There is a struggle in the mysteriously black-soaked sand. Gasping is temporarily muffled by the grainy coat as the struggle to surface nears its conclusion.
A pale hand pushes upward; the first sign of freedom in what was surely a night gone wrong. The late morning sun began to bake the sandy floor as creatures who would normally have begun their meal, took great pains to avoid it.
A pale figure arose from his "grave" clad in a worn black leather suit tightly fitting and bearing many shards of metal. Sand sifts off the figure as it rises to painfully great the sun. Greasy black hair. Painfully squinted eyes meeting the white hot sun for the first time in a while.
Thankfully the signs of the struggle are still visible as the figure looks around and collects what he can of his belongings, which isn't much.
Upon gathering his stuff and gaining orientation again, he follows the clump of tracks that seem to be the most concentrated
You are at the Cloudreaver Keep located on the west bank of the Ustradi river just south of the Nexian border. There is a noticeable contingent of Nexians and guardsmen outside of the keep taking shifts preparing the wagons for a journey to Alkenstar.
Inside the smoky tavern amidst the sounds of a minstrel playing, you can hear talk of the problems along the Bridge of the Gods, the massive roadway that leads to Dogon's Hold, the scheduled first stop.
Though it seems like the contingent of guardsmen should be enough, the problems along the roadway are enough to make the captains nervous and they are looking to conscript any willing participants who will provide security to Alkenstar for 2,000 gp there and 2,000 gp upon safe return at Cloudreaver Keep.
A Halfling named Kellen can be heard soliciting takers to join the caravan and then reporting in to a very young looking captain who quietly eyes the room from the bar.
It has been a long walk from where the last caravan died. The creatures were too many and the other guards too inept. With little to your name, you will need to enter that ridiculously named Cloudreaver Keep if you want to eat for much longer. Maybe no one will notice the scaly texture of you skin or the exotic slant of your eyes. And maybe if they do notice it they won't do something stupid. Maybe.
Pulling up his hood, Verrin walks past the busy guards at the gate and in to the filthy tavern. Walking to the bar he disappoints the proprietor by asking for nothing but water and trail bread.
Hmm... it sounds like I won't have to wait long to get back on the trail. It looks like they may actually take the wastes seriously this time.
Skipping the intermediaries he walks up to the young man who seems to actually be doing the hiring.
You want to hire me. Treat me honorably and my blade is yours. Listen to me and you may even survive out there. Cheat me and you will regret it.
The Oni-Spawn locks gazes with the captain, waiting for his response. Perhaps not the wisest of choices, given the unbroken blackness of his eyes, but his manner is as blunt as his speech.
Lillyanna had been at the Cloudreaver Keep for whole week now, waiting around in the hopes that a departing caravan would soon be hiring.
I hope I can actually get a spot in this caravan. When the last one to leave here could only afford either myself or Torvald, I told him to go ahead and that I was sure to get the next one leaving. A whole week here in this Keep is driving me crazy. I really just want to get out on the road again and not feel so closed in by all these buildings and stinky people.
Seeing a fellow walk up to the young captain, Lilly decides to slowly move up behind him to also present herself for hiring.
"I've interest in joining your caravan as well sir. I have experience at guiding wagons and dealing with potential hazards."
In her well-worn travel leathers, Lillyanna certainly seems capable enough and she carries her longbow and battle axe like she knows how to use them despite her slender physique.
The guards watch curiously while the dangerous looking half-orc seems to carry on a conversation with himself as he heads off in the direction of the stables after asking them for directions.
Khartelosch feeds and waters his camel, Malek, and brushes him down before shouldering his belongings and heading toward the keep proper. He hears the ruckus from the tavern before he sees it. Steeling his shoulders, he pushes open the door and walks in, scanning the room for his quarry. They aren't difficult to spot, the captain who is barely three years Khartelosch's senior and the halfling attention-seeker.
"So many eyes staring at me, and mostly with ill intent."
Kartelosch raises his chin and slowly walks straight through the crowd to the halfing, giving the patrons the time to move out of the way, but not bothering to gently push aside those who don't. "You asked for me, I understand. Khartelosch." The halfling's confused expression irritates him but he pushes on. "No matter. You needed someone to see your caravan safely through the wastes to Alkenstar. I am that someone. Add me to your list and tell me when to meet your party. I'll want part of the payment upfront, to be sure you aren't planning to cheat me."
