Abculatter's been active, we should get a turn soon. 3 days isn't that bad of a wait.
You had to say that, didn't you? You couldn't have just let me keep procrastinating with a clear conscience...
Frelock:
(Roll: 2)
In a daze of toxic fungal digestive fluid-inspired madness, you grab desperately at a nearby torch immediately after reaching camp. You stumble with it as you attempt to burn away your growing mold infection and manage to catch both your clothes and your horse on fire. Nearby men watch you with mixed feelings, some find your blundering amusing while others begin running about attempting to find something to douse the flames with.
You are also showing signs of mild intoxication and during the stumbling about you realize that your entire leg is completely numb, with your other extremities starting to get a very peculiar, unscratchable itch.
wolfchild:
(Roll: 3)
Again with the seclusion! If they didn't have better things to care about, some of the men would start making up rumors...
You find again the rocky crag which you had retreated to before and begin you usual meditation, extending your awareness without and within you, though focusing mainly on the within. You feel the power flowing through your inner pathways, going in mainly through the top of the spine just below the neck and going down and within, to the more ethereal places of yourself where the latent beast normally resides. You attempt to reach for this pathway when suddenly your consciousness goes awry, you feel within you the awakening of primal instincts long forgotten, of feral rage unlike any which you've felt before. You feel the beast awaken inside you, an unstoppable power as massive as a tidal wave empowers it forward and you are unable to resist.
You awaken, though your head spins with new, estranged sensations which you recognize but cannot tell from where. Though your eyes can not see, you can sense... almost
feel the world around you, but it is not like the heightened awareness of meditation. It is... strange, garbled yet clear, indistinct yet solid. You attempt to make sense of all this, try to remember...
anything, but even your name and purpose escapes you.
Ochita:
(Roll: 4)
You completely ignore this
blatant message from the heavens and decide to, instead of inquiring further as to how this man had been able to use magic, find the nearest grouping of men to chat and bunk with. You manage to do exactly this, assimilating into one of the many decimated squadrons and quickly becoming acquainted with them. They fortunately do not notice you are an elf, and in fact several times the conversation turns to crude elf jokes, which you find mildly offensive but you manage to keep your feelings to yourself.
After an hour or two of chatting, you decide to take a look around the camp. It's not much to look at, really, just a large bunch of torches and bedrolls thrown haphazardly around, only broken by the occasional tent and by the stockpiles and command flagpole. One thing you do note, however, is just how vulnerable you are here just from the location, not including the fact that what seems like half of the men here are injured and the haphazard setup.
Nevyn:
(Roll: 4)
You find a few puddles of the acidic blood and manage to fill one and a half of the vials before your finger tips start bleeding from acid burns.