Voshrelka is exhausted, mentally and physically. She has escaped the argument room and has found a quiet place outside of the city to attempt to catch her breath. An entire day of talking, and scheming, and careful wordings of the truth that leaves out a lot of the inconvenient parts, and keeping track of people and what they want, and everything else. Joining a second committee was the right call, she thinks, especially once it turned out that the abolition of slavery is going to lead to failed harvests. It neatly leads into the interests of the Barrowood if druids get to heroically swoop in and save these idiots from the consequences of their idiocy. But gods above, it's like she's run a marathon, but with her mind. On five hours of sleep. Worse, she's still not done, there's a note to her clan to write and send, and she's got to go flying to find a place to dump her Plant Growth, and probably that naive druid girl is going to attempt to hunt her down to answer questions about why she essentially went, "Yes, go ahead, chop down everything I know and love, it's fine."
She's tempted to attempt to get another cup of coffee about this, but at this hour, she expects there to be people. Some of which might try to talk to her. She does not want to do anymore talking for today. Also, the coffee probably wouldn't help at this point. It's the wrong kind of exhaustion, though she does have a bit of the kind coffee can help with, too. Likely the only thing that'll help with this fatigue is a good night's sleep and several weeks spent in the wilderness, the latter of which is definitely not happening anytime soon. Trying to figure out how to accomplish everything while exhausted is difficult. She only has one wildshape left (and damn her past self for wasting it so casually), and she can't get anything from her bag while wildshaped, and won't have thumbs to attach any notes to an animal messenger, but she'd like to sleep as a bird tonight, so she doesn't get anymore accidental wakeups, but...
None of this is helping. She should have prepared Lesser Restoration instead of - something else. Cure Light Wounds, maybe. A note for tomorrow. For now, though, she will do the discount version of Lesser Restoration. Which is to say, she dumps herself with the orison to Create Water. It is blissfully cold in the summer afternoon's heat, especially now that her Endure Elements has expired. It helps a little.
Okay. Note first. Well, getting to a place where she feels comfortable writing a note, first, but it's the same sort of thing. This is perhaps silly, when one is dealing with archmages that could easily scry her, but it's also the sort of habitual thing that makes her feel somewhat more in control. She casts Greater Longstrider, then puts Endure Elements back up, then reaches down to grasp a fistfull of earth and cast Lay of the Land. That last one's useful for finding the best quiet spot available. Then, with the natural speed of a century sneaking around, she slips into the wilderness and gets to disappearing.
The note she writes is in Sylvan, and half in obscure metaphor that will only make sense to other people of the Barrowood, but it relays the important bits. She's not dead, the humans seem to find making a law about dryads agreeable, she will be going forward with the Plant Growths, and then, most importantly: the plans to free halflings sooner rather than later. Expect problems with the harvest because of it, and this is an opening to perhaps leverage for their own ends.
Then she finds an amenable bird, ties the note to her leg, then sends her off to the appropriate location. Okay. One thing done.
Next: she finds a berry bush that doesn't look like anyone cares about, and picks her Goodberries for the day. One of her old ones gets eaten; one per day is enough to comfortably keep her going, but it's nice to have something to snack on. Then she turns into a bird, and she goes flying around to look for obvious bits of farmland to Plant Growth. Her usual blackbird, not one of her forms for long distance flying, since she doesn't plan to go particularly far. She finds a set of fields of the appropriate kinds of grain, she dumps her spell without leaving the air, and then flies off to find a place to sleep. No dramatics this time, she doesn't have the energy or the ability to care.
Voshrelka is exhausted, mentally and physically. She has escaped the argument room and has found a quiet place outside of the city to attempt to catch her breath. An entire day of talking, and scheming, and careful wordings of the truth that leaves out a lot of the inconvenient parts, and keeping track of people and what they want, and everything else. Joining a second committee was the right call, she thinks, especially once it turned out that the abolition of slavery is going to lead to failed harvests. It neatly leads into the interests of the Barrowood if druids get to heroically swoop in and save these idiots from the consequences of their idiocy. But gods above, it's like she's run a marathon, but with her mind. On five hours of sleep. Worse, she's still not done, there's a note to her clan to write and send, and she's got to go flying to find a place to dump her Plant Growth, and probably that naive druid girl is going to attempt to hunt her down to answer questions about why she essentially went, "Yes, go ahead, chop down everything I know and love, it's fine."
