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How to Race
Please RP at least 200 characters per post.
Please chose which type of Roll you would like at the bottom of your post in bold
You are welcome to post multiple times between rounds but you may only request Rolls once per round.
Rounds will be no less than 48 hours each.

It was a peculiar thing being so far away from home and so far north. The weather was biting cold here and even though he had been clothed in wool and furs and wore a cloak and cowl he was still cold. Romeran was from far south in Lossarnach and was more accustom to toiling in hot weather rather than the brutal cold. But still the invitation seemed an exciting opportunity and besides Romeran loved dogs and had always wanted to learn how to use a team of sled dogs. He had used the trip north as an opportunity to hone his ranger skills in survival and navigation and had arrived early enough to take some sledding lessons from the local Forodwaith people. He had enjoyed the training immensely and the dogs, though still adorable as dogs, were quite different than the other dogs, hunting dogs and sheepdogs, that he had seen before. All they wanted to do was run, it seemed, and they loved the snow above all else. It was thus that Romeran found himself at the beginning of the race. His dogs were as eager and if ever the phrase chomping at the bit was appropriate it was now.

2d6 roll

Bikki and One of Farmer Maggots' Sons - Team Dwarf and Oofms

Their faces were barely visible due to the fur hoods they wore to protect themselves from the harsh winds as Bikki, and One of Farmer Maggots' sons led the team of race dogs to the start area. They had made it to the event in recorded time. One of Farm Maggots' Sons had obtained a map and, most importantly, the dogs. Unaccustomed to animals (pets), as most dwarves were, Bikki was the exception. He had become friendly with the pups from one of Farmer Maggot's dogs and watched them grow up - he being a friend of One of Farm Maggots' Sons. But, he was not so brave as to handle a sled with seven huskie dogs pulling it. That was the job of One of Farmer Maggots' Sons. Bikki fed them and encouraged them by scratching behind their ears - the dogs liked this, the young Bikki discovered.

Team Dwarf and Oofms nodded to the musher who arrived before them, sliding up beside the sled. The competition looks ready to go. Pulling up his warm mitts, winking at One of Farmer Maggots' Sons, so were they. Slow but steady to start.

1d10

Emil didn’t like racing. He believed it a mockery to the starry gods above to use of the dogs that Amaroq and Sedna had given them to hunt in such a recreational fashion. However, he was still a young man under the roof (so to speak) of his father and his father loved racing. Normally, Emil was able to talk his way out of racing or simply not be in the area when the races occurred. He’d not been so lucky this year. The storms had been bad, and the cold had been worse. He had a team of eight dogs, but this winter had reduced his number of healthy, sled-worthy dogs to half. His father, too infirmed with gout to sled on his own, pressganged Emil into racing in his place. He used the excuse that the dogs needed to learn to run together, something Emil couldn’t argue. He was torn between his deeply held beliefs and his sense of duty to his family. What was a young Lossoth to do? Previously, Emil’s team had been eight all white spitzes, who raced along the ice like ghosts, but now his team was intermixed with four new dogs, spitzes of dark grey and black. His team of spirits had been half replaced by dogs that could be spotted leagues away. It was his punishment for defying the gods.

2d6

@Romeran 3, 4 ( 7) Your dogs are certainly eager to run, throwing their whole bodies against their harnesses in anticipation for the start of the race and when they are finally allowed to go forward you find yourself having a task getting them to stay on course as they surge ahead.

@Drifa 6 (6) Farmer Maggots dogs are better suited to guarding than to running but in the excitement of the north surrounded by sledding dogs they understood the task at hand with little issue and soon you find yourself skittering out onto the windswept bay the dogs working hard to keep themselves upright on the glassy surface.

@Zeal & Ardor 5,1 (6)If the gods are punishing you than it is not the worst punishment they could come up with as your dogs a newly made team raced ahead, their feet sure on the ice but the ice in the air stinging at your eyes making it hard to see where exactly you are going.

Bikki and One of Farmer Maggots' Sons - Team Dwarf and Oofms

Being sired by two wolf-like dogs (Princess(?) and Grip) and trained by One of Farmer Maggots' Sons, the seven pups had grown to be excellent sled dogs. The young hobbit, having a passion (cart racing and buggy racing) for such activities, had built a sled and harnesses and had the dogs - from a young age - practice pulling the sled through all kinds of terrain. And, when the weather permitted, he raced the dogs down any frozen water he could find. Bikki had been his companion through the years, having met the Maggots at Bree. He named the pups, amazed by them and thinking of them as the seven wonders.

