Zanzo eyes Barak, takes the coin that's offered and tests it with his beak, satisfied with it's authenticity his eyes glow with a smile his beak cannot make. "Always a pleasure to relieve of what weighs you down, Barak." he clucks with satisfaction. "Should you feel the need to donate more, I shall be pleased to take more from you." he chuckle clucks.
Turning to Marcus in particular, "Seems he's found mention of hammer that has the faces of 'the Three Gods' inscribed upon it, Muir, Thyr, and a third deity that apparently has something to do with other two. Supposedly the hammer lies somewhere in the Desolation, possibly even Tsar. Ring any bells?"
I am not sure. Muir and Thyr are siblings of course. Poor dead Arden, gone now a millenia? Its not well known now but the followers of several evil Gods supported the Army of Light against Orcus' forces as well.
The patriarchs Grennell of Thyr and Phestus of Muir stood high among the officers of the army, for it was they who originally petitioned the overking and led to the army’s muster. But strangely, equal to them in influence within the Army of Light was the church of Hecate and her high priestess Akbeth.
An artifact of Thyr, Muir and Hecate? It would be powerful if unpredictable.
Marcus thinks some more.
The wizard then turns back to Barak.
Well we're surrounded by people who dislike us. An undetermined number probably want us dead. We're heading into whats most likely incredible danger without much idea whats out there.
So in other words. Things are normal.
But if you want to throw your lot in with ours, you'd be welcome. That drink is going to need to wait though we're on our way to see the Desolation in all of its glory.
You can't think of any close enough association with Thyr and Muir that they would be referred to as "The Three Gods". While Hecate was indeed prominent within the army of light, you dismiss the likelihood of the two siblings collaborating with her in such a manner. Perhaps their high priests.
This is likely something beyond your current knowledge, you suspect. So much was lost with the army of light's destruction.
Barak gives Marcus a nod of acquiesce and sidles over to Durin and out of the corner of his mouth says ”That’s why I carry emergency rations.” lifting the corner of his saddle bag to reveal a bottle of oldlaw whisky and giving an overly dramatic wink to his fellow dwarf.
”Right then where do you want to go?” Barak draws a well used and practical looking brass compass from his pack blows on it, gives it a shake and the glass a wipe. Quickly finding his orientation Barak stows the instument it in the pocket of his waxed cloak.
With a plan to follow the caravan's passage north through the Desolation, the group set off. As they began to leave the Camp behind, Marcus decided to share some of the history of the road with the group.
Once long ago, the plains outside the walls of Tsar were an important crossroads for the civilized world. A great trade road ran between the southern kingdoms and the exotic lands of the north, seeing a constant stream of traffic. From behind the mighty walls of Tsar itself, great trade caravans emerged to travel in either direction. Likewise the road from the Black Gates of Tsar ran east to the far distant sea coast where a great port city likewise carried trade to points throughout the known world. Taxes on the goods travelling these two roads made Tsar rich and gave the city leaders great international influence.
Then a shadow fell upon the city. The priesthood of Orcus came to power and slowly gained sway over the city. Harsher tariffs and city sponsored marauders harassed traffic along the roads. Eventually the far distant coastal city shrivelled and died as its only major land route for goods was choked off. The southern kingdoms and northern lands became more distant and estranged from each other as travel between the two became a chancy thing. Eventually the first caravan to brave the route for some time discovered that the city of Tsar had grown into a massive citadel and temple-city devoted solely to the foul worship of the Demon Prince of Undead — a blight upon the land. Trade all but ceased save for the slave caravans and bandit companies brave or foolish enough to do business with the decadent disciples of Orcus.
Now the east-west road tapers into nothing only a few miles beyond the edge of the Desolation where it enters the broken, goblin-ridden hills. The north-south road still sees some traffic, supported by the ignoble trade community known as the Camp, and still runs from Bard’s Gate to the now-unknown northern lands. The road itself is a bare hardpan sunken at least a foot below the surrounding ground from the centuries if not millennia of travel it has seen. Tracks do not linger long on this hard surface as windblown dust quickly erases them.
Weather- The DC is much higher than normal but your able to ascertain that the weather for today and tomorrow will generally be very dry along the roads, cold at night and a reasonable temperature in the day. Your feeling very wary of the clouds of bone-white dust that drift gently around you; if enough of this was picked up in a wind-storm, it could easily be lethal, much like a dense sandstorm.
”I don’t like the look of this dust.” Barak says rubbing some between his thumb and forefinger ”Its very fine if a wind picks up we may be in trouble. I would suggest if the wind picks up we need to find some form of shelter. I only have one of these if any of us get into trouble. Barak shows a potion bottle with the words “Endure Elements” pencilled onto the label ”Sadly messengers only get one bottle unless they requisition more. Perhaps we could rent a cart then if we get into trouble we could tip the thing up and provide a temporary wind break might be useful to if we find any injured people at the caravan. Or more hopefully if we find a large hoard of treasure out in the wastes!”
