Iron Crisis Part 2 (IC)

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 39/39 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: That Night Caelyn smiles at waves at Melian when she settles down to trance sitting down, as the druid always does. She sets up her own bedroll, folding it into a comfortable seat, and staggers her trance so that she should be closing her eyes when Melian wakes. While she stays up, she wanders the area surrounding the bandit's camp, searching for ingredients. Some red berries here, some sap there, and specific types of loam found with the roots of an oak tree. Mixing these ingredients in a small wooden bowl she normally used for plant collection, she adds water and makes a thick red paste, then adds a bit more to thin it out into a primitive paint. Then she began drawing on the pieces of shattered stone she gathered from the altar, preparing them to receive the paint. She was no artist, but she knew if she got them just right she could make something magical happen. Tongue stuck out, eyes nearly crossed in concentration, she works for hours sketching with coal, dabbing paint, and murmurring to herself in Druidic the whole time just to prepare to attempt the infusion of magic. That she will save for another night. Putting the shards of rock out to dry, she contentedly closes her eyes and begins to trance, imagining the possibilities of her creation should they come to fruition. That Morning Caelyn wakes up in a sweat, immediately hot and immediately thirsty. She quickly gathers her rocks, rolls up her bed, and removes her armor. She would be worried if she was caught in a fight with it off, but she would be brutally overheated if she kept it on. In a way she felt naked without it, but the immediate relief of stripping down to just her shirt was enough to convince her she'd made the right decision. She eats quietly, keeping her own counsel as she waits to see how things resolve- how the parting with the bandits would end and how her family would manage the fallout. She'd never seen her siblings fight over something so dire since Father's death, and then they were all in mourning. She only hoped that the harsh words of the evening would grow smaller and easier to deal with in time, and that unlike that feeling of loss they would go away.