Kratimos keeps up with Brokan, but says little. The druid doesn't seem much for small talk. This is fine with Kratimos, who is perfectly content on concentrating on the task at hand and keeping all sense aware and alert.
Brokan seems to be very comfortable and ease exploring in the wild. Kratimos does fine on his own merit, but he is unmatched for Brokan's knowledge and skill. Perhaps his special... gifts might make him more instrumental if they don't return by sundown.
Survival:
[dice]0[/dice]
Knowledge(geography):
[dice]1[/dice]
Spot:
[dice]2[/dice]
((How would Scent come into play? Could it provide added benefit to my survival and spot checks?))
ROA: Part 1, The Lone Tower
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Truthseeker
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((I did the weather check before leaving camp, so:))
Before Brokan leaves the camp, he tells the whole group, "there's a chance of a storm tonight. I'm not certain it will come to pass in this precise location, however. Nevertheless, be advised."
Brokan then takes the path confidently, fully taking account of his surroundings but wasting no time. Although he has not traveled to this particular canyon before, he was clearly firmly within his element. The wind, the sun, and the rocks were telling him everything he needed to know. Some druids have described this experience as nature singing to them. Others said it was like reading poetry written by the waters of time carving their verses into the land. To Brokan, however, it felt more like being a wet cloth on the forehead of a fever patient. He could feel the heat of anger radiating from somewhere deep inside the rocks. The blue sky moaned with it. The grass rattled with it. The sheer rage inherent in all of being scorched the inside of Brokan's heart like a brand. Its mark left words in the language of hatred on his soul.
If Kratimos looks at Brokan's face, his expression gets fiercer and fiercer. Brokan looks like someone barely holding himself back from screaming and stabbing everything in sight. Beads of sweat roll down Brokan's neck. When the light catches the sweat drops just the right way, it somehow looks like small bubbles are forming in them, like water on the verge of boiling.
Every now and then Brokan stops abruptly and lets the air breeze through his fingers before moving on again, apparently satisfied with whatever he was testing, but looking no less incensed.
Brokan rips a few small plants out of the dusty soil and hands one to Kratimos and keeps one to himself. In a soft voice, he says to Kratimos, "eat this if you need food. There's no sense in wasting trail rations while we're in the wild."
After traveling 200 yards down the trail, Brokan leads Kratimos into an area where the mountain's slope levels off and the trees become thick like a forest. Brokan scans the ground inside the grove and quickly halts. He holds out a hand, signaling for Kratimos to stop. Brokan stands right next to Kratimos's ear and whispers to him. Brokan's whisper sounds like sizzling meat on a spit. "We aren't alone. These are no animal tracks. Not human either. Something small, like a gnome. It could be something else. Goblin? I don't know. We can try and track them, see what's waiting for us and report back to the party. We have two or three hours of daylight left. What say you?"
Before Brokan leaves the camp, he tells the whole group, "there's a chance of a storm tonight. I'm not certain it will come to pass in this precise location, however. Nevertheless, be advised."
Brokan then takes the path confidently, fully taking account of his surroundings but wasting no time. Although he has not traveled to this particular canyon before, he was clearly firmly within his element. The wind, the sun, and the rocks were telling him everything he needed to know. Some druids have described this experience as nature singing to them. Others said it was like reading poetry written by the waters of time carving their verses into the land. To Brokan, however, it felt more like being a wet cloth on the forehead of a fever patient. He could feel the heat of anger radiating from somewhere deep inside the rocks. The blue sky moaned with it. The grass rattled with it. The sheer rage inherent in all of being scorched the inside of Brokan's heart like a brand. Its mark left words in the language of hatred on his soul.
If Kratimos looks at Brokan's face, his expression gets fiercer and fiercer. Brokan looks like someone barely holding himself back from screaming and stabbing everything in sight. Beads of sweat roll down Brokan's neck. When the light catches the sweat drops just the right way, it somehow looks like small bubbles are forming in them, like water on the verge of boiling.
Every now and then Brokan stops abruptly and lets the air breeze through his fingers before moving on again, apparently satisfied with whatever he was testing, but looking no less incensed.
Brokan rips a few small plants out of the dusty soil and hands one to Kratimos and keeps one to himself. In a soft voice, he says to Kratimos, "eat this if you need food. There's no sense in wasting trail rations while we're in the wild."
After traveling 200 yards down the trail, Brokan leads Kratimos into an area where the mountain's slope levels off and the trees become thick like a forest. Brokan scans the ground inside the grove and quickly halts. He holds out a hand, signaling for Kratimos to stop. Brokan stands right next to Kratimos's ear and whispers to him. Brokan's whisper sounds like sizzling meat on a spit. "We aren't alone. These are no animal tracks. Not human either. Something small, like a gnome. It could be something else. Goblin? I don't know. We can try and track them, see what's waiting for us and report back to the party. We have two or three hours of daylight left. What say you?"
Brokan Mok
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
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ArchAngel
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The smell of meat hits Kratimos deep inside; it's strong, especially for him. He's been eating the plants Brokan found, but it never satisfies like meat. Raw meat. Muscles on his back ripple unnaturally, but settle.
"Let's follow them," Kratimos relished a little excitement. Scouting in nature can become dull after a while, so he'd take any opportunity to track something of interest. "We don't have to worry about keeping up with the sun; the night does not hinder me."
"Let's follow them," Kratimos relished a little excitement. Scouting in nature can become dull after a while, so he'd take any opportunity to track something of interest. "We don't have to worry about keeping up with the sun; the night does not hinder me."
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fathom123
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Arch
Spoiler:
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
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Truthseeker
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"The night hinders me. We will not be trekking along the edges of cliffs in the moonlight. Ninety minutes, then we turn back. I do agree that we should investigate these tracks in the time we have."
Brokan attempts to follow the tracks.
Survival check to use the track feat:
[dice]0[/dice]
Brokan attempts to follow the tracks.
Survival check to use the track feat:
[dice]0[/dice]
Brokan Mok
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
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fathom123
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- Are you human?: Yes!
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TS/Arch
Spoiler:
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
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Truthseeker
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Brokan's eyebrows tense up. His earlier sense of Kratimos's overzealousness was being confirmed.
"Yes. We are outnumbered. If we are seen, then we withdraw immediately and return to camp. We are scouting."
Brokan continues following the tracks.
"Yes. We are outnumbered. If we are seen, then we withdraw immediately and return to camp. We are scouting."
Brokan continues following the tracks.
Brokan Mok
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
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ArchAngel
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Deepfreeze32
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Minather sits down a little way from the camp. He pulls out the locket and begins whispering into it.
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DollFaceKilla
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On one of her glances at Guy, Livia notices Minather talking to his necklace. She watches him for a minute then gets up and walks over to Guy, sitting next to him. She leans over next to him and whispers, "What is the deal with the wizard? I already had the impression that he was weird but what is in that locket of his? Does he do that often?"
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fathom123
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TS/Arch
Spoiler:
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
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Truthseeker
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Fathom/Arch/Me
Spoiler:
Brokan Mok
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek . . . to be understood, as to understand.
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fathom123
- Master Gamer
- Posts: 661
- Joined: Tue Jun 12, 2012 2:48 am
- Are you human?: Yes!
- Location: The mines of Moria (Aka, Atlanta, GA)
- Contact:
Arch/TS
Spoiler:
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.