Old Fezziwig
Thanks for the sour persimmons, cousin.
The Old North Line near the Foothills of the Caerrhenians in the shadows of the Westernmost Tower — Today, Just after Sunrise
The door was just where the tall svirfneblin said it would be, and it opened exactly as described. A short climb up a hewn rock stair, and the party found itself outside for the first time in a while — at least one week, if not more. The weather, previously atypically warm for the late fall season, had turned, and the ground was now hard with frost. The air was crisp and cool. The jagged peaks of the Caerrhenians loomed over head, their peaks covered with a white snow, made dazzling by the rays of the early morning sun. High above you was the abode of the Mahatkata, a wise man, spurned by the Frostmaiden, but vouched for by the caster. To the north, in the scrub plains between the Broken Lands and the Ice Sea, waited Coldfoot Willie. Both of them had answers, presumably, although how likely they would be to yield those was another matter entirely. And somewhere else out there was Delmozen's Forge.
Turning northwest, the party begins to head towards the mountains and the Mahatkata. After marching for the rest of the day, you find yourself in the beginning of the foothills, patches of granite and sandstone jutting out amid the hard earth, green and white with moss and frost. And still above you, the mountains, the Mahatkata's dwelling atop the highest peak -- an odd, treacherous, needle-like formation, jutting out from behind a line of smaller, but still steep, mountains.[sblock]I need to know a few things:
The door was just where the tall svirfneblin said it would be, and it opened exactly as described. A short climb up a hewn rock stair, and the party found itself outside for the first time in a while — at least one week, if not more. The weather, previously atypically warm for the late fall season, had turned, and the ground was now hard with frost. The air was crisp and cool. The jagged peaks of the Caerrhenians loomed over head, their peaks covered with a white snow, made dazzling by the rays of the early morning sun. High above you was the abode of the Mahatkata, a wise man, spurned by the Frostmaiden, but vouched for by the caster. To the north, in the scrub plains between the Broken Lands and the Ice Sea, waited Coldfoot Willie. Both of them had answers, presumably, although how likely they would be to yield those was another matter entirely. And somewhere else out there was Delmozen's Forge.
Turning northwest, the party begins to head towards the mountains and the Mahatkata. After marching for the rest of the day, you find yourself in the beginning of the foothills, patches of granite and sandstone jutting out amid the hard earth, green and white with moss and frost. And still above you, the mountains, the Mahatkata's dwelling atop the highest peak -- an odd, treacherous, needle-like formation, jutting out from behind a line of smaller, but still steep, mountains.[sblock]I need to know a few things:
- Marching order?
- Are you camping or forcing the march a while longer? The area's fairly exposed, but a lot of places will be until you get into the mountains. Will you have a standard operating procedure for this sort of thing? (That is, always rest/never force march or some such?)