Pimar was the youngest of seven. A pretty mild-tempered dog but with great determination, Vullus was next. He always looked out for his young sister and stood beside her on the team. Mac was in front of his younger brother. He was a tall blonde coated dog with great agility. Beside him was Pic. Tall like his brother, he wore, in contrast, a dark coat of hair, almost ebony. In front of these two were El and Kuku, twins. Broad-shouldered and powerful, they were hard to tell apart except for their eyes; El had blue and brown, and Kuku white and brown. And at the head of the team was Cap. Lean, strong, attentive, he was the perfect dog to lead. A fast runner, he set the pace listening to One of Farmer Maggots' Sons and following his commands. He also read the trail and made quick decisions when the hobbit could not see ahead of the team.

Making their way across the bay, the cold wind in all their faces, Cap did his job and did not disappoint, and team Dwarf and Oofms were pleased.


1d10

As the other drivers came up to the starting area, Romeran began to become nervous. It wasn't because he wanted to win the race, he didn't really expect to, he just wanted to be able to finish the race and hopefully not embarrass himself too much along the way. Some of the other riders seemed particularly experienced, no doubt many of them were local to the region and must have looked at Romeran and thought him out of place. They weren't completely wrong, with that assessment. The wind was and cut Romeran's face as the only part of him which was not completely covered from the cold. In his pack he had some brandy liquor if he got too cold.

The sled dogs took off like an arrow launched from a fully drawn longbow. It was all Romeran could do to hold on to the reigns and not fall off, let alone direct the dogs. Luckily for Romeran, however, the dogs knew what they were doing and they managed to pull him off into the trail without him having to do the directing. If Romeran was going to have any success at all he decided he'd let the dogs do all of the deciding and only make correction if he knew that the path veered in one particular direction and the dogs pulled in the other. The dogs would win the race, Romeran was simply along for the ride.

2d6

@Drifa 5 (5) Your team makes it onto the ice and into a bit more snow making it a little easier for your dogs to keep upright however as you continue you find you are having a hard seeing the flags on the ice how do you manage to spot them to stay on the course?

@Romeran 5,6 (11) You manage to hang on, and your dogs really have taken off like a shot veering off of the safely marked path that others are on cutting across the snaking course in a straight line. What is on the ice that kept the Lossoth using the course your dogs have decided to run?

As the dogs charged ahead Romeran was forced to grip the reigns as hard as he could so as not to fall. It wasn't long after they took off that Romeran realized the dogs didn't appear to be sticking to the course that was laid out for them. He wondered if perhaps he had now violated some rule and that he would be disqualified. But there wasn't exactly a 'gate' system which he was expected to navigate. This led Romeran to consider what other reasons there might be for the course to take such a winding path over the ice. Maybe, he wondered, it was more a question of safety rather than trying to make the race more difficult. He quickly had a vision of the ice cracking and himself and the dogs being pulled underneath.

Horrified at the prospect of an icy death, Romeran decided to push the break system on his sled and pull back on the dogs trying to get them to slow down so that the could more easily navigate the course and avoid any dangerous ice. "Woah" he called out, although he didn't think the dogs would respond, it was more an involuntary call than anything else. He tried desperately to recall the recent lessons on how to control the dogs and make them turn. Romeran was determined to remain calm, at least as calm as he could. As long as he could remain calm he would be able to execute on his training and try to regain control over the sled.

1d10

@Romeran 3 (3) You manage to pull the dogs in enough that they are no longer bounding over unmarked trail and you are working on get them back on the flagged path. One of the dogs trips and gets tangled in the ropes slowing down your race a bit.

Bikki and One of Farmer Maggots' Sons - Team Dwarf and Oofms w/Pimar, Vullus, Mac, Pic, El, Kuku and Cap

Snow blew across the expanse of ice, making it hard to see the flags that mark the racecourse. One of Farmer Maggots' Sons stood on the footboards (which he constructed a little higher than was expected to accommodate his height) with his hands on the handlebar yelling out orders to Cap, who was at the head of the pack. 'Gee! Gee! Cap! Now Easy boy! That's it!'
Bikki seated comfortably in the cargo bed surrounded by furs, food bags, water, and other sundry grinned with pure pleasure as the sled slid across the bay. His nose was the only part of his face that the wind touched, and it was like a red cheery in the stark whiteness. Enjoying himself as he was, he was glad that One of Farmer Maggots' Sons was in charge of the sled and not he. He could not see far in front of him and had no idea which direction they were heading in. No other sled was in sight - the two other racers seen briefly at the beginning of the race were behind them and in front of them.