First you notice a breeze pick up in the tavern as the door opens, more than is normal. You'd have sworn there was no one in the open door when a man appears in it. White hair flowing in the air, despite the fact there isn't that much wind. Eyes a bright crystal blue, his exposed skin a translucent blue that almost isn't there.
You see his composite short bow, rapier at his side and a sash across his belly and his worn adventuring clothes. He walks up to the halfling, the winds preceding him through the room. "The winds have brought me word that you are looking for help for your caravan. My spells, rapier and bow are at your service."
Having spent many years here I will miss this place, but the heat is a little too much after my last break in. As long as they don't know it was me who stole his mother's pendant and sold it's jewels before melting it down I'll be fine. The sooner we leave here the better though
Tress arrived at the keep yesterday, travelling out from the heartland -- at some speed. The tall, strong, curvaceous young woman would have caused a stir just by her general appearance and red hair. The fact that she wore chainmail over an outfit which seemed to expose more skin than it covered was sufficient to suggest her in people's minds as unusual. The scimitar, longbow and daggers she carried around cinched it.
'Maybe I shouldn't have done it,' she thought in a rare moment of reflection. 'I mean, it was a lovely wedding-do. Maybe I oughtn't have winked at the groom-to-be as the procession passed. Heh.'
She'd done more than wink, though not much more. Just leaning over a bit while wearing a low-cut bodice had been enough, and quick as a wink she'd had the lad up in his father's hayloft with her. Things were just getting interesting when the bride-to-be found them.
'Amazing, how quickly she picked up basic combat,' Tress thinks as she strides up to the recruiting table, and she grins with genuine pleasure. 'I may have done her some good, really. At least she knows the lad for what he is before they got hitched, not after, and he knows not to cross her. Heh.'
Tress could have fought back harder, but she hadn't really wanted to hurt the furious girl in white with her pitchfork, so she'd shimmied down a rope, jumped on her horse and escaped the whole ceremony, laughing with delight at the mad day. Pity how the horse had knocked over the big cake while leaping the table...
In any case, that sort of thing tended to leave an impression in people's minds; a more than half-naked woman, laughing madly and riding a horse through a wedding party, the bride in hot pursuit with a pitchfork and screaming obscenities a nice farmgirl oughtn't to know.
'Maybe I oughtn't have done it... But then again, how could I be upset about it now? That was so much fun!'
Still, it was probably best to be away from the heartland for a while, and hey, here was a caravan getting ready to leave! Danger and gold; an exquisite combination!
"Hi!" Tress says with a merry grin, as she slams her elbows on the recruiting table and leans over, allowing the recruiter a good view. "You need muscle and steel, and I need a job. Pay me well, and I'll keep you safe, merc's honour. How's about it?"
A man in a hat strapped with a side arm stands up and interrupts the Captain who is about to speak,
Look em over Captain. Seems a good idea to join up with a caravan and then turn on it halfway through the journey. If we make it that far.
I'd be especially careful of the demon-spawn and the orc. Their kind ain't known for helping humans out much.
The Captain eyes up Tress, Lilly and Silvash quickly noting the way they carry themselves and the weapons that they possess and directs his lieutenant to pay each 200 gold now and has them sign a contract stating that they forfeit any payment should the caravan not make it to Alkenstar and back, explaining the many treacheries in detail.
The Captain takes longer to scrutinize the tiefling and the half-orc. He gazes more deeply at the tiefling as Verrin feels and almost soul-piercing gaze go right through him.
Well, he ain't evil. Remarks the captain.
He ain't good either, replies Silas.
Tell ya what, offers the captain, These two look fierce and if proven loyal, may make the difference between success and failure this time. Until we can be quite sure, I'm going to have two of the riflemen from the guard keep you in their sights. If you agree, sign the contract and take your 200 gold with the same promises as the rest.
How about it?
As the sun begins to set against the desert floor, Thaane walks on towards where the somewhat still fresh tracks lead, unconcerned with whatever the night may bring. His focus is on those that have wronged him.
Tress gives Silas a scrutinizing look -- and then seems to disregard him with a shake of the head and a brief sneer, turning her full attention back to the Captain.
"Ta, boss. S'long as your money's good and you and yours don't try to weasel me, I'm your loyal soldier, me," she promises him. She actually as the temerity to clap Valarious on the shoulder, grinning at him all the way.
"Now that me pockets're rattling with jink -- does we have some little time to be shopping before we leave, or are we rushing off? If the latter, then I'm good ta go as soon's I've gone and got me horse."
