Staveon looks at Therin, turning very grim. "Bandits." he says simply, with a sharp look of disapproval. "Or some sort of war. There were houses here - weird houses, to be sure, but living structures. Gods. They must have been very magical... as was their killers." His former smile turns to a grim, angry line. "Farms. These were citizens." He kneels at one of the farms. "Repario requiescat in pace mortem." he prays. "Find rest in peace of death."
"Mina? You okay?
"Yeah, here's one of the citizens," Mina says, tapping the humanoid skull half-buried in the ground, inches from her face.
She stands, making sure their recently acquired items are safe and unbroken.
"Infernal path!"
She stores the potion and the watch pouch in her satchel, cushioned by her cloak, sacks, and clothing.
She offers the machete and the odd club thing in the general direction of Staveon and Therin.
"Here. Could you guys use these things? They're not magical as far as I can tell. Would probably fetch some gold, though. Now, the powder vial, on the other hand... is weird. It's like it's magical, but it won't let me get a good look at its magic, so I can't tell what it is yet."
Mina prestidigitates herself clean from the fall and looks around to see the stuff Staveon is talking about.
I'll take the club, I am sure Staveon will like the machete-type weapon. Yes, this does look like bandits, or perhaps some sort of war?
There are many questions we need to find the answers for.
to find a more navigable path
"Ugh!", Pavo says as the skull is pointed out to him, a look of disgust on his face.
"Uh, guys did you see that? That huge dog??" Seeing the rest of the group stare back at him with bewildered faces he continues, "There's another road running along this one to our left. I saw a huge slavering dog looking like nothing would please it more than to suck the marrow from our bones, but the mists swallowed it up. We'd better get ready for some company..."
With a flick of his wrists, Pavo's daggers drop into his hands. He quickly steps to the closest cover he can find, trying to hide himself from the brutish dog that is surely coming their way.
Therin readies his weapon and assumes a defensive posture. He cants his head to listen for any intruders.
"Great! Just what we needed..."
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Hopping to the front, Staveon readies his blade, but calls out, "Come! Here, dog!" on the off-chance the creature is trained. "Guard!" he hisses quietly at his own dogs, pointing to the pack animals.
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" I did not see anything, but it would not surprise me if this place was haunted. You can feel the death and devastation here. I do not want to linger here."
She readies her bow and looks around to see if there is any trace of a large dog
Athene has been looking steadily more sad as more traces of devastation and death are found in the area. Stopping briefly over the skull to say a brief benediction in elvish, commending the soul of the abandoned dead to the gods
Staveon, readies himself, taking a defensive stance, preparing to defend against any oncoming assault from any angle...
The best path seems to be the road, but in-between the bushes and the marshy field, where it's usually dry but too wet often enough to keep brush from growing, there's likely to be a usable way. The road would be hidden from view, which could be a plus if anyone is coming down it.
You have more experience hunting animals than most. If these behave like other pack hunters, they'll go for the mules first.
There are at least five of the brutes out there, you can tell that for certain. You think there might be a few more, but can't be certain, and that's not including any without the courtesy of saying hello.
From the howling, Pavo was right. Dogs, probably feral based on the look of the place, which means far more trouble than if it was a wolf pack. Most animals avoid people, but a feral dog has none of the usual reservations, and these sound like they're from a breed meant to attack humanoids.
You put the number at seven, enough to make you slightly concerned, you can hear their cries and the sound of their claws on the pavement. Several party members smell of blood, and there's a good chance, a very good chance unfortunately, that the pack thinks there is easy prey to be had. They're unlikely to take down the party, but they could cripple someone, or one of Staveon's mules.
As the party tense for a fight, a hoarse drawn-out howl comes from your left, out of sight, but far, far too close for comfort. Answering howls echo from the mists to your left and front. Staveon's dogs growl in response and the normally staid mules grow antsy, shifting right and back towards the intersection and the hedge.
A few seconds later the howls fill the mist once again. Closer, and shifted along your flank. The pack is obviously move to encircle you.
Staveon, watch the animals...they might go for them first. Wait a little while...then we should go down this way by the marsh. We can stay hidden from prying eyes.
I position myself by the animals to intercept any incoming threats.
[spolier=dm] Just thought of something...what about my status? I assume it is not sickened anymore. And what hp do I get for a nights rest? [/spoiler]
"Feral Dogs not wolves, so they are probably not afraid of people or fire. I suspect that they were the guard dogs of the locals before this disaster...."
She pauses and a look of thought passes across her face as well as disgust
"Worse they may be man eaters having preyed on the carrion from when the locals died out, in which case we need to kill them to make sure others are safe."
Athene stays back a bit behind her colleagues who are better with blades but near Mina in case one of the hounds attacks from behind after all she can use a sword. She tries to spot where the beasts will approach from so she can get off some arrows before they close to melee.
"Geez, why do you guys sound so serious!?" Pavo quavers as he crouches behind whatever cover he can find, "They're just some nice doggies who want to come play. Let's entertain them for a while!" Pavo gestures to the rest of the party with one of his daggers, glancing down at the needle point, a gleam in his eyes.