With one more yell out to make a 'Gee!' (right turn) and then a sharp 'Haw!' (left turn), the hobbit cried 'Straight Ahead!', and Cap had them surging forward.

2d6

Gods were capricious creatures. Even though he'd devoted his life to them, Emil knew this all too well. They gave gifts with strings, baskets of fish without a bottom, or a dulled knife. Yet he was thankful for the gifts all the same. Who was he to turn his nose to them? He could sense their unhappiness with what he was doing, something like an oily sheen over his vision. He wondered if the dogs sensed it. His ghostly spitzes must, the grey and mottled ones though? He hadn't trained them long enough to understand their moods and thoughts. It had been another reason he didn't want to do this race: the dogs were unused to him cracking a whip.

He wasn't dead, but he wasn't in first place either. All things in balance, all things in balance. It was still desperately cold outside, even though his thick layers of fox fur he could feel the snarling bite of the cold. His dogs, thankfully, did not. As they moved, bounding in and out of the snow, he felt envious of them. No matter how much time he spent out in the wide, white air, he could never bring himself to be as free as them. Maybe the gods' punishment of him had been to make him a man and not a dog. Certainly he thought life would have been simpler.

Out here, alone, Emil felt like he was a free as he could get. Moving through snow and ice against roaring winds and ghostly fog, he felt closer to himself than he ever did amongst his people, even the members of his own family. The more he looked out at the vast white void, the more he wanted to embrace it.

2d6

@Drifa 4,4 (8) Your dogs follow your directions beautifully however you miss one of the flags marking safe passage and cut a corner too tight and pass onto weaker ice and you can hear the thunderous pop of the ice beneath the weight of your sled even as you get back onto safe ice.

@Hop-Frog 6,3 (9) The cold may have teeth for human flesh, but the dogs felt no pain from the sting of the snow and ice for now there is harmony in your sled team and they race through jagged teeth of ice that spear up into the sky where the ice came in in the fall broken and cruel before setting in place.

The pulling and calling seemed to have some sort of effect on the dogs who slowed down somewhat and started to better heed the directions that Romeran was attempting to give them although it was clear that the dogs were used to a much more assertive and confident driver. Romeran risked a glance behind him at the other racers. In some combination of Romeran's attempt to slow down and get control over his sled and the other racers putting on the pressure meant that Romeran's sizable (but unintentional) lead was slowly fading away as the other sleds quickly approached him. In perhaps an unusual fashion in race, Romeran was actually rather glad that the other racers were catch up. In fact if one of them took the lead perhaps he would have an easier time in following rather than letting the dogs do the leading. He quietly hoped that such a thing would happen, but his competitive spirit wouldn't allow him to simply intentionally slow down to let them pass.

Perhaps fate looked down upon Romeran at this point because one of the dogs became tangled in the reigns after Romeran had pulled them to a slow and subsequently tripped. Thinking back on his earlier training, Romeran slowed the sled down even further, coming to almost a complete halt. Luckily the dog managed to right himself before Romeran had to completely stop the sled and get out to fix the reigns. Once the dogs seemed back in the appropriate order and the ropes were no longer tangled, Romeran decided to egg them on with a loud "Yah!" and clapping down on the reigns to encourage them go forward. The dogs eagerly lurched back into the race, the momentary slow and tangle seemed to have no effect on their eagerness to continue.

