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[LPF] Kostry Kopec
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<blockquote data-quote="jkason" data-source="post: 5830452" data-attributes="member: 2710"><p>Whatever her experience with such subterfuge, Katenaya doesn't bother to discuss it. Instead, she sets about making sure the party's gear and horses are ready. By the time the previous long-range patrol arrives, Everything is prepared. </p><p></p><p><span style="color: plum">"You already have your patrol route marked on your map. I've given you rations to cover you, since there's not a lot to find out there even for folks used to hunting for their dinner,"</span> she says. She looks to the sun, a few hours from setting, and points in the opposite direction. </p><p></p><p><span style="color: plum">"On your way, then. You ought to be able to get to your first checkpoint before sunset. We'll trade in these horses when you arrive back at your rendezvous, yes? See you in a few days, then. Good luck."</span></p><p></p><p>With no more fanfare than that, Katenaya turns back to the mining camp, content to see the party off to their 'patrol accident' and their actual mission.</p><p></p><p>Setting out at a brisk pace toward the eastern part of their 'patrol,' the group pulls out Finia's map once they've moved outside the view of the camp. They quickly find their bearings, and spur their mounts onward. </p><p></p><p>Katenaya's advice is definitely beneficial, as even the most rugged among them find the heat of midday oppressive, and hiding from it leaves them with the energy to maintain a steady travel pace. It also provides the opportunity to divest themselves of the sand which has inevitably and uncomfortably worked its way into every place it can. </p><p></p><p>Thankfully, it's a relatively short trip out of the desert, and tiny sprouts and sprigs give way to genuinely lovely, green land. Unfortunately, the party has barely enough time to register that they've passed out of desert into fields when the slide up the moisture scale takes a sharper turn. Grass becomes muck, and the air grows thick with the smell of mold and rot as the map leads them into the famous bogs of Heth. </p><p></p><p>Despite the various warnings of danger, the only natives which choose to molest them are the insects. Thick and annoying, they search for any exposed skin. The itch of sand is quickly replaced by the itch of bug bites. Still, at least they've not been assaulted by plague-bearers or other nastiness.</p><p></p><p>And soon enough, the outline of clumped buildings rises. After days of riding through heat, then bog, the party gains a modicum of a second wind, and move quickly to town.</p><p></p><p>The town is built atop a hill; the highest area appears, from a distance at least, to be relatively organized. The party is coming to town from the bottom of the hill, however, and finds that this lower section of town is much less impressive. Or, rather, impressive in its own way. </p><p></p><p>Narrow streets wriggle and wind between a claustrophobic jumble of poorly-constructed houses. Wood, stone, and--if the unappetizing mauve of many is any indication--middenstone. Certainly the overcast sky doesn't do the mess any favors, only adding to the oppressive mood.</p><p></p><p>For that matter, the seeming lack of much of any activity in the middle of the day is positively eerie. If the town is really as crowded as the current mess would seem to indicate, you'd expect a lot more people out on the streets. However, it actually takes you several turns through the labarynthine streets before you come across a market square. The booths, however, are all but deserted. Those few people here gather nervously before a small platform.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: cyan">"The call goes out for aid in Kostry Kopec's hour of need!"</span> cries a young woman in heraldic gear. Bedraggled and without much energy, she reads from the parchment in her hand. The monotone she uses suggests that she is either ill-suited for public speaking, or has read this announcement to the point of exhaustion.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: cyan">"Our good mayor asks for any able bodies who may have experience to offer themselves for hire upon the hill in investigating our recent disasters."</span></p><p></p><p>However tired of the announcement the herald is, the titter the word "disasters" sends through those few citizens outside is obvious. </p><p></p><p><span style="color: cyan">"Interested parties may contact The Crows for more information,"</span> she finishes. Mechanically, she gestures to the left of the stage, where a young man in military kit stands nervoulsy. He jumps a bit as he catches sight of your group, and starts to cross the square, gesturing wildly for your attention, as if there was some massive crowd and you might miss him. </p><p></p><p>The citizens, following his gaze, scatter as they take note of you. The herald, duty discharged, drags herself off down one of the narrow streets, presumably to repeat the announcement elsewhere.</p><p></p><p>[sblock=ooc]Thanks much for all your patience in indulging my travel narrative. You have, finally, arrived. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p><p></p><p>Okay, now seems like a good time to get some SOP for the party. If you can give me what you'd like the default marching order to be for both a two column and single file, I'll update the first post with that so we have it on hand when needed. Also, if there's any special exporation protocol you prefer, we can get that sorted, as well. Hopefully, it'll save some time when you're actually 'in the field.'