"Thanks, Therin, Athene!" he says. "Don't get too close to the mules, Pavo... they've got a good kick!"
"Guard!" Staveon barks at his animals, who take up defensive postures. "I mark five - probably more, though they're severely lacking in manners![b]" he says jovially, then, more darkly with eyes narrowing, "[b]Let's... train them." he says, darkly, the left corner of his upper lip quickly flickering between the grim frown of his mouth, and a silent half-snarl. "First Lesson: 'Gung-ho, gung-ho, gung-ho! What makes the grass grow?"
He takes his bow, muttering, "If any still live, I will destroy whoever did this to these people and dogs." and looses a shaft in a swift motion at one of the canine creatures in a smooth action, either to scare or to wound (and maybe, if they're feral and hungry enough, to cause them to turn against themselves), and ready to bring his blade about instantly, should they get any closer.
The now mage-armored Mina sighs in annoyance, hearing the encircling howls and scanning the surrounding mists, but unable to see much.
"Great. A whole pack of them. And they obviously know right where we are. Maybe they'll just go away if we scare them off."
Mina lets out what she hopes is a fearsome howl/roar, while sending her dancing lights to swirl out in a spiral towards the surrounding mists. In addition to hopefully frightening the dogs, perhaps her group will be better able to see the threat.
The party moves closer together, Pavo continuing to cover the forward approach, while Staveon, Therin, and the dogs cover the other directions leading to the mules. Athene and Mina step back, ready to help where needed.
After several tense moments, the howls begin to move away, with a frustrated quality to their sound.
As your keen eyes search the mist, you notice several of the dogs lurking in the mist. The veil parts just long enough to get a good look at some of the pack.
Slightly taller than a riding dog, there is an unseemly amount of muscle on a powerful frame. It's as though someone had taken every useful trait from every attack dog in the world and put them together. Legs long enough for speed, but muscled so that it must also be an incredible sprinter. A wolf could probably outrun it if it got enough of a head-start, but wouldn't have a chance against this if they were both in attack range. The jaws are large and heavy, meant to crush the bones of creatures far larger than itself. The skin is slightly loose, to prevent something else from getting a hold of it. You've never seen anything quite like it, and aren't comfortable that this is from regular breeding. There have to be trade offs when selecting for traits. That's how nature works. That doesn't seem to have been the case here.
The brutes attention focuses on Therin and the mules, but mostly on the warrior. After examine the group, and you'd swear making a cost benefit analysis, they stalk back into the mist. They may not attack now, but your gut tells you the pack will shadow you until they are sated, or a better opportunity comes along.
"The rest of you probably cannot see as well as me, but it looks like they have withdrawn and I use the word advisedly. They looked us over and decided we were too tough to attack now. But I don't think they have given up on us yet.
They look like something a Wizard put together, they are wardogs built to kill. Completely optimized for fighting there is no way that something like that evolved naturally. I think they are at least as intelligent as wolves , more familiar with man and less afraid. They are going to stalk us unless other prey comes along or they see an opportunity. We are going to need a good campsite we can fortify.
This is a very strange place, I don't think I like it.
"If you're pretty sure they're gone for now, then let's keep moving South. Maybe we'll find a settlement. Blast this infernal fog!
Mina focuses on the journey and tries to keep a sharper eye out while also mentally musing about the possibility of magically enhanced canines, and what they might be capable of.
I think we should find somewhere a little more defensible..they might be back...maybe with their master. Unless you guys want to go after them...go on the offensive.
sorry last post was me....didnt realize it was set to another profile...
"I don't much like the idea of trying to find that pack of brutes in these mists, but I don't relish the idea of just holing up somewhere in this wasteland and waiting for them to possibly never return either..."
With a sigh, Mina uses up a precious charge of her wand on Therin:
Realizing Therin needs more healing pretty badly, Mina uses another charge:
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It's hard to say anything since you haven't actually seen one, but mad wizards and alchemists have done all sorts of unnatural things to various animals. That's where the owlbear came from most likely. They could have more strength than their size would suggest, or increased intelligence. Those are fairly common things desired in guard animals. Perhaps unnaturally keen senses?
Backtracking just a bit, you find what Therin was talking about. On the west side of the road, between the hedge-like bushes and the swampy ground, there's a bit of ground that's firm enough to walk on but without anything more than grass to hinder you. It also hides you from the road. If the dogs attack they'll have to come from the front or rear, or give you plenty of warning crashing through the bushes.
You move forward cautiously, alert for your new friends, or anything else sneaking up on you. After a while the fog begins to clear, and your path ends as a area of land built up to be level with the ruined houses juts out into the swampy field. A box like building occupies the area directly in front of you, surrounded by the rusted carcasses of some odd looking contraptions. Wider, and in some cases higher, than a wagon, they are built in the general dimensions of that ordinary vehicle, but enclosed, and framed and paneled entirely in steel. Windows wrap around the up half of the things, most of them gaping empty, but others filled by panes of glass. Many are half-way between the remains of window glittering forlornly in their frames. There are dozens of the vehicles lying around the building.