2d6

It was not long before the dogs fell into a decent rhythm, old and new, the dogs knew what they were about and went forth with gusto. They were blissful and happy, bounding through the snow like ghosts on the Wild Hunt. Emil felt another stab of jealous as he watched from his perch behind the sled. Oh to be so joyous and happy with one's lot. The gods gave all men and animals a purpose to strive toward. Animals often found their purpose faster while men often wallowed and waffled their way from dream to dream, chasing after the ghosts of ideas and fancies. Was that what Emil was doing now, he thought? Was he driving through the snow and ice and howling winds to fulfill the search for his purpose? It was a gloomy thought. Why was he always so dour and acerbic? He was out in the empty world with no one around but the animals he'd raised and consecrated. What was better than this? Even if he felt like what he was doing was dubious at best, he should still enjoy himself, the dogs were and if they were happy, who was he to deny them and bring down the mood? The gods, if they were unhappy with him, would deal with him in their own way and there was nothing he would be able to do about it. Life in the wide, white world was short and any moment of exhilaration needed to be celebrated. Honoring his hounds, that exactly what Emil was going to.

2d6

@Romeran 1, 5 (6) The snow you stopped in was deeper than you had thought it would be and you find yourself having to help the dogs get back up to speed giving the other racers a real chance at catching you as you glance back.

@Ligeia! Ligeia! 5, 6 (11) The gods have chosen to bless you it seems as they make their way through the labyrinth of icy teeth and onto a straight away that affords them the ability to run as swiftly as they as they catch site of another team ahead of them.

He was glad to be out of the toothy corridor, he’d had too many nightmares in his youth about a temple under the ice constructed from teeth; that passageway was beginning to fray at his sense of reality. Waking and dreaming were not so different out here, so far north of the world that it seemed like a different planet entirely. Dreams walked in the starry, frozen midnight and horrors stalked in the shadow of the bright midnight sun. Now that he had escaped that place, he swore he could see something, deep blue against the ice, jumping from shadow to shadow. There was no defined shape, just something hideous and amorphous. He turned, but before he did, he caught a glimpse of eyes where eyes ought not to be and “mouths”.

Where was a polar bear when you needed one?

Not that Emil wanted a polar bear right now. No. He was not out hunting, and he had no quarrels with his icy cousins, he prayed they, too, would have no quarrel with him.

His dogs still moved tirelessly, in the passageway the sounds of their panting had rebounded back and forth, creating a cushion against the silence, but back out on the plain, the winds swept away all the sounds but the loudest yip and bahr and replaced them with a single, continuous scream. The winds of the ice were alive and well.

2d6

The snow was deep and thick in the area where Romeran had found himself and the dogs, while eager, struggled to pull the sled through. It seemed that the advantage he had initially had, intentionally or not, had been all but spent. This wasn't ultimately too unnerving to Romeran who thought perhaps he would fare better, at least as measured by survival, if he had an experienced hand in front of him to follow and not simply leaning on the dogs for guidance.

Peering ahead, Romeran tried to pick out a route where the snow seemed to be less thick. Glancing behind him he took note of Emil who was quickly gaining on him. Romeran tried to take a cue from the direction in which Emil was traveling as insight for where he should lead the dogs. He wasn't a confident leader of the pack and the dogs seemed at first reluctant to obey. Eventually as he insisted and they found that the course grew more stable as their path began to align with Emil's, the dogs became more responsive and Romeran guided them trying to aim them towards the path which he expected Emil was taking.

2d6

Bikki and One of Farmer Maggots' Sons - Team Dwarf and Oofms w/Pimar, Vullus, Mac, Pic, El, Kuku and Cap

Team Oofms had fallen behind. The other teams had sped past them in a spray of soft cold snow that covered Bikki and the dogs in a sparkling blanket of white. But it soon melted and dried in the wind leaving the dwarf refreshed. One of Farmer Maggots' Sons kept the team on track, but they did have to stop to refasten a harness that came loose and put Pimar's booties on; she is the youngest dog and more tender footed. Moving forward, the team suddenly made too sharp a left turn and found themselves on thin ice. The sound of it buckling and moaning gave Bikki the creeps. He was sure it would crack and swallow them up; hobbit, dwarf, sled dogs, wine and all the food. But One of Farmer Maggots' Sons called out to Cap and soon had the team veering away from the danger and back on track. Bikki wiped sweat from his brow. He would not soon forget the sound.

The hobbit cried 'Straight Ahead!', and Cap had them surging forward once more. Hopefully, the next word to come out of the hobbit's mouth would be, 'On By!' as they passed one of the other teams.

2d6

@Innlandshjarte 5, 1 (6) The snow grows deep over the ice and while this is a safe portion of the ice getting you ever closer to the end of the race your dogs both grey and ghost like find themselves struggling in snow that is up to their chests as they drag your sled along.

