The Torture Chamber (Everquest RPG PBP)

Game Master Xenh

Seeing that their foes have closed to where she can attack them the way her gods intended, Gwendalyn tosses a healing spell Sajeek's way and rounds Smelly, hefting her massive two-handed hammer as she goes. Both symbol and favored weapon of the Tribunal, she swings it at the raider that was struck by Sajeek's javelin -- and misses.

Kwen mutters " Lucky us." And pulls scimitar free, wielding it in both hands while a defensive stance. Giving an oath that would make a sailor blush, he sees his camel start to take off, knowing that his water barrel and some of his extra gear is going to be running off into the night , he hopes to get this combat over quick.

Sajeek turns half-way and grabs his spear out of the loose loops in the camel's saddle. Snapping back to face the charging foes, the Vah Shir feels warmth blanket him briefly. A smile finds it's way to his muzzle. He would have to thank Gwen after the fight.

A slight hiss escapes the beastlord as he spins the spear around. 'Having the pointy end facing your foes, helps.' Sajeek thinks to himself briefly. The Vah Shir's eyes narrow as he takes a half step foreward. His goal was to help met his foe's charge with the tip of his spear. The spear wound would make a good match to the javelin he had thrown at his foe.

Feeling vulnerable, Revery dismisses his lazy pet and attempts to summon another; then, feeling a little better, throws a quick spell at the attacker that is closest to him.

(HP: 7/14)

to hit while on partially on the defensive -2 to hit + 1 to AC
hit 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9
if crit 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16
damage 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
crit damage additional 1d6 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

The group's camels have run far enough to avoid the combat, but then lose interest and go back to mingling together to discuss the weather, or whatever camels do when they congregate.

Though evening had fallen there is more than enough light to see (no low light negatives for erudites).

Kwen sacrifices accuracy for safety, and is unable to find purchase in flesh.

Gwendalyn finds more air than attacker.

Revery dismisses his animation and recasts another, followed quickly by an offensive spell. The attacker chokes and clutches his throat (failed fort save).

Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12 (failed)

Sajeek's attack is dead accurate, but only partially exploits the opening (critical not confirmed). Blood stains his feet.

Scimitars flash, but only one blow works through the slippery group's defences, and it is Sajeek that finds a new hole in his torso.

Strike (Gwendalyn): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Strike (Kwen): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Strike (Revery) 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Strike (Sajeek): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
Damage (Sajeek): 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Additional Attack (By alpha): 1d4 ⇒ 4
Strike (Sajeek): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

(end of round)
(start of new round)

Gwendalyn winces as Sajeek takes a hard slash to the chest, blood flowing down his banded fur; but Revery is still looking worse, and anyway she has an ambusher in her face. The burly shaman snaps her fingers and speaks a holy word to heal the unarmored enchanter again, then throws her considerable weight at the same desert raider that Sajeek struck twice, catching him off-guard with a body blow. She tries to follow up with another swing of her big hammer, but it only frightens the sand.

Warmth trailing down his stomach, Sajeek realized he had been wounded once again. The beastlord hisses in both pain and annoyance. 'My armor sucks!' Sajeek thinks, glaring at the bastard whom just slashed him. The angry Beastlord's blood rapidly begins to soak his shirt, sticking wetly to his fur.

Getting ready to stab the foe he had been attacking with his spear, Sajeek stops as Gwen tosses herself at wounded bandit. His eyes widen as she slams into their foe. Rather the risk stabbing Gwen, that might annoy her, Sajeek changes targets. The soon-to-be-worm food that cut seemed as good as any.

Revery's pet does not hesitate to attack the person who attacked its master. A floating shield and shortsword spring into action, stabbing at the dervish in front of Revery!

Revery feels the wash take him again, and feels much, much better. Gwendalyn does that so fast! he thinks.

Revery considers taking the time he has to bolster his defenses, but then thinks twice, instead casting Weaken on the uninjured (or less injured) assailant in front of Sajeek. Then, wanting this combat to be over as quickly as possible, he throws a Quickened Shallow Breath at the man on Gwendalyn.

Kwen snarls, bringing his scimitar in trying to take the Dervish in the throat in a quick slash " Whoops you just missed, my word old bean! You should be putting at least 18 hours a day into your training, that must be why your wife is sleeping with the chief, your lack of training and not being a gentlemen." He says to his foe, a smirk on his face.
Inwardly his heart is racing, harder then when he was picking a tricky lock, he hated combat. Unless he was throwing a blade into someone's eye, he felt clumsy, and weak.

The Desert Tarantula Venom, that was applied to the initial bow strikes, works to turn the knotted guts of those who suffered injuries in the initial bow attack into water.

