Official gameplay thread for Mowque's Qadiran adventure!
Any ideas for campaign names?
After two weeks of running, fleeing through the plains of Southern Taldor, the mountains are finally in sight. Racking the sky like the spines of a dragon the Northern Zho mountains represent freedom and safety… If only Usmond can reach them.
He knows he crossed the border some days ago, at least – he should have done. But this area of Taldor is near wasteland, blasted and good for little but cartographers fighting over boundaries in comfortable rooms, far from the realities of war. Usmond knows the signs, long patrols through the wilderness have shown him that, although Qadira rules this land in theory, they rarely venture beyond the mountains except in force.
A loud cry from behind him tells Usmond that his cover is blown – a swift glance behind lets his trained eye pick out horsemen, five or six at least spurring their mounts towards him. The nearest shelter is perhaps half a mile away, a low, ruined hill-fort, beyond it a valley into the hills beckons. Away to his right a small stream glistens as Etmek thumps the ground, impatiently, ready to follow or fight as Usmond chooses.
Fight.. the word echoes in Usmond's mind as if placed there by a cruel god. It was the skill that had served him best but here? It was madness. A squad of men, on horseback? Best to avoid them.
He turns to the hulking ape beside him. "Come Etmek. I'll race you to the fort. Maybe we'll find some allies or at least better ground."
Etmek beats Usmond to the fort easily, leaping up onto the gate and swinging his way to the top of the battlements with ease. Behind Usmond a clamor goes up, clashes of steel punctuated by whistling sounds that have the man ducking instinctively as he climbs the hill.
It is not until he reaches the safety, and cover, of the gates that he turns - having caught the briefest glimpse of the forts interior, which is too empty to have been inhabited for some time.
Behind him, near the foot of the hill, the Taldan squadron has been engaged in a swirling melee with a group of horsemen in dun coloured robes. The dust being kicked up by their horses makes it difficult to establish exactly how the melee proceeds, but the smaller horses of the attackers seem to be running rings around the larger, but thoroughly weary, steeds of Usmond's foes.
As Usmond watches one of the Taldans, wearing the golden knot of an officer, breaks out of the dust cloud and comes charging up the hill, longsword leveled like a lance towards the inquisitor. Behind him one of the new combatants breaks off also, knocking a white fletched arrow to his bow and aiming up the hill...
As Usmond and Etmek move into position, the thundering sound of hooves approaches the gate. "Stand and fight me traitor!" comes the challenge and Usmond, while liking nothing better than to face the man, restrains himself - knowing that facing a mounted man on foot is tantamount to suicide.
The rider comes pounding in the gate and is just looking around when Usmond's greatsword catches him in the side. The blow draws blood and the captains reels in his seat as Etmek leaps on him from the gate above!
His momentum causes him to land with a mighty crash on the man's back and the beleaguered horse collapses, throwing both Etmek and the man clear.
The captain lands and attempts to shoulder roll forward, but fails - probably due to the blood gushing from his two nasty wounds.
"Surrender!" Usmond roars at the fallen man. 'Lay down your arms and Gorum just may let you see the sunset."
As he speaks Usmond moves up to tower over the prone man, sword gleaming in the bright sun.
The captain doesn't attempt to stand, one hand moves slowly to clutch at his side. The other reaches up to his shoulder and begins pulling the golden knot of rank off his shoulder - an indication of surrender, although not actually saying it implies that he considers Usmond unworthy.
"You fight well Plainsman." comes a voice from the gate. Seated on a small golden horse, who looks as cool and calm as if he just left the stable - despite being part of a melee, is a dark man in dun coloured robes, with a white turban wrapped around his head. The recurve bow he holds is rock steady and his arrow is pointed straight at Etmek, who is crouched on the ground and growling.
"Tell me plainsman. You cross our borders uninvited, pursued by our Taldan enemies and draw my men into a battle which costs us two lives and a horse. Why should I let you and your creature live?" Despite his question, his tone is not actually threatening, simply curious.
Usmond turns dismissively from the surrender Taldor. It is not unworthy to surrender, when one is beaten, but does make one unimportant.
The inquisitor gazes at his new interlocutor, and eyebrow rasied at the tense bow.
"You are upset because I bring the worship of my god, Gorum to your land? I give you a chance to prove your mettle upon the battlefield, defeat your foes and defend your homeland?" Usmond waves a hand at the dry land. "You are upset for this? I hear tales that this land is full of mighty warriors who enjoy this type, my type of worship."
