles lose their grip on Roxin and the creature slides off his back and on to the ground. It lounds with a very soft thud, and a little whimper. The creature slowly covers it's one eye with a tentacle, trying to hide. It moves VERY slowly.

When the creature hears Luna's voice, it seems to relax a little bit. Then, it looks up into the trees above their heads. There, hanging and swinging from the branches of the surrounding trees, are a dozen more of the furry creatures. They are much larger than the one that Roxin fell on. These must be the adults. Swinging menacingly from the trees, their fur stands on end, bristling and rattling. There is a deep rumbling sound coming from their massive, sack-like heads.

As Emma asks her question aloud, she feels a faint vibration coming from inside her pack.

Emma pulls the tablet out to see that it had responded to her question.

Snufflepus

Woodland creature, similar to a marine octopus, that is covered in long soft feathers. It has no suction cups. It can not go in the water. It is very slow on land but moves with graceful speed through tree branches by swinging on it's long tentacled arms; able to slingshot itself across 30-50 foot gaps between trees. It is an herbivore. It sleeps during the day, and most nights. It is usually only ever seen during the Time between Times, Dawn and Dusk.

Snufflepi are very shy creatures. However, once befriended, they make life long companions. They are extremely intelligent. They do not have mouths, per se, but take in food through a sort of osmosis/absorption. They communicate using micro-vibrations, rapidly shaking their feathers and producing sonic waves ranging from deep rumbling tones to high-pitched percussive chirps.

Abilities:
Constrict (+2 Tough)
Sling Shot (+4 Fast)
Shy (-2 Smart)

Quirks:
No Agua: Snufflepi won't go near water, for any reason.
Singing Swing: If one is lucky enough to befriend a Snufflepus, they can expect to sit on the Snuffepus like a suspended swinging chair, and ride through the forest at breath-taking speed. All it costs is a handful of their favorite treat: Bough Seeds.

As Roxin starts to lift off the ground, the adult Snufflpi immediately scatter, rattling their feathery fur, or furry feathers, in extreme agitation. They do not like having a flying dinosaur in the air around them, especially when one of their young is stuck on the ground. The little Snufflpus buries its eye under a feathery tentacle and makes a high-pitch whistle sound.

One of the adults swings mightily from a nearby branch and lands, with a thud, on the ground next to the little cephalopod. This must be its mother.

The mother snufflepi gathers the young one into her feathery tentacle, pulling it close to her body. Her eye turns up towards the trees and she rattles her feathers loudly, as if shouting to a bunch of posturing youth: Alright you guys! That's enough! Then she slowly inches her way towards the trees. Another large snufflepi swings to the nearest low branch, extending a couple tentacles towards the mother, and waits.

As the mother moves slowly across the ground, all the snufflepi go silent in the trees, looking away from the camp, into the darkness. A growl rumbles in the darkness. The snufflepi swing higher up in to the trees and flatten themselves against the branches, closing their eyes to perfect their camouflaged bodies amongst the leaves.

The mother on the ground flattens herself too, and the young one imitates her. They lie motionless.

Another moment of silence passes and then the gurgling purr of a hungry Rumble Cat, like an idling chopper (motorcycle), emerges from the shadows on the edge the clearing, just before the Rumble Cat itself steps into view.

It surveys the heroes. It surveys the trees. It surveys the patch of stripey, feathery grass.

It licks its lips.

The Thinkem Stone vibrates gently and then displays a picture of the large cat, as if they needed any help identifying it now!



Rumble Cat

Rumble Cats can grow up to 15 feet tall, and 40 feet long (not including their tail). As a nocturnal woodland carnivore, it feeds entirely on Snufflepi. It's body is covered with shaggy fur that often hosts a variety of different algae and fungi. Licking a Rumble Cat is not recommended. They have a spiked mohawk and eagle talons in place of paws. They are striped, usually with dark and darker stripes that range in color from midnight blue to blue black. Occasionally, a Rumble Cat will be found with brighter colors, but few have lived long enough to report any differences in how this color anomaly might affect their predatory behaviors.

They are extremely docile creatures... during the day when they are asleep. And, they have been known to sleep for months at a time after a successful feeding. When they are awake: beware! The Rumble Cat, so called for the deep, rumbling sounds generated by chronic irritable bowel syndrome, ranges far and wide looking for it's next meal. It has a keen sense of smell, and even better hearing. But, the Rumble Cat is blind as a bat. They are so angry, that their eyebrows and eyelids, from constant furrowing, have lost the reverse scowl muscles.

Abilities:
Bite (+2 / Tough)
Scratch (+4 / Fast)
Roar (+1 / Smart)

Quirks:
Meowch: Rumble Cats are used to being the top "dog" of the forest so they are rarely menaced by others. But, when they do receive a scratch, they run home and cry about it... a lot!
Mmmeeeooowww: Rumble Cats don't have friends. They don't want friends. They hate friends. But, if you have what the Rumble Cat wants, it'll be your best friend ever... until you no longer have it.

Roxin's should-mounted cannon launches a rocket in a fury of sound and smoke. A sharp trail of light blitzes across the clearing, flying over the cowering snufflepi, and smashes in to the broadside of the Rumble Cat, singing all the fur on that side of its body. The forest comes abuzz with the sounds of startled creatures and then subsides. The Rumble Cat yowls in furious surprise as it leaps back in to the forest, plunking its head straight into the hole in the hollow of an old tree. Stuck, the Rumble Cat's feet and tail flail frantically against the trunk of the tree trying to dislodge its head, its angry meowing sounding far and distant with its head stuck in the hole.

With a muffled pop, the cat finally pulls its head out and disappears into the bushes, trailing wisps of smoke and the smell of burned fur.

