Sailing Away RPG

[Firefoot]

Sondo nodded, inwardly skeptical. Did Falco really think he might make it all the way there without help? Too proud for his own good, he decided, rather hypocritically. In fact, as he led the way toward their arranged meeting place, Sondo became irked. Why wouldn’t Falco just admit that he was tired and his legs were in terrible condition? Sondo would have been more than willing to aid Falco, help support him; but no, Falco had to determinedly go on by himself. And go slowly. Sondo wondered how long it would be before Falco could keep up with a regular pace - if they had to go this rate all the time, they would never get home. Then again, this was Falco he was thinking about; of course Falco would have to be difficult. He always had been.

Guilt pricked at the back of Sondo’s mind. Maybe you haven’t forgiven Falco as much as you thought, his conscience nagged. You’re being more than a little unfair. Weren’t you just thinking that Falco was your friend, after all?

They’re valid concerns Sondo protested weakly. However, his conscience won out. They had walked perhaps a third of the distance when it became obvious to Sondo that Falco had absolutely no intention of asking for help, whether he needed it or not. He stopped and turned to face Falco.

“Look, Falco,” he said sighing. “No offense, but it’s pretty clear that you’re having a hard time. We were friends, once, and we could be still. Do you want some help? There’s still quite a way to the meeting place.”

[Firefoot]

Snarling, the pack tore after the two remaining tall two-leggeds. They gave a bit of a chase, not because it was necessary but more for a bit of sport before the kill. Finally, the lead male could stand it no longer, and growling to the others this one’s mine, he sprung upon the slower of the two, the one that had killed his mate. The two-legged stumbled as the wolf hit his back. Sharp teeth gleaming, his powerful jaws closed around the man’s neck, severing the spinal cord. The man fell limp, instantly dead. The rest of the pack had taken on the final two-legged, bringing it down without difficulty.

The kills were left lying; wolves did not eat two-leggeds. The alpha male now regretted having anything to do with the short ones; they were the ones who had brung this grief upon them. The wolves trotted silently behind him as he approached his fallen mate. He sniffed her hopefully, but there was no life in her. He let out a long, mournful howl. He was joined by the remaining four wolves in the pack, their voices mingling into a single harmonious song.

Finally, the howls drifted off. Come decided the wolf. These two-leggeds have caused us naught but grief, and they approach the Forest Where No One Dwells. We leave; we hunt the bearers of the two-leggeds. Four were freed. The other broke loose only recently. We hunt.

The song of the wolves changed; their mouths salivated, eager for the fresh meat of horse. The lead wolf set the pace, the loping, tireless gait of hunting wolves. Soon, the only sign that remained of them were five dead men and a fallen wolf.

[Child of the 7th Age]

As the sound of the wolves receded in the distance, Bingo climbed down from the tree and walked slowly over to the clearing in the woods where the dead bodies of the Men and the wolf still lay. Several of his companions were also coming out of their hiding places. Bingo's first thought had been to skin the carcass of the wolf and use the meat to feed them before starting on the trail again. But looking at the carnage strewn over the ground, he found it difficult to kneel down and use one of the Big Folk's knife on the animal carcass.

He had no great love for the ruffians, especially after what had happened to his own parents. Yet there was something immeasurably sad about the bloody and torn bodies that lay motionless on the forest floor. "What should we do?" he whispered, addressing anyone who stood nearby. "I think Sondo wants us to troop down to that thicket in the distance. But surely we just can't leave this." Something inside his head told Bingo that was wrong. "Can we burn the body or heap up some stones? If it's safe to do so, burning the bodies would be the fastest......"

[Encaitare]

The sounds of the fight had only continued to grow more severe as Reggie looked for the others -- then a dreadful silence fell. A chilling howl came from the clearing and raised the hair on the back of the lad's neck, and at last it seemed that it was over. He could not seem to find any of his companions despite his careful looking. He chanced calling their names, but still no response came, and so he decided to turn back.

As he entered the clearing, Bingo glanced up at him and the others who were straggling in. He was looking at the dead bodies with a startling sorrow. Reggie slowly approached, transfixed and oddly fascinated.

"Can we burn the body or heap up some stones?" Bingo said. "If it's safe to do so, burning the bodies would be the fastest."

Reggie kneeled by one of the fallen Big Folk and stared. "I guess maybe we could. We couldn't let the fire get out of control, though... 'cause I don't think we could carry enough stones."

