For the five people who have been waiting on my accepted list, it's time to get things rolling. I've written introductions for each of you, which bring you to the eve when our story begins. While I did my best to keep with your characters' personalities, they are still your characters, so let me know privately if any aspect of your introduction needs to be revised.
A few requests, just to keep things peaceable. Quoting another player's post, or my own, does not add to the campaign, and is generally not necessary. It may annoy the person being quoted, or may simply clutter your own post with someone else's writing. When you are making an in-character post, do not quote unless you need to respond to a specific part of someone else's post, and believe it would be unclear unless you included the quote. Even then, quote only short blocks, not an entire post. It's better for everyone that way.
This week just keeps getting better and better...
After two weeks work, you finally returned to one of your contractors, and he stiffed you on the bill. To make matters worse, his two burly lizard guards threw you out on your rear before you could get a word in edgewise. So much for gratitude. Next time youll have to demand the full fee up front. At least your expenses were covered, so it wasnt a total loss, but you earned that commission, and by the gods you were going to get what you deserved!
Apparently, hiring a mercenary wasnt the best way to recover your losses either. There was something odd about that half-breed woman, but she said it came with the territory. She got the job done alright. Next thing you knew, those same two guards broke into your home, grabbed you before you could regain your bearings, and clubbed you a stiff one upside the skull. It was an absolutely delightful way to spend an evening... the cretins. They didnt even wipe their feet on your lovingly embroidered and alarmed welcome mat.
When you woke up, you rolled out of your nice, comfortable bed, and reached for your slippers, only to find that you werent in your nice, comfortable bed, and your feet couldnt find your slippers, because your face hit the bars of the cage you were in. It wasnt a nice, comfortable cage. It wasnt even a straw-lined, semi-tolerable cage. Just wood boards, iron bars, and you with your hands tied behind your back and your mouth gagged. This was quite possibly the most uncomfortable caravan you could possibly imagine. From what you could see, your only company were two other cage wagons, one cart of equipment, seven horses pulling the lot, and four of those ghastly lizards guiding the horses. Adding insult to imprisonment, one of the lizards was wearing your travel bag.
That rabble were your company for the next two sunsets. The same half-human woman who blundered your commission, some male dwarf from gods know where, both bound and gagged, and four large, barbaric brutes who most likely planned to sell you into slavery. At least you still had your tongue. It might be useful in escaping later.
Not that you got the chance. On the second night, the lizards camped on the edge of a wall of trees that, from what you know of the terrain, could only be the Great Forest. Your head stopped throbbing some time during the day, so the blood-curdling roar that emerged from the trees around sunset wasnt terribly painful, even if it did send chills down your spine. In the dim light, you saw three almost shadow-like figures charge from the trees, rip apart the four lizards in a fury of flames and flashing steel, and topple your cage onto its side, knocking you unconscious once again.
So now here you are, on the edge of the Great Forest but otherwise in the middle of nowhere, lying on the ground beside the cage that so impolitely replaced your bed a couple days before, your arms lying loose beside you as you awaken face-down in the dirt.
A couple weeks ago, you were stumbling drunkenly back to the one-room wooden construct you called home, when you passed by a recruiting station. They were looking for a number of mercenaries to escort a caravan to Barrier City. The pay was lousy, company was worse, and the contract had a clause about tongues and fingers. But hey, what the heck, it was a job, right? You signed up, then went out for another round of ale. If not for the notice the recruiter stuffed in your pocket, you might not even have remembered.
You left with the caravan the following afternoon. When you reread the contract, the part about tongues and fingers seemed rather harsh, but as it turns out, the pay wasnt all that poor. Youd just been so drunk when you signed it that you thought it was a two-year contract. The trip was anything but boring... two bandit raids, four wild beast attacks, and something you were pretty sure was an illusion, until it hit you with a tree. After that, you were pretty sure it was an ogre.
The trip took eight days. While some of the group were grumbling about such a trip normally taking half as long, your only worries were getting back to Vista, and getting a good, stiff drink. So you walked into the first tavern you saw, ordered a good, stiff drink, and asked the gnome sitting beside you what was the fastest way back to Vista. He told you the fastest way back to Vista was to get drunk. Well, if it works...