For more than a year, the Army of Light bivouacked on the plains surrounding the city of Tsar. While the battles raged around the city’s walls, these camps stood as veritable cities in their own right, only occasionally moving due to the depletion of resources or in response to counterattacks. The soldiers of this army lived, built, ate, and died, in these vast camp-cities as the war raged around them, and more than one burial mound and war monument was raised among them to commemorate some lost hero or valorous deed.
Eventually the forces of Tsar retreated and the city was abandoned—a victory for the Army of Light, or so the historians say. Yet when the triumphant armies packed up and departed in pursuit of their foes, they left behind a necropolis of elaborate tombs and simple graves, as well as the scarred remains of one of the most horrific attacks in the war, spread out over hundreds of square miles. What had been a victorious armed camp became a desolate, depleted plain, still haunted by its ghosts of victory.
The Desolation is mostly a dry desert; grim and barren with very few features beside the road as the group headed north. To the west lay the Dead Fields; a hardened plain of bare rock and thin soil that appeared to not be quite as arid as the Ashen Waste to the east. No region saw more battle than the aptly named quadrant there. What were once rolling fields of grain and crops and occasional copses of trees became a hotly contested no-man’s land of the dead. Countless charges and marches crushed the vegetation underfoot. The battle lines shifted and moved back and forth as the fortunes of war changed. The ground was so hotly contested and so perilous that eventually corpses created a virtual carpet for miles. In many places the bodies stacked high, unclaimed by either side in their fervour to continually press the battle.
To the east of the road was the Ashen Waste; the thin white powder blowing from the winds in that quadrant slowly coating everyone's clothing and equipment in a chalky layer. Even here on the roads, the wind seemed to howl; almost sounding like the forlorn voices of the thousands that died here, long ago. No plants seem to take root there; the land is dusty and sterile. It is to here that the main camp of the Army of Light was moved after the Chaos Rift was formed. The few wells and springs were jealously guarded, and many were overused until their water supply was exhausted and they went dry. The constant movement of tens of thousands of men and horses trampled the already-dry ground into the fine dust that exists today.
The main impression you are getting is that the Desolation is well-named. It is incredibly dry, which lends itself to the overall gloominess and feelings of isolation that the place inspires. For a long time, no one spots any significant landmarks; there is only the depressingly bleak landscape of gray fading into the haze of the horizon. Even the devils of the pits might find such a place unpleasant. The constant, bone-like fragments in the wind and occasional skull or burial mound act reminders of the fact that thousands upon thousands died here; both humanoids and outsiders to the material plane alike- good and evil, angels and demons.
Its almost as if the land itself retained memories of the horrific strife and suffering wrought here; and who is to say it does not? Regardless, you are uncomfortably aware that you are following in the footsteps of countless soldiers; and that first and foremost, the Desolation is a massive battlefield.
After four hours of following the gloomy road north, Kiri descended in order to report to Marcus.
Just to the west, not far away at all- I spotted a corpse; a massive dragon! Should we look at it or keep following the road?
I've only spotted it from a distance, Arachiel. Its large enough for me to see when i'm flying overhead...
Barak spits on the floor "I say we head there if only so that I might relieve myself upon the foul creature's remains"
What else do we have to do? It'll give us something to look at besides all this grey dust...
After the first few miles even the non-spellcasters know the words to Marcus' cleaning cantrip by heart.
At the news of the find Marcus looks eager.
Definately. Its body could be a treasure trove all on its own depending on how long its been dead.
And if it died in battle .. well best to work out how if we can.
A short twenty minute deviation from the road into the dead fields was all it took to see the hulking corpse and the group approached to 30 feet of the corpse, cautiously. A single leathery wing rises high into the air like a malignant sail. Ahead is the ponderous bulk of a massive dragon, lying on its side, its scales a dull, charcoal gray. It lies on the ground completely still. One wing extends skyward, locked into its current position. Its other wing is curled beneath its bulk at an awkward angle. Its skull-like head stares vacantly ahead into eternity. The carrion stench floating on the breeze is horrifying. Despite its obvious condition, at this distance you cannot discern what might have felled the clearly rather old dragon; other than the trail of blood and bile dried around its lips and on the ground around its maw...
Durin looks at the large dragon corpse in awe. He has not been this close to a dragon this big, alive or dead, before.
He flips up his mask and wipes the grim from his face with the back of his arm.
To no one in particular he remarks, Sure looks, and smells, dead.
Perhaps it died of natural causes? Or maybe it starved to death? he adds hopefully.
Of course we can't be sure it isn't undead... His attention drawn to the blood and bile, he continues, ...actually, we may have more to fear from what is most likely feeding upon it. Something may have used the open mouth to get past those scales and have itself a meal...
Barak dismounts his horse and draws his crossbow. He then scans the bones for anything unusual.
Durin looks at the large dragon corpse in awe. He has not been this close to a dragon this big, alive or dead, before.
He flips up his mask and wipes the grim from his face with the back of his arm.
To no one in particular he remarks, Sure looks, and smells, dead.
Perhaps it died of natural causes? Or maybe it starved to death? he adds hopefully.
Of course we can't be sure it isn't undead... His attention drawn to the blood and bile, he continues, ...actually, we may have more to fear from what is most likely feeding upon it. Something may have used the open mouth to get past those scales and have itself a meal...