Gwendalyn and Sajeek cry out in considerable pain as the necrotic poison glides through their tissues. Revery suffered two doses, but is able to push off any effects of the poison.

Frightens the sand Gwendalyn does, but only after she slams her body into the closest of the bandits and soothes some of the damage their previous strikes had wrought upon her teammate.

Sajeek finds only air, which stands in stark contrast to Kwen's incredibly accurate slash (critical hit) that lays one of the bandit's guts wide open. The man screams and tries to hold his insides in (disabled condition).

Revery's first spell fizzles (failed defensive channeling check, no mana lost), but his next spell is released far too quickly for distractions to take hold.

Fort Save vs. Shallow Breath: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

The enchanter's animation gives as well as it gets and its blade returns to a guard position covered in bandit red.

Each of the bandits run to their mounts (incurs an AoO from each of you), though it takes two of them to drag the partially eviscerated man along with them.

(please include an AoO in your next post)

Those that survive the group's parting blows hop back on their mounts and kick them into motion.

(end of round)
(start of new round)

Each slaver, that survives the departure is 30' away atop their camels.

Kwen bring's his blade down on one of the bandits trying to pull the disables one away, trying to end that one. Hoping that the others were going to bring another one down so they could find out more from the bodies. Looking at the one that Sajeek had been attacking he pulls another dagger out and takes aim, letting it lose, he hopes to kill that one at the least.

Revery's pet keeps going, and so it attacks once more and then tries to follow the attacker, but it's slow and it can't quite get there in time to attack just yet..

He himself has no weapon out, but really wants to hurt these attackers, so he pulls a javelin and hurls it at one of the ones carrying the injured man.

Kwen's blades only find air as the sudden opening remains unexploited by scimitar and the thrown dagger (-4 to strike due to ranged increments) sails far and wide.

Revery's mindless summoned minion fails to take advantage of the departure (no AoO), but follows the bandits back to their camels at its dwarf with gout speed (no bright enough to charge, requires more than a move action to get to its foe).

Revery himself proves to be an excellent spear thrower, though the damage is negligible (1 damage).

A minute hence the poison rears its ugly head again, and Sajeek is able to throw off its effects.

Gwendalyn barks in sudden pain and fear as she suddenly feels like her body is dying from the inside out. The raiders that attacked them start to retreat, taking the currency for Nogglegrop's life with them, and she reacts in sudden rage. As the ambushers drag back one that Kwen nearly put down, the physical Northwoman swings her two-handed hammer in a crushing arc at one of the would-be rescuers. Then, as the attackers re-mount their camels to flee like cowards, the brave shaman runs across the sand to try and smash in their skulls.

Gwendalyn's hammer is devastating as she reacts to the momentary lapse in the bandit's defences.

Her charge is even more deadly.

Two men drop never to rise again and a third, the bandit that was trying to keep his insides in, loses a pillar of support, which results in him losing his footing and falling. He lies helplessly on the ground, his other pillar stops and draws a blade to defend him.

Reflex save (Bandit): 1d20 ⇒ 4

Glancing down at their clothing, you recognize how well-suited it is for both the days and nights. In such garb and atop their steeds, as long as none of the bandits escape, you might pass for one of them.

Pain coursing through his veins, Sajeek snarls deep in his throat. The pain flowed from where the arrow had torn into his arm. It travels through his body with every beat of his heart. Growling, the Vah Shir stabs out at one of the fleeing bandits.

After stabbing out with his spear, Sajeek draws his arm back and takes aim. He plans to pin one of the fleeing bandits to the desert sands. It was hard to focus on the fleeing bandits. Sajeek felt like he had swallowed a mug full of broken glass and washed it down with acid.

Sajeek opens the bandit that stopped to help his friend from stem to stern. It matters little for the eviscerated bandit has bled out and lies still at his feet.

One bandit escapes into the darkness, all of 5 of the camels ride off with him in a tight pack, and 4 of the bandits will never rise again.

(end of combat)

You recover your camels, and all of your supplies, with ease.

Though bloodstained their clothing is a perfectly layered set of tans and other light colours all bound together in such a manner that layers can be shed with ease. Each of the 4 men carry two waterskins, 4 days rations, a scimitar, 2 daggers, a shortbow, 23 arrows in a quiver.

Among the men are 29 gold and 13 silver pieces.

Most important, considering your quest is that they also carry an identical ring on their left pinky fingers.

(Ding Level 3!)

Revery breathes a sigh as the combat ends. He looks at the others and asks, "How do you feel, friends? The poison..." The remainder of the words fail to materialize.

"I have nothing that can help with that."

He starts looking over the dervishes, and especially at their rings, taking them off one at a time. He divides the money and gives seven gold and two silver to each of them, throwing in an extra gold and silver randomly for Kwen.

