Fiskbyn rolled the dice.

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Character Diceroll 1: Fail Final Score: 1 — Diceroll must be at least 11 to be successful. 0 was added for (+0). 1 was added for Charisma.

Fiskbyn's gaze was glued to the water, intently watching the surface below. SNAP! she attempted to grab at one of the fish quickly darting by, but came up empty. She closed her eyes, took a calming breath, and thought of the birds that often stared at the water, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. At that moment, she was the bird, hovering over the water, watching. Fish continued to swim by, quickly darting away at the sight of her looming figure above. She continued to wait, thinking of the patience of the birds, thinking of how her grandmother tried her best to teach her patience, of her grandfather saying it was silly. Fiskbyn was at ends with herself. Hungry. Impatient. She tried to imagine herself striking the water, pulling up a fish that would satisfy her for the rest of the day.  Then she saw it. The large fish seemed to casually stroll towards her, not a care in the world. Her eyes got wide, her mouth watered, her whiskers twitched. She almost struck, but she knew to wait just a second more.  And then something across the river scared it off. The fish disappeared in an instant, and Fisk lifted her head to watch a wolf pull themselves from the water. They didn't look happy, nor did they sound it. Her ears perked forward, trying to catch the words that they spoke. Not directed at her, but instead to a presence that maybe wasn't there. She gave a quick glance around just to be sure.  Then a pair of great, waterlogged feathers stretched wide, and even from across the river, Fiskbyn was in awe. She had always thought that flying was an amazing gift that some wolves had, and often loved to watch birds fly and wondered what it was like to be above the trees, the clouds, the mountains. She was again reminded of a bird, but this time she thought of the birds that stood alongside the water and laid their wings out to dry in the sun.  "Hey!" she finally called from across the river. "Are you uh, good?" She looked like she was about to dive right into the river, but paused and looked down at the surface of the water. Fiskbyn took a breath, feeling the familiar strings of her magic -- her will -- and thought of the cool water, she thought of her paws, and then made the leap forward to close the distance between them.

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Dice Roll Success: Fisk walks on top of the water and makes it over to Larkspur without any issues. Nice and dry! Failure: Fisk struggles to walk on top of the water, falling in once or twice, but recovers. She makes it to Larkspur soaked.

He wondered wheather the fog that clung to his fur with greedy fingers and swallowed his footfalls was something of a portent of things yet to come. He could not say for sure. In truth it was just a whisper of the thought. There and gone with nothing to show for save for the way he noted how the blooms of his homeland stood like resolute soldiers in the thick gray that had yet to have its grip of the world burned off. Was he or the fog the ghost that moved through the world? Meandering as he was anyone to come upon him might find that he simply appeared. The cloud cover nor the river east of him cared to help the sun. Pity, he would have loved to see the sun cast amber hues upon the vibrancy of the meadowlands. Better still for the visibility around him. One for the practice of magic and two for the hunt he needed to get on with.  Expect the fog blunted his senses. Maybe, Maybe if he was lucky he could walk out of this impenetrable wall. Though that was at the whim of the sun and the stubborn nature of the clouds.

There was no way back. That's what she told herself, waking up again beneath a sea of unfamiliar stars and pine canopy. She watched the horizon lighten through narrowed eyes, frost settled across the tips of her fur and spiderwebbing along her chitin. Another day, another breath taken, another curse delivered to the bastards who'd sent her here. A small consolation at least that this wasn't Hell, despite their best efforts. She couldn't even remember why--not their faces or their reasons, or how they'd even done it. She just remembered pain and rage, and a sticky heat that splattered down her chest and across her mandibles. She took solace that she'd taken several down with her, and hoped that wherever they had landed was far less hospitable than where she was now.  Fuck 'em all. Fuck 'em all to real Hell, or she'd find 'em herself and try again. This, wherever and whatever this even was, wasn't Hell. She could still hunger and tire, yet also feast and dream. She could scratch her elytra against the rocks and still feel that stubborn itch scratched. Life was still moving for her, even if it wasn't there. Home, or whatever had been close to it. Nothing she could do about it now, even if the land she'd found herself in was eerily silent. Ida was not a sociable sort, but she hadn't seen hide nor hair of another bear in any of her wanderings. She'd caught scent of what almost seemed like dog in her first few days, but nothing had come of it. All she had left was to keep moving, maybe find a nice cave to call her own and a big, hefty lump of limestone to gnaw on. Maybe even a few fruit trees if she got lucky, what she wouldn't do for a soft, rotten apple right about now... Ida's jaw popped with a wide yawn, breath hot and cloudy against the chilly air. She made no move yet to rise, shifting onto her belly and stretching the stiffness from her hind legs as light slowly fell between the towering pines. She'd fallen asleep right beneath a particularly heavy one, and she shook her mandibles to clear the fine layer of pine needles stuck to her frosted chitin. She licked a bit of fragrant sap from between her forepaws, muzzle crinkling as she slowly roused herself for the beginning of another quiet day. This place wasn't heaven either, but she could admit it had some pleasantries.

