Sailing Away RPG

[Firefoot]

As the wolves turned on the Big Folk, Sondo backed off, Rory and Marroc with him. The rest of the hobbits had scattered. No more did he heed the conflicting groups, and turned instead to his friends.

“Can you two carry the supplies we took by yourselves?” he asked. They nodded. “Okay. Can you take them to that stand of trees?” He pointed to a small thicket about a half mile distant, the way to which was largely hidden from the Big Folk and wolves. “We need to gather together and get out of here, but everyone has scattered. I’m going to try to round them up and send them your way.” They agreed to this plan and struck off toward where they had left the bundles. Sondo took off at a jog in the direction he had seen his sister fleeing. He wasn’t sure how much time he had; already a wolf and one of the Big Folk had been killed, and he did not want to be there when one side prevailed.

He found Sam before he found Sassy. He was hiding out in the midst of a few trees, clearly debating whether to stay there or not.

“Sam?” called Sondo softly.

“Sondo! Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked.

Sondo nodded, not really paying attention to the question. “Look, Sam, do you know where Sassy headed?” He knew that the two had formed something of a friendship.

“She bolted off that way,” said Sam, pointing. “I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Sondo waved his hand. “Okay, fine. Would you go after her? I’m trying to gather up the hobbits. There’s a stand of trees a little way from here, over that way-” he gestured, “Take Sassy and anyone else you see and go there. Rory and Marroc will be heading that way, too; you should be able to find them. And try to avoid the notice of the Big Folk and the wolves, okay? I don’t want them on our tail.”

“Sure, Sondo,” said Sam. The two parted, and Sondo headed off around the perimeter of the fight, not knowing where to look next. The landscape had looked quite barren before; now, however, he realized that hiding spots were actually quite abundant if looked for. It was by pure chance that he stumbled upon Reggie’s hiding spot. Their conversation was brief; Sondo directed him toward the trees and asked if he had seen Bingo or Falco.

“Not for a while,” Reggie answered. “Falco not since before the Big Folk came over here, and Bingo since the wolves came. Do you want help finding them?”

“Just check trees and other likely spots as you go. The sooner we’re all together the better,” answered Sondo.

“All right.”

Sondo continued his search. He was more concerned about Falco than Bingo; Reggie had at least seen Bingo lately, and he couldn’t have gone far. Sam and Sassy might have even seen him. But Falco; he hadn’t been seen for a while, and he hadn’t looked so good when he came back to the group: limping, and tired-looking.

Before looking for Falco, though, he turned an eye toward the battle. Another of the Big Folk was down, leaving only two of them against five wolves, some of them injured. Sondo had little doubt as to the victor of the battle, and he figured the end wouldn’t be long in coming. The Big Folk saw the same thing, apparently, and gave up the fight, running toward their camp. The wolves were in fast pursuit, and Sondo knew the Big Folk did not stand a chance now - the wolves would be a great deal faster, and more agile to boot.

Hastening on, he spotted a tall rock that looked to be a likely hiding spot. He looked around behind it, saw nothing, and was startled by a voice from above, “I’m up here, Sondo.” Sure enough, Falco had managed to make it to the top of the tall rock, or at least some kind of ledge since he couldn’t be seen from the other side.

“Can you get down?” Sondo asked. He remembered now his throbbing wrist, forgotten in the urgency of his mission, and knew that there would be no way he could climb up to help Falco.

“Yes,” answered Falco. He started down, and though he tried to hide it, Sondo saw the difficulty the other lad was having. Falco was in much worse shape than Sondo had realized before. When he was about two feet up from the ground he dropped the rest of the way, whether by design or accident Sondo wasn’t sure. Whichever it was, it seemed to pain Falco to land so heavily on his feet.

“Our meeting place is about a half mile from here,” Sondo explained, tactfully ignoring Falco’s weaknesses. You’re the last one I had to find.” He bit his tongue at the small lie and hoped Bingo had been found by one of the others. “Come on.” He didn’t want to offer help to Falco, knowing Falco was proud that way, but he would gladly give it. Even though he had asked Sassy to keep an eye on him, he had (mostly) forgiven Falco by now, and wouldn’t mind counting Falco among his friends again.

