Chapter One: Sweet Dreams are Made of These

[Brian]

Four of them are carrying a fair bit of food.  The three dressed like Bjorn, and the one dressed like Nathan and Dracos.

The other one isn't carrying anything but a waterskin in the way of consumables.

[Huitzil]

Paul stands up and walks to the exit as if in a daze, then takes a solemn look back at the corpses littering the room.

[Bjorn]

Waiting until Nathan is done collecting provisions, Bjorn then makes his way through the door, sword at the ready.

[Dracos]

OOC: Cursed frail mortal body.

IC:

Dracos also takes any provisions that Rez can't reasonably carry, trying to make sure they have enough food for the trip.

Once done, he follows after Bjorn, keeping eyes peeled for uglies.

Dracos

[Brian]

Laindril opens the door once you've all gathered behind him, letting in a howling, and very cold wind.  You're not in any danger of immediate freezing as far as you can tell, but this is not going to be a comfortable journey.

Immediately outside this doorway is a vast, nearly featureless white plane, covered in snow, some small scrub brush in sparse areas between you and the horizon, and a sun that hangs almost directly behind you, over the house.  It hangs low in the sky, red and dim, as though tired.

A very faint dusting of snow is falling from the clouds more directly overhead (which stretch on to the north seemingly forever), and you can see tracks leading off from the building you just exited.  If the sun is to the west, then the tracks lead southeast.

But you're not certain that this is the case, because Liandril said you would be heading west, and he doesn't lead you towards the sun.  If Liandril is leading you west, then the sun is south of you, and the tracks lead off to the northeast.

Either way, in the direction of the sun is a massive shelf of rock that springs rather abruptly from the tundra without the formality of foothills.  The crescent shaped mountain range (if that's what it is) is only probably a half a kilometer high, but the passage would be nearly straight up.  It looks like it grows taller behind you, and shorter in the direction that Liandral is leading you.

The building itself is a large, very blocky, nearly square shaped building.  The only departure it makes from being a cube is a very high, peaked stone roof.  Logically, to deflect the snow.  There are no windows visible, nor any chimneys.  There's no signs on it to give a clue as to what its purpose is, other than, "spot for people to leap from a body in one reality to a body in another in the wake of an orc attack".

[Bjorn]

"These tracks," Bjorn says, stopping beside them, and studying them as best he can.  "Can anyone make anything of them?"  He looks around, studying the horizon for dark shapes or signs of motions, and then peers down the trail.  "I don't think we'll find many friendly people walking about out here."

[Brian]

"You don't remember where we came from?" Liandril asks, frowning.  "Did you hit your head?"

[Bjorn]

"I don't remember," says Bjorn, truthfully and only a touch dryly.

[Brian]

He frowns, but turns away, and starts trecking across the trundra towards the edge of the mountain range.  "We should be able to make it to the keep in a week, if we travel quickly.  That will be more than enough time to get there before night falls."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn follows after the elf, keeping half an eye on the lady as he goes.

[Brian]

You troupe along through the snow.  Thankfully, it's all very hard, and you've got crampons strapped to your boots, so there's no falls (outside of Ginrai tripping over his robes twice, and losing his glasses once).

The sun seems to be slowly moving west, as the hours drag on, but it's not actually setting.  Eventually (as you're getting a bit tired) he calls a halt at what can only be considered an 'edge' to the mountain range.  Here, it's a series of steep hills instead of an abrupt cliff.

"Let us stop here, and rest," Lianrdril suggests.  "Find something to eat.  Sir Bloom, if you'll follow me, we can scout the hilltop."  He hesitates for a minute, then shakes his head, and starts heading towards the sun, climbing straight up the hillside.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn roots in his pack, pulling out the dry rations, and carefully apportioning them to those standing around after putting the remainder back in his pack.

[Brian]

The lady accepts a small bit of cheese and the dried bread; she's got her own waterskin, though she's tucked it into her robe to keep it from freezing.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn grunts at that, and then checks his own waterskin -- both to see if it's freezing, and to find out how full it is.

Just like home.  Well, except for the lack of technology, different body, and orcs.

[Brian]

Since you've been moving, your waterskin is not frozen.  But it is cold, and very slushy.  Your armor doesn't have any convenient accomodations for you to slip it next to your skin -- and as cold as it is not, you're not sure you'd want to.  It's got a good amount of water in it -- it's pretty big.  You'd guess at least a liter is left, and it can probably hold one and a half.

The lady finds a rock, dusts it off, and sits down, pulling her cloak around herself as a cold wind begins to pick up.  The snow is lessening, but the wind slowly gets stronger.