[/sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="jkason, post: 5830452, member: 2710"] Whatever her experience with such subterfuge, Katenaya doesn't bother to discuss it. Instead, she sets about making sure the party's gear and horses are ready. By the time the previous long-range patrol arrives, Everything is prepared. [color=plum]"You already have your patrol route marked on your map. I've given you rations to cover you, since there's not a lot to find out there even for folks used to hunting for their dinner,"[/color] she says. She looks to the sun, a few hours from setting, and points in the opposite direction. [color=plum]"On your way, then. You ought to be able to get to your first checkpoint before sunset. We'll trade in these horses when you arrive back at your rendezvous, yes? See you in a few days, then. Good luck."[/color] With no more fanfare than that, Katenaya turns back to the mining camp, content to see the party off to their 'patrol accident' and their actual mission. Setting out at a brisk pace toward the eastern part of their 'patrol,' the group pulls out Finia's map once they've moved outside the view of the camp. They quickly find their bearings, and spur their mounts onward. Katenaya's advice is definitely beneficial, as even the most rugged among them find the heat of midday oppressive, and hiding from it leaves them with the energy to maintain a steady travel pace. It also provides the opportunity to divest themselves of the sand which has inevitably and uncomfortably worked its way into every place it can. Thankfully, it's a relatively short trip out of the desert, and tiny sprouts and sprigs give way to genuinely lovely, green land. Unfortunately, the party has barely enough time to register that they've passed out of desert into fields when the slide up the moisture scale takes a sharper turn. Grass becomes muck, and the air grows thick with the smell of mold and rot as the map leads them into the famous bogs of Heth. Despite the various warnings of danger, the only natives which choose to molest them are the insects. Thick and annoying, they search for any exposed skin. The itch of sand is quickly replaced by the itch of bug bites. Still, at least they've not been assaulted by plague-bearers or other nastiness. And soon enough, the outline of clumped buildings rises. After days of riding through heat, then bog, the party gains a modicum of a second wind, and move quickly to town. The town is built atop a hill; the highest area appears, from a distance at least, to be relatively organized. The party is coming to town from the bottom of the hill, however, and finds that this lower section of town is much less impressive. Or, rather, impressive in its own way. Narrow streets wriggle and wind between a claustrophobic jumble of poorly-constructed houses. Wood, stone, and--if the unappetizing mauve of many is any indication--middenstone. Certainly the overcast sky doesn't do the mess any favors, only adding to the oppressive mood. For that matter, the seeming lack of much of any activity in the middle of the day is positively eerie. If the town is really as crowded as the current mess would seem to indicate, you'd expect a lot more people out on the streets. However, it actually takes you several turns through the labarynthine streets before you come across a market square. The booths, however, are all but deserted. Those few people here gather nervously before a small platform. [color=cyan]"The call goes out for aid in Kostry Kopec's hour of need!"[/color] cries a young woman in heraldic gear. Bedraggled and without much energy, she reads from the parchment in her hand. The monotone she uses suggests that she is either ill-suited for public speaking, or has read this announcement to the point of exhaustion. [color=cyan]"Our good mayor asks for any able bodies who may have experience to offer themselves for hire upon the hill in investigating our recent disasters."[/color] However tired of the announcement the herald is, the titter the word "disasters" sends through those few citizens outside is obvious. [color=cyan]"Interested parties may contact The Crows for more information,"[/color] she finishes. Mechanically, she gestures to the left of the stage, where a young man in military kit stands nervoulsy. He jumps a bit as he catches sight of your group, and starts to cross the square, gesturing wildly for your attention, as if there was some massive crowd and you might miss him. The citizens, following his gaze, scatter as they take note of you. The herald, duty discharged, drags herself off down one of the narrow streets, presumably to repeat the announcement elsewhere. [sblock=ooc]Thanks much for all your patience in indulging my travel narrative. You have, finally, arrived. :) Okay, now seems like a good time to get some SOP for the party. If you can give me what you'd like the default marching order to be for both a two column and single file, I'll update the first post with that so we have it on hand when needed. Also, if there's any special exporation protocol you prefer, we can get that sorted, as well. Hopefully, it'll save some time when you're actually 'in the field.'[/sblock] [/QUOTE]
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