You woke up in a place that most definitely didnt look like Vista. Actually, it looked more like the inside of a burlap sack. You still had all your belongings, but when you cut your way out of the sack, the three large lizardmen staring at you seemed rather displeased that you werent a potato. Apparently, the fourth one who hit you over the head from behind wasnt terribly pleased either.
This was probably the most sleep you could ever remember getting. Of course, its hard to remember a whole lot when your head hurts, your arms are tied, and you have a piece of burlap in your mouth that tastes nothing like ale. At least youd gotten back to Vista, if only for a little while. From the looks of things, you were on your way out.
You spent the next two days without even a single drink. The lack of food wasnt a big help either. It was boring, dull, monotonous, and above all, boring. Well, until the second evening. The four lizardmen had set up camp near some trees. Actually, there were a whole lot of trees. And the trees roared! Well, actually, that was probably the three shadow-like figures roaring, but it really didnt matter. Before your eyes, you saw them burst from the woods in a blaze of glory that turned two of your captors into conveniently smoldering lumps! The other two were cut down by a single figure armed with a weapon that flashed and twirled in the twilight. Finally, some excitement! Stumbling to your feet, you began to heave back and forth in your small, portable cell, until it struck against the wagon beside it, rendering that wagons rather slender occupant unconscious, and getting your elbow inconveniently wedged between the bars.
A moment later, the dark figures were gone, as were the horses. You heard a rustling sound behind you, and felt the bindings around your wrists loosen. Ill have you out in a sec, a rather delicate feminine voice half whispered from behind you. As you jarred your elbow free of the bars, you noticed the beautiful, young half-elf with fiery red hair, to whom the delicate voice belonged. She spent a moment tinkering with the lock on your cage before it popped open. Ambling out, you issued your thanks, and offered to buy her a drink the next time there was a drink to buy. Blushing slightly, she turned down the drink. Just help me get this twit out of his cage, she answered. He may be useful. You noticed one of your axes sticking up from a supply cart, so you gave the wooden belly of the last occupied cage a thorough beating, and between you and the girl, managed to pull the elf out of his cage, where he landed face down in the dirt.
AANILE & TAYLEN (written from Aaniles perspective)
When your elven companion returned from the nearby village with supplies, he asked you if you had ever heard of someone named Soranil. Your heart instantly skipped a beat. Soranil, son of Havashi, was legendary among your people as a liberator of the enslaved and downtrodden. Had you heard of him? Soranil! you exclaimed repeatedly, almost chanting. Well, he continued, from what I could understand of the local gossip, he is somewhere nearby. I might be able to track him down if... You tackled your elven companion. It was all you could do to keep from fainting at the prospect of actually meeting face-to-face with a hero of legend.
That was three days ago. Since then, the two of you have spent most of your time searching the local area. Each evening, your companion helped you practice your Common, and you helped him along with his Sylvan. Twin Moon spent these evenings idly perched on a nearby branch, listening to the two of you chatter on endlessly. With all your excitement, staying awake wasnt difficult, but you did find yourself growing more weary-eyed with each passing day.
This evening, you decided it was time to get some rest. After all, if you planned to meet the great Soranil, you needed to show him your prowess, and you couldnt do that with your eyelids as heavy as they had become. So, settling early into camp, you and your companion began your daily lessons. Today, he recited a speech, telling of how he came to be with you. You, in turn, told of how you came upon your chosen path. You didnt finish your story. The loud thunder-like sounds emerging from not far to the west drew your attention, as well as that of your companion. In the distance, you could see bright flashes of light, and the wind carried with it the sounds of a mighty roar.
It seems, no matter how hard you try, you can never save enough coin to hire aid for your cause. Few souls are willing to adventure beyond the barrier, and those who are willing charge a very hefty fee for their services. Your adventures leave you with nearly as much expense as income. You knew that, if you ever intended to see your cause fulfilled, you would need to earn not only a fairly large share of coin, but to acquire an adventurers reputation.
Military recruiters at Terranada were hiring mercenaries to weed out a band of goblin raiders that has been ambushing caravans. You were among the eight conscripts who took the position, and you were looking forward to the opportunity. The pay for success was quite significant, and this quest could be the start of your reputation. The group departed the following morning, bound eastward towards the open grasslands. Among your comrades was a trained military scout, five blades-for-hire, two paladins from the temple of Heironeous, and yourself.