The building itself resembles nothing so much as a titan's gift box. Easily 75 ft by 25, and perhaps some thirty feet all. It seems to be constructed of great sheets, as tall as the building, of wavy metal fastened together over a skeleton of steel beams. A ladder, not unlike the one you found on the platform you arrived on, rises to the flat roof.
Carefully testing the rungs to ensure they are safe. You climb atop the roof to get a view of the land you have found yourself, taking turns to ensure enough remains believe to protect the animals.
What you see like nothing you’ve ever heard of. Houses. House after house stretching from the crossroads south for more than two leagues! From the estuary to the west into the foothills on your east. The… settlement is shaped like a pear or tear drop. A mile wide at the crossroads, its northern edge, to more than a league across near the tip of the peninsula it rests on. There are a few buildings that break the monotony, mostly box-like structure similar to the one you stand on, though far more massive, hundreds of feet on a side, but mostly it is just street after street of houses. Some areas are nothing but overgrown ashes, others seem almost untouched. The enclosed metal wagons lie through this place, some twisted or straight on the roads, others parked in front of the houses or buildings.
Across the strait the sight continues, buildings or their ruins creeping up the hillsides like ivy. All to south of you is houses, houses, houses.
You lie at the north-eastern edge of a westward facing bay. To the east rises a ridge of hills. West of you is a great tidal estuary, some league and a half across. Filled with winding waterway, isles, and tidal flats. Looking west, where the bay turns south before opening up into the ocean once again, a blinding light shines in your eyes. West and south the buildings appear to grow larger, and one, it must be hundreds of feet high, seems to a tower of glass, reflecting the morning light like giant mirror. A mightly bridge, a league long if it is an inch, gracefully crosses the bay. No Arch of Aroden or Irespan or solid stone, from this distance it looks as though dainty fairy legs dipped into the water to hold it up. Other similar bridges, but merely a a mile or half that cross the strait to your south or the sloughs to the west.
Through all this, one things grows more and more in your mind. There are no people here. Your feral packs hang back beyond easy bowshot, small groups of deer and other grazers pick their way through overgrown lots and abandoned yards. Song birds boast to one another and raptors circle overhead, but that is all.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
As you continue looking, something hopeful catches your eye. The northern side of the is less strange. Fewer building lie there, much of it looks like it could be fields, and a castle. A real, ordinary Taldan-style keep watches over them from partway up the hills. A few tendrils of smoke, not wild fires, but from comforting cooking or smithing fires, rise from the fort and the area surrounding it. Now you are sure of it, there is a village nestled against the fortification, castle graze in some of the surrounding fields.
Taking the northern road from the crossroad, it appears to take you through a whole town of the massive box buildings, but then turn north and west to cross the river forming the slough and towards the castle. It would probably take you into midday to reach it, a good four hours or so. to reach it, but nothing unduly difficult.
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"Where in all the planes are we? Has anyone heard of anywhere like this? ... So, we're heading toward that castle to the North, right? Only sign of current civilization we've seen, what with the active cook-fire and all. ... Yeah, they could be hostile, but hopefully we can at least get some answers, and who knows, maybe they'll welcome us... Come on. We should be able to make it there well before sunset. Personally I'd rather not face those dog brutes in the dark. If Athene is right and they've been magically enhanced, they could have extraordinary senses of vision and smell, in addition to being stronger and smarter than usual. If we see them on the way, we can attack them, but I'd rather not just wait at this abandoned building all day!"
"Agreed." says Staveon. "I'm not eager to face the animals again for no reason, especially as we have no where else to go. It's civilization - dangerous, but important to figure out where we are. Let's move."
Staveon begins preparing to go toward the settlement, ready to go as soon as takes the first step.
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Alright then, off towards the settlement we go. Be wary...they might come back.
As he proceeds, Therin islooking for something that could be used for shelter, ideally something higher up.
current status: HP 20/31
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"Goddess, So many people. I have never seen anything like it. Were could they all have gone? I think we know but I hope for a miracle"
Looking at Mina
" I have never heard of a place like this, the size , the use of materials , it is like nothing I have heard of. If it were somewhere in one of the Outer Planes I would expect more obvious magic, and angels or devils to be evident. This must be Golarion or another planet either way we are a long way from home. What a sight and what a mighty civilization it must have been before it fell to this, I would rather that we were seeing it at its peak and not this dreadful necropolis"
She looks out over the view
"I agree we will have to go the the castle to find out whatever we can, it is unfortunate the route will take us through the ruins. I think I would rather not travel through such a place, I fear it will answer for us the question of were the inhabitants have gone. I doubt the common tongue carries this far , hopefully someone there will speak celestial or elven as those tongues change little with distance"
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Pavo's jaw slackens and his heart begins to race as he is afforded his first glimpse of the surrounding vista. He turns slowly, unsure of which view should attract his attention the most. With a quip for every situation, you are stunned as this is the first time you can recall Pavo being at a complete loss for words.
As the group decides to head north to the familiar looking castle and village, he dumbly nods his acquiescence, words escaping him utterly.