She's tempted to attempt to get another cup of coffee about this, but at this hour, she expects there to be people. Some of which might try to talk to her. She does not want to do anymore talking for today. Also, the coffee probably wouldn't help at this point. It's the wrong kind of exhaustion, though she does have a bit of the kind coffee can help with, too. Likely the only thing that'll help with this fatigue is a good night's sleep and several weeks spent in the wilderness, the latter of which is definitely not happening anytime soon. Trying to figure out how to accomplish everything while exhausted is difficult. She only has one wildshape left (and damn her past self for wasting it so casually), and she can't get anything from her bag while wildshaped, and won't have thumbs to attach any notes to an animal messenger, but she'd like to sleep as a bird tonight, so she doesn't get anymore accidental wakeups, but...
None of this is helping. She should have prepared Lesser Restoration instead of - something else. Cure Light Wounds, maybe. A note for tomorrow. For now, though, she will do the discount version of Lesser Restoration. Which is to say, she dumps herself with the orison to Create Water. It is blissfully cold in the summer afternoon's heat, especially now that her Endure Elements has expired. It helps a little.
Okay. Note first. Well, getting to a place where she feels comfortable writing a note, first, but it's the same sort of thing. This is perhaps silly, when one is dealing with archmages that could easily scry her, but it's also the sort of habitual thing that makes her feel somewhat more in control. She casts Greater Longstrider, then puts Endure Elements back up, then reaches down to grasp a fistfull of earth and cast Lay of the Land. That last one's useful for finding the best quiet spot available. Then, with the natural speed of a century sneaking around, she slips into the wilderness and gets to disappearing.
The note she writes is in Sylvan, and half in obscure metaphor that will only make sense to other people of the Barrowood, but it relays the important bits. She's not dead, the humans seem to find making a law about dryads agreeable, she will be going forward with the Plant Growths, and then, most importantly: the plans to free halflings sooner rather than later. Expect problems with the harvest because of it, and this is an opening to perhaps leverage for their own ends.
Then she finds an amenable bird, ties the note to her leg, then sends her off to the appropriate location. Okay. One thing done.
Next: she finds a berry bush that doesn't look like anyone cares about, and picks her Goodberries for the day. One of her old ones gets eaten; one per day is enough to comfortably keep her going, but it's nice to have something to snack on. Then she turns into a bird, and she goes flying around to look for obvious bits of farmland to Plant Growth. Her usual blackbird, not one of her forms for long distance flying, since she doesn't plan to go particularly far. She finds a set of fields of the appropriate kinds of grain, she dumps her spell without leaving the air, and then flies off to find a place to sleep. No dramatics this time, she doesn't have the energy or the ability to care.
Voshrelka is exhausted, mentally and physically. She has escaped the argument room and has found a quiet place outside of the city to attempt to catch her breath. An entire day of talking, and scheming, and careful wordings of the truth that leaves out a lot of the inconvenient parts, and keeping track of people and what they want, and everything else. Joining a second committee was the right call, she thinks, especially once it turned out that the abolition of slavery is going to lead to failed harvests. It neatly leads into the interests of the Barrowood if druids get to heroically swoop in and save these idiots from the consequences of their idiocy. But gods above, it's like she's run a marathon, but with her mind. On five hours of sleep. Worse, she's still not done, there's a note to her clan to write and send, and she's got to go flying to find a place to dump her Plant Growth, and probably that naive druid girl is going to attempt to hunt her down to answer questions about why she essentially went, "Yes, go ahead, chop down everything I know and love, it's fine."
She's tempted to get another cup of coffee about this, but at this hour, she expects there to be people. Some of which might try to talk to her. She does not want to do anymore talking for today. Also, the coffee probably wouldn't help at this point. It's the wrong kind of exhaustion, though she does have a bit of the kind coffee can help with, too. Likely the only thing that'll help with this fatigue is a good night's sleep and several weeks spent in the wilderness, the latter of which is definitely not happening anytime soon. Trying to figure out how to accomplish everything while exhausted is difficult. She only has one wildshape left (and damn her past self for wasting it so casually), and she can't get anything from her bag while wildshaped, and won't have thumbs to attach any notes to an animal messenger, but she'd like to sleep as a bird tonight, so she doesn't get anymore accidental wakeups, but...