He took a step in the direction of the tree stand. “Coming?”

[Nurumaiel]

Falco bit his lip and hesitated for a brief moment. Of course he was coming. He wouldn't stay behind where wolves and Big Folk could find him. But did he want to go? That was the reason for his pause. It was humiliating to be found hiding on top of a rock, when the others had been running here and there, trying to help. He had had no choice; his sore and achings legs would not have been any help to the others. But it was humiliating, and doubly so because it had been Sondo who had found him. Sondo who still thought ill of him.

And then there were his legs. Whether he wanted to go or not, whether he had to go or not, could his legs support him? Half a mile... half an agonising mile. How could he manage it? How could he think of managing it? He was shaking, and not from the fear of the wolves. His whole frame was trembling, on the verge of collapse. How could he go half a mile to the meeting place? And when they reached the meeting place, what then? They would go on, of course. How could he go on?

"Coming?" said Sondo again, but his tone was not an annoyed, impatient tone. There was a faint smile on his face, which, in the days before their adventures when they had schemed about some prank, would have instantly been called encouraging, by Falco at least. But now he thought of it as nothing but mocking.

He's laughing at me! Falco thought, with a start of resentment. He thinks it is positively ridiculous that I was hiding when everyone else was in the thick of danger, and he's thinking of how he can tease me about it later. And he thinks I'm scared now. He thinks I'd rather stay safely up on my rock. He's laughing at me!

That was not to be borne. Falco threw back his head and began to totter forward weakly, struggling hard not to totter, or at the very least not to totter weakly.

"Yes," he said. "I'm coming."

[Firefoot]

Sondo nodded, inwardly skeptical. Did Falco really think he might make it all the way there without help? Too proud for his own good, he decided, rather hypocritically. In fact, as he led the way toward their arranged meeting place, Sondo became irked. Why wouldn’t Falco just admit that he was tired and his legs were in terrible condition? Sondo would have been more than willing to aid Falco, help support him; but no, Falco had to determinedly go on by himself. And go slowly. Sondo wondered how long it would be before Falco could keep up with a regular pace - if they had to go this rate all the time, they would never get home. Then again, this was Falco he was thinking about; of course Falco would have to be difficult. He always had been.

Guilt pricked at the back of Sondo’s mind. Maybe you haven’t forgiven Falco as much as you thought, his conscience nagged. You’re being more than a little unfair. Weren’t you just thinking that Falco was your friend, after all?

They’re valid concerns Sondo protested weakly. However, his conscience won out. They had walked perhaps a third of the distance when it became obvious to Sondo that Falco had absolutely no intention of asking for help, whether he needed it or not. He stopped and turned to face Falco.

“Look, Falco,” he said sighing. “No offense, but it’s pretty clear that you’re having a hard time. We were friends, once, and we could be still. Do you want some help? There’s still quite a way to the meeting place.”

[Firefoot]

Snarling, the pack tore after the two remaining tall two-leggeds. They gave a bit of a chase, not because it was necessary but more for a bit of sport before the kill. Finally, the lead male could stand it no longer, and growling to the others this one’s mine, he sprung upon the slower of the two, the one that had killed his mate. The two-legged stumbled as the wolf hit his back. Sharp teeth gleaming, his powerful jaws closed around the man’s neck, severing the spinal cord. The man fell limp, instantly dead. The rest of the pack had taken on the final two-legged, bringing it down without difficulty.

The kills were left lying; wolves did not eat two-leggeds. The alpha male now regretted having anything to do with the short ones; they were the ones who had brung this grief upon them. The wolves trotted silently behind him as he approached his fallen mate. He sniffed her hopefully, but there was no life in her. He let out a long, mournful howl. He was joined by the remaining four wolves in the pack, their voices mingling into a single harmonious song.