Tress approaches the other mercenaries and looks them up and down.
She grins when she sees Lillyanna - "Every time I see a Half-Elf, I'm reminded the Savoured Sting's chosen people are just people. Thanks for that."
She cocks her head and smirks a bit when she comes to Silvash -- "Breezy chap, ain'tcha? You look like you need a few square meals in you before we go, mate."
Finally, she sizes Verrin and Khartelosch up, hands on her hips and the look in her eyes frankly appraising. "Boys, I'll be blunt; you've got faces only a mother could love. But there's pretty folks out there with hearts like rotten teeth, so I won't mind it if you won't."
The red-haired woman takes a step back, stares at the other mercenaries -- and grins. "Well, I hope you lot drink. 'Cause if you don't, I can't buy you all a beer at the nearest watering hole. Let's go wet our whistles before we're off into the Wastes and have a little chat, get to know each other."
Silvash walks up and grins at the gentlemen and signs the contract and takes his money and goes.
Silvash looks at the redhead and watches her hair flow in the breeze,almost transfixed for a moment. Pardon my bad manners, please.He snaps and the winds die down around him in the tavern to just a gentle breeze. My name is Silvash. I appreciate your concern for my health but I assure you I am normal for one of my kind. Some of us seem to be made of more air the body.He grins at you and you have trouble seeing where his skin ends and the rooms air begins.We can head over to the bar and I'll gladly let you buy me a drink.
As the sun begins to set against the desert floor, Thaane walks on towards where the somewhat still fresh tracks lead, unconcerned with whatever the night may bring. His focus is on those that have wronged him.
It is wise that you distrust that which is strange in this twisted place. I accept you terms.
Without changing expression, Verrin takes the money and go to an empty table to eat lightly of waybread and water.
Finally, she sizes Verrin and Khartelosch up, hands on her hips and the look in her eyes frankly appraising. "Boys, I'll be blunt; you've got faces only a mother could love. But there's pretty folks out there with hearts like rotten teeth, so I won't mind it if you won't."
The red-haired woman takes a step back, stares at the other mercenaries -- and grins. "Well, I hope you lot drink. 'Cause if you don't, I can't buy you all a beer at the nearest watering hole. Let's go wet our whistles before we're off into the Wastes and have a little chat, get to know each other."
Your opinion of my appearance is noted, but I would suggest you refrain for comments regarding my parentage lest you learn something you can not unlearn.
He picks up his cup of water and dry biscuit and moves to the table she indicates.
I do not befoul my body with alcohol, but it is wise to learn more of those that must be relied upon for this trip to succeed. I will join you in discussion.
Silvash looks at the redhead and watches her hair flow in the breeze,almost transfixed for a moment. Pardon my bad manners, please.He snaps and the winds die down around him in the tavern to just a gentle breeze. "My name is Silvash. I appreciate your concern for my health but I assure you I am normal for one of my kind. Some of us seem to be made of more air than body.He grins at you and you have trouble seeing where his skin ends and the rooms air begins. "We can head over to the bar and I'll gladly let you buy me a drink."
"Tress," Tress introduces herself, and she claps Silvash on the shoulder. "Though some folks call me Red, Crimson, 'that drunk redhead', or the ever popular 'get back here with my money, you wanton wench'."
The redheaded woman snickers unapologetically."Good lad. Let's see whether they've got any beer worth drinking."
"Your opinion of my appearance is noted, but I would suggest you refrain from comments regarding my parentage lest you learn something you can not unlearn."
He picks up his cup of water and dry biscuit and moves to the table she indicates.
"I do not befoul my body with alcohol, but it is wise to learn more of those that must be relied upon for this trip to succeed. I will join you in discussion."
"Please, do I look like some ignorant backwoods mud-farmer to you?" Tress asks, and for one moment she actually looks offended. Then she winks and grins again. "I don't make tasteless comments about people's Mums. I'll have a punch-up over Dads, but not Mums. It's just bad manners.
So, you don't booze none? You a holy-man, then? Or you just got a weak belly?"
The question whether Verrin is a holy-man is asked without even the least hint of irony or attempt at being funny...
Lilly looks a bit confused by Tress's "savored sting" comment, but then figures out what she meant.
"I follow Ersatil, not Calistria. As for beer, I wouldn't mind one myself, though I would suggest against getting flat out drunk before the caravan is supposed to leave."