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As the group starts to move North, back along the same path from which they came, Mina responds to Athene's comment on languages,
"Hm. Well, I can try Varisian, Hallit, Aquan, or Draconic, if yours don't work. Hopefully someone here speaks something intelligible. Either way, we have to be careful on the approach so they don't just think we're a group of wasteland raiders and attack. They'll probably be very defensive about us, and that makes sense."
Ha. Apparently Mina is lost in thought about this new place and still not paying much attention to her immediate surroundings.
"Draconic and Aquan are good choices if they have a wizard there, those are languages which are independent of geography. I just hope they are not the ones who destroyed this city. Although I do not see how such a relatively small group could"
She looks around warily as the group moves, clearly uncomfortable in the strange ruined city
Staveon's exrepession is grim as he holds back barely-contained fury at whatever happened to all the innocent people here. He hated bandits.
"You speak Hallit, too?" he forces the jovial tone, trying not to sound furious, though it's still obvious, "Nice! I can add Tien to our list." he notes.
His forced pleasant expression returns to grim consideration of the death implied on this scale. He watches for the created monsters, and silently prays to each of his gods (and Calistria) for guidance and a peaceful afterlife.
"They couldn't, elf - not 'less they happened to have a very powerful mage with them... or a small army of 'em. And I doubt they'd be sitting so cozy in a castle. Too vulnerable to mass assault. Still - they may have been in league. We'll be cautious." he finishes.
When the group moves through the abandoned jungle of glass sided buildings, Athene will be unable to resist her curiosity to look inside some of the buildings and see if they can find any trace of the culture that lived in this strange and exotic city
"I suppose I should be clear." Staveon adds after a moment, "A castle is great at conventional assault - it's even useful 'gainst casters. But: if you've a swarm of mages, enough to do this sort of thing," he gestures to the ruins, "you're going to need a large - really large - numbers of mages. This sort of set-up is perfect for warding against their impressively long range, but necessarily-limited (if wide) destructive areas."
He scans the area again, looking for signs of proper military clashes, as he continues, absentmindedly, reciting his old lessons from the Bloodstone Swords.
"A Mage may get - strike that, a competent Mage will get - a few of you, but you're spread out, so they can't possibly get all of you at once... and by the time he's done with the few, everyone else is on 'im like flies on busillis. And by then, they're dead." he looks grimly.
"Something like this has to be done by men, not magic. This place is perfect for soldiers coming through."
Puzzlement crosses his face. "The problem is... these towers are still standing. If this were soldiers' work clearing out an enemy that's deeply entrenched, they'd simply collapse the structures. Set some alchemist fires and a few thunderstones at the base - perhaps a bunch of alchemist flasks, if there's enough metal support - blow the whole thing to the nine hells, and watch as your foe killed themselves while trying to be fancy. This is really basic strategy."
Cold sweat breaks out again. "There's clearly just too much blasted magic at work. But... that doesn't make sense. Not on this scale."
His face takes a bit of a haunted, disgusted look, as if he can't quite believe what he's saying. "Clearly this place was infested with the stuff - you couldn't make these things without it. But... why would you leave yourself so vulnerable to mundane assault? It's like these people lived in terror of mages - a good way, the Sergeants explained to confuse their spy-magic, is to make places look similar, like all of these houses - but had never seen an army before. The sheer... ignorance, I guess? Arrogance? 'Hew-ber-ihs' that one bard called it? Confusion?... whatever, it's... mind boggling." he finishes, clearly fully mind-boggled at the enormity.
"I mean, Therin, back me up - you've done good farm work: none of these carriages would actually work. If you tried to harness a beast to them - not that there appears any way to do so -, it'd just break a horse's back! A complete waste of animals!" he gets more outraged as he speaks, "You just can't... I mean... it's simply not possible to do this - any of this -, much less come through and burn everything down with no one to stop you! Where were their militia? Their guards? Their demon-sworn mercenaries?!"
He trembles a bit with cold fury, grinding his jaw, slightly. More softly, "To think of all the time, man-power, magic, energy, and skill that had t'go into something like this. Wasted. And no appearance of conventional fighting - I've not seen enough shattered arrowheads, dead war-horses, freakin' shattered chariots - nothing! Signs of struggle here or there, surely, but-" he cuts himself off, "Gods below chew on the souls of the bandits and bugbears!" he cursed the killers softly.
"How would such a place even feed itself? Where are all the farms? The fields? Vineyards? Our destination couldn't feed houses like these - not even the lands we passed. A military force alone would consume everything they made... what did these people do here?" he wandered.
"Unless they lived in each of those towers by themselves, but then, they'd have to be powerful mages, so why were they apparently so easily overrun? Gods above preserve our mind! This is a place of nonsense!" he opines. "It shouldn't exist!"
He returns to brooding from his sudden outburst.
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Staveon's outburst is enough for Pavo to finally break his awed silence, "Stavy, you need a drink!"
Staveon's outburst is enough for Pavo to finally break his awed silence, "Stavy, you need a drink!"
"... yes, but it needs to be khave, instead of intoxicants."