Something winking on the ground next to the dead man caught his eye. Closer inspection revealed that it was a small coin, not worth much but not undesireable either. It appeared to have fallen out of the man's pocket. Figuring that the man wasn't going to miss anything of his, Reggie began rummaging through the other pockets. He found several more coins, a good length of string, and some trinkets: two blue beads, a little carven figure of a fox, and what seemed to be a spare buckle of some sort. All this he put into his own pocket, and moved on to the next one, feeling like some kind of scavenger, but hoping nonetheless to find something useful. After all, stealing from dead men was no worse than stealing from live ones.

All in all, what he obtained was mostly unremarkable. A key, a little metal file, a pair of gloves which were far too big for hobbits' hands -- just the simple sorts of things that people were likely to keep in their pockets for one reason or another. But he took all that he found anyway, showing his findings to the others.

"You never know what you might need," he said, shrugging. "They've got knives... d'you think we ought to take those too, instead of leaving them out where other ruffians can find them?"

[Primrose Bolger]

Sassy rose groggily from the limb she clung to. The receding sounds of the wolves in pursuit of new prey had finally pierced her weariness. She squinted, looking toward where she’d run from. It looked clear now, she thought, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. Perhaps if she went back, the others would be there, too.

Scooting near the tree’s trunk, she hoisted her far leg over and, carefully as she could, made her way down to the ground. She missed a couple of footholds, scraping herself on the face and arms as she struggled for purchase on the rough tree bark.

Things look different now that she was down on the ground. She felt a little turned around now that she didn’t have the vantage point of being high up in the tree. Sassy rubbed her cheek where she’d bruised it and pushed back her straggle of dirty curls. Just a little ways away she could hear the sound of some little stream. It reminded her that she was thirsty . . . really thirsty from her long run. Her face brightened a bit at the thought of a drink. And besides, she thought, she could gather some of the little river stones she liked for her slingshot.

She set off, walking quietly as she could, toward the sound of the rushing water . . .

[Nurumaiel]

Falco averted his eyes from Sondo and considered. It would be practical to accept the offer. They were taking some time to reach the meeting place, and besides the general inconvenience, there was the personal inconvenience to Falco, having to hobble along on his pained feet. But how could he possibly consent to let Sondo, the one boy who had been mean to him at his return to the camp, help him?

He lifted up his shoulders and let them drop again in a gesture of indifference, and began to walk forward again. His gesture signified that Sondo could help if he wanted to, which, Falco thought, was another way of saying 'yes' without humbling yourself too much.

[Firefoot]

Oh, for goodness' sake, thought Sondo, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Falco might as well just say it: he needed help. Nevertheless, he offered Falco his shoulder and said, "Here; you can lean on me." Falco nodded as if indifferent, but Sondo could see the relief in the other lad.

With Sondo helping to support Falco, they were able to walk a bit quicker. Neither of them said a whole lot, concentrating more on the task at hand. Sondo did not mind helping Falco - he had offered, after all - but he was at least a little annoyed by Falco's pride. Never had he apologized since returning to their camp, and now he barely responded to the offer of help, much less friendship. And until he did any of those, Sondo could not fully trust him. He wasn't even fully convinced that Falco really wanted to join the group again.

When they finally reached the trees, Rory and Marroc were waiting, organizing the supplies taken from the Big Folk. Falco sunk down against a tree trunk. Sondo wondered why it was taking the others so long; he thought that Falco and himself had taken quite some time as it was. He let the others know what he was doing and wandered out to take a look, and saw that Sam and Sassy were approaching, while Reggie and Bingo were still back by the battleground, standing near one of the dead Big Folk. Sondo was too far away to tell much more than that. He wasn't in a hurry, since he figured they wouldn't be getting much farther that day, even if it was only mid-afternoon. Falco clearly needed to rest, and it had been an exciting day for all of them, to say the least. They could build a fire and have a real supper tonight, a celebration of sorts. So he headed back to the other three, figuring they'd get there when they got there.

"Let's get a fire going and cook up a meal," he suggested. "We're not going to go any farther today." Rory got up to help him gather wood while Marroc continued to go through their newly-acquired food. Soon a merry fire was crackling. They speared strips of meat on sharp sticks and began to roast them over the fire. Sondo's mouth began to water as the scent of cooking meat filled the air. They would be eating well from now on.