Narrator: The delvers are 8 days out from Polisberg, walking northwest from a grove of silvery yew trees. The oak and yew forest around them sways in the heavily gusting winds, and walking and hearing is difficult in the powerful airflow. Past the trees' swaying canopies, the sun beats down mercilessly. GM: Currently, it's 9 am. You're in a forest. There's a faint small of water coming from the northeast. GM: Doing anything? GM: Oh, and high holy day of Fire, Disease, and Luck. Shelley: I believe the plan is head back to civilization, resupply, and then argue about our priorities. Marik: Right. Shelley: It's important to schedule time for bickering :D Wolfgang: we're not hitting the tower? Marik: So northeast to backtrack will be fastest, I think. Northwest around the lake is swampy. Ghaze