None of this is helping. She should have prepared Lesser Restoration instead of - something else. Cure Light Wounds, maybe. A note for tomorrow. For now, though, she will do the discount version of Lesser Restoration. Which is to say, she dumps herself with the orison to Create Water. It is blissfully cold in the summer afternoon's heat, especially now that her Endure Elements has expired. It helps a little.
Okay. Note first. Well, getting to a place where she feels comfortable writing a note, first, but it's the same sort of thing. This is perhaps silly, when one is dealing with archmages that could easily scry her, but it's also the sort of habitual thing that makes her feel somewhat more in control. She casts Greater Longstrider, then puts Endure Elements back up, then reaches down to grasp a fistfull of earth and cast Lay of the Land. That last one's useful for finding the best quiet spot available. Then, with the natural speed of a century sneaking around, she slips into the wilderness and gets to disappearing.
The note she writes is in Sylvan, and half in obscure metaphor that will only make sense to other people of the Barrowood, but it relays the important bits. She's not dead, the humans seem to find making a law about dryads agreeable, she will be going forward with the Plant Growths, and then, most importantly: the plans to free halflings sooner rather than later. Expect problems with the harvest because of it, and this is an opening to perhaps leverage for their own ends.
Then she finds an amenable bird, ties the note to her leg, then sends her off to the appropriate location. Okay. One thing done.
Next: she finds a berry bush that doesn't look like anyone cares about, and picks her Goodberries for the day. One of her old ones gets eaten; one per day is enough to comfortably keep her going, but it's nice to have something to snack on. Then she turns into a bird, and she goes flying around to look for obvious bits of farmland to Plant Growth. Her usual blackbird, not one of her forms for long distance flying, since she doesn't plan to go particularly far. She finds a set of fields of the appropriate kinds of grain, she dumps her spell without leaving the air, and then flies off to find a place to sleep. No dramatics this time, she doesn't have the energy or the ability to care.
Voshrelka is exhausted, mentally and physically. She has escaped the argument room and has found a quiet place outside of the city to attempt to catch her breath. An entire day of talking, and scheming, and careful wordings of the truth that leaves out a lot of the inconvenient parts, and keeping track of people and what they want, and everything else. Joining a second committee was the right call, she thinks, especially once it turned out that the abolition of slavery is going to lead to failed harvests. It neatly leads into the interests of the Barrowood if druids get to heroically swoop in and save these idiots from the consequences of their idiocy. But gods above, it's like she's run a marathon, but with her mind. On five hours of sleep. Worse, she's still not done, there's a note to her clan to write and send, and she's got to go flying to find a place to dump her Plant Growth, and probably that naive druid girl is going to attempt to hunt her down to answer questions about why she essentially went, "Yes, go ahead, chop down everything I know and love, it's fine."
She's tempted to get another cup of coffee about this, but at this hour, she expects there to be people. Some of which might try to talk to her. She does not want to do anymore talking for today. Also, the coffee probably wouldn't help at this point. It's the wrong kind of exhaustion, though she does have a bit of the kind coffee can help with, too. Likely the only thing that'll help with this fatigue is a good night's sleep and several weeks spent in the wilderness, the latter of which is definitely not happening anytime soon. Trying to figure out how to accomplish everything while exhausted is difficult. She only has one wildshape left (and damn her past self for wasting it so casually), and she can't get anything from her bag while wildshaped, and won't have thumbs to attach any notes to an animal messenger, but she'd like to sleep as a bird tonight, so she doesn't get anymore accidental wakeups, but...
None of this is helping. She should have prepared Lesser Restoration instead of - something else. Cure Light Wounds, maybe. A note for tomorrow. For now, though, she will do a lesser mimicry of Lesser Restoration. Which is to say, she dumps herself with the orison to Create Water. It is blissfully cold in the summer afternoon's heat, especially now that her Endure Elements has expired. It helps a little.
Okay. Note first. Well, getting to a place where she feels comfortable writing a note, first, but it's the same sort of thing. This is perhaps silly, when one is dealing with archmages that could easily scry her, but it's also the sort of habitual thing that makes her feel somewhat more in control. She casts Greater Longstrider, then puts Endure Elements back up, then reaches down to grasp a fistfull of earth and cast Lay of the Land. That last one's useful for finding the best quiet spot available. Then, with the natural speed of a century sneaking around, she slips into the wilderness and gets to disappearing.