"Makes no nevermind," Tress says, grinning. "Most Elves still follow Calistria, so that tells you all you need to know about 'Elven superiority', am I right? And I didn't plan to get drunk enough to dance on a table, Pretty; just one stein to wash the dust out of our throats before we go breathe in some more."
"Your terms are satisfactory. But you are most foolish if you believe you can trust each other merely because you all look identical."
Khartelosch signs the contract and collects his coin before the crimson-haired human approaches him. After she speaks, he appears to gaze off over her shoulder momentarily before his eyes meet hers.
"You are understood, woman. Khartelosch is the name I go by and I will take you up on your offer. I have a powerful thirst after my ride."
"Too bloody right I'm understood," Tress says, nodding sagely at Khartelosch. "Everyone understands beer, even those what don't drink it." She winks sidelong at Verrin.
"" she bellows at whoever's behind the counter. "I'll have five pints of beer, and there's an extra silver in it for you if you don't gob in it."
While I don't fully agree with Verrin, there is wisdom in his words. One drink will be plenty before we set off as we don't want to dull our senses. We don't want to be meeting "that drunk redhead" today do we? as he turns to smile at Tress, but with serious eyes.
"I already said, right?" Tress says, holding up her index finger. "One beer. One stein. Something to whet our throats before we head out into the Wastes. This here's the first thing you all should know about me; I like beer - a lot - but I don't get drunk while on the job. After we've returned and been paid in full, though, look out. You may be embarrassed."
Khartelosch takes a generous swig of the swill this tavern calls 'beer' and looks at the barkeep to see if she is playing a joke on him. Seeing that the woman's attention has already wandered elsewhere, he decides that this is clearly what the soft humans enjoy. He frowns wordlessly at his mug and listens to the others whose lives may depend on him or vice versa in the coming weeks.
So what you are saying is that between now and then I need to find a spell that will make everyone forget you have anything to do with the rest of us. I'll get to work on that. Or develop a beer with all the taste but none of the alcohol, then you can drink to your hearts content.
Seeing the frown on Khartelosch's face, Cheer up! They should have beer more to your liking in Alkenstar! This place isn't exactly known for stocking "racial" drinks. Strictly human brews here.
"Piffle!" Tress says. "Feel free to make people forget you know me, if that makes you happy, but beer ain't beer unless you go out of your gourd a bit and wake up with interesting memories."
When she notices the byplay on human beer, Tress' grin grows wider.
"Maybe you just need a... fortified beer. There's stuff you can drop in a beer. Apple brandy, f'rinstance."
Careful, the caravan leaves at sunrise. The company has paid for rooms upstairs for each of you as well as for the provisioner to stay open until midnight. Stock up. We've yet to make it to Alkenstar and the Arclords are growing impatient.
A slow glance around the room will reveal that while eyes fall occasionally on the newly consigned, there is a Mwangi oracle or shaman standing in the corner focused intently upon the new hires.
By the light of the stars, Thaane makes his way across the desert, ignoring what scurried, slithered or watches him carefully from the distance. He comes upon a ridge and making to the top discovers some sort of settlement. Night fires encompass the small clump as he estimates it to be about 25 miles across the desert situated upon the other side of the valley.
The provisioner has 4 potions of CLW for sale, 50 gold each.
Silvash purchases 2 cure light wounds potions.
Feeling eyes upon him Verrin turns to lock eyes with the Mwangi woman.
Do you have a question for us?
The Mwangi oracle wist quickly away upstairs without saying anything.
"Someone to keep an eye on, then," Tress says as she takes a sip of her beer. "Right. Round table time, fellas. Like I said, I'm Tress. My skillset is simple; if something ugly and toothy comes charging at us, I'll be in the front line stabbing at it -- or else behind its back stabbing it.
If something man-pretty with a keg of ale comes charging at us, I'll be the one abducting it over the dunes." The redheaded woman cackles. "But seriously, I'm best with the blade. I've got a little bit of magic, I can teach animals simple tricks if I hae enough time, and I can talk a fair game if talking's an issue. What about the rest of you? I want to know who can do what."
I'll make sure I never have a keg, don't want you throwing me over your shoulder and through the wall, I AM a bit light. But seriously I have some magical talent and I've been known to get into places I'm not wanted quietly and without setting off any alarms or traps, let's leave it at that.
I am called Verrin. I have trained my body and mind to be one with my blade. This allows me to perform many actions that others would call supernatural. I also am versed in the nature of many beings from beyond the pale as well as speaking the languages of many of the elder beings.