This ragtag group traveled for three days before reaching the goblin camp. The scout began to lay out a plan of attack with you and the other five mercenaries, but the two paladins apparently had other plans. Thats how you found yourselves surrounded by forty screaming goblins. After what seemed like more than an hour fending off the creatures, you found yourself alone, your comrades slain. As you began to survey the scene, you heard the frightful warcry of another wave of creatures beyond the hill. Your only choice was to flee.
It has been two days since then. Youre lost, tired, and running low on supplies. As you lay down to rest, you hear a distant thunder, and flashes of light appear on the horizon.
It is now just passed sunset, on the seventh night of the month of Marsenne. A light chill still fills the night air from the long winter which now nears its end. The light of the evening sky just now begins to fade, though the earth beneath your feet is already shrouded in darkness.
"I hope it isn't going to rain again, hard enough to stay alive out here... without rain and goblins..." ,I mumble.
I cross my arms and survey my surroundings again, and begin to lay down to rest.
"Straighten up Aust, you're starting to lose your sanity." ,I mumble to myself.
As I lay down, a flash of light falls across my face. I stand up and look for the source.
"What the..." ,I gasp.
I see the flases of light over the horizon and begin to gather my belongings.
"It would probably be best to run away Aust, but knowing you, you'll go up to that light and get yourself killed." ,I say to myself as I gather my belongings.
I begin to walk towards the light and smile.
"I guess I just can't stop loving adventure... I have to get my head checked." ,I mumble.
Khazmon shook the elf. "'Ey, are ye alright?" he said in a thick accent.
ooc: 'The elf' refers to Reyolen's character. [ 12-24-2001: Message edited by: Ruvyen Warblade ]
[ 12-24-2001: Message edited by: Ruvyen Warblade ]
"Whatever that is cannot be good news. Prehaps we should go check it out?"
I slip off towards the lights knowing Frey will follow him
Spoke briefly with a few other GMs, and the common consensus was that it's better if the GM plays familiars & other animal companions. It gives the players more to interact with, as they can actually talk with their companions and receive interesting (and at times unexpected) reactions. I've already discussed this with Aanile as well, and she seemed to like the idea.
To interact with your familiar or companion, act as you would to another person, or to a family pet. Familiars can talk only to their masters by telepathy, while animal companions, as normal animals, cannot speak at all (unless an appropriate spell is in effect). They will, however, find ways of communicating.
The bursts of light and sound have stopped, but the direction they came from is clear. It is not obvious how far the lightshow came from, but it was most likely within a short time's walk. Perhaps a mile or two. Meanwhile, the view along the way is pretty bland. Knee-high grass, spotted with a few trees and bushes. Most of the birds have fled, leaving the landscape ominously quiet.
The wood grows dark, but you have little difficulty maneuvering. While the bursts of light have stopped, you are not far from their source, and could reach it within a couple moments.
As your elven companion darts off towards the unknown, you feel Twin Moon's weight shift, then leave your shoulder altogether. The owl darts from branch to branch, keeping almost directly above the young elf.
The elf does not yet stir. He doesn't smell like alcohol, so he's probably not drunk. However, you did here a *clang* when your cage hit his. Maybe he hit his head or something. Or maybe he's just asleep. Either way, it's hard to tell. Elves don't tend to snore.
His mind suddenly wandered back to his equipment. He was lost, and in a forest. And a forest isn't the safest place to be when you can't defend yourself.
He quickly glances at his arms- Well, his axe is there. One of them, that is. Where's the other one?
Khazmon quickly searches everything he can in the immediate area, searching for his equipment, and only ignoring what he isn't tall enough to search. If there's any boxes or containers that hold multiple things, he tears through them, looking for any equipment that might be his... And perhaps some valuables of the lizardmen, if he finds any before he finds his equipment.
Just a couple quick reminders from the rules pages: React to the other PCs as if they were NPCs. Keep with your character's personality. Also, keep in mind that your character doesn't necessarily know everything that you (as a player/reader) know.
Each of the four lizardmen was wearing a pack of some sort. The half-elven woman seems preoccupied with one pack in particular, the straps of which were cut and retied around the neck of one of the lizardmen.
