"If a word can be used to sum it up - destiny," Adotlin states matter-of-factly, turning his gaze to the air-touched man. "To expand, I was approached by a Spellfather of my temple back in Halarahh who bade me to travel north out of Halruaa to Sheirtalar. I believe it to be no coincidence that I was in the city for less than a day before being approached by the half-elf lad on behalf of our now employer, and then traveling with you fine gentlemen a day later on an errand involving a subject of arcane interest."
The cleric smiles and shrugs lightly. "Perhaps the term 'destiny' lends this expedition a significance that does not exist in reality, but I believe we have Azuth's blessing in this and that is enough for me.
"What of yourself, Master Vestrili? I understand that you are a guide by trade. Was there something else that drew you to agree to the gnome's offer of employment? Beyond the promise of payment, that is."
to Aeron, the battle platforms of old were a weapon of war used by many elven factions in the crown wars. It is probable that the ones that would have been operating in the deserts of Faerun would have possessed some sort of shade as you mention. However their purpose was not protection, they offered a group of archers or mages the ability to rain death from above with almost absolute impunity unless powerful magic was being used against the platforms. It is said that one could travel a hundred miles per day in one of the battle platforms of the old Crown Wars.
To Adotlin, "To be honest, I take these kind of contracts out of boredom. I have spent decades roaming these lands. I started as a caravan guard, wanting to see the world in the days of my youth. The elemental blood that flows in my veins has greatly lengthened my life, and I have outlived any who gave my life any real meaning. So now the thrill of adventuring or a mystery, such as the one we have found, is what I use to distract myself."
To Dravvorn, "You know quite a bit about these crown wars, I've not heard much about them myself."
The so called "pure blood" kindreds of Elven kind are not prone to telling races they see as inferiors about their secret shame. The Crown Wars were the bloodiest conflicts in all of Faerun, war was waged on a scale that would make even Tempus proud to be the god of war. Yet it was also the time that broke Elven power in all of mainland Faerun, now the elves hide in their so called "sanctuary" of Evermeet. They hunger for the glories of old but they will never receive them, they simply don't have the determination necessary to assert their power back into Faerun. They have become placid, weak and unworthy of the glory their ancestors once possessed...
As you ride along, you see a dusty cloud ahead, caused by a large group of riders coming your way. When they draw near, you can see the bright pastel colors of cloaks and turbans, and the reflections of light armor in between - armed guards from Sheirtalar. Two bulky prisoner wagons with thick iron bars drive in their midst and dictate the group's relatively slow speed. Some of the guardsmen ignore you, other stare openly, and one even spits to the ground when he sees Karv.
Aeron slows Iago to a walk and inspects the column of riders and wagons for anything out of the usual.
Slowing his steed also, Adotlin glowers at the vulgar man. Taking a hand off of the reins, the cleric taps the hilt of his morningstar, preparing for trouble from the uncouth guards action.
Dravvorn looks calmly at the spitting guard and allows his "heritage" to manifest in his eyes as they become for just a few moments windows into the Abyss...
visual intimidation
Karv will ignore them and attempt to look proud. If anyone looks closely they can see what looks like a mixture of pain and shame in his eyes.
Aeron and Adotlin see that some of the guardsmen have been bandaged recently, and a few cloaks show red-brownish stains. Not every horse carries a rider, some of them are packed with large, tightly wrapped bags - body bags. The wagons carry a few prisoners each, goblinoids by the look of it. It is hard to make out all the details through the iron bars and the dust, but it looks like the prisoners have been through hell recently, probably the same time the guardsmen got their wounds.
The guard who spit on the ground looks the other side when Dravvorn stares at him, but the ones riding close to him hold on to their spears a bit tighter. A few words are being hissed, but what exactly is barely noticeable. When the group has almost past you, a captain and two lieutenants become visible. They seem to be preoccupied talking amongst themselves, but when they see your little group the captain tips his turban helmet, and the lieutenant close to you gives a slight nod. The other one looks after you, as the guardsmen continue their way, and his gestures towards your group indicate that he is agitated by something.
Adotlin manages a tight-lipped smile at the guardsman's superiors, relaxing the hand that was tracing over the end of the morningstar. After they have passed, without incident, he turns to his companions. "Something appeared to have them spooked, and they clearly had been involved in a battle very recently. Perhaps we should be on guard for any such ambushes ourselves."
He turns to Dravvorn and Karv. "That is not to say that their behaviour toward you both is something to be excused. But it may explain why that one acted in the way he did." He issues the pair of tieflings a reassuring smile before turning his gaze to the road ahead, keeping a wary eye on anything that could hide an ambush lying in wait for the group.