@Romeran 1, 2 (3) The turn of your head seems to have some dire consequences as your accidentally step on one of your sleds brakes and swing the sled off course and tip the sled entirely letting Emil and his team bound past you as you work on righting your sled.

@Drifa 2, 6 (8) The sound and your calm guidance gets the dogs running swift and straight and they can see the lead teams ahead of them. How does Bikki and the Farmer Maggots son keep them from running wild after them heedless of command?

Somehow, by some cruel trick of fate, Emil found himself in the lead. The "how" he could not imagine, and "why" escaped him as well. Fate was a fickle mistress. She's glorious in the sheets, but a beast on the streets. As Emil remembered the common phrase he laughed at the absurdity. No one could say that the Lossoth were a dull, puritanical people.

Now that he was in the lead, Emil decided he had better keep it. The gods did not look favorably upon men that raced dogs rather than worked them, but they had seen him fit enough to race well. He was not going to let his gods, or his dogs, down. The snows were getting thicker and the winds were getting nastier though. He'd been pushing his dogs hard and fast, doing his best to get them into a comfortable position. He'd done that and more besides. It was time to ease back. There was a time to sprint and there was a time to job. Right now, in the lead and heading into potentially dangerous territory, it was time to start jogging. The ice and snow often held hidden surprises for a runner, surprises that, if you weren't careful, could swallow you and your dogs whole.

He whistled to his dogs, given them the single to slow. To his amazement, but ghost and grey obeyed. Perhaps his new spitzes were not such a lost cause. An extra ration would be due them all tonight, as long as things continued to go well and Emil was able outrun Fate's haunting lullaby.

1d10

It had been a risk, turning his head and looking behind him, Romeran realized especially for someone not as familiar with using a dog sled. As he turned back, his body had followed the movement of his head and his right foot had slipped and landed on the brake of the sled! Twisting rapidly as one side of the sled was locked and the other was not, the sled rotated nearly a quarter turn before Romeran realized what was going on and jumped off the break. This mistake caused Romeran's sled to charge off wildly in the wrong direction and as he did so, Emil flew past him. On the one hand, he was more comfortable with someone to follow, but on the other hand he now had a swerving sled to manage.

Another sign of Romeran's lack of experience was the over-correcting which occurred when the sled started veering off in one direction. Pulling on the reigns and reversing the brake direction Romeran had tried to correct them back on course. This had the opposite effect of veering the sled off in the other direction. It took all of the faculties which Romeran still had not to repeat the overcorrection. Realizing his mistake, Romeran tried to more gently coerce the sled back in the original direction which they had veered (traveling now in pendulum in the other way). Repeating the minor corrections over the course of four or five small "turns" Romeran managed to stabalize his sled, which was lucky, if he had continued to over-correct he was confident that the sled would have tipped and thrown him.

The lead which Romeran had built up originally was all bug dissipated now. He was in second place, behind Emil who had overtaken him during his awkward spin out on the sled. Romeran resisted the urge to check behind him, unwilling to make the same mistake twice, but he could hear yet another sled approaching fast from behind him. At this point, however, Romeran was simply glad to still be on the sled at all and hoped simply to make it to the end of the race.

2d6

Bikki and One of Farmer Maggots' Sons - Team Dwarf and Oofms w/Pimar, Vullus, Mac, Pic, El, Kuku and Cap

Pushing his fur hood from his brow (where it had slipped while the young dwarf had been napping), Bikki could see the other racers in front of them now. Mac and Pic had also seen the dog teams and began to yap like pups and pick up speed. Little Pimar lost one of her booties in the process. One of Farmer Maggots' Sons had a good time hanging on to the team as they excitedly tried to catch up to the other sleds. His cheeks were bright red, and his eyes twinkled. He knew his team. They were too eager to follow Cap or any of his commands. But if trouble were on the ice up ahead, they would fall into line and not take the sled into danger. And so, he let them run.

2d6

@Innlandshjarte 4 (4) Your dogs listen well slowing to an easy pace loping through the snow, perhaps a little too slow. Will your gods punish you for this or are they forgiving in this case as you travel on the safer marked path for the race?

@Romeran 2, 4 (6) After several attempts at corrections you've gotten the team back on track and while you're not in the same path as your competitor you've managed to pull along side them.