Your other axe lies in the cart from which you pulled the first, though you needed to go through a decent stack of supplies to get at it. Your armor is also in the cart. While your backpack and bedding were incinerated during the battle, it appears that your craft tools are still intact (if in need of repacking). Your waterskin was also destroyed, but there appear to have been a few extras of those in the supply cart, so the loss was easily replaced.
The horses that pulled the carts have fled.
Aanile & Taylen
As you pass through the forest, you notice that most of the woodland's creatures seem to have remained in the area. Considering the commotion just moments before, this is rather unusual. You soon approach the edge of the wood, where the trees thin out rather suddenly. Beyond them, you can see what appears to be the wreckage of a caravan, with two figures moving about. One, who appears to be a dwarf, is busy rummaging through some supplies. The other, either human or half-human by the looks of her, appears to be tugging rather ineffectively at an elongated corpse. Twin Moon perches on a branch at the forest's edge, and sits silently watching the pair of moving figures.
It is difficult for either of you to determine what has transpired, though there was most likely some sort of battle. There are no signs of any fellis in the caravan, though one elf lies prone beside a toppled cage-wagon. Two other cage-wagons stand upright, and appear empty.
"No noise usually means something bad..." I squint into the darkness.
I keep walking into the darkness, looking for another sign of light.
"This way? Yeah, this way..." I say to myself. "I hope this doesn't become a habit, talking to myself is going to make others think strange things about me." I laugh, and then slowly frown. "That is, IF I find signs of civilization again." I take a deep sigh and keep walking into the direction from where the light came. [ 12-25-2001: Message edited by: Willias ]
[ 12-25-2001: Message edited by: Willias ]
"Lessee here, both axes, armor, water, smithing stuff... Hmm... I wonder if there's any food around here... Ain't gonna survive too long in this forest without it..."
Khazmon reclaims his equipment, and if he can find something the lizardmen had that can replace his own, he puts that in a pile along with his stuff. He does one last, very quick scan of the immediate area- Not pushing anything aside, not even really moving, just scanning for anything that looks like food.
ooc:[moderator edit: added OOC tags. no other changes ]
Best roleplaying(writing)_ so far Ruvyen!
But that may be just because he has a writing style similiar to mine and I don't like (I'm not used to) that 1st person "I do this, I do that and then I do this again..." crap.
It just hurts my eyes.
No offense though, do what you think is best, this thread is for those partaking in , not those reading it.
And now, go on.
This seems to be a fun story. =)
[ 12-25-2001: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]
I whisper to Freyja "So should we go down and meet them or wait here watching?" knowing her to be much more nervous around strangers
In the cart you find a hearty stash of supplies, including more than enough food to replace your losses (10 days in all). The four lizardmen had been carrying wooden clubs, two of which still remain. A number of water skins, mostly empty, also fill the cart. There is no other armor to speak of, but a shortbow, a rapier, and a few assorted daggers lie piled in the cart where your axes were.
A slingle, rather large shoulder bag sits in the cart, along with the other supplies. From the length of its strap, it would be very cumbersome for you to carry the bag. Inside, however, you find three torches, a fair number of small teeth in a pouch suitably sized for coins, a string threaded with five somewhat larger and pointier teeth, several hunks of meat carefully wrapped in cloth, and a scroll case containing a single piece of parchment, scribed with a language of which you can't make heads nor tails.
Most of your own coins, apparently kept in your own pack, now lay scattered on the ground along with your other supplies.
There is only one other source of supplies left untouched. Three of the lizardmen were wearing backpacks, and only one of the three was among the charred. The red-haired half-elven girl is still trying to get one bag loose, but the other lies unattended, strapped rather tightly across the dead lizardman's shoulders. It has a bedroll attached to it, and could be searched through if you chose to do so... though you would have to get it out from under the dead lizardman first, as he is currently lying on top of it.
As you near the source of the blasts, you can see a line of trees off in the distance. There is still no sound, and the only creature in sight is a single, rather large wolf, standing beneath a solitary tree, perhaps a hundred paces to your left as you pass. It is staring in the direction from whence the explosions came, and at your current distance, it seems to pay you no mind. [ 12-26-2001: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]
[ 12-26-2001: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]
"Can't see anything..." Aust whispers to himself, trying to not draw attention from the wolf.
Aust looks in the direction of the wolf again.
"I will just keep on walking... that wolf seems to not care about me. Just hope he isn't hungry." Aust whispers to himself, and keeps walking to the spot from whence the light came.
