Tidhelm

What if you could choose to decide on which ship you sink to the bottom?

One ship is filled with the men you have called your brothers and sisters in arms. Its food is good and the wine is plentiful. Every night there is laughing and cheering while enjoying the pleasure of good company. People look out for each other and care about your wellbeing.

(OOC: This story is based on a RP event based on /roll outcomes)

Daellas walked around the battlefield looking for his javelins. The ground was full of dead wargs and goblins, the crows were now feasting over their rotten corpses. He saw one javelin sticking out of the ground. He remembered when he threw this one.

She could still hear the laughter in her ears. It was a joke, right; a jest seeping truth, though.

Tidhelm is struggling for some sleep at her feet, all wrapped up in furs and rope, the gagging cloth still tugged in his mouth. He seems harmless for now, perhaps she can dare a short walk around the camp. She needs to be alone for a while.

Face the truth, Melowen. You can do it. You must do it.

It is night, the air is clear and the stars shine brightly over our camp. I am sitting watch once more, I think we finally made it out of those troll-infested cursed woods. Ruins of old elvish towers can be seen on the high ridges to the south. These are the fields of the dried up rivers we passed over a month ago. 

“I will be gone for two hours or so, don’t you all worry. It is just a small walk,’’ These words proved enough for an excuse. The walk would take more than two hours. With all luck it wouldn’t take longer than  a day or so. A little lie about getting lost or so might do the trick, or maybe they wouldn’t even bother that much with the  disappearance?