"Which elder beings we talking about?" Tress asks. "Aboleths, Serpentfolk, Elves, Dwarves...?"
Lilly will introduce herself when her turn comes around...
"I'm Lillyanna. I'm good at tracking and finding my way around wildernesses and wastelands. Erastil has also blessed me with a bit of magical talent, including some healing."
"Yeah? Then you're my new best friend," Tress says, tapping Lillyanna's stein with her own. "I have great respect for healers. On that subject, I'd like to suggest we all buy at least one healing potion. The Wastes are dangerous ground."
"Which elder beings we talking about?" Tress asks. "Aboleths, Serpentfolk, Elves, Dwarves...?"
I am ashamed to say that I am only fluent in the languages of the Elves, Dragons, Demons and Devils. I hope to expand my knowledge to include the five elemental realms. Showing a bit of discomfort for the first time he continues. I would also like to learn the tongue of the Heavens, but none have allowed me to converse with them. As for potions, I retain a small number from the last caravan that I attempted to escort. They were... ill-prepared for the dangers of the wastes. I also posses an enchanted pouch that should help ensure we can build a fire without the danger of harvesting potentially dangerous trees.
Closer inspection shows that the Verrin's closing is torn in places and spots of blood and more exotic viscera dot its rough cloth.
"Well, I tell you what," Tress says. "I don't know any summoning spells now, but if I learn any that can draw down anything squeaky clean and sparkly that talks, I'll have it teach ya. How's that?"
The green-skin sets down his mug with care. "I, too, stand on your front line. I use Ice here to keep foes out of reach and Reaver if they get too close" he says, indicating his lucerne hammer and greataxe in turn. "Our ancestors have granted me some small magic, but it is mostly of a defense nature.
I speak the trade language of the Mwangi people beyond Alkenstar, along with that of the gnolls, the scourge of all who travel any wasteland."
Verrin I might be able to help you with the language of the air and earth as I speak both. Just so I'm not holding out, I also speak the tongue of Dragons, Dwarfs and Elves.
"Knowing who speaks what languages could be useful depending upon what we encounter on our journey. I can speak Elvish, Celestial and Sylvan. I am not much of a teacher, but I could try to help you understand Celestial Verrin."
Before heading to his quarters, the Captain turns over a large hourglass and instructs the Halfling to wake him when it is empty.
Wake me first, then the others. we leave at sunrise. Then heads upstairs.
As the sun peeks curiously over the first sliver of land, Thaane collapses on a mound of dirt and rock, covered in equal parts sand and sweat. He holds out his hand and then quietly mumbles to himself before it begins to fill with water. Handful after handful he drinks until he is satisfied. To tired to traverse the valley. He rests his eyes before he makes his way to the keep.
The new hires are awakened early by the pounding of the Halfling upon their doors. The sun has just started to rise. Food can be smelled from the hall below. Men are inhaling breakfast, checking over their equipment and weapons before heading outside.
Five wagons, heavily fortified, are being readied for the journey. Their wheels are wide and heavy with rough. folded leather coverings. Each wagon is pulled by a team of the six sturdiest draft horses ever seen. Almost twenty hands at the shoulder.
After everyone is assembled. The Captain approaches the newly hired adventurers and explains that he would like them to spread out in a line parallel to the caravan, half on one side and half on the other and also if they have a preference as to who is in the front, middle and back.
The captain gives the signal, a horn is blown and the caravan begins to lumber slowly down the fabricated stone highway along the river valley.
The guard is 50 strong. A few others are also riding along. The wagons are clad in iron sheathing with thin metal slits to serve as windows around them.
The man with the hat rides in front along with the manly female mwangi that you noticed from the tavern last night.
Verrin is already awake before the halfling seeks to call up on him. Practicing his forms in the yard after a minimal breakfast.
As the caravan forms up. I am well used to spotting the dangers of these lands. I believe i would be of best use in spotting from the front of the procession. Though, I am also not weighed down by iron as some of you are so I would be able to quickly adjust to either end if that seems more valuable.
Khartelosch takes as much rest as he can. His grooming ritual is perfunctory and he eats breakfast with gusto, watching for anyone who might be taking an undue interest in him. Afterwards, he grabs his things and tends to Malek before meeting the caravan to hear the captain's inspirational words.
"Many predators of the Mana Wastes are wont to cut off the back wagon while they send the front in disarray. I shall place myself toward the back, though someone with a sharper eye is free to take the very back position."
Malek seems more interested in the other mounts than the preparations of the caravan attendants.