The man laughs and sketches a short bow from his saddle. "My apologies, oh most munificent benefactor. Taldans to slay are always appreciated, although I am not convinced that was your only intention, no?" He pauses for a moment, looking Usmond and Etmek up and down.
"If you are willing I would bring you to my commander, High Commander Zarathus al-Samiya, Lord of the Satrapian Guard. I believe he is the kind of man you would like. If not..." He shrugs eloquently and delivers a piercing whistle. "The choice is yours."
Behind him at the camp gates a troop of horsemen, much like the man in front of you, arrive, leading an extra horse which bleeds from a shallow cut on its shoulder.
Usmond looks at the men coming up, eyeing them. They seemed to be real fighting men, and that was something.
Staring at the man with the bow he says, "I would be honored to meet your Commander." Then a bit more informally, "No, bringing the Taldans to your blades was not my only purpose. Please, take me to your High Commander."
A pause then, "I am Usmond Sigdum, veteran of many battles and wars, follower of Our Lord in Iron, Gorum."
"Welcome, Usmond Sigdum. My name is Taresh, and this is my kaldeen, my clan in your tongue. We fight together, celebrate together and die together. For now you are with us. Sinar!" A younger member of the kaldeen leads forward the remaining horse.
"You can ride I trust?" Taresh says with a smile, "It will be a long trip if you cannot."
As the group turns to leave the fort Taresh makes a short gesture at the Taldan who surrendered to Usmond earlier. Two of his men peel off, nocking their bows as they go.
'So, Taresh, tell me of this land. Do you have need of blades in this place?" He looks at the dry scrubland around them, "Even without Taldor, I doubt your blades would go to rust, yes?"
"We have many blades, Usmond Plainsman. Many horses also. The Satrap and the Emperor decree peace with Taldor, but we do not let our scimitars become rusty. Nor do we let our horsemanship wane!"
Usmond thought he was riding well, given the confines of his armour, but watching the men around him it was clear that these men were born and bred in the saddle. Across two days travel, giving him chafed legs and a sore arse the riders around him never seemed ill at ease, tired or anything other than completely at home in the saddle.
Only once the mountains Usmond saw that first day become clearer did Taresh turn and speak in a much more serious tone. "Plainsman. We approach the great camp of Omash - home of the Satrapian Guard. I make risk bringing you here. So be silent and say nothing. Your head and mine rest upon it!"
After a few hours more Usmond finds himself at the base of a great rock table, a steep path switch-backing up its sides. Each corner is guarded by a mighty tower and gate, with men clad in fearsome black armour and wielding long spears in constant patrol. Taresh and the kaldeen are challenged at each gate in turn, and Taresh's explanations, which are delivered in a tongue Usmond can't follow, grow longer and longer at each gate. The strategist in him observes the flags which relay signals up the rock and, by the time they reach the summit Usmond is not surprised to be greeted by a company of armed men.
What does surprise him is the sheer size of the camp in front of him. Neatly laid out in rows are miles upon miles of tents, colourful flags hanging at the end of each rigidly ordered row. This is a military camp on a scale never seen before. The town, rising from the plateau in the distance looks more like an island, adrift in a sea of dark canvas, than actual buildings.
This last explanation, to the woman in charge of their welcome committee, is exhaustive, and Usmond is nearly paralyzed with cramp by the time the commander nods her head and Taresh spurs his horse on - leading the Kaldeen into the great tent city.
Rest that night comes in the form of the cavalry quarters, a much less formal area of the camp where horses and men live cheek by jowl. After dealing with the horses Taresh draws Usmond to one side. "I have explained your presence here Plainsman, and tomorrow we must both ride to the headquarters to report to the High Commander. Tonight you must stay in the camp - it is not safe for you elsewhere."
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Later that night, after his first hot meal for weeks, Usmond is awoken from his exhausted sleep by a sound he and Etmek both know well - the clanging steel of battle.
Usmond's weary mind reels a bit in dark of his . Besides him Etmek is up and growling, throwing his war-scarred armor on. As usual the ape was quicker on the uptake then Usmond himself.
Well, he didn't have to ride a thrice-damned horse for two days..
Then his old-veteran senses kick in. Battle, here? In a camp of this size, who could possible attack it? Taldor itself? Surely they didn't care about him that much...did they?
Shaking his head, he grabs his armor and weapons. 'We go to look Etmek. We are strangers here and this is not our temple, not yet. We will only satisfy Gorum if we have to"
With that Usmond leaves his dwelling and looks toward the sounds of combat.