@Drifa 1,5 (6) The pace has smoothed a bit and while you've kept pace with one you've closed on another so far the ice seems to be holding well though you can see some big drifts coming up that might get your sled stuck do you run the dogs through them or around them?

The phrase "winning isn't everything" is simultaneously sage advice and the most toxic, obnoxious platitude one could give. Emil and his pack of wild and wiry spitzes had enjoyed the lead in this race for a grand total of ten seconds. When he'd slowed his racers down, hoping to conserve energy and keep them from travelling through a patch of snow that might end up engulfing them (or worse), he'd lost his position as sole lead. His competitive spirit had been awoken. While he didn't want to be in this race in the first place, the honor of his family, his tribe, and (most importantly) his dogs was at stake now. He couldn't afford to lose to some southerner who thought of snow as a delightful distraction rather than a raging monster.

So Emil found himself on the horns of a dilemma. Should he risk the open field and the possible (probable was a better word to use here) pitfalls that the snow and ice had in store for him? Or should he trust his fate to the slower, but safer, pathway? Which of these ways would be the least most likely to get him killed by an angry god? Gods love a bold parishioner, one willing to take risks to bring them glory, but they also loved a steadfast worshipper that followed the track they were destined for. Decisions, decisions.

Emil looked to the dogs. When it came down to it, they were the one's actually running the race. He might have been the mind behind the path, but they were the ones with the paws in the snow. They all looked excited, grey and white. Their breath wrapped them in a fog, a cocoon of mist against the wild, angry winds. If they were happy, then he would follow them.

2d6
It might be good to cut it down to 50; I'm not getting bored, but if the TR feels like it's dragging then it might be smart to compress things.

By some trick of fate or combination of fate and beginner's luck, Romeran had found himself back in the lead again, or at least tied for it. Mostly, Romeran confessed internally, he was being carried by a well trained pack of dogs and he was simply hanging on for dear life trying his best to course correct. As the two sleds charged headlong down the track side-by-side, Romeran risked a glance over at his competitor. From what Romeran could see behind the layered winter clothing, the man was a much grimmer and determined racer than Romeran. Momentarily Romeran considered whether Emil would have some trick up his sleeve or would go to knock Romeran off his sled. He realized he didn't eve know if that sort of thing was simply part of the race or not?

Finding out whether or not contact with other racers was permitted in the race, Romeran wondered why he hadn't spent more time reading the rules, wasn't something that he wanted to solve first hand. With a slight maneuver of his wrists he tried to subtly shift the sled away from Emil, out of any possible reach. Romeran's plan was to try and slow down a little and get behind Emil. He hoped that following in the stronger driver's tracks would make for an easier time for him and his dogs and conserve some energy, then closer to the end of the race, Romeran could try and take him over. The question was, whether or not he could put this plan into action. He tried a subtle tap on the 'brakes'.

1d10
Agree with Frost that I'm not bored but happy to compress it down to 50 or some other target.

Bikki and One of Farmer Maggots' Sons - Team Dwarf and Oofms w/Pimar, Vullus, Mac, Pic, El, Kuku and Cap

As they moved along at a good pace, the other teams were not far off in the front lead, so One of Farmer Maggots' Sons let the dogs run off their previous excitement to catch up even further. Although Bikki was still in high spirits, they would have to stop soon so that he could stretch his legs and tend to some private matters. He had been enjoying his flask of wine as the snowy scenery flew by. He felt like they were on top of the clouds in a cold sparkling world where one's breath was like wisps of words floating in the air. He noticed some more significant snowdrifts on the race-way as he looked forward. He wondered if One of Farmer Maggots' Sons would let the dogs plough through them or if he would signal them to go around. Glad to let the hobbit make those decisions, he rested his head and looked at the winter blue sky.

2d6

Fifty points is a good goal for the win to me.

Alright so the race is officially being ammended to 50 points instead of 100 (also helps since the last week I've been stupid busy as the only non Covid infected person in my family.

@Frost 4,4 (8) Between yourself and the southerner the ice is not happy with the weight as your dogs cross it you hear a terrible crack as the ice starts to break beneath you, it sends your dogs jumping away from where the ice has cracked

@Romeran 6(6) Your dogs seem to sense something is wrong ahead perhaps they have less race in them and more survival but they backed off of the local musher you however were trying to keep them going as fast as possible how do you encourage them to keep going past the broken ice?

