D&D Act Two Scene II - Well met in Clayton

Othegre pokes her head out of her wagon, yawning.
"Hey, what's with all the blood? Are you guys having a party without me?"

Othegre struggles to throw the last few shovels full of Krasten soil on to the rudimentary grave. After several hours of work her stomach is rumbling and she's sweating like a pig in this ridiculous heavy plate. By the time the job is done she's panting for breath. She plants the shovel in the earth and collapses on a tree stump, gambling that the leafy canopy overhead will afford her enough protection to open her helm. Her face and hair are drenched. She takes another deep swig from her waterskin, draining it.
"Si Si, I am cream crackered. Say something pretty for the elf................That was beautiful! Look at me, I'm tearing up, and I didn't even like him!" She dabs her weepy eyes, jams a large piece of bark into the mound of dirt and scratches an S in it with the head of one of the elfs arrows.
Rummaging in his backpack down under the garlic and the wolfsbane there are still some preserved rations. She tears into them greedily before trudging back to her wagon, eager to get out of this stifling shell!
Eventually, she reaches the village. Aria barks dramatically as Othegre reaches the door before retreating quizically.
"Relax, girl - you're not impressing anyone!" At last, safe in her funereal cocoon she can finally free herself. The relief of the cold air on her skin is matched only by the revolting wave of stale sweat that assaults her. And something else. A deep primal urge, not the hunger, something older, more familiar, more urgent.

Othegre is bursting for a piss.

As her knees begin to cross and bend all by themselves the hard truth hits her. She has no bedpan. She casts about for something, anything, but her flasks are locked in a chest and her fingers fumble the key. Waterskin spout is too narrow. Aaaargh! Just go in the coffin, no one will know. Yes they will! You'll wake up every sundown reeking of piss! Wait - the river! She bursts out of the wagon in her long johns and gets a good 3 steps before she realises she's running half naked under the midmorning sun. And it feels goooood. She slows but nothing is happening. She stinks of BO, her bladder is about to go Nova, she's hungry enough to eat a quiche! The dead don't eat quiche. She's alive!

She sees Goodie and Ekbard and pelts towards them, urine streaming down her legs and tears and snot flowing freely from her face screaming "SMELL MY PITS! SMELL MY PIIIIIITS!"

Othegre grabs Ekbard and gives him a big slobbery kiss, then runs off towards the river screaming "I HAVE DRIBBLE, SIMON, DRIBBLE!"

sKeith wrote: »

Ekbard approaches flak, "would you be able to tell me what these 4 potions do?"

I'll do what I can without having a worktable it'll be a rough and ready guess though. *I have to taste each to determine the properties.

OOC: Fourier, Once again can you PM me a list of the potions or I can just make some **** up.
*I only read about potions after determining what Tiggers were and apparently I'm supposed to taste them.

Othegre comes running back from the river, clean but damp, spinning through the grass and calling "the fields are aliiiiiiiiive with the sound Ooooothegre!"

By the time she's returned to the caravan she's dry enough to pull on her slinky leather - "I am NOT getting back in that sweaty metal tomb!" - grab her gear and chase after the hulking Bane of Old Ladies. Jin Qi will tend to the horses.
"Heel, Aria!"

AC 7
Enc 1 (flail+1, sling, bullets, shield, torches, flint, pack, religious symbol worn)