The two grounded Snufflpi continue to inch their way across the grass towards a tree where 3 or four others have chained themselves together, forming a sort of rescue ladder. Several more remain on high alert, swinging a perimeter around the encampment, scanning the forest for any sign of the Rumble Cat's return.

A few moments pass and a long, sad meow-howl is heard far off in the distance. Clearly, the Rumble Cat has no intentions on messing with Roxin's rockets again.

As the group decides how to spend the rest of the night, the two snufflepi on the ground finally make it close enough to the trees to be rescued by their anxious family members. No sooner do they lift their tentacles up then they are snatched into the air in to the safety of the branches. Within moments, they disappear into the darkness. The young snufflpi lingers for a moment, chirping gratitude towards the adventurers, and then it too, is gone.

The forest falls silent again, and the adventurers feel the heavy weight of the days activities on their eyelids. Dawn is coming soon enough, and tomorrow they will reach the Croaking Castle—which is where Miss Jenkins said she first saw the mysterious hand prints.

The sun is already high in the sky as our sleepy little team rouses themselves from sleep; stretching stiff muscles and rubbing sand from eyes. There is no trace of the previous night's activities. The Snufflepi are gone. The Rumble Cat is gone. And, the dew has already dried in the risen sun.

There is one curious addition to the camp. There are handprints all around the bed mats of the adventurers.

That's when you notice, all the food is gone.

The group travels along the road, occasionally confirming that they are still on course by finding the mysterious hand prints in the dust at the crests of hills and down in the vales where small creeks and streams occasioned to cross over and muddy up the path.

Before too long, the group emerges from a small wood, and beholds the Croaking Castle perched at the top of a hill. A murder of crows sunning themselves on the branches of an old, dead tree, call out their contentions for the whole valley to hear.


Suddenly, a loud screaming laugh, erupts from within the castle's keep. It is followed by a moment of silence. And then the crows resume their quarreling.

The group leaves the road and heads towards the Croaking Castle. A small outpost at one time, the castle has a large outer wall, with two adjoining rooms. One was a loafing shed for the castle's sheep, the rotten remains of a manger and a wooden gate are all that is left. The other may have served as a root cellar, and possibly a detached kitchen. Nothing remains but a covered well in the corner.

The wall is two-stories high and is falling apart. There is a balcony that runs the inner perimeter. On the ground floor, there are rooms for garrisoned soldiers, possibly some officer quarters, and some stables for finer animals. All is in disrepair.

In the back corner of the inner yard is the tower. It is three stories tall and has a tiled roof. Most of the tiles are still present. As the group stops to size up the castle, the crows explode in a flurry of black sound. They circle the castle a couple times and then fly out over the valley, towards the Ancient Forest, croaking whatever news their ominous calls can carry to whomever has ears to hear.

"in-in-in"

Emma's voice echoes against the old stone walls of the keep. There is no response. Despite the crumbled walls and missing doors making entry into the castle proper nothing more than a quick hop, step, and a jump away... the castle does NOT look inviting. It is old. Run down. Falling apart. Large chunks of the walls have come down. There are holes in the roof of the tower. The windows are black holes in a mossy, slab of great, grey stone.

The group steps through the space where a large, wooden gate used to be. Iron hinges hang useless on the wall, the remains of the original wooden gate slowly melting into the ground, covered in moss.

Inside the walls, the courtyard is relatively empty. Tall grass and weeds grow where the sun reaches. Where it doesn't, it's shorter grass, moss, and dirt. Along the wall, an old wooden walkway still clings to the stone. The right, there are two stone columns that support the walkway. To the left, a couple rooms. Probably barracks for the officers stationed here. In the back left corner is the main floor of the tower.



Inside, against the outer wall, there is a dining table and benches. In the far corner, behind the stairwell, was probably the location of a serving nook. Holes in the outer wall were probably used as some sort of pass-through to the outside, where the kitchen was likely located.

On the other side of the stairwell, crates are stacked up. The crates are empty, and look like they were probably supply crates that were brought to the castle and then stored for firewood. Old barrels are stacked on the floor in the nearest corner of the room, . They are mostly empty. One of the barrels, recently turned on its side, has some dark liquid leaking from it into the dirt-covered floor. This would normally be unremarkable, except for the footprints tracking through it towards the stairs.

They match the footprints you've been following.

The barrel rolls slightly; most of its dark liquid having already leaked out onto the stoney floor. The small, hollow sound of the wood rolling on stone is a lonely one. Also, the solidness of the castle tower soaks up the sound. There are no echoes here. All together the feeling is one of age. Of timelessness. This is a very old place indeed. It seems as though the walls were carved out of the very bedrock of Storia when the world was made.

In addition to the feelings of suspense induced by the fresh footsteps and the sense of ancient origins carried in the bones of the castle's many weathered years; the castle also endows a sense of adventure. There is a lot to explore here. So many stories must have left their mark on these grounds.

A large thump is heard on the floorboards above.

The group, all painted, stands on the landing of the first floor. Luna is sneaking up the stairs. Anyone else going to perform an action/movement?

I need a roll from Luna for her Sneak.
Roll 1D6 +2 (bonus from your talent).

Alright everyone...summer's over. It was crazy. But, we've slacked off quite a bit... I apologize for my part in the slow decay of the game. Maybe I wasn't keeping it interesting enough, pacing was off...

I'm willing to keep checking in here, but I think I'll give us all one more week to pick things back up before pulling the plug.

Great, thanks. I’ll roll for missing teammates (probably should have done this sooner) for future lags.

Okay, if we don't hear from Luna by end of day today, I'll roll for her and then kick this back into action. I know my daughter will be excited. I might have to "recap" things for her a little bit. :)
No worries @dramasailor on the out of townness. We'll accommodate. :)