Action: Immanuel Jade does indeed attempt to open the door and exit the premises, keeping the guards within his sight to gauge their reaction.
You've hardly gotten close to the door when you interrupt the story about how the Imperial 223rd Artillery silenced the Grand Lion of Orinost in it's final, doomed charge toward the Imperial battle lines.
"...Where you off to, Jade...?" Mags mutters, yawning.
"We didn't lock your cell, since we're trying to work with you here. There's no reason to be wandering around, though. Is there?""I suppose we should get going. It'd be good if you kept an eye out, you three, in case you spot anything you can shoot for breakfast."
Inspect the Orinost trinket - could it be useful here
Action: Ride to Sevenforks. Look for any good game along the way.
"I'll do that."
Keep an eye out for game as we ride to Sevenforks.
Clip, clop, clip, clop...The party of four rides on, eyes sharp, minds on their business. Hunger has a way of sharpening the senses. The storm seems to have never been-the sky, perfectly clear as ever, the grasses swaying gently. Only the fading scent of damp earth is any indication of the fury of the previous night. Close enough to civilization, the occasional shack or barn is even seen, even a windmill or two...most likely abandoned, especially this close the road. They tend to attract too much attention.
Wen-Li closely inspects her Orinost Trinket. It actually displays a lot of information for such a small thing...she reflects it probably has some sort of spirit aiding it...or many of them.
Time: Early Morning
Current Direction: Due Northeast
A square glass facing?: Currently Blank
Anvil Symbol with green numbers?: 9.8
A beating red sphere?: Pulsing about 50 times a minute.
Red Needle?: Ticking very slowly
Black/Red Gauge?: 10%
Weather: Sunny (Chance of High Winds)
?=Wen-Li has no idea what these mean!
...
The group rides on peaceably enough. The plains give way to shrubland, most gone to riot-farms and freeholds that sprung up in the wake of the end of the war, but abandoned in the recent years. They ride on through a mound of head high, sweet smelling grasses that was probably once a wheat field. Wheat being dear in these parts, but fickle to grow-another business venture failed. The Farmhouse where once a family maybe lived, stands low and desultory in the distance, now empty of all save the rats and spiders. The silence of the ride is broken by a staccato gunshot ringing out as
Vic whips our her gun at a low, fast blur crashing through the brush toward them. Her eyes betray her, however, and
her aim is off-her shot only manages to wing the thing, which promptly staggers into the path, and lays down it's shaggy head to expire slowly. Frowns blossom around the party as they survey what Vic's shot has brought down...
A stray family dog, maybe abandoned in these parts when it's owners left, or came to a bad end.
Naught but a old grey mutt, years past his time already. By the look of him, he hasn't been living well-his hair unshorn and unwashed, his ribs and backbones prominent. He still has a faded, red leather collar around his neck. He breathes slowly, calmly even-and gives no mind to his murderers, but he seems to be moving less and less even as you watch.