"I hate pillage-and-burn bandits. (!@#$%^&*) predators who think they can get away with destroying the weak... and all too often get away with it. Just as much are the fool mages who think torturing animals and throwing them loose into the wild is a good idea! The sheer waste of all these lives, money, and skill. This. This was bad. It's like Razmiran on a much larger scale - and may he burn from mummy rot in the crotch, too, by the way - and... urg. Look, war makes lots of casualties. I'm not averse to bloodshed, violence, or death. It happens."
He sighs.
"But war - real war - leaves obvious signs. This? Certainly combat, struggle, and battle was waged here, but it's like it was waged by amateurs who'd never heard of proper alchemy, mage-formation, siege engines... ugh! Where are the siege engines? One good ballista and those towers should go down! All you need is time and rocks, and they clearly had plenty of both - nothing else could have been so... thorough. Maybe those bizarre death-sticks from Alkenstar? What're-they-called?" he snaps his fingers between each name, rapidly listing them off in an attempt to recall, "Gums... gams... games... germs... guns! You know, the ones just as dangerous to the wielder as their target? But you'd only need a few archers to take care of anyone foolish enough to attack with those en masse, and who doesn't have archers handy?[/b]"
He mulls over it. "By the abyss' wide-" he looks at the company, and adjusts his words, "-uh, lower... um... depths," he says uncertainly, then, "... where would the folk with all the crossbows be? I'm telling you, the engineering of feats like this... it's... why bother? It's a worthless city, logistically. It's like all the worst things I've ever heard of the great cities like Absalom or most of Taldor, but, you know, dead, and with far less cleverness than any of those in terms of structure or layout. Straight roads are nice, but if you know you're going to be attacked, you should build some walls."
"It's like someone did it for no purpose other than to prove they could, and then others died for it. I hate that."
"Oh," he added, "and if you don't know you're going to be attacked or believe that you're not going to be attacked (though I'd suggest you build walls anyway; otherwise you're just asking for it) than it really still shouldn't matter: there's no comprehensible way to move an army large enough far enough to do all of this," he gestures, "without someone realizing it's coming way in advance. In advance enough that you're not going to be surprised and you're going to have plenty of time to set up a whole lot of traps and make things very unpleasant for them. Or, if that's impossible, than enough time to evacuate. Which didn't happen either."
He turns thoughtful. "It's... it's like an entire city of madmen just up and destroyed themselves and their own town after making things that... I can't even begin to guess at the scope of. That bridge?! How? And, more to the point, why? Not that such a thing wouldn't be useful, but... the feat of engineering needed... it's insane." he finishes.
Mina puts a calming hand on Staveon's shoulder as they walk.
"I dunno, Staveon, but civilizations come and go, and whatever this was is not our problem. We've just got to deal with whoever's left now."
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Heading north along the road, you pass the standing houses and burned remains. The cylinder you arrived on, stands lonely on its little hill. A small empty space, and then you pass through the collection of box buildings. Made of concrete, with buttressing ribs along the side, cavernous doorways gape open, or are sealed by metal doors. One after another. You idly count the doorways on a building, twenty-one for this one. Embedded in some doorways are great metal boxes, fifty feet in length. Double sets of black wheels, squished and flat looking, like a fruit with the pulp sucked out, hold up one end. The other rests on metal struts, or on the back of some more of the enclosed wagons. These are much taller and truncated though, as though they were never meant to be without the metal boxes attached.
Past the boxes buildings with their square doors and attached metal boxes, your black road crosses another way. This one is made of raised gravel with two steel rails, wide as a wagon's wheels, run across square timbers dark with the same tar-like substance as the poles that run along the road. Seeing the two roads cross one another, you realized that the one you had been following was quite wide. More than enough for three wagons to traveling along, and from the build you'd taken a look from, you'd seen places where the black roads were two or three times as wide.
Walking along the rails, you notice a side path branching off to run along one of the buildings, the biggest on by far. On it rest more metal boxes, but larger than the others. These rest on solid metal wheels more than a foot across.
Once past the buildings the land fairly empty, though to your north you see a area with two great paved roads that cross each other near their ends. These don't seem to go anywhere however. They just form two sides of a triangle with the third side covered in buildings. They don't actually attach to the buildings though.
Soon the ground turns to marsh on either side, and your path slowly rises before turning into a bridge of metal beams that crosses the main river channel of the estuary. The timbers the rails rest on simply connect on the bridge itself now, and between them are gaps down to the river itself. Something better designed to break legs and cripple horses you've yet to see. Fortunately on either side of the rails are plank walkways. All this is secondary though, for near the other side you see people!
There are three, two men and a woman. They were resting on benches in a guard post constructed across the bridge. Watching you approach, they rose to their feet and took position. One man on each of the walkways, and the woman on platform on the rails between and slightly behind them.
The man on the left wears full-plate armor, a red, snarling bear's head emblazoned on the shoulder, with visored sallet helm. He learns against his glaive-guisarme.
The man on the right wears a combination of breastplate and chain-mail. He picks up a large shield emblazoned with a cluster of cluster of grapes on a tan background. The upper right corner is black with a red star or cat’s-eye pupil of red. A broad longsword rests in easily in his scabbard.
The woman is armored like the swordsmen, chain and breastplate, though hers has the same bear sigil as the more heavily armored fellow. She holds a spanned and ready crossbow, tip pointing diplomatically downward. Shortsword and buckler hang from her waist.
