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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Old One" data-source="post: 1547534" data-attributes="member: 83">Session 23 (Part Four-B)This update unded up being pretty long, so I cut it into two bites for easier digestion - enjoy!The Long Race – Entry BSextus hurt like he had never hurt before.  Cragen’s healing magics had closed his wounds several nights before, but Quintus and Rowan had been driving the band northward at a punishing pace.  The bard’s leaden legs rose and fell as he willed each step – one after another.  He risked a brief glace ahead, braving a stumble on the rocky ground.He could only see the hunched shoulders and short, stiff legs of Cragen a spear’s length ahead of him.  The damp, clinging fog that had been their constant companion hid the others from sight, although his sharp ears picked up their labored breathing.  ‘How many days had it been?  Two?  No…three.’The bard’s pinched face grimaced as he stumbled and almost fell.  He steadied himself and continued on the grueling forced march…putting one foot in front of the other.At the other end of the struggling column, Rowan paused for a moment, listening intently.  ‘Ah…there it is.’The ranger picked up the sound of the river to his left, adjusted his facing slightly and glanced over his shoulder to ensure Quintus had sight of him.  His body was drenched in dew and sweat and an idle corner of his mind wondered how bad he smelled.  Although nearly spent physically, Rowan’s spirit soared.  For three days and nights, he had led the party through the misty river valley below the foothills the Lords Road snaked through.  Using the Thunder River as a guide rail to the west and Severus’s keen sight to pace the slow-moving caravan of undead and children, they had managed to draw even.  ‘One more push,’ the ranger thought to himself, ‘one more effort and we can beat them to the bridge.’He wasn’t sure how he knew about the bridge, but he knew it was there.  Maybe it was an off-hand comment by the Old Man or a bit of lore gleaned from Father Thomas’s books or a bit of trivia gleaned from idle nights at Nan’s Tavern.  Regardless of the source, Rowan knew a great bridge spanned a deep gorge midway betwixt the ruins of Bremerton and the dead city of Lords.‘That,’ he thought to himself fiercely as he resumed his blistering pace, ‘is where they will pay for their crimes.’Hours later, Rowan’s ears picked up the sound of rushing water distinct from the majestic rumble of the river.  He forced his aching legs to quicken the pace, ignoring Quintus’s low call of caution.  Five turns of the minute glass later, he stood on the high bank of a rushing, rocky stream.  A series of low cataracts rose to his right.  He waited until a panting Quintus emerged from mist.“Wait here!”The sorcerer nodded and flopped onto his belly, reaching down to cup the cool, refreshing water.  Rowan leapt away through the rocks and disappeared to the east.  The rest of the tired, tattered band quickly closed on Quintus’s position and collapsed.Adrenaline, fueled by thoughts of revenge and justice, lent new strength to the ranger’s burning limbs.  A bowshot up the stream, past three waterfalls and associated pools, Rowan halted and whistled softly.  Fifty paces above his head, the imposing edifice of the Emorian Bridge soared.  The ground rose sharply on both the north and south side of the bridge, creating an elevated roadway.  The ranger’s practiced eye flicked from one side of the bridge to the other and back again, settling finally on the north side of the bridge.“Perfect!”He raced back down the stream to where his tired companions waited.  “Fill your skins and sharpen your wits, we have an ambush to lay!” Without waiting for a response, he hop scotched across the stream and began climbing towards the bridge,(DM’s Note: The dilemma of how to catch up with the undead caravan presented the party with several options, none of them good.  They could follow on the road, but had a very good chance of being discovered.  They could attempt to follow in the foothills, but would scarcely travel faster than the caravan due to terrain and Cragen stumpy legs.  The river flowed in the wrong direction to be of use.Their last option was to plunge into the perpetual mist that covered the low-lying areas of this part of the river, try to navigate through and outpace the caravan.  A series of stunning “Wilderness Lore” and “Intuit Direction” rolls by Rowan, supported by Severus’s aerial scouting made the last choice the successful choice.)To Be Continued…Next: Interlude: Child's Play~ Old One</blockquote>

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