Finally, the howls drifted off. Come decided the wolf. These two-leggeds have caused us naught but grief, and they approach the Forest Where No One Dwells. We leave; we hunt the bearers of the two-leggeds. Four were freed. The other broke loose only recently. We hunt.

The song of the wolves changed; their mouths salivated, eager for the fresh meat of horse. The lead wolf set the pace, the loping, tireless gait of hunting wolves. Soon, the only sign that remained of them were five dead men and a fallen wolf.

[Child of the 7th Age]

As the sound of the wolves receded in the distance, Bingo climbed down from the tree and walked slowly over to the clearing in the woods where the dead bodies of the Men and the wolf still lay. Several of his companions were also coming out of their hiding places. Bingo's first thought had been to skin the carcass of the wolf and use the meat to feed them before starting on the trail again. But looking at the carnage strewn over the ground, he found it difficult to kneel down and use one of the Big Folk's knife on the animal carcass.

He had no great love for the ruffians, especially after what had happened to his own parents. Yet there was something immeasurably sad about the bloody and torn bodies that lay motionless on the forest floor. "What should we do?" he whispered, addressing anyone who stood nearby. "I think Sondo wants us to troop down to that thicket in the distance. But surely we just can't leave this." Something inside his head told Bingo that was wrong. "Can we burn the body or heap up some stones? If it's safe to do so, burning the bodies would be the fastest......"

[Encaitare]

The sounds of the fight had only continued to grow more severe as Reggie looked for the others -- then a dreadful silence fell. A chilling howl came from the clearing and raised the hair on the back of the lad's neck, and at last it seemed that it was over. He could not seem to find any of his companions despite his careful looking. He chanced calling their names, but still no response came, and so he decided to turn back.

As he entered the clearing, Bingo glanced up at him and the others who were straggling in. He was looking at the dead bodies with a startling sorrow. Reggie slowly approached, transfixed and oddly fascinated.

"Can we burn the body or heap up some stones?" Bingo said. "If it's safe to do so, burning the bodies would be the fastest."

Reggie kneeled by one of the fallen Big Folk and stared. "I guess maybe we could. We couldn't let the fire get out of control, though... 'cause I don't think we could carry enough stones."

Something winking on the ground next to the dead man caught his eye. Closer inspection revealed that it was a small coin, not worth much but not undesireable either. It appeared to have fallen out of the man's pocket. Figuring that the man wasn't going to miss anything of his, Reggie began rummaging through the other pockets. He found several more coins, a good length of string, and some trinkets: two blue beads, a little carven figure of a fox, and what seemed to be a spare buckle of some sort. All this he put into his own pocket, and moved on to the next one, feeling like some kind of scavenger, but hoping nonetheless to find something useful. After all, stealing from dead men was no worse than stealing from live ones.

All in all, what he obtained was mostly unremarkable. A key, a little metal file, a pair of gloves which were far too big for hobbits' hands -- just the simple sorts of things that people were likely to keep in their pockets for one reason or another. But he took all that he found anyway, showing his findings to the others.

"You never know what you might need," he said, shrugging. "They've got knives... d'you think we ought to take those too, instead of leaving them out where other ruffians can find them?"

[Primrose Bolger]

Sassy rose groggily from the limb she clung to. The receding sounds of the wolves in pursuit of new prey had finally pierced her weariness. She squinted, looking toward where she’d run from. It looked clear now, she thought, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. Perhaps if she went back, the others would be there, too.

Scooting near the tree’s trunk, she hoisted her far leg over and, carefully as she could, made her way down to the ground. She missed a couple of footholds, scraping herself on the face and arms as she struggled for purchase on the rough tree bark.

Things look different now that she was down on the ground. She felt a little turned around now that she didn’t have the vantage point of being high up in the tree. Sassy rubbed her cheek where she’d bruised it and pushed back her straggle of dirty curls. Just a little ways away she could hear the sound of some little stream. It reminded her that she was thirsty . . . really thirsty from her long run. Her face brightened a bit at the thought of a drink. And besides, she thought, she could gather some of the little river stones she liked for her slingshot.

She set off, walking quietly as she could, toward the sound of the rushing water . . .