As you get within easy shouting distance, the swordsman hold up is empty hand and calls out to you in an unfamiliar language.
Boxes and angles and corners! And metal. Metal everywhere. It would take the foundries of the entire inner sea years, maybe decades to produce this much, and it’s in everything like it cost nothing! The railway is new, but it makes sense. You can move things a lot more efficiently over rails like that than over a road. The problem is that those boxes must weight tons. Solid metal wheels inches thick? Not even giants are going to be able to pull those. Those enclosed carriages were bad enough, but at least they were a reasonable weight. These things are ridiculous, and the five of them are clearly meant to be pull together, as great metal clamps hold them together.
No matter how hard you look, there is no sign of war. It’s as though everyone just disappeared.
Seeing the bridge guards, here’s something you are familiar with. The swordman’s heraldry isn’t too different from the Brevic style, at least it seems similar. The grapes and background would be the device of his lord, and the quartering tells you who his lord’s liege is. Grapes make sense, judging from what you can see of the fields across the river. The quartering is a bit odd though. That’s just evil, asmodean/cheliaxian actually, looking. The other’s sigil doesn’t give you a lot, but it does by comparison. They don’t have the same liege, or at least the same relationship. If the bear is a noble sigil, then the lord isn’t a direct vassal of anyone except the crown, like the great houses of Brevoy. That would explain, sort of, but not really, the expensive kit. It could also be a company insignia, though that makes less sense. Mercenaries with that kind of gear were it guarding bridges.
Their equipment tells you something as well. Plate armor is expensive. Really expensive. A good suit fitted to the wearer runs as much as a magic blade. Guards don’t have that kind of gear, and even if they did, who wears that guarding a bridge? The other two’s gear is also high quality and better than most guards or arms-men have. Whoever they work for has money.
It’s like they all just disappeared. Looking through windows in to some of the houses you see dolls lying on the floor, books, mostly eaten to tatters, on shelves, and some even have plates and utensils, made of steel of course, on tables as though for a meal. Most are empty, but in some you glimpse skeletons. Not enough for everyone to have died in their homes, but enough that more than few did. Some bear obvious marks of violence, from edged or blunt weapons or claws and teeth, others are huddled together as though the spent their last moments together for warmth or comfort.
In the area of box buildings, you see great structures of pipes and gears , belts and hoppers. You have no idea what any of it could be for, but there area was clearly factories and warehouses of some kind. On looks as though it is nothing but a giant empty space, its floor unweathered and shining beneath the dust of time. If you could get Mina to cover it with ice it’d make a wonderful skating area.
The rails and their boxes are more metal. What was with these people? Not even the sky citadels of the dwarves have so much iron in everything, and here it’s all steel. You’ve heard of similar rails, mostly wooden or with a thin sheathing of metal, in the dwarven mines and cities, but those are for mining cars little more than oversized wheel-barrows.
The guards, of course they’re encased in more steel too. The heraldry looks Brevic, Staveon probably knows what it means. You can’t understand what the guard said to you, but your ears caught something when they were talking to each other as you approached. A single word, not one you are familiar with, but distinct from the rest of their speech, it sounded… elvish.
You keep your senses open, but you can’t find a trace of magic anywhere. If this was some sort of wizard war like Geb and Nex, there should be signs everywhere, but there aren’t. Nothing on the guards either.
Ah, guards. Here’s something you can work with. You can’t understand a word he said to you, and it doesn’t look like anyone else does either, but you recognize the tone. He’s bored, or at least unconcerned. That’s probably closer to it actually. For all that the words are incomprehensible, it sounds like any generic, ‘Hey traveler! What’s your business?’ you’d hear in a dozen uneventful towns not near anything unusual. Obviously, they don’t seem to think you’re unusual or threatening.
No obvious signs of war about. At least none that you can find.
The bridge guards, here’s something you are familiar with. The swordman’s heraldry looks like some of the Brevic stuff Staveon’s told you about, at least it seems similar. The grapes make sense, judging from what you can see of the fields across the river. There’s good land here, and the climate appears good for vines, so no frozen winters like the River Kingdoms sometimes get. The bear design looks like a company insignia, though that makes less sense. Representative of the local lord with some soldiers from a company on contract? It’s weird though, mercenaries with that kind of gear don’t wear it guarding bridges. Plate armor is expensive. Really expensive. A good suit fitted to the wearer runs as much as a magic blade. Who wears that guarding a bridge, especially in a place that probably gets blazing hot during the summer, at least if it’s like the vineyards in Taldor and Andoran. The other two’s gear is also high quality and better than most guards or arms-men have. Whoever they work for has money.
Staveon hesitates, but then puts his bow away.
Much like the woman, he diplomatically does not point his blade at them, though he puts his mules and dogs in place and gently commands them to guard.
"Anyone have any idea what they just said?" he asks, as he casually moves slightly closer to them, just to more politely communicate. "Hello, friend!" he tries the typical River-greeting.
He tries Taldan first (naturally, being the common tongue, naturally), then Hallit, then Tien, attempting to show that they are, effectively, travelers.