Aeron looks gravely at the goblin prisoners and the carnage they have wrought among the guardsmen.
"We should take great care, for the goblins of the Dun Hills are craftier than most. I know all to well the damage they can do. We should have talked to them to see what happened."
After a minute, Aeron reels Iago around and rides back to the column. He rides up to the captain and lieutenant, Hail, riders, what news from the road?"
The agitated lieutenant gets very quit when Aeron appears from behind, but the captain seems relaxed and the rest of his men give him only a curious glance - but it seems the horse, now that Aeron is up close, is the object of some pointing and whispering.
"Hail, rider! We are on the way back to Sheirtalar, to bring the surviving marauders to justice." The captain waves at the direction Aeron just came from. "For some months now we heard rumours about increased goblinoid activity, and groups of them have been spotted in the whole region between the northern Dun Hills and the southern Bandit Wastes. They are surprisingly well equipped and organized, so something's up. We don't know what exactly, but that will only be a matter of time once we reach Sheirtalar. This unfortunate bunch tried to raid a village a few miles east, but the villagers managed to alert us and hold them back until we got there... bloody massacre that was." He inspects Aeron's equipment for a moment, then nods. "You seem like someone who knows what he's doing, but be advised that camping in the wilderness right now might be more dangerous than normally."
The second lieutenant murmurs something to himself at that point, but all Aeron can hear is "Demon-spawn" and "rogue elements".
Aeron takes in the news, making a mental note to himself that he needs to plan a goblin hunt once this business is done with the merchant Dibaarn.
"Thank you for the warning, sir. If the goblins are getting organized that could mean trouble for the region. We will keep our eyes open.
Aeron spins Iago around again and gallops off to rejoin the company and relays the warning to them.
Karv laughs when he hears Aeron's news.
Goblins? We no have to worry about silly Goblins when Karv around
Karv starts flexing his muscles and trying to look tough.
The common goblin was once the slave trooper of the Fey'ri, they are easily slaughtered or beaten into submission... Have no fear of them, they are the dregs of empires only fit to be used as cannon fodder for others.
Aeron tenses at the dismissive attitude towards the goblins.
I would not take the goblins of the Dun Hills so lightly. I have seen first hand the cunning of these evil beasts. It was not but two decades ago that I was traveling in this region, guarding a caravan of spice merchants. We were ambushed by goblins in the deep of the night. They had laid traps and snares to hinder our escape, funneling us into a kill zone to gruesome effect. I lost my mentor, Dragun, that night. He was the greatest warrior I have ever seen, and he was taken down by a snare and boar spear. You can laugh them off, but I will not.
Aeron raises his hood and rides on in silence.
Adotlin purses his lips as he considers the possibility of being attacked in the middle of the night by a roving band of goblins. "Well, perhaps it would be safer to discuss ahead of time what preparations would be best to set camp with, rather than make hasty decisions after a hard day on the back of these beasts, and I presume that an order of watch should be set also.
"I will be the first to admit again that I am very ignorant of these things, so I defer to your collective experiences on that topic, my fellows."
The hours are passing by, and the heat increases notably during lunchtime. Heat haze blurs your vision towards the horizon, stirred only by the occasional sand devil. Traffic trickles down, and it seems that for some time you are the only ones riding the road.
In the afternoon you reach a crossing, where a smaller path forks from the main road and continues to the north-east. Even those of you unskilled in the art of tracking can see that the Sheirtalar guards must have come down from this path. A splintered fingerpost stands at the crossing, but its signs are gone and of no help to you. The country around you is still mostly arid, but to the south you can make out patches of dried reed, and to the east it seems the land is begining to elevate very slowly. Thorny bushes and bleached pines dot the landscape, but there are no signs of settlements.
Wiping the sweat from his brow with a linen kerchief, Adotlin begins to think that wearing the heavy chain mail in this heat wasn't the greatest of ideas. Flushed as he may appear to be, however, he feels as though he may have weathered out the heat of their first day well enough.
Perhaps in the morning if the weather will be as abominably hot again, I shall beseech Azuth to grant me his endless patience in resisting it.
When the group reaches the shattered signpost, the cleric looks around, trying to figure which direction they may head in next will be, looking lost and confused about where they are in the first place.
"I do not know about you all, but this heat certainly does strip the strength from ones bones. Where should we make our camp, do you think? And did anyone think to bring a tent? Or shall we rest under the eyes of the gods for the night?"