The sounds of combat come from close by. Usmond only has to turn one or two 'steets' before he finds a knot of men who seem to be attacking one of their officers. As Usmond arrives the officer - the one who greeted him at the camp gate hours ago - lashes out with one hand and tears a mans head clean off, bathing herself in its blood.
The rest of the soldiers fall back in panic as the captain licks up the blood with an unnaturally long pink tongue. "Delicious" a hissing voice sounds, speaking accented common. "What a shame he's already dead!" Turning she sees Usmond and grins. "Now you - your blood looks exquisite. Come here so I can get a taste!"
At that moment a great roar comes from the far end of the street, where a number of men in full armour, mounted on mighty armoured steeds and carrying flaming torches appear. One of them bellows arcane words and the figure before you shimmers into THIS. The figure gives you a last hungry look before its wings snap out with a crack and it leaps into the air, pursued by arrows from all around.
The horsemen come charging up to you - the man at the front is slight, but clearly tough. Everyone else drops to one knee as he passes or salutes, crashing fists into armoured chests.
"So you must be the outsider that was brought to my camp." HE says, bringing his horse to a standstill in front of Usmond. "Come with me. We have much to discuss." He turns his horse around, without checking if Usmond is following and heads back the way he came, his men closing in around him and Usmond.
When they reach the commanders house - he has an actual permanent building, not just a tent, he seats himself and begins divesting himself of parts of his armour. "So worshipper of the Lord in Iron. What did you make of tonight, and what do you think I should do about it?"
Usmond remains standing, aware that this man allowed him to be armed and armored in his presence, seemingly alone. Indeed, he was even taking off his gear of war.
A formidable man.
"You have foes within your force." Usmond says, considering the problem, "That is always the most difficult enemy to fight. Do you know who sends them, who guides them? Do you know what they are, or are you blindly striking into the night?"
"You have found the crux of my dilemma." The man responds. "I know nothing of it - simply that it persecutes my camp and appears able to change its shape and appearance. The results are as you saw tonight."
He sits, mostly disarmed and stares at Usmond with a military man's directness. "Continue."
Usmond frowns, "You know nothing? Have you consulted the clever men with books and deep knowledge? Do you have no such men with you?" The inquisitor is surprised as he has seen many a battle won by some nugget of long-lost knowledge found by a scholar.
In a host such as this, surely there is room to spare for clever men....?
"If not, you must find either find them or capture one....and get the information that way." Usmond says, now considering the problem. "Have you tried that yet?"
"I have consulted with my various 'clever men' as you put it." The commander responds, drily. "However, the man I trusted with this research reported to me that he had found nothing, then we found his body the next morning. This creature can change its shape - I am not actually sure that the man who reported no findings to me was in fact my man and not the creature attempting to throw me off its scent. That is why I wanted you here."
He looks at Usmond critically. "I had hoped to keep you apart from the camp and avoid the creature realising your existence. That much cannot be achieved now but you may still serve my purposes. A short pause. "I want you to investigate this creature, scour my camp for its location. If there are insurgents summoning it I want to know their names, faces and ideology. If it is a wild creature I want it hunted down and destroyed. In return I will take you into my patronage." He stands and offers Usmond his hand, which is nearly as callused and scarred as Usmonds own. "Do we have an agreement?"
Usmond ponders the problem. It is an interesting one, there is no doubt. Gorum would approve of hunting such a creature and slaying it in battle, be it beast or man. It would also be good to have this commander in his debt. A small hold, but a real one.
The inquisitor does hesitate for a moment and says, "Foolish is the warrior who fights without surveying the ground. How large is your host? What commanders are beyond reproach? What political entanglements must I watch for?"
"My host numbers thirty thousand. Divided into 30 regiments, with ten companies to each regiment. Each of my regimental commanders is trustworthy - the process leaves no room for doubt." Just for a second the general looks downright ferocious. "As to political entanglements... I am the Supreme Commander of the Satrapian Guard. There are some who would see me removed but they are far from here. My commanders have their own rivalries, but none that go beyond the bounds of military discipline." He unrolls a small map on the table in front of him and scrawls a red cross onto one section.
"Here is a map of all the attacks so far. As you can see they are focused on the east flank of the camp. I would start your investigtion there." The general pauses, and then detaches a medal from his cloak. "Show this to any of my men if you need assistance or resources. Be careful however, requisitioning too much will draw attention. Take the map if you wish."
