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Nihilius nods solemnly. As Lug struggles to repeat the complex magical words, Nihilius offers gently to take the stick from him. "The incantation is simple enough. A task of managing magic is something I can handle. I would gladly work that aspect, if any others would protect us from threats while I do so," he offers, looking to Lug.

"I value your friendship," he says to the centaur. "When we return, I'd relish an opportunity to stay and learn of this land's history."

(1 ration deducted)

(Amend the above... Lug had the stick, so Nihilius offers to take it.)

Xavro gives a half-bow. "If we are successful in this task, you would have well-earned my friendship. I thank you."

"Aww," says Lug when Nihilius offers to take the stick. "I'm always protection. I was gonna do some magic and make the earth move! But I guess you'd be better at it." He starts to hand the stick to Nihilius, but then a thought comes to him.

"Hey, I know! We can take turns moving the stream! It'll be like sharing!"

Ruwyn is glad to see nothing strange happened to Marge and Dog within the grove last night--at least, no apparent bodily harm.

She bids the centaur Xavro goodbye.
"I'm glad you trust this gang of ours
To help you save the wood
I hope this mage-stick's magic powers
Will do the forest good!"

1 Days Ration reduced! Ruwyn still has a week's worth to go.

Dorvar

I am fine with helping provide protection, although since this is supposed to take a few days, everyone will possibly be able to get a turn or two using the magic stick. If they want to, that is. You know I'm a man more accustomed to holding a weapon than some magic digger, but I'd be interested in giving it a try. While I may not wish to enter the grove, I see no reason not to help Xavro. The horse-man has done nothing to harm any of us.

After deducting one day worth of rations, Dorvar still has an eight day supply left.

Nihilius makes no arguments to the contrary, accepting Lug's lead. He assists as each person works with the stick, correcting their pronunciation of the magical phrase to ensure everyone has it precise. "It is Levi-O-sa, not Levio-SA...."

"Mama-say mama-sa mamacusa
mama-say mama-sa mamacusa" Ruwyn utters softly to herself, nodding proudly as if she had repeated Nihilius exactly.

Marullus wrote:Nihilius makes no arguments to the contrary, accepting Lug's lead. He assists as each person works with the stick, correcting their pronunciation of the magical phrase to ensure everyone has it precise. "It is Levi-O-sa, not Levio-SA...."

i knew it! Niles is Hermione Granger in drag!

Varas wants nothing to do with the magic stick. "Mustard and I have plenty of food. Let's do as we asks" he suggests.

1 day's rations deducted

Marge rests a hand on Dog's shoulder and looks solemnly at Xavro.

"Thank you for your gracious hospitality. I will do my best to help the others divert the water as you ask. Let us get it done with all haste and hold back the darkening of this land."

She pauses, looking around at the others.

"Hold up a titch... Did I just say that? Feckin' hell. What's gotten into me, hey?"

"Yeah, Xavro has that effect on people," says Lug with a laugh. "Those that give him the chance, anyway."

The group seemingly in agreement, Lug leads the way toward the stream.

May 4, 1 VC - 10:10am

The party heads south toward the creek to begin its work. Along the way, they spot signs of fires generating smoke above the treeline to the east, but all of the actual danger in this part of the forest seems to have passed for now, the small embers dying out or being snuffed by other passers-by during the past day or so. Chunks of hurled rock are clearly visible embedded in tree trunks or lying broken amid tangled bushes, but otherwise the area could be no different than a week prior. Birds still sing or call out periodically from tree branches, the occasional rustle of undergrowth reveals a small mammal or lizard fleeing from the party's advance, and so on.

Finally the group makes its way to the creek and begins the work of altering the creek's course in order to protect the jarban grove and surrounding forest. It is, as the centaur advised, slow work, but over the course of the remainder of the day they do see noticeable progress, especially once they figure out the ins and outs of the rod. The group finds the work oddly taxing, as well, so it's good that they agreed to rotate duties among them--two-hour shifts are more than all but the toughest in the group can handle.

The work proceeds slowly and uneventfully as the party makes it way back northward, and they've covered over a mile by the time the sun sets on the first day. They set up camp along the creek's bank and enjoy the cool and quiet of the forest having made it for two whole days with no altercations or other difficult encounters.

In the morning, the work continues, but after a few hours the calm of the group's conversation is suddenly riven apart by a bellowing shriek that echoes through the forest. The party assembles, drawing weapons and preparing itself for assault, but they see nothing in the undergrowth near or far, and there is no sound of footsteps accompanying the shriek to indicate the appearance of a threat. After a few moments, the heavy flapping of leathery wings becomes audible, growing louder with each passing second.

What does the party do? The area in which they are now is only lightly canopied, with large gaps giving exposure to the sky. There is dense undergrowth apart from along where the party is guiding the creek, and the trees are a mix of dense copses and uniform but more widely-spaced trunks.

Please deduct one day's rations each.

Niles, holding the earthy-stick at the time, wastes no time in bolting for a thick copse of trees to take cover, Ferris the wolfhound obediently on his heels. He hides the earthy-stick under a raspberry thicket for safety and crouches behind a tree trunk.

Lug runs for any cover sufficient to hide his bulk—perhaps a dense copse of trees might be about?—and hopes that whatever is flying above has something on its mind other than hunting for food. He knows who the largest morsel of this bunch would be.

Then he remembers: he has Tall Ron's Dick! Lug holds his friend Orrin's shield over his head as he hides.

"Cover your eyes!" yells Varas. "We saw stone statues, this thing may turn us into them!"

He will take cover under the densest trees he can find within 100', and attempt to hide in their shadows, shielding his eyes from sights above.

Lug follows Varas's advice.

Man, nothing big that flies with leathery wings can possibly be good. I don't know which would be worse to encounter at our levels: dragon or giant cockatrice. Yow!

OK, is anyone NOT covering their eyes as the creature approaches? That will make next post easiest to manage