He only takes some of his coins- Money isn't exactly top priority at the moment. He puts 10GP in a small stack next to the pile.
The pack under the dead lizardman catches his eye. He needs something to hold this stuff. He starts trying to get the pack out from under the lizardman... And perhaps see if there's anything particularly valuable.
ooc: Is Khazmon's armor single piece, or multi-piece?
From the PHB
Scale Mail: This is a coat and leggings (and perhaps a separate skirt) of leather covered with overlapping pieces of metal, much like the scales of a fish. It includes gauntlets.
The wolf continues to ignore you. After a moment, you get far enough away that you can no longer make out its form from the grasses around the tree. In the direction you're headed, however, you can now see the faint outlines of what appear to be several wagons, and if you look closely, you can manage to discern something moving. There is not enough light for you to make out any more detail at this range.
You could move closer, but your presence would be as obvious to whatever is moving as its presence is to you. The wagons are about 30 paces from the edge of a thick row of trees, which runs at an angle to your present course. The wagons are at roughly 150 paces ahead of you, and at their nearest point, you could reach the row of trees in just over 60 paces to your right.
The lizardman is quite heavy, and you're somewhat weakend from a lack of food and ale. Heaving against the cage earlier was more exhausting than it otherwise would have been, and all that rummaging didn't help matters. For all your pulling and tugging, you don't fare much better than the half-elf tugging at the other bag a few paces away.
Aanile & Taylen
After a few moments moving back and forth between one of the wagons and a spot which appears to have no real significance, the dwarf begins tugging at another elongated corpse. The two of them appear thoroughly distracted with their current task. [ 12-26-2001: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]
[ 12-26-2001: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]
Khazmon ponders how to get to the backpack. Scaley there must weigh a ton and a half, so just pushing him off the bag wouldn't work... What would he use to carry his equipment?
His equipment! That's it! Perhaps with a well-placed chop or two from his battle axe...
His train of thought was cut off by someone speaking, and it sure wasn't the half-elf. He sees... Someone... asking the half-elf something. Maybe what happened, that's what it sounded like... Or maybe...
"Better safe than sorry, Khazmon," he thinks to himself, and runs over to his pile and snags his battle axe, glaring at the stranger.
Taylen holds out a hand to the young half elf to help her up
(ooc got tired of trying to type actions in first person so going with 3rd person more used to it)
"Wait... rushing into combat isn't a smart idea..." Aust whispers as he looks around for a place to hide.
"Those trees... that should do." Aust walks to the trees still looking at the wagons. He pulls out his spellbook and grips his staff tightly.
"This could end up nasty..." Aust whispers walking towards the row of trees.
ic: I came to, and found that I was still in that dreadfully uncomfortable wagon.
Something was different, I could see as my vision finally returned.
I quickly rethought the last events before I was knocked unconscious.
I recalled my captors being disposed of and my cell being knocked open.
With a little hesitation, I stood and surveyed my surroundings.
I saw a dwarf and a half human woman.
It appeared they may have been the same from the cell I was in.
My head was hurting, and I felt a little dizzy.
I spent a minute or so to recover, then I headed toward the half human, as she seemed less preoccupied, and, of course, she wasn't a dwarf.
"Hail, could you tell me what has happened here. I do not recall it very well."
ooc: I may not be able to respond, as my internet is still not up. Can I see my equipment from here without searching?
ooc:The woman's sobbing suddenly ceases. She stands slowly, her now-rose-red face covered in recent tears, and glares at the robed elf. "You! How dare you! I got run down, shot at, beaten, bound, and caged because of you! Two days with no food, no water, working my way out of wrist knots and a moving cage with nothing but a hairpin because you sent me into a slave trader's house! Don't you dare talk to me, you stuck-up, perverted, lying excuse for an elf!" She then turns to face away from the robed elf, towards the two newcomers. She is breathing heavily, collapsing backward into a sitting position against one of the wagon wheels, but does not resume her sobbing, though her breathing remains heavy and somewhat eratic.
For reference, the robed elf is Reyolen.
Well, I hope you can get on again soon. Considering that you haven't set a precedent for his personality, I would need to work entirely off the profile in your character submission to run your character as an NPC.
