[Game Thread] The Fall of Kenabres (A)

[Cedric]

Menkel keeps silent as they move on, his thoughts going to his companions on the streets of Kenabres -The Blackfeather Company- and he realizes that he will probably never see them again, they'd have fought against what hopeless odds faced the city to buy the people some time And here I am, fallen down a hole while they fight against the legions...

Bending down by the shallow pool

Perception Dice Roll: 1d20+5 (4)+5 Total = 9

Survival Dice Roll: 1d20+5 (3)+5 Total = 8

he makes sure the waters are clean and safe for drinking before tasting it, filling his waterskin should he deem it safe before advising the rest to do the same.

Looking up at the strap on the ledge above he quickly

Climb Dice Roll: 1d20+7 (15)+7 Total = 22

tries to scale the wall to see what it might contain.

[Mal Radagast]

The dim suits Wolf just fine, with his heart beating in his eyes. Hoisting herr doctor's bag around back, he rummages lopsideways in his coat for a flask. The water is lovely, pushing the pressure around, spreading it out some. Tipping it up for Anevia, he lets her dribble some down whilst grumbling under his breath about demons not needing coffee. Demons cannot have hangovers, because hangovers are so clearly a demonic invention. Logic. She offers him a weak half-smile, and then her apologies for leaning so heavily on him. "S'okay, lady, no trouble...you schmell nize." They hobble along in their own rough way, recovering.

When Menkel hands two scales to Sandros, who hands one to Wolf, he looks up and around, finally catching up on the conversation he'd only half been listening to. He turns the scale over, holds it up to his cheek, then to Anevia's, raises an eyebrow and slips the scale into a coat pocket somewhere. Talking across her back, he says, "You dun have to go huntink Fortune, Herr Arzt...She always does seem to find us." He pauses, that eyebrow still a little twitchy. "Vhich kind is the wurst kind?"

[Eddas]

Marcus Taim Deciding that the water Dice perception: 1d20+1 (3)+1 Total = 4 looked safe enough to drink, Marcus drinks the last of his water before refilling the skin from the shallow pool. Watching Menkel in his attempt to scale the wall, Marcus takes stock of what supplies he has left in his pack. "I have a roll of silk rope, but no hook, might come in handy before we are out of here though. I also have one sunrod left, though we should probably reserve that for when we absolutely need it." Marcus approaches Horgus, Dice diplomacy: 1d20+7 (7)+7 Total = 14 offering him another draught from his flask, figuring the last thing their group moral needed was him to get louder in his complaining. "Share another drink with me?" after getting his freshly emptied flask back, he keeps it out, intending to refill it with water. "You wouldn't happen to have anything that might come in useful for our survival, would you?"

[Medesha]

Menkel and Marcus, in turn, take sips from the rippling pool. Both find the water tastes clean and fresh with that acrid, minerally briskness water gets when it comes straight from underground.

Menkel tries to scale the distance to the hanging backpack, but the slick vertical wall foils his best efforts. Marcus offers a silk rope, but you currently have no way to attach it to the ledge.

Meanwhile, Wolf helps Anevia along, making half-incomprehensible small talk as he goes. Marcus offers the last of his flask to Horgus, and the nobleman eagerly finishes off the liquid within. "Decent, most decent," he says, wiping his mouth with the edge of his flashy cloak. "Decent of you and decent drink too. Ha!" He glances up at the slick wall and shakes his head. "Can't think of anything. No climbing hooks or anything hiding in my pockets. Well...I do have this." He unpins a large and flashy brooch from his cloak. "Was using it as a clasp, but it's real silver, solid too. Could snag on something I suppose? I want it back though!"

[Eddas]

Marcus Taim Marcus accepts the brooch, turning it over in his hands. "Er, very nice. Hopefully it will do the trick." Unwinding the silk rope, Marcus ties it to the brooch. Wouldn't do any good for climbing, but it should work to pull the pack down to them. "Hopefully this will work." Marcus swings the makeshift grapple around a few times, before letting it fly up towards the pack. Dice Dex: 1d20+1 (7)+1 Total = 8

[Sassafrass]

"Kindness, perhaps. But this is my profession: I am it, and it is me. Give the profession credit more than I." A nod to the woman, and Sandros is away, ever on the move.

The worst part, as they move, is having to listen to Wolf. He has the womanizing skill of a half-dead auroch on holiday in the heat, smelling worse than a Tien yak and about looking like one too. How the man gets by is beyond him, but practicality keeps the Tiefling's mouth shut, not wanting to interrupt anything or even draw attention to them. He manages the scales and passes them along, not even sure why anyone is handing them about. Now is not the time and he had thought that the situation was taken care of, but apparently not. Sandros hardly understands the nature of such a beast, but that is the nature of most things. He does not bother with what he cannot understand: he needs data, logic, and information, and here there is little to be had. They are merely passing through: this is a liminal state.

And so, they come to a place to do some minor climbing. The rope is thrown, and it does not look good, with that kind of throw. Or perhaps Sandros is too analytic, too critical. Best not to open his mouth, to make enemies of people he must be around. Best to keep to himself. Best of all.

Sandros waits.

[Medesha]

Marcus's throw lands the silver brooch near the backpack but not close enough to snag it. It pings off the rock and clatters back to the ground.

[Eddas]

Marcus Taim Marcus shakes his head as he picks the makeshift grapple. "If it doesn't work this time, I'm open to suggestions." He stands back and starts swinging the brooch around, faster and faster, hoping for enough momentum to carry it up and over the stuck pack. Dice dex: 1d20+1 (9)+1 Total = 10

[Cedric]

Menkel grunts in frustration "We'll leave it, we got wounded to get to safety and they need at swords available above." -If there is any "Above" left- he glances back the way they came "We are at a dead-end, right? Or am I reading this wrong?Head back and turn the other way?" he asks while scratching the stubble of his dark beard.