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SURVIVE 4 — Land of Savages • [DAY 3 | Early Night | In the Squall]
Plethora:
Aif nibbles on the mushrooms, still wary lest they taste particularly bad and possibly kill him, and goes to gather a good pile of firewood, keeping his eyes open for anything else of potential use, or potential danger. He knows he'll miss his fishing tackle before long, and so, is especially keen to find something to fish with, be it a straight stick to make a spear with, or something that might be fashioned into cord to make a rod, bow, or given enough time, a net, which he would prefer.
SWAT One:
The shadows grow longer and longer and he day fades into night as the sun slowly dips below the horizon.
Yana wraps the remaining sailcloth and rope around her and drifts off to sleep.
The people that Theric were watching seem to not notice him. He also notices that their garb is different from his—they'd surely know he was an outsider on sight. They still continue their merriment, and appear to be commoners, other than the guards keeping watch.
It is twilight, and though Väinö is unable to make out much from his surroundings, he can see the boat he arrived in crashed against some nearby rocks. Miraculously, an oil lantern is still lit up on its deck, casting a faint glow on it. There are several dead crewmen lying on the rocky sand, several planks and beams from the ship lying about, and a few boxes opened with grain spilled out on the sand. The grains, scattered over the beach, have no doubt been ruined by the salty seawater. An icy wind rushes in from the sea. The sun had just set facing the sea. Whatever land he is on, he knows that he is on some western coast, and up on land, nothing appears immediately edible, except maybe the bark of the trees.
The only things in his pant pockets is some moist sand. He does find a piece of knife-sharpening flint in his jacket pocket.
Aif finds that the mushrooms that he kept are harmless, and in fact, quite tasty and rich in flavor. A small deer spots him as he is harvesting wood and scampers into the darkness before he would be able to give chase. Nothing that he finds seems to immediately be of use to create string or fibre to be woven, but some of the libs of the trees could make promising fishing spears if carved into shape and tampered by the fire.
grunterdb1951:
Theric sniffles. His eyes seem to be looking for someone among the crowd- but when he doesn't see to find them he grimaces. Theric opts to take another tactic- he reaches into his sling and takes out the lighter leather armor and the bag of coins before he begins backtracks to head up obviously to the group of people.
Not his smartest idea, honestly. He opts to try and have as least of a intimidating figure as possible- with this in mind he has his spear slung over his shoulder. Instead, he's holding out these things as if they're gifts- bowing his head even. And if they /do/ decide to try and stab him, well... He'll deal with that when he gets there.
He doesn't try speaking- instead trying to just make his body language as obvious as possible.
alien cunt:
Väinö gets a long chill down his spine. Seeing dead people is not what he favored to see in a long time, mostly sitting at his cabin in the woods making furniture. He gladly picks up and examines the lantern, wiping off the sand from the lanterns window. He glances at the wooden beams and planks washed ashore and drags them away from the water, minding that they might be used somehow. He dumps the moist sand out of his pocket and grunts. Finding the flint in pocket, he examines it closely. Its the old one from the shack back home, gladly putting it in his pocket.
After awhile, he looks at the open crate. He looks at the soggy grains and scowl's at the smell, dumping the rest in the water. He then drags the box where he left the rest of the salvage.
Väinö then gazes upon the starlight. It looks like hes going to have some trouble surviving here.
SWAT One:
As Theric makes his way down the hill, the people first observe to see if it is a familiar face, and seeing that it's no one that they know, step back cautiously. Those who are more intoxicated do more of a stumble. The guards raise their spears at Theric as he continues down the hill and bark orders, whether at him or at the other guards. They don't approach him aggressively, however, and hold their ground as he approaches. As he holds out his gift of coins, the townspeople begin to look at one another. Following Theric's bow, the voice of an older male is heard behind the crowd, speaking an unfamiliar tongue. He steps out from the doorframe from the back of a large wood, stone and plaster house, walking straight toward Theric, and the guards loosen their grip a little.
The elder crosses past the spear points and reaches out his wrinkled hand to receive the gift.
Väinö recoils, almost dropping the lantern as he tries to wipe off the sand from the window as it is hot to the touch. The flint from his pocket is wet from the sea and brine, but it is quality flint for sharpening blades and other metal implements.