If none of those work, he grins, shrugs helplessly in a friendly way, and says, "Semper Ubi Sub Ubi?"
He'd have no way to communicate with them beyond simple songs and phrases, but it's worth a shot.
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Mina stops at the guard's hand signal and words. She holds up her own empty hands in a non-threatening gesture, encouraging her companions to do the same.
She would attempt to say "Hello! Do you understand me?"in Common, Aquan, Draconic, Varisian, and Hallit, pausing to let her companions interject similar attempts, if they wish.
If languages fail, she would use pantomime to gesture to the mules and her jewelry and pearls in an attempt to indicate that they're some kind of merchants.
To the others
"I think I heard some elvish, let me try that"
Cormamin lindua ele lle, Amin naa tualle,Cala'quessir Taur'ohtar Nim'ohtar Arshea
If its useful
She Slings her bow to emphasis her peaceful intent
Hearing the barrage of languages the party sends forth, the swordsman turns his head to the other two, the conversation going back and forth. As Staveon moves forward, the crossbowwoman raises the point of her weapon slightly and shakes her head. Holding out a hand, palm vertical and facing front in a clear, 'stop' gesture.
After discussing the matter between them. The swordsman tries calling out again. The one with the glaive tries two different phrases as well, looking intently at Athene. None of these sound at all familiar. The woman says something to the other two, who shrug and she tries yet another incomprehensible tongue.
You're clueless what one of the languages the armored one used was, but the other tickled something. Elvish sounds distinct from human languages. It's in a whole other category, fitting since elves are from Sovyrian originally. You can't understand what he said, but it sounds like it's from the same 'family' of languages, which is all sorts of interesting.
You haven't a clue on the mood aside from what you've seen.
"Hey, sure 'nough, buddy." Staveon says gently, holding up his one hand, and staying where he is. He's purposefully not pushing anything, but attempting to be diplomatic. "I'd probably feel the same in your shoes." He grins, "Actually," he explains friendly enough, "I felt exactly the same in your shoes - had to go through fifteen different people to get to someone who understood the guy. Turns out, he was trying to sell us plates! Can you imagine?" he shakes his head, "Coming all the way out the Bloodstone Swords just to sell plates... aaaahhh..." he sighs.
Noticing the semi-blank stare, he shrugs again, smiling and staying friendly, but at the ready, indicating he understands them as much as he can.
"A bene placido..." he suggests, wryly.
If her attempts at languages and pantomime seem to produce no results, Mina would wait and see if perhaps she can pick up some meaning from the guards' speech, even if she doesn't know the language. She is definitely staying back and being non-threatening.
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Clearly Therin is out of his element when dealing with languages. He looks around in case those dogs come back.
[/b] Keep talking to them....I think that they might be friendly[/b]
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Following the others lead, Pavo raises his hands slightly, palms facing the guards, displaying the fact that he was unarmed, his usual lop-sided grin on his face. Whispering out of the side of his mouth to the others, "They seem bored, just act like this is routine. We are locals, or at the very least from a neighboring village."
Picking up on the same phrase as Athene, , he tries Sylvan.
Whispering to the group yet again, "Uh, guys, it doesn't look like their mood is improving much. Stavy, I wouldn't go any closer. Well, if nothing else we most certainly have their full attention."
On a whim, hoping to play the part of the court jester, Pavo tries to do a few tricks for the guards, hoping to diffuse the situation. He does a hand spring into a forward flip, immediately transitioning into a few cartwheels, ending on one knee in a flourishing bow, his right arm bent across his chest, his left arm pointed straight back, and a wide disarming grin on his face.
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To her fellows
"It does not look like they speak Elvish, but they know something similar. I'll try celestial
To the one who managed something similar to elven in elven
In Celestial
She also tries writing out a simple greeting in elvish in case the alphabet is the same but the pronunciation is different
If none of those work we are down to hand gestures and maybe trying to see if we can find common ground in the most basic words of elven.
"I should mention," Staveon adds, chatting as if towards the guards, "that Therin's entirely correct. I've been trying to get a bead on these guys, and the one thing I can tell you for sure is that - whoever they work for - money is no object. You don't wear things like they are for simple gate duty unless you're rolling in it." he pauses for a minute. "And you don't give it to your useless mooks. These guys are probably well-trained, now that I think about it. And they're probably pretty good."
He pauses, thoughtfully. "Yeah... that makes more sense - at first doing something this lavish would seem stupid, otherwise. No one would wear this sort of stuff to guard bridges unless it was dangerous. Given those dogs, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. There must be some nasty other things lurking out there. And these guys must be fairly hard customers."
He pauses, examining them frankly. "Two different companies, too. The angry bear faces, here, are one company - free, mercenary, or their lord serves only the crown, it's hard to guess - while the grapes-of-wrath brigade serves Mr. or Mrs. Vineland Owner who, themselves, serve the liege of the ye-old-Evil-eye in the top corner." he rubs his chin absently with a finger on his free hand.