@Drifa 2,6 (8) Your dogs are catching up slowly to the dogs in front of you when you hear the same that you had heard earlier near you. Does it scare you or dogs worse?

The race was drawing to a close now. The end of the was nearly in sight and the dogs were, for the most part, initially pulling towards the finish line. The prospect of finishing the race was drawing closer to reality and Romeran was trying to contain his excitement lest he jinx himself. The northerner continued to pull ahead of Romeran despite his dogs best efforts (and helped by Romeran's lack of experience). Now that it was coming to it, Romeran wanted to win and he egged his dogs onwards.

Cracking of ice was generally a terrifying sound, even to someone such as Romeran who had little experience with ice. The dogs seemed to immediately respond to it as well, further emphasizing the reality of the danger he now faced. Romeran hesitated, following Emil might have been the fastest route towards the finish line, but would the ice hold? Romeran felt ill-equipped to answer such a hazardous question and he was unwilling to risk the lives of the dogs to find out. He pulled the reigns to veer them away from the cracking ice and off from the direct course to the finish line. If it would cost him stealing the victory, so be it.

1d10

@Romeran 4 (4) Your change of path keeps yourself from any danger and you manage to get past the massive cracks in the ice and you can see the shore ahead now in the distance as you slip onto the safe marked path that the Lossoth have laid out for you. You do have to take some time to avoid the rough choppy ice caused by the tides that are crashing onto the shoreline but you and your both can see smoke rising from the horizon and small tents as you draw nearer.

There was a chance Emil was not going to win this race. The thought irked him, gnawed at him like a canker, made his gorge rise. If he were going to run this race at all and risk the wrath of the gods, should he not at the very least win the race? He'd stood pat on the second to last turn and crawled to a near halt on the last one, he could feel himself losing focus on the race; the icy winds and scorchingly cold snow were starting to sap his strength, both physically and mentally. His reactions were starting to slow, his mind was foggy and muddled. He needed something to warm him, and he needed it quickly. The ground beneath him felt shaky and uncertain, but Emil couldn't tell if that was from the failing of his own mental faculties or the ground itself giving way. He knew they were not on safe ground here, that the ice shelf extended far but was quite weak at random intervals. More than a few Lossach hunters had been lost, falling prey to gaps in the ice and fallen to the frozen, icy depths. Sedna was supposed to have her halls in the deepest parts of the northern sea, where light was an unfamiliar concept. Emil began to wonder if he and his dogs were destined to be guests of hers for all eternity, and if they were, would that be so bad? The barking of his dogs brought him back to the cold reality, they were upset that a southerner had passed them (or that anyone had passed them since dogs weren't known to have such prejudices) and began to pull on their harnesses, yapping and bahring and howling. Emil clicked his tongue, just loud enough for them to hear above the tumult of the wind, and they were off again. But Emil was not going to take any chances here.

1d10

@Mr. Underash 5(5) Your path takes you back into the lead but the safety of the last stretch keeping you off the most dangerous ice has you between the final markings with very little race left as you can see the finish line shortly ahead and cheering crowds of your kin.

Bikki and One of Farmer Maggots' Sons - Team Dwarf and Oofms w/Pimar, Vullus, Mac, Pic, El, Kuku and Cap

The ice moaned and groaned, and to Bikki's slightly wine-induced brain, it buckled. The dogs, in their excitement, had overdone the chase to catch up with the other teams and appeared worn out. Poor little Pimar (minus booties) was gasping for breath, and all the other dogs had their tongues hanging out of their mouths. Except for Cap. A true leader, he had slowed down when he felt the others dragging the gangline. The steadier pace had allowed him to keep his breathing pace. He was much faster than any of the other dogs and could outrun them in any race.
He looked ahead and saw with his intelligent eyes (and heard with his sharp ears) that the other dog sleds were far off in the distance. A miracle would get Team Dwarf and Oofms w/Pimar, Vullus, Mac, Pic, El, and Kuku close to the leaders.

Cap heard One of Farmer Maggots' Sons call out words of encouragement. Looking ahead, he began to build up speed slowly (allowing the other dogs to catch their breath) and ran on.

2d6

@Drifa 4,5 (9) With a last mighty tug and sprint your dogs have pulled you into the lead racing up beside the locals and other contenders into the finishing chute. How do your tired dogs manage to keep up to your lead?