Rolled 21 (1d100)
>>5715956>>5715963>>5715981>>5715985>>5715987>>5715989You aren’t exactly an architect, but you struck a good deal despite being not-exactly-a-merchant a few days ago. How hard can it be, you reason, to erect a shelter? Your simple tents have served you well until now, but their time is at an end. It’s time for a New Age of Warmth and Comfort! Beside,s you know just the tool for the job.
You have the others stand back, regarding you with curiosity as you shift your stance and summon your life-force from within—and that of your Red Dragon King ancestor. There is cold-hardened , root-filled soil beneath you, but as you focus your mystical might upon your brow you are able to divine the rock below it—and not far below, for this region is mountainous even as you skirt its boundaries and descend into the fertile plains about the Paladin King’s capital. With your elementalism, you summon it up, and up, and up, until spikes and spires of stone pierce the ground, rising like sprouting plaints and shoving aside the softer earth above. You gesture with your hands, murmuring words of power in many tongues as you guide the stone together into a crude, rocky teepee around the bonfire your breath-weapon had previously created.
“Pack it with soil,” you command the other males present. “The rock alone will shield us from the wind, but not the cold.”
They obey, and as your subordinates toil, you take a rest, and guide Eka inside to do the same.
“You didn’t need to do all that for me,” she whispers, though she is plainly flattered and awed.
“Of courssse I did,” you reply in her tongue. “And not JUSSST for you. Only one of thosse malesss could wear your coat at a time…”
The Thief and Archer, dutiful though they may be, make excuses and adjust they work patterns to stay on the wide of the stone which best shields them from the wintery breeze, and keeps them closest to your flame.
“Ssee?”
Ekaterine regards them, and nods, scooting closer to you and leaning against you. You remain like that for a time, until the other two travelers in your party come to rest, to share in those fresh and preserved rations taken with you from Blackpine, and eventually to rest themselves. You take first watch, and let your Human Queen take her own torpor—or, you suppose, ‘true’ dreaming sleep. You watch her face, and wonder what exactly she might be dreaming about. Funny how humans almost always seem to dream, and yet she rarely seems to vividly remember them as you remember those few dreams YOU have…
