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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1155233" data-attributes="member: 2292">Gunnar wakes everyone before sun-up, gathering them together in the small courtyard of the King’s manor.  The first few rays of the sun are slowly starting to sneak over the horizon, and a fresh layer of snow has covered the city.  Standing by the gate is a small pile of gear.“Warm cloaks and clothes, and snow-shoes,” Gunnar explains.  “I’m assuming you folk don’t have magic to counteract the cold, and you can’t walk easy through the snow drifts in normal boots.  There’s a snow-tent in there as well, and some shovels.  Your Half-orc can carry the tent, but none of you should be without a shovel.  If there’s an avalanche in the mountains, you’ll be wanting to dig free as fast as you can.“He pauses, shifting his lean frame to consider all four adventurers.‘Unless you particularly want to wait underneath it all until the next spring thaw.”Everyone quickly hauls the thick cloaks over their shoulders, and begins strapping the other equipment to packs and belts.“I thought we were coming into summer?” Halgo asks Gunnar as they pack.  “Why the extra stuff?”“Snow doesn’t melt in some places,” Gunnar explains, showing the wizard how to bind the snowshoes to his boots.  “And weather here hasn’t ever been warm. Sides, you’re more likely to get hit by an avalanche now than in the dead of winter.  Everythings as close to melting as it gets, so there's big chunks of ice up there just waiting to topple.”    Once everyone has stowed their gear to Gunnar’s satisfaction, they set off.  The townsfolk of Borr line the streets, watching the five men walking to the front gate, and for the first time the Copperheads get a sense of how important the king truly does treat their mission.  Standing at the front gate is Oleg, with both Vellandar and Sterna standing at a shoulder.  They offer a solemn nod as the party passes, and both the clerics offer a mumbled blessing.Gunnar quickly sets the pace of the days travel, a cross-country trek that takes the group through snow covered fields and plains.  For the first few hours, farmhouses are visible in the distance, but by mid-morning the fields have given away to stunted hills and the awesome grandeur of the black-stone mountains to the north.“Three days,” Gunnar says, pointing to a peak that spits smoke into the air.  “Near as we can tell, the Dwarves live in that volcano.  If nothing goes wrong, we’ll be there in three days of hard travel.”“It not look that far,” Blarth says, hand over his eyes to cut down on the snows glare.“It isn’t,” Gunnar says with a shrug. “But we haven’t traced a path through the mountains.  I know a few short cuts and mointain tracks, but it’ll still take at least two days to find our way through the peaks, and that’s assuming we can follow the river right up to the volcano.  I've never gone that far in, and we may have to backtrack.”“What river?” Geoffrey asks, looking over the snow-covered hills and seeing nothing.“The Streel,” Gunnar says.  “We should hit it by late afternoon.”He falls silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving the horizon.“If I fall before we get there, follow it as far as you can,” he says eventually.  “And my spirit will pray that one of you has the woodcraft to get you where you need to go.”By late afternoon, the river is found.  It still flows, despite the cold, but there are heavy chunks of ice bobbing along its surface.  Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, their breath steaming in the cold air.“Should we make camp?” Geoffrey asks, his limbs aching after the hours of cross-country walking.Gunnar shakes his head.“We’ve got another five hours of sunlight,” he says resolutely.  “I figure we can make at least another three or four miles in that.  I want to be at the foot of the mountains by nightfall.”“Five hours?” Halgo asks.  “We’ve been since sunup, and that was easily eight or nine hours ago.”“Ten, easily,” Gunnar says, looking at the sky.  “It looks like sunset will come early tonight.”“Early?  How many hours of daylight do you normally have here?” Gunnar thinks for a few seconds.“During the summer, around twenty.”Halgo barely manages to restrain a groan.</blockquote>

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