The body is one of a lizardman. You recognize his kind, though you have only seen them from a distance before now. The body is roughly 7 ft long, from the nose of its fat muzzle to the tip of its toes and tail. It is lying on its back, with a knotted strap over its shoulder, which leads to a bag of some sort pinned beneath its weight. The creature most likely weighs close to 400 lbs.
The caravan consists of four wagons. Three of the wagons are cages, with wooden tops and bottoms, and iron bars. Two of the three cages are upright with the doors swung open, while the third is on its side, and appears to have been broken open at the wooden underbelly. A cart, open on top and containing some supplies, is tilted backward towards you, its harness poles sticking up at an angle into the air. The dwarf was apparently gathering supplies into some sort of pile, as such a pile is now in plain sight, with a dwarf standing next to it holding an axe in each hand.
There is now added commotion by the wagons. The trees are quiet, though not so silent as was the brush you passed through before. The setting seems more natural, and the trees seem to present no visible threat.
Taylen wonders briefly who attacked the caravan and whispers to Freyja "Does this match what you know of Soranil's style?" thinking back to some of the rumors he heard
As a general principle, the only way to find something is to look for it. If it is in your pocket, you must reach into your pocket to find it. If it is somewhere nearby, you have to look around. More obvious things may not require searching very hard, but if you don't know where something is, your character probably doesn't know where it is either.
It seems that the half-elf doesn't like you very much. She openly blames you for what was obviously caused by her own incompetence, which serves only to fortify your views of the half-breed.
What you know of the Fellin hero Soranil comes mostly from legends and lore. He moves like the shadows, and strikes out against those who would imprison or mistreat their fellow beings. Some legends say he was once a slave. Others say that he was raised by monks, or by the beasts of the forest. Still others claim that his body is imbued with magics that allow him to slip into the very shadows themselves. Very little is clear about his past or his methods, but two themes always prevail. First, the nature of his targets is never doubted or disputed in the lore. Second, his victims are always ravaged as if torn by a hundred claws.
The half-human woman appears to have passed into slumber. Her arms lie limply at her sides, one hand loosely holding your emptied waterskin. The plug from the waterskin lies on the ground near her knees, and the back of her head rests against the wagon wheel. Unless you decide to wake her, it is unlikely that she will answer further questions any time soon.
The two newcomers do not appear to be violent. Indeed, while possibly intrusive, they have done no harm, and the half-elven girl seems to have calmed down. However, from her outburst, it is quite plain that she does not like the robed elf that you and she pulled from the wagon before.
Your stomach growls, reminding you how long it has been since you had a bite to eat or a good, stiff drink of ale. Unfortunately, you seem not to have a supply of ale handy, as there were no barrels on the supply cart. Your eyes have now adjusted to the dark as if to the unlit and winding caverns of your one-time home.
As you approach, the assorted small plants at your feet slip aside with only a little noise, as plants tend to do. The beings in the camp do not appear to have noticed you. Whether it is the trees giving you cover or simply a disinterest on their part, you could not rightly say. The woods present no apparent danger, as they seem to carry on despite your presence. A lone owl hoots somewhere in the branches above you.
After a moment, you get close enough to discern more detail of the camp. There appears to be a dwarf standing by some sort of pile, a couple elves, and a fellin. There was another figure that you saw moving before, but after a few shrill bursts of noice reached your ears, she ducked down out of your view.
Basicaly I go to the nearest body, the one the half elf was dragging, and search over it's body for marks that match my knowledge of Soranil. [ 12-28-2001: Message edited by: Aanile ]
[ 12-28-2001: Message edited by: Aanile ]
Upon closer examination of the body, it is indeed badly slashed... and pierced, and ripped, and otherwise mutilated. A gaping hole in the top of its head has already dumped a good deal of clear fluid on the ground, and its bones are visible in several places. Some of the slashes along its form follow parallel paths, but others seem independent, as if whatever inflicted them had moved by a will of its own. Yet, despite its wounds, the body remains intact, with the poor girl's bag pinned beneath the beast's shoulders.
The lizardman's body is quite heavy, and you're rather tired. In your current state, it is unlikely that you could move the beast alone.
When you look to where Twin Moon was perched a moment before, she is no longer there. It is unlikely that she would go very far, though you did not see which way she went. You could call her back if you wished, as you have long since trained her to respond to your call.