Bard the Bowman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pointnshoot) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2015-06-16 12:48 am
pointnshoot) wrote in snowblindrpg2015-06-16 12:48 am
[network] @Bowman; day 005 9:24 PM; Dramatic Irony [open] [eventual death]
[It was only a matter of time before Bard's habit of packing his tablet up with everything else during the day came back to really bite him in the ass, and it looks like today is that day. If he'd had it out, he might have caught the warning to get inside; why, if he'd even remembered to check it last night after that excitement running into a whole two other people, he might have seen Clayton's own post about getting locked out and thought to travel more carefully today.
But no. Bard doesn't have the right set of habits for either of these warnings, so when he got back to the house he'd thought to spend the night in, the door refused to open. So, too, had those windows he could reach, so before long Bard retreated to the first pile of rubble he remembered that had an actual corner to sit in. With a little effort and judicious application of force, he was able to break the boards he'd been carrying into smaller pieces; it wouldn't be enough firewood to get him through the night, but it would last him long enough to put together the day's notes for Stephanie and get his thoughts in order.
Which brings us to now.]
[Video]
[So. Here's an old(-ish) guy, lit by the blue light of his tablet screen and a bit of amber light that might be from a small fire off-screen. A couple of you might recognize him, but for the most part he's been keeping to the metaphorical shadows so far. Tonight that's not really an option. The vaguely displeased look on his face--well, it's actually pretty normal for him, but in this particular instance it's appropriate.]
I suppose it's going to be unreasonably cold yet again tonight. Perhaps I will endure it to see the morning come, but if I should pass, there are things I would say. First: I am wearing a hauberk and have with me a knife. Struck together, they make a reliable enough spark for starting fires, and anyone who needs such a thing is welcome to them when I no longer do. If you would prefer to use the knife for other things only, I'm by the northern wall of snow next to a house with many boxes full of rocks, some of which should be small enough to use as part of a flint and steel.
Second: if any of you get out of here and find yourself able, please take a message to my children. They can be found in the city of Dale, south of Erebor, and their names are Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda. I would have them know that I died here, and that I would have returned to them if I could.
[He pauses for a moment, thinking things over, before continuing.]
I suppose that's really all I have to say. If anyone wants to try to keep me company through the night, you'd be more than welcome, but don't feel obligated to sacrifice what rest is to be found here.
But no. Bard doesn't have the right set of habits for either of these warnings, so when he got back to the house he'd thought to spend the night in, the door refused to open. So, too, had those windows he could reach, so before long Bard retreated to the first pile of rubble he remembered that had an actual corner to sit in. With a little effort and judicious application of force, he was able to break the boards he'd been carrying into smaller pieces; it wouldn't be enough firewood to get him through the night, but it would last him long enough to put together the day's notes for Stephanie and get his thoughts in order.
Which brings us to now.]
[Video]
[So. Here's an old(-ish) guy, lit by the blue light of his tablet screen and a bit of amber light that might be from a small fire off-screen. A couple of you might recognize him, but for the most part he's been keeping to the metaphorical shadows so far. Tonight that's not really an option. The vaguely displeased look on his face--well, it's actually pretty normal for him, but in this particular instance it's appropriate.]
I suppose it's going to be unreasonably cold yet again tonight. Perhaps I will endure it to see the morning come, but if I should pass, there are things I would say. First: I am wearing a hauberk and have with me a knife. Struck together, they make a reliable enough spark for starting fires, and anyone who needs such a thing is welcome to them when I no longer do. If you would prefer to use the knife for other things only, I'm by the northern wall of snow next to a house with many boxes full of rocks, some of which should be small enough to use as part of a flint and steel.
Second: if any of you get out of here and find yourself able, please take a message to my children. They can be found in the city of Dale, south of Erebor, and their names are Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda. I would have them know that I died here, and that I would have returned to them if I could.
[He pauses for a moment, thinking things over, before continuing.]
I suppose that's really all I have to say. If anyone wants to try to keep me company through the night, you'd be more than welcome, but don't feel obligated to sacrifice what rest is to be found here.
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