Nestled firmly underneath a few dark stones jutting from the cove's sandy bottom, Delta wrapped his tail firm against his fins and tucked his paws beneath his chest as he watched the distant surface ripple and splash with rainfall. Rain was one of the many new things he'd discovered since leaving the deeper waters, and he'd decided quite early that he liked it. Especially when it fell heavy and thick in cold sheets, dragging himself inland felt less like a frightening excursion. He was made for the water, after all. It was wonderous to see how it flowed and fell far above in this alien world. However, as much as he enjoyed the rain, the wind was something he could do without. Even in his bunker he could tell how the waves whipped and churned in the violent storm, stirring currents between the rocks and kicking clouds of sand off the ocean floor as he pressed himself tighter into the safety of the rocks. In times like this, it was best to stay low and out of the sky's wrath, especially when the strange bolts of light started dancing through the clouds and rumbling the earth with their clapping war cries. Delta couldn't imagine being chained to the dry earth; he'd caught glimpses of land things braying and galloping for shelter to escape the downpours, and the land grew so quiet with the coming of the heavy rain. Why did they avoid it so? Had they too left The Deep, and was it now chasing them across the skies? He thought often on these strange ideas, and would have thought further still until a heavy weight broke the choppy water above. He could feel it in his whiskers, a mass of kicking and twisting limbs that hit the water hard and sank, fighting further and further down until shooting up again in strange, haphazard motions unlike any beast he'd felt in the water before. An electric mixture of curiosity and fear struck through him as the struggling shape displaced the water above him, whiskers standing erect as he felt the alien motions and flared his nostrils to catch whatever scent he could from his little hiding place.  Fear, wild and hot hit the roof of his mouth, and he risked a glance out from the rocks to see the hazy, panicking shape break the water's surface again. It hit him then--a land creature? How and why was it here? Delta was no expert on land beasts, but he had seen the silhouettes of great horned beasts and little scurrying things before in his explorations. Whatever this was...it was different. He'd never seen a thing that moved quite like it, or found itself so far in the water. Before he could regret it and so, so curious, Delta slid from his hiding place and pressed himself flat against the sand. Hugging the cove's bottom to avoid the choppy currents, he slid up along the gradual incline and followed the strange land beast as it kicked its way closer and closer to the shore. Soon he was only several paw lengths beneath the thing, noticing with a fresh jolt of fear how sloppy and slow those kicking limbs had become, and how thick the sense of exhaustion and struggling prey carried from its producing currents. He'd been keeping his distance to avoid being struck, but it was so close to the shore now and so tired--it couldn't hurt to help it, yes? If only to feed his curiosity on what the strange thing was. He gave a sharp pump of his tail and surged upwards, pushing into the sodden fur and working his fins and paws in a small attempt to help propel it up as it scrabbled onto the sand. Following after, he too slid from the water and pushed again at its hindquarters, trying to get it fully free of the greedy waves as cold rain slid off his glossy, soaked pelt. A land creature was not built for this, why was he interfering with it? What should he do? He circled the sodden shape, fur spiking along his spine with growing anxiety as he snorted seawater from his nostrils and took a breath of heavy, cold air. Another bright bolt lashed across the sky and he flinched, though sharp eyes caught the shapes of rocks silhouetted from the rapidly fading light. An idea suddenly struck him; he'd taken shelter beneath the rocks to avoid the currents, perhaps he could get this land beast under some as well? If only to get it out of the water, both from the swollen tides and the sheets pouring from the sky. Delta hoped it was too tired to try eating him, heart thumping wildly as he fought down another wave of panic at the thought of being devoured. He kept a careful distance from its head, pressing his skull against its back and digging his paws into the sand to try and push it forwards closer to the rocks and away from the waves.

Reed rolled the dice.

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Character Diceroll 1: Success Final Score: 19 — Diceroll must be at least 11 to be successful. 1 was deducted for (-1). 20 was added for Strength.