They say that if something can go wrong, it WILL go wrong. And today was one of those days. They were making camp, and it began to rain heavily. So they go to a cave, and it ends up almost flooding. They head for high ground, but then the lightning starts up. They find an abandoned cabin, and it's full of bugs and there's no firewood...argh, what next?? -- Anon Guest
There had been skittering and scuttling as Hafl entered the half-crumbling structure. The other half was leaking so much that the roof nearly didn't matter, but at least there was one corner where it was merely dripping a little. She could put up with an intermittent plap of water on her hood. It was more or less okay.
What she really needed now was dry wood and a fire to warm up the immediate area. Thanks to the rain, nothing would catch fire in here. The bad news was that that included any remaining wood she could have used.
"Go adventuring," she mocked, "you'll be tripping over gold coins. You'll find all sorts of wonders and come back a hero." Hafl blew a raspberry. "Tripping over a half-starved goblin with a necklace of ears does not count as being heroic. Neither does this." Thunder crashed again. "The gods hate me. What. Fucking. Next?"
Lightning illuminated the answer to that with perfect comedic timing. There wasn't just vermin inhabiting this ruin. It was Vermin of Unusual Size. A venomous millipede rearing up like a snake. Ready to strike.
"Shit!" Hafl had her pack halfway off, originally thinking to dig out some rations, but she had to use it as a shield while she scrambled to get her sword out of its sheath. Bloody thing probably poisoned all of her food. "You'd better be edible," she muttered, stabbing and slashing wildly at the beast.
Rule one: do whatever you can to survive. Fight for space to fight for your life.
Rule two: the pointy end goes in the other guy.
Rule three: Keep going until either they fall down or you do.
Hafl counted it as good luck that there was only one Dire Millipede in the remains of the shack. She didn't ask what it fed upon, just whether or not there was anything she could use on or in it.
There was a clinking noise as she split open its underside, and the lightning illuminated some shiny objects. Those could wait until dawn. Or better light.
Guts were generally not recommended as meat unless the chef knew what they were doing. Too much work for now. Hafl shoved them aside, trying to feel if there was anything that could count as nutritious meat.
But she still needed a fire, damnit.
This was a test, she knew it. She had survived one hideous chain of events and the rest of the night was ahead. The gods only favoured those who could take care of things themselves.
Some of the rotten thatch had to be dry. Some of the standing wood had to be flammable. There was a fireplace still standing. She could do this.
She had a pissant light spell and the ability to summon a small flame. Past time to actually use that. Even then, it still took her three goes to get a fire started.
"Great adventure so far," she huffed. "Living the high life. Was being a maid at the Lame Duck Inn so bad?"
Yes, she decided. It was. It really was worse than this.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / dngood]
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