Conall had been quiet in his corner of the porch, pressing the melting hailstones to the side of his face, trying not to wince, and waiting for the rain to stop.

Eventually, it did, and although the sky was darkening with the onset of night, the boy seemed to be waking up. "We get back out there, and keep looking," he answered gruffly, jerking his head at the world beyond the porch. They must've rested long enough, and Conall wasn't going to camp out on this porch all night. His own burns hadn't been soothed entirely, but he'd be damned if he tramped along to the infirmary instead of finding out what had caused the bloody hail and firestorm.

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Theo wished there was more he could do for the wounded but the others seemed to have it under control, not to mention he was no healer. No, healing was his father's domain and one he was happy to leave him to.

Now that the sun had set and the fire rain had stopped, he realized belatedly that they'd missed a potentially vital opportunity. "We should've made torches while the fire was still available; we're going to need light if we're carrying on. I don't suppose anyone brought fire-making equipment of the non-magical variety?" Theo was finally appreciating Lumos for the highly useful and easy spell it was as he hadn't since he'd first learned it as an 11 year old. Lumos also came without a burn risk and they'd certainly all had enough of being burned for one day.

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He had definitely moved since he last remembered, that much was clear, but how or why Ben had come to be where he was, the Ravenclaw did not know.

“What happened to my head?” he asked, still a bit gorggy.

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— graphics by mj ❤ —

P@"Edric Umbridge" Fletcher Langley Conall MacKay Thomas Tilcott Timothy Ainsworth Theodoric Jameshill Benjamin Turner Somersby Fudge

Other than the sound of locusts, it seems that they are utterly alone. In the dim moonlight - that is, what light can penetrate the fog - they may be able to make out part of the pattern burned into the grass. It looks like an 'S.'

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The next 'prompt' post will be after either 48 hours have passed from the time of posting (1:10 PM EST on July 14th) or after every member of the party has posted one time if this occurs before that deadline. Please remember that you must post within 72 hours to continue participating. :)

  

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Are your characters stuck in the smalltalk loop?
Does your imagination feel like it just can't perform as it used to?
Mid-thread crisis getting you down?
Unable to get that post up?
Is your relationship suffering because of your inability to satisfy your partner?
SUFFER NO MORE!
With a little intervention from The Suggestionizer your RP life could be back on track in no time!

--> Click here for more details <--

Known side-effects include: chronic ridiculousness, immense satisfaction, itching, uncontrollable laughter, burning, deep regret, despair, shock, horror, incidental dismemberment, joy, and death. Use at your own risk!

The thought of moving forward, while a logical one, was less than ideal given their exhaustion and injuries. Edric was just about to suggest that they find somewhere to rest, specifically to give the groggy Mr. Turner time to recover, when something caught his eye out: the seemingly purposeful pattern burnt into the grass.

"We should probably figure that out before we go anywhere," he said quietly to the group, his arm raising to point towards the ominous letter (message?).

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— set by MJ! —

"I have," Timothy said in response to the question on if anyone brought anything of the non-magical fire making variety. That had been common sense, in his opinion. He looked towards where Umbridge was pointing. "There's more to it. A message, maybe?" He suggested as he tried to make out more than just the S they could currently see.

  

Somersby was relieved when Ben asked a question. That had to be a good sign. “You were hit in the head by hail.” Somersby explained, squinting in the dim light to see Ben’s face.

Then Umbridge drew their attention to the ground. A ‘S’ sat burned into it. Somersby stepped off the porch to look at it. “Perhaps there are more letters we can’t see in the fog?” He suggested, peering out past the ‘S’.

  

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Made by magic (MJ) <3

Noticing the others looking toward some grass, Thomas peered over, wincing a little at the burns on his arms, and straightened up.

He knew exactly what this was. Everything was beginning to take shape. He couldn’t even listen to the others speak and with a confident wail, Thomas exclaimed as he turned back to the other men, “It’s an ‘S’!”

Oh, Thomas was the smartest one here – no doubt about it.

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"You might want to get it out then," he said wryly. Hopefully whatever light source the guy had was half decent and not something small and useless like a single matchstick.

Now that shit had hit the fan and no one had actually died, Theo was slowly starting to regain some confidence. However, he faltered a little when he squinted at the burned 'S' shape. Was it a weird coincidence or did it have meaning? What in the hell were they supposed to do with that? He was at a complete loss.

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The following 1 user Likes Theodoric Jameshill's post:1 user Likes Theodoric Jameshill's post
   Benjamin Turner

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Fletcher was pleased to see that the young man had come to. "Probably a light concussion," he answered simply, "You'll have a headache and your memory could be a bit foggy but you should be fine otherwise." Probably the best case scenario compared to those around them. Burns and cuts could be awful to heal from. The rest would have a harder recovery when it came down to it.