With that the general heads through a door at the back of the room, shutting it firmly behind him.
Usmond looks at the map while fingering the medal in one of his massive, scarred hands. 'We got a job ahead of us Etmek." he murmurs, looking at the parchment.
A scouting mission was needed...to see what he dealt with. Putting the medal in a pocket he straightens and heads toward the eastern part of the camp. As he does so, he begins channeling some of Gorum's holy power. Usmond looks for those out of place...
As he leaves the centre of the camp Usmond picks up a number of aura's, mostly from high ranking officers and officials. As he reaches the eastern section of the camp however he finds fewer and fewer aura's.
As he passes the place of the fight the previous night he feels an itch at the back of his mind. It's not his magic sight so much as a conviction that the precise opposite is present.
'Etmek, hold." Usmond says, lightly grabbing the hulking ape on his armored shoulder. 'Something doesn't feel right. Stay wary."
Usmond ponders the camp so far. How orderly were the troops? Did they seem well-disciplined, well-kept, organized? How clean were the streets, how high was morale?
Carefully the inquisitor changes his gaze from Detect Law to Detect Chaos. In one hand he grips his sword, tightly.
So far Usmond had been impressed by what he had seen, the troops were well ordered, the streets clean, all the hallmarks of an elite fighting force were present. For all the boasting that he had heard in Taldor about how the Qadiran's were a bunch of 'horse f***ing desert scavengers', the reality demonstrates that these fighters at least were more than a match for the forces he had worked with.
Changing his view to Detect Chaos is a slightly unpleasant sensation. Immediately a thick green mist seems to envelop him, before arching up into the sky and off to the east - away from the camp.
Usmond rolls his thick neck, adjusting to the change of vision. He curses lightly as he sees the aura streak away from him into the dark night.
His quarry had escaped him.
Usmond looks around, seeing if there is any sign of an attack, like the one he witnessed. Is anyone hurt, did anyone see the intruder?
'We were too slow, Etmek. It was my fault. Gorum's Arm, I need to be quicker!"
The ground is badly churned up from the fighting Usmond witnesses earlier. For the aura to still be visible, the creature must have been of considerable power.
Usmond sighs, looking at the churned ground. Fighting an unknown foe was difficult, even in the best of times. Still, one needed to know the lay of the land.
Usmond looks for an officer's tent or someplace where the local commanders might gather. He needed to see them, get to know them...
From what he had observed so far Usmond deduces that every fifth tent (the end of the row) seems to house a sargeant or other officer. Almost as though responding to his wish said tent opens and a remarkably squat man, built like a barrel, with weathered skin to match steps out and begins to put on a tall plumed helm. He catches sight of Usmond and stops.
"You lost soldier? The auxiliary camps are that way!"
Usmond looks at the squat man and nods in respect. "Greetings. I am not lost, although I thank you for your help. I am on a mission from the High Commander Zarathus al-Samiya himself."
He pauses a moment to let that sink in then says, 'I am new to camp and am familiarizing myself with it. While not a formal soldier of your army this is not the first host I have been with."
'My name is Usmond Sigdum, priest of our Lord in Iron, Gorum and this is Etmek, my friend.'
The man looks at Usmond properly, noting his martial bearing and scars. He nods firmly. "Praise to the Lord of Battles. Is there any way I can assist in your mission, Priest Sigdum?" His attitude has changed from commanding to respectful, clearly considering Usmond as an equal rather than a sub-ordinate.
The inqusitor wonders if he should confide in this plan, tell him of his mission. The Commander did not make any indication this was secret and yet...
Usmond nods, "My task will necessitate moving among the various commanders and leaders of the host. I was hoping to find where they may congregate, including off hours, socially."
Usmond holds up a thick, scarred hand, "Not as a judge or a censor, just wish to meet some of the men. I understand there have been disturbances lately?"
The squat man nods, his plumes bobbing in an exaggerated manner. "You could call it 'disturbances'. Some sort of creature has been attacking the camp over the last few weeks. Not every night but when it comes we lose good men." He shrugs. "It often takes one away with it, sometimes alive, sometimes dead. We try to kill the poor bugger if we see it getting away with someone - a quick death must be better than whatever it has planned." He's walking towards the middle of the camp, arms swinging with a rapid stride. Usmond, with his longer legs keeps up easily. The squat man leads him to one of the few stone buldings, not far from the large house of the Supreme Commander. The building has a cheerful glow, even this early in the day and the two burly men in uniform at the door give Usmond's companion a respectful nod and Usmond a sharp glance.