Press forward, this area is simply too exposed for setting up a camp... A good forest you can disappear into, these flatlands however if anything stronger then us shows up and we might as well be mice and our foes cats...
I like cats. They warm. And Cuddly. And they actually like Karv. Unlike bunnies. Bunnies always run from Karv. They have those big ears that look so soft. I wonder if bunnies use their ears as blankets. Can they do that? Karv can't. That why Karv have real blankets. Karv want to cuddle with blankets now.
DRAAAAAAAAAVORN Karv TIRED. Karv want sleep. Can we make camp time now?
The heat is oppressive, and as the afternoon wears on Aeron thinks to look for a place for them to camp.
Take 20 on Knowledge(Geography)= 24
As they come to the crossroad, Aeron looks to the scrub to the east and thinks it might provide some decent shelter.
We should try to shelter in some of that brush, over there to the east. We can use the brush and the wagon to conceal our fire from prying eyes on the plain. Spellcasters should take first or last watch, so you can get the sleep you need to recall your magic. I will take third watch if no one else minds.
While Dravvorn and Karv seem relatively unaffected by the head, Aeron and Adotlin show increased signs of weariness.
Following Aeron's advise and moving further east you see a number of small depression in the elevating land to both sides of the road, some of which should provide decent cover due to the brush. Deer crossings show that you wouldn't be the first creatures to hide here, and indeed you see a flock of grazing deer in the distance, moving north and away from the main road.
Leaping down off of the back of the horse, Adotlin immediately begins to remove the suit of chainmail and padding. "If it is of no trouble to anyone, I would like to take last watch. I fear the heat has taken far more out of me than I had first thought it may have." Breathing heavily and taking a long draw of water from the waterskin, the cleric looks over at Aeron and attempts to assess the wear on the air-touched guide.
"Aeron, for the remainder of our journey to Jhaalis - and please forgive me for not having thought of this before we had left Sheirtalar - I can prepare a spell for each of us, a blessing from Azuth that will allow us to endure all but the hottest or coldest of temperatures. Neither of us appear to be kissed by Tymora with a natural resistance to the heat, so these blessings will have to suffice instead.
"Or we can rely on less magical means to keep free of the sun's bite going forwards, which would free up my spells for other purposes should we run into trouble on the road. Which would you prefer?"
My magic is infinite in supply if limited in application, wasting your valuable magic upon simple heat spells is not a wise idea... If we can find a source of water in these lands and a few barrels we may be able to simply rely on water to stand the heat... I shall take first watch, then Karv, Aeron would logically be next and then you priest.
Turning to face Dravvorn, Adotlin nods at the wisdom in the fey'ri's words. "I suppose you are right - casting such simple magic as we venture into unknown territory would be the unwise thing to do, when there are benedictions that would service us far more greatly than something that would merely provide comfort for the day."
Once he has removed the heavy chainmail shirt, gorget, and chausses, he splays them over the edge of the cart so that the padding does not rot with sweat. "So, Master Dravvorn, you say that your own magic is infinite in supply - are you a sorcerer of some kind?" Adotlin looks up at Dravvorn again, and there is no malice or judgment on his face, just a curiosity of having found a form of magic that he had not before discovered.
Studying the cleric warily Dravorn speaks...Might as well get it over with, he'll eventually figure it out anyway...
Let's just put it this way Master Adotlin, a sorcerer gets his magic one way or another through the weave even if his origins are those of outsider blood. My power is derived from an entirely different source, my magic simply doesn't play by the rules of wizards and sorcerers... Appropriate considering that it stems from the Abyss itself, I am one who you would know as a warlock.
Adotlin takes in the information from Dravvorn with interest, his eyes widening only slightly at the revelation of the source of the fey'ri's power.
"Ahh, I see - that would certainly explain why I had not heard of such power being able to be drawn on from back home. I feel that many from my homeland would be hesitant to admit so openly that their power is drawn from so dangerous a source, so thank you Master Dravvorn for your openness, and know that you will encounter no judgment from me on the source of your power - all magic serves the Weave in the end.
"I only advise that you practice caution in your dealings with the beings of the Abyss, which I am sure you are already aware of yourself - they are creatures I am unfamiliar with, but can only assume them to be wily in their desire to corrupt and enslave any who beseech them for power. Azuth himself teaches that, as powerful as it is, there are some things that even magic itself has not the power to undo and so caution is used to temper magic into a finely honed extension of its wielder's will, not unlike a sword is to a warrior."
Adotlin looks up from helping to ready the campsite for the evening, a sheepish smile crossing his features. "Again, I apologise. I did not mean to stumble my way into a sermon on the caution required when using magic."