"Pavo, you're Chellian... Chelaxian? Cheliaxian? Chelish? ..., whatever, you know what I mean; look, what I'm trying to ask is: does that look Chelish to you? Wait! I got it: Pavo, you got any coppers or silver left from your home country? Flash 'em a bit of money (small), see if they recognize it? Don't pull out gold - we don't wanna look like we're good to rob."
"Or maybe - though unlikely - they'll recognize this?" Staveon wonders, showing off his Bloodstone Swords tattoo.
He points at the mark. "Bloodstone Swords," he explains; then, at him self, "Staveon. Stay-vee-ohn. Bey-Rystar Staveon Takahiko." he names himself - just in case, somewhere, all that old weird nobility stuff carried through time somehow.
He points at the bear, smiling, friendly. "Bear?" he asks in three different languages. "Bear? Bear?" and then, "Grapes? Grapes? Grapes?" at the other. He's working on relaxing them - getting them to realize that they're here for friendly business - backing up Athene and Mina on their attempts to communicate, and Pavo on his to calm things down.
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The guards confer amongst each other, much as your group is doing. Each action by the party, Mina's displaying of goods, Pavo's stunts, and Staveon's money, elicit another burst of conversation.
Eventually the man in plate shrugs, an obvious and noisy gesture even at this distance, and slowly approaches, motioning for Athene, and her alone, to do likewise. He carefully looks her and the writing over, before doing the same to the rest of you.
After he calls back, the woman moves to a tale metal pole attached to the bridge. She carefully selects several flags, clipping them to a line and raising them up to flap in the breeze. The swordsman blows a complex series of notes from a brass instrument. Soon similar notes ring out from the land before you.
The armored man rolls his eyes, and tilts his head back in an exaggeratedly aggrieved manner. To those of you with weapons out, he mimes sheathing a sword, repeating it if someone seems reluctant. In the background, the woman removes the bolt and carefully releases the tension from her bow. The swordsman hangs his shield on a nearby rack.
Once everyone has sheathed their weapons, or firmly indicated they will not. Plate motions you to follow him. If anyone has refused, he sighs dramatically and looks to the rest of you imploringly. If there's still no cooperation, the man firmly indicates that ones with ready weapons must stay here and not come forward.
Leading you to the shade of their post, though the air is still rather cool, the guards gesture to plain wooden benches set against the post's walls. Taking a seat together on the north side, the guards all offer friendly smiles. Plate points to you and then the benches here before gesturing towards the sun and moving his hand in a ticking motion across the sky. He shrugs and sighs once again.
The swordsman opens a battered blue and white chest, made out of another odd material you aren't familiar with, and offers metal jug, already dripping with condensation, to be shared after taking a long drink himself. Looking at Mina, he gestures to her jewelry inquiringly, then takes a out a small coin pouch and tosses it suggestively.
The woman looks at Pavo and mimes springing and leaping, then looks down at the water around you, and back up, tapping a finger to her head and shaking it bemusedly. All this is accompanied by a smile though. Pointing to the cardinal directions, and then Pavo, she walks her fingers across her hand, tilting her head interrogatively.
Plate claps Therin on the shoulder and gestures with his other hand across the bridge the way you came. He nods, saying the almost elven word again, and spits between the rail ties. Taking a stick with some kind of grey core, he crudely sketches a four legged animal with a tail and lots of teeth. He says the word once more wearg before writing beneath. Unfortunately it isn’t in the Elvish alphabet.
Showing the picture to Athene, points at her mouth and then to the picture once again. He does the same to Pavo, looking between them hopefully.
As Staveon gestures to himself and the Bloodstone symbol, the three nod their heads. Plate, points to the bear’s head Urso murdintoj. La kostumo de la Urso murdintoj.. Pointing to himself, Mike. The women points to the symbol and herself Urso murdintoj. Kelly. The swordsman stands gives a courtly bow, as much as his armor will allow, to Staveon. Pointing first to himself, then the grapes, finally the eye. Frederic Smith. Armiloj-viroj de Barono Napa, vasalo de Sinjorino Protektanto Mathilda Arminger el la Portland Asocio.
The three guards all look similar to the two you fought. That generic mix of Chelaxian and Taldan which tells you absolutely nothing about where they are from. They are also all about the same age, mid-twenties or so. The swordsman wears his hair down to around his ears. The woman's hair is in a braid that coils up inside her helmet, but hangs down most of her back once she take it off. Plate's head is clean shaven, but that may have more to do with a scalp already going bald than anything else.
They are a bit different in the way they look and carry themselves. The ones you fought were tough, but the lean, almost feral, toughness of people who have survived a hard life. These folks have the beefy look of people that train hard and eat plenty, and you notice weights, all of cast steel, of various sizes and shapes stored in racks near two more heavy crossbows and a array of pole-arms, swords, and other weapons.
Everything here, whether equipment or the post itself, has the feeling of quality to it. Each thing was made for its particular function, and made to do it well.
You notice the guards keep looking at Athene, as though they weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Particularly they keep looking at her eyes.
The friendliness seems genuine, though they seem a little wary of Athene, as though they’re just waiting for her to do… something.
You can see the pack hanging back. They seem unwilling to cross the bridge. As you watch they begin snarling at each other, then sulk away towards the ruins.