"This is Priest Usmond, he is invited to join us today." Your companion raps out. The two men salute and stand aside to let you both enter the tavern.
Inside the room looks much many other mess halls Usmond has been in, but instead of benches the long tables have individual chairs and seem generally much cleaner than Usmond would expect. Another man in similar uniform to your guide looks up from a large bowl. "Good morning Hassim. Who is your companion?"
Hassim looks at Usmond, clearly inviting him to speak for himself.
Usmond inclines his head, "My name is Usmond Sigdum, a worshiper of our Lord in Iron, Gorum. I have recently been given an assignment by your Commander. Hassim was giving me a tour of this rather impressive camp. We were just talking about some recent...disturbances. He said there have been a series of attacks? Something from Taldor, perhaps?"
"Greetings Usmond Sigdum. My name is Kaleem, I am Captain of the Engineers - this camp would go to sh*t without us!" He chortles and Hassim groans, this is clearly a joke that gets played out regularly.
After the laughter dies down Kaleem turns a little more serious. "It's not something out of Taldor. It strikes the wrong side of the camp for that. Besides, Taldor doesn't have enough men to strike this town, even if we killed every second man here first. I think its political. The Supreme Commander is very much on the Satrap's side. They actively want war. The Vizier keeps them in check, but we are a long way from the heart of the empire and the Empresses writ runs thin, where it runs at all. If there was a significant threat, which could be linked, however thinly back to Taldor then it would be war."
Kaleem doesn't seem at all uncomfortable saying this to a complete stranger but Hassim looks very awkward.
Usmond looks to Hassim and says, trying to carefully gauge his voice, "War with Taldor would require much worships to Our Lord in Iron. Many altars would be raised." Usmond does not view such an event as negative but a war started over false events is not honorable to his God, so there is a trace of displeasure there.
Obviously trying to get off politics Usmond says, 'Any patterns to these attacks? Some wild animal or beast then?"
"A wild beast with intelligence." Kaleem responds. "After the first couple of attacks the patrols in the camp were doubled. The creature slipped right through them. It only ever seems to attack at night though." Kaleem continues, seemingly warming to his subject. "I think it must be some sort of magical beast with a connection to night-time and a desire to feed on humans. I think the Supreme Commander needs to be proactive - try to trick it somehow. Send a small scouting party to camp out to the east and then have a larger force concealed nearby - or magic. He doesn't dare stir out of the encampment for fear of political repercussions and he's letting men die for it!" Kaleem is getting red in the face by this point, the subject obviously strikes a nerve.
"Well Priest Usmond," Hassim cuts in, "I must return to my duties. Please use the mess as long as you wish. Some of our brother officers will likely arrive within the hour." He nods to you, offers a salute to Kaleem, who returns it with rather less military precision and makes for the door.
Usmond carefully considers the two men. By nature he is less inclined to talkative men, being rather closed-mouthed himself. That said, during an investigation talkative men are most valuable.
Usmond turns to Hassim and drops his voice a bit saying, 'Thank you for the introduction. If I wish to find you later, where can I find you? A man cannot rest in mess forever." It is a tiny slight at Kaleem, in an attempt to curry slight favor (as well as his honest opinion).
Hassim nods, his eyes showing a gleam of respect. "You have already seen where my company is stationed. I can usually be found there when not on duty. I believe it is the duty of an officer to work with his men, not sit in the mess hall spouting wild theories." He grasps Usmond's arm in the warriors grip. "Lord of Iron guide your blade."
'And may it never rust." Usmond says, completing the ritual, gripping Hassim hard. When the man leaves Usmond turns to the engineer, 'So, is there anything eat here? I have no broken my morning fast yet."
Later he adds, "You think so simple a blind could catch such a wily creature? Does it prefer to attack isolated scouting parties?"
"I think anything may work until it has been tried." Kaleem counters. "Although with this creature I suspect we woudl have to sell the trap well. Perhaps establish a new watchtower or something in a genuinely valuable location. Althoug," He brightens. "I have been tracking its attacks as best I can. I'm fairly certain it will be back tonight. It's been moving a couple of companies up or down the perimeter each night, so if you patrolled that side of the camp you might well meet it... If you could see through its magic...
"An interesting contest," Usmond muses, "Rife with danger."
While they speak Etmek amuses himself by making an intricate piles of silverware and then smashes it all with a heavy mailed fist.
My apologies." Usmond says wincing.