The note she writes is in Sylvan, and half in obscure metaphor that will only make sense to other people of the Barrowood, but it relays the important bits. She's not dead, the humans seem to find making a law about dryads agreeable, she will be going forward with the Plant Growths, and then, most importantly: the plans to free halflings sooner rather than later. Expect problems with the harvest because of it, and this is an opening to perhaps leverage for their own ends.
Then she finds an amenable bird, ties the note to her leg, then sends her off to the appropriate location. Okay. One thing done.
Next: she finds a berry bush that looks untended and therefore probably unowned, and picks her Goodberries for the day. One of her old ones gets eaten; one per day is enough to comfortably keep her going, but it's nice to have something to snack on. Then she turns into a bird, and she goes flying around to look for obvious bits of farmland to Plant Growth. Her usual blackbird, not one of her forms for long distance flying, since she doesn't plan to go particularly far. She finds a set of fields of the appropriate kinds of grain, and dumps her spell without leaving the air. No dramatics this time, she doesn't have the energy or the ability to care.
Voshrelka is exhausted, mentally and physically. She has escaped the argument room and has found a quiet place outside of the city to attempt to catch her breath. An entire day of talking, and scheming, and careful wordings of the truth that leaves out a lot of the inconvenient parts, and keeping track of people and what they want, and everything else. Joining a second committee was the right call, she thinks, especially once it turned out that the abolition of slavery is going to lead to failed harvests. It neatly leads into the interests of the Barrowood if druids get to heroically swoop in and save these idiots from the consequences of their idiocy. But gods above, it's like she's run a marathon, but with her mind. On five hours of sleep. Worse, she's still not done, there's a note to her clan to write and send, and she's got to go flying to find a place to dump her Plant Growth, and probably that naive druid girl is going to attempt to hunt her down to answer questions about why she essentially went, "Yes, go ahead, chop down everything I know and love, it's fine."
She's tempted to get another cup of coffee about this, but at this hour, she expects there to be people. Some of which might try to talk to her. She does not want to do anymore talking for today. Also, the coffee probably wouldn't help at this point. It's the wrong kind of exhaustion, though she does have a bit of the kind coffee can help with, too. Likely the only thing that'll help with this fatigue is a good night's sleep and several weeks spent in the wilderness, the latter of which is definitely not happening anytime soon. Trying to figure out how to accomplish everything while exhausted is difficult. She only has one wildshape left (and damn her past self for wasting it so casually), and she can't get anything from her bag while wildshaped, and won't have thumbs to attach any notes to an animal messenger, but she'd like to sleep as a bird tonight, so she doesn't get anymore accidental wakeups, but...
None of this is helping. She should have prepared Lesser Restoration instead of - something else. Cure Light Wounds, maybe. A note for tomorrow. For now, though, she will do a lesser mimicry of Lesser Restoration. Which is to say, she dumps herself with the orison to Create Water. It is blissfully cold in the summer afternoon's heat, especially now that her Endure Elements has expired. It helps a little.
Okay. Note first. Well, getting to a place where she feels comfortable writing a note, first, but it's the same sort of thing. This is perhaps silly, when one is dealing with archmages that could easily scry her, but it's also the sort of habitual thing that makes her feel somewhat more in control. She casts Greater Longstrider, then puts Endure Elements back up, then reaches down to grasp a fistfull of earth and cast Lay of the Land. That last one's useful for finding the best quiet spot available. Then, with the natural speed of a century sneaking around, she slips into the wilderness and gets to disappearing.
The note she writes is in Sylvan, and half in obscure metaphor that will only make sense to other people of the Barrowood, but it relays the important bits. She's not dead, the humans seem to find making a law about dryads agreeable, she will be going forward with the Plant Growths, and then, most importantly: the plans to free halflings sooner rather than later. Expect problems with the harvest because of it, and this is an opening to perhaps leverage for their own ends.
Then she finds an amenable bird, ties the note to her leg, then sends her off to the appropriate location. Okay. One thing done.
Next: she finds a berry bush that looks untended and therefore probably unowned, and picks her Goodberries for the day. One of her old ones gets eaten; one per day is enough to comfortably keep her going, but it's nice to have something to snack on. Then she turns into a bird, and she goes flying around to look for obvious bits of farmland to Plant Growth. Her usual blackbird, not one of her forms for long distance flying, since she doesn't plan to go particularly far. She finds a set of fields of the appropriate kinds of grain, and dumps her spell without leaving the air. No dramatics this time, she doesn't have the energy or the ability to care.