He looked away from the boy when the mention of a letter being burnt into the ground. Stepping off of the porch, he moved toward it to investigate further. "I wouldn't be surprised if there's a whole message. The problem will be following it. We may not even be at the beginning of it but in the middle," he said as he looked back to the rest of the group.

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BEE-utiful Set!

"If we're going to find it before the morning—" Which was ideal, given that the message could spell out a warning. "—I suggest we split up in logical pairs. Langley and Turner. Fudge and I. Jameshill and Tilcott. Ainsworth and MacKay." It was probably best to send the least experienced with the best—or in Langley and Turner's case, the one with the concussion and the one who could handle a concussion.

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— set by MJ! —

The healer brought up a logical point as he joined Somersby beside the letter. Somersby was too tired to object to the pairings, despite a small bristling at being split from Ben, but really it made sense to keep Ben with the healer.

“Should we all meet back here in a few hours to share what we’ve found?” He put forth, trying to be helpful as he rolled up his sleeves to salve the burns with the dripping cold remains of the hail from his pack. At least if the rain came back his pack was thoroughly soaked and might provide some form of protection.

  

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Made by magic (MJ) <3

The S they could make out - Conall could see it too - was almost eerie, if it were more than coincidence. Like someone was watching them, had eyes from above, was orchestrating all this, controlling fire and rain and fog. But who could do such a thing as this?

Not nature alone, that was obvious.

Keen to be on the move again - he would not have been able to crowd under this porch all night long with the whole group of men without wanting to stab himself in the face, he presumed - Conall just agreed with a brisk nod, offered the one he thought was Ainsworth a split-second of eye contact, and then started off in one direction past the S in the ground.

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Fletcher Langley Benjamin Turner

Things are going well. Except they're not, because Mr. Langley rolls on into a ditch and snaps his ankle, and will have to be picked up by the infirmary.

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(Hawke you have earned your raffle ticket!)
Edric Umbridge Somersby Fudge

It turns out that stumbling around in the darkness and fog without fire is, perhaps, not the best idea.

It is especially not the best idea when within fifteen minutes, Mr. Umbridge walks directly into a tree, leaving a nasty gouge above his left eye.

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Theodoric Jameshill Thomas Tilcott

Mr. Jameshill and Mr. Tilcott find nothing, unless you find darkness and uneven ground to be particularly interesting.

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Conall MacKay Timothy Ainsworth

Spelled out on the ground, and obvious as they progress: SALEM. Some more letters follow it.

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The next 'prompt' post will be after either 48 hours have passed from the time of posting (1:30 PM EST on July 16th) or after every member of the party has posted one time if this occurs before that deadline. Please remember that you must post within 72 hours to continue participating. :)
(If you did not post in the previous round, you have until 1:10 PM on July 15th to do so.)

The following 1 user Likes The Suggestionizer's post:1 user Likes The Suggestionizer's post
   Edric Umbridge

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Are your characters stuck in the smalltalk loop?
Does your imagination feel like it just can't perform as it used to?
Mid-thread crisis getting you down?
Unable to get that post up?
Is your relationship suffering because of your inability to satisfy your partner?
SUFFER NO MORE!
With a little intervention from The Suggestionizer your RP life could be back on track in no time!

--> Click here for more details <--

Known side-effects include: chronic ridiculousness, immense satisfaction, itching, uncontrollable laughter, burning, deep regret, despair, shock, horror, incidental dismemberment, joy, and death. Use at your own risk!

Theo didn't think splitting up sounded like a very good idea, but he also didn't dare oppose the Head Auror. He forgot to shake the one guy with fire-making equipment down for said valuables if he wasn't going to use them but by the time he remembered it was too late. At least he didn't have to fear judgement from Umbridge anymore.

"Well I'd say this is a bust, wouldn't you, Tilcott?" Nothing like staggering around uselessly in the dark. He couldn't believe he was wishing the fire back, but at least then they could see if where they were going, for all he could tell they'd been walking in circles the entire time. "I don't think there's much else we can do though but keep going." So much for the knife he had thought himself so clever for bringing with him, he hadn't even gotten it out yet.

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Splitting up made some sort of sense, at least. Cover more ground.

After wandering around for a short while, the two stopped and Thomas faced Jameshill – though he could barely see him.

“There’s not much else to do. Might as well keep walking.” He said plainly and with a bit of a shrug as he continued to walk around.

“So what made you decide to sign up to this… whatever this is? I just wanted to help but I s’pose I’m bein’ pretty useless,” Thomas spoke dejectedly. All he’d done is lose his broom, get burned, and provide absolutely no insight to the situation at hand.

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