Supplies, Supplies!

Rifkin gives a brief black look as he takes a stock-check and sees, with a sinking feeling, that he’d indeed under-estimated their food and water supply requirements. He’d purchased enough for exactly sixteen days (Including what he could provide with his magic porridge spoon). That should’ve been enough to last them from Valdez city to the mythical tower and then either to the dimensional portal/well oasis or, worst case scenario, back to the recently fled Valdez.

It wasn’t due to poor mathematics though. He just hadn’t accounted for his Elven companion Arowe finding, beating and taking the Wizard Moody captive. Even accounting for Fortu’s surprising abusive treatment of him, Rifkin couldn’t bring himself to starve the man. 

Unless they find water along the way or at the tower, they are going to run out about two days before they should have. Two days before they can get back to either the oasis or the city.

Realisation hits him right between the eyes. For all his efforts in saving them, he might have accidentally done to his friends what’d almost happened to him. After everything they’d seen, all they’d been through, all the monsters they’d faced, they might all just die of basic thirst!

Glancing over to the sagging, barely awake and bloodshot eyed Liga Bur, the Bard wonders to himself, if the Halfling tracker, in his current state, is capable of finding any food or water in this inhospitable desert?

All seven of their lives may depend upon it… 

Eight including Mir Hundur! 

Nine including the bound Wizard Moody!!