Vincent looks down at the corpse and seems disturbed by the mere sight of it.
"What could be powerful enough to kill such a majestic and noble creature as a dragon?" he asks as he moves closer to the body out of interest and draws his sword slowly. "The more I stay here, the more I dislike this place."
Marcus also dismounts, staring at the corpse in fascination, though heeding Durin's warning he stays were he is.
A curse, disease? Guess we can rule out old age.
The lyrakien chips in. Well a dead dragon should mean an unguarded horde. Somewhere. If only momentarily.
"I really don't know why you bothered, it's the things hoard we should be finding, not his dead corpse." Zanzu spits out of his dried throat. "Do you think we'd get a lot of money for its head, we could hack it off. As a trophy of our exploits, would make a fine tale we could spin in that tavern back there. Maybe get us a few irons too." Zanzu looks at the beast, as he pours dust over his clothes, making them as much a part of the desolate desert as any other rock or feature.
Aye, the head would make an interesting conversation piece. You might even be able to make some coin from it, but I'm willing to bet that the real wealth to be made from this find is in the hide and scales. I have heard that very fine armor can be crafted from such materials. Someone like the Usurer might pay dearly for it. Or perhaps a couple of us could have him craft us some new armor...
Something seems to occur to Marcus as the wizard looks at the corpse.
Where are the scavengers if its been dead as long as it smells?
Durin snaps his fingers at Marcus, trying to get his attention. Oi! Haven't you been listening to me? They might be inside the corpse... got in through the mouth.
It wouldn't be easy going in through the hide...
Durin shakes his head playfully and smiles as he adds, Wizards! Always have their heads in the clouds, minding their own business. Never listening to us lowlifes on the ground.
Durin smiles at Kiri as well. I like the way you are thinking my dear lass! Someone after my own heart!
Durin shakes his head playfully and smiles as he adds, Wizards! Always have their heads in the clouds, minding their own business. Never listening to us lowlifes on the ground.
Aye I don't deny it! But I did hear in this case. I'm just not sure why we can't see something without regardless. Maybe the scales are too hard to penetrate but not the eyes or belly. Perhaps the whole body is tainted somehow...
Birds go after the eyes... not carnivores. And the belly of a dragon is still not something trivial to get through. But you could be right about the taint... there is something unnatural about a random dead dragon in my books that's for sure!
Perception:
The dragon is covered with so much chalky white dust that discerning its gender or colour is difficult, but both Marcus and Barak discern that it was a black. The latter was reasonably certain that it was an immensely old specimen. As Lord Vincent approached to within twenty feet, the dragon's dead belly seemed to tremble for just a moment; a small, foreboding sign that caught the eye of everybody except Lord Vincent himself and Arachiel. The trembling heralded a foul gush of bile and gore as hundreds of tiny vermin ripped open the corpse's stomach, the hide splitting and disgorging the beetles in a disgusting display of viscera as they surged towards the adventurers, the stomach acting a as bloated sac!
The vermin were beetles; each armoured insect the size of a small dog, whose heads have four composite eyes and sawlike mandibles.
(Favoured Terrain Desert +2)
Round 0 (Surprise)-
Ordered Initiative-
Marcus- 24
Kirilarien- 22
Barak- 20
Zanzu- 17
Arachiel (not acting)- 15
Durin- 14
Swarm- 13
Khun-Duhn- 9
Lord Vincent (not acting)- 5
Active Effects-
Map-
Notes-
Action-
Durin let's out a triumphant shout as the bugs issue forth. Ha! I told you so! He then lifts his hammer high ready to strike when the swarm comes into range while at the same time flipping his battle mask down with a nod of his head. Come on! It's squashing time! he yells as the fever takes hold of him.
Marcus reacts quickly despite the vommit rising in his throat, slipping a small glass bead from a pocket and hastily spitting on it.
Unable to do much against the swarm, Kiri takes to the air above the group.
”Dwerfater’s hairy balls! How big are those bugs.” Barak exclaims as he sends a volley of bolts directly into the swarm.
”Dwerfater’s hairy balls! How big are those bugs.” Barak exclaims snapping a shot into the swarm.
Barak's bolt landed with a squelch as it's flight path was smothered by the many cat-sized beetles it struck, surely killing several.
You don't recognise this type of beetle.
58 damage.
Looking doubtfully at his claws for a moment, Zanzu instead produced a vial of alchemist's fire from his pack while stepping cautiously back. The swarm of vermin surged forward, the vast majority of the swarm completely leaping over the pit opening beneath them in heroic fashion, while the rest swiftly climbed out after them. The swarm had incredible speed and agility and it initially attacked Lord Vincent, before making a pass through the entire group of adventurers. Durin slew at least a hundred with two massive hammer blows but the swarm was far from dispersed. Dozens of mandibles, each the size of a cat's claw but far sharper, lanced and pinched exposed flesh; not even Durin's face mask was enough to avoid the stinging wounds.
The attacks and the horrific feeling of being swarmed over by so many beetles was nauseating enough; but then the beetles collectively vented a foul, pale green gas from sacs underneath their natural armour, further nauseating the tightly grouped party...