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No more branches fall.
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Narrhil carefully moves south, trying to follow any obvious structure, he might be in a barn or stable area or a picket fence around a house, he is unsure.
The faint light of his icicle is not as great as a torch, but he peers into the darkness, determined that if his enemy is near, he can see them first and strike quickly...
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The wooden slat continues south what must be another 60 feet, Narrhil is losing track of distance in this deep snow. The ground seems to begin a slope downhill.
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Narrhil holds, he wonders if he has entered an enclosed field. He decides to turn back; not wanting to wander to far away from the main structures.
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Caveman wrote:
Narrhil holds, he wonders if he has entered an enclosed field. He decides to turn back; not wanting to wander to far away from the main structures.
Narrhil hasn't left the wooden slat. He is south beyond the opened gate though.
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[Are you waiting for me Iron? cos I waiting for you! ]
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I'm coming back. With your drawing...
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[lol, nowhere near Glasgow? ]
Narrhil moves back to the open gate, to examine the area.
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Almost- Alton.
The fallen branch is broken in two pieces just beyond the opened gate.
A wind picks up at Narhill's back and carries a quick scent of musk.
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[Hampshire, got ya, close enough. ]
Narrhil turns to try and see were the smell might have been blown from. Icicle extended and wand ready...
Edit: Changed Torch to Icicle.
Last edited by Caveman (Today 4:46 am)
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Narrhil's still on his Icicle, no?
There's no movement within its soft glow.
The musk comes in short strong wafts.
If only that barbarian were still here, he thinks.
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[oops forgot, yes: icicle.]
Narrhil moves forward as quiet as he can, using any foliage to hide behind, or at least put in front of him as a barrier, toward the source of the smell.
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Narrhil moves west, away from the wooden slat and the gate.
There is nothing within the first 30 ' but the hardened snow and ice underfoot, knee deep. Ground seems clear, some underbrush, twigs, small branch.