Caution I take, I do not allow it to reach the point of indecision however... Nothing in this life is gained without paying a price or taking a risk, as for the Abyss apart from the Glazebru and Succubi and a few demon lords of note cunning is in short supply. If you desire to see the planar denizens that truly give new meaning to the term "cunning" ye need only seek the devils of the Nine...
Plus Dravvorn have Karv to smash stuff real good! Oh and use my Healy magics.
Karv is smiling like an idiot now as he starts making a fire, lighting it with a spell and roasting meat over it.
Adotlin chuckles as he watches Karv light the fire with his magic. "It is indeed good to know that I am not the only one of us capable of using restorative magic - that will certainly help us travel much easier should we run into trouble on the road and once we have reached our destination."
The priest finally finishes setting down his bedroll and fishes out some trail rations from his pack, chewing on the salted meat and dried fruit. Hardly a proper meal, but the rations sufficed for travel. "How long have you been traveling with Master Dravvorn for, Master Karv?" Adotlin asks, leaning back onto the bedroll and shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun as it begins to dip low over the horizon.
Aeron takes the time to make sure Iago is fed and comfortable as the rest of the company talk. He listens to the conversation, agreeing with Dravvorn about the use of our magical resources but not saying so out loud. Once he is sure Iago is taken care of, he joins the others and starts working around camp.
"You all talk of magic, but that will eventually run out. I trust in a strong bow string and the solidity of cold steel in hand. Aeron says with a slight smile crossing his face. Not that I don't appreciate your art, I just have seen too many fools who have gotten in over their heads when the spells run out.
Aeron munches on some dried dates, moving to the fire and looking over Karv's shoulder What ya cooking big fella?
Before Karv can answer, you all hear a distant shout, and, looking above the edge of the surrounding depression, you can see a rider coming from the west with high speed. He or she pushes the horse really hard, shouting every now and then, and the setting sun starts to vanish in a cloud of red dust. Within the cloud you can see a number of shapes following the rider, probably five or more. If they all continue to follow the main road, you might be able to get a better look in a moment.
We help rider or let them pass? Karv want smash something.
Karv grabs his ax that is always at his side and looks to Dravvorn for a signal.
We need to see what we are dealing with, move in closer so that we can se the enemy... If we then wish to tangle with them we will do it via the time honored tradition of attacking from the rear...
Can Karv go from front so others not see you as good?
"If we had more cover on a stationary opponent, then circling them would be possible. But given the sparse cover we do have, do you think that is even possible?" Adotlin queries, already proceeding to hastily don his chainmail again.
Wait until they get into view and then charge forward, I will have a rather effective working of magic ready... Ever seen a blind horse before?
Despite the heat, Aeron springs into action. Ready your magic, Dravvorn, can anyone make out what is following the rider.
As he makes for the road, he strings his bow and nocks an arrow.
The rider and the silhouettes draw near, and a distant thunder of hoofs thumping on the ground can be heard now. It appears that the rider is slightly reddish in color, but against the setting sun and the increasing cloud of dust it is hard to tell if that is due to blood, clothing, or something else.
Grabbing up his shield and morningstar, Adotlin steps forward and squints his eyes against the setting sun casting the chasers and their quarry into silhouette.
Karv will shrug at Dravvorn and leap onto the road. He'll take a quick look at the riders.
If they are close Karv will cast divine favor.
Dravvorn follows his fellow fey'ri onto the road and he draws his bastard sword from his back, he also speaks briefly in abyssal and allows a shimmering shield of fiendish fire to engulf him...
Running towards the road, you see a flickering light, once, then twice, and those of you familiar with magic immediatley recognize it as some kind of destructive ray fired by the pursuers. They miss their quarry, but he returns fire with something... dark leaving his outstretched hands.
The rider doesn't stop upon seeing you on the road, instead pushing his horse even harder. He raises his right hand in an obscure gesture that could be either hostile or friendly, which is hard to tell in the heat of the moment.
Aeron
Adotlin
Dravvorn
Kaelmourne
Karv
The rider has Initiative 15.
The pursuers have Initiative 10.
The rider will pass your position any moment, the group of pursuers is probably 20 seconds away.
Aeron will stop and draw his bow. Seeing the dark power used by the fleeing rider, he is taking the chance that it is worth stopping him. He lets fly an arrow in the direction of the lead rider.
In the heat of the moment, Adotlin attempts to discern who might be attacking whom with what spell and what the meaning of the gesture might be.