"This work is not easy." Revery does not normally state the obvious, but for some reason he feels the need this time.

He starts stripping the body of his attacker and trying the clothing. They seem to fit well.

"We ought to move away a bit and then set up the tents," he suggests. He's considering trying out a new spell.

After defeating their ambushers, Gwendalyn tries to help herself and Sajeek with the poison on the raider's arrows.

Gwendalyn is able to stave off the effects of the Desert Tarantula Venom.

Each of the 4 quivers reveals an interesting side pocket, which contains 4 phials each, two of which are empty. The full phials contain a viscous green substance (desert tarantula venom injury DC 15, 1d4 initial damage, 1d4 secondary damage 1 minute later).

Each of the Cutthroat Insignia Rings are made of a strange black steel set with small silver studs. The secret of their construction is known only to the dervishes themselves. These rings are used by dervishes to identify who among them have earned the rang of cutthroat.

Your first night in the desert approaches, and many of you are sorely injured.

Kwen picks up a shortbow along with a quiver, then spends some time searching for his daggers, " I don't know really what poison is in the vials, not without testing it." Picking up some of the desert garb, " Anyone need more water?" He asks with a grin and wipes his scimitar off.
" I'll look at the vials later and see if I can figure out what type and how potent, it is. I agree we should move away from this site of combat, and try to clean the blood off our new traveling clothes."

Sajeek returns after hunting down his spear and javelin. Seeing their camels, the Beastlord rounds them up as well. Fortunately, they hadn't wandered too far off. Sajeek really didn't feel like running after them.

"I hate poison," Sajeek complains, checking his arrow wound. Gwen's magics had partial healed the wound. "Thanks for the healing Gwen," the Vah Shir smiles brightly at the barbarian. He looks at Kwen and chuckles.

"Well, I'm welling to guess that the nasty looking green stuff is poison," the Beastlord says to the half-elf. Sajeek turns and looks at Revery. "I feel like I swallowed a mug full of broken glass and washed it down with acid. Other then that, not so bad," he grins weakly. "How about you? You looked like a pincushion for a few seconds there." Sajeek chuckles. He adds the extra coins to the rest in his pack. He adds a couple of daggers from one of the slain bandits.

"You know whats funny?" Sajeek says, looking at the others. His ears twitch in the wind, he glances in the direction the dervish had fled in. "I thought that the dervishes were some kind of monster, not bandits," he says with a chuckle. The Vah Shir nods in Revery's direction.

"Moving away from here is a good idea. I'm sure that the one that got away will be off to tell his friends." Sajeek scratches above his arrow wound. "Not to mention the bodies will draw scavangers. I can't imagine that food is plentiful in the desert."

Each of the fired arrows has been destroyed in the process, but daggers, javelins, and the like, are all recovered without issue.

Wiping the clothing with sand provides an opportunity for much of the blood to be removed and the rest of the stains blend into the garb's muted colours.

One could deduce the probable nature of the contents of the phials, considering what two of the group's teammates experienced, but to know more the rogue will need to put his expert eye to work.

(include a DC 15 make poison roll to determine the nature of the poison)

Darkness falls too quickly and you only have the wisps of moonlight, that peek around the clouds, to guide you. It is now cold enough to see your breath, which is a horrific change in temperatures compared to the weather of just a few hours ago.

Revery speaks. "May I suggest we head southwest for a short while and set up the tents?

Thanks for the healing, Gwendalyn, I feel quite fine now. Luckily the poison did not enter my system, or perhaps it's my super strong immune system. Ha, no, it was luck, I'm pretty sure..."

He finds Wink and climbs up, scanning the horizon for anything other than desert, and moves to the southwest, waiting for the others.

Spot: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

(HP: 20/21 or 13/14, Mana 26/48)

" ff-ff-fine with me." Keen chatters, even with winter clothes he feels the bite of the desert night. His rail thin frame unhappy with the cold, and he knows his arms and face have gotten burnt from the sun.

Hp:27/27

Checking his wounds on final time, Sajeek nods to himself. Picking them off the ground, he puts the sand scrubbed, blood stained clothing away.

Pulling himself back into the camel's saddle with a few muttered curses as he stretched partially healed wounds. The young Vah Shir could still feel the trailing fingers of the poison in his system. Sitting stiffly in the leather saddle, he looks around at the desert.

Nudging the camel into motion he starts out, the second camel trailing behind the first.

"Southwest? Are you sure?" Gwendalyn asks Revery. "I only brought a couple weeks of food, and you said it would take twelve days to get back to Freeport." She casts a minor healing spell on Sajeek that almost completely heals his remaining severe wounds, then finally attends to herself.

Revery shakes his head. "No, I'm not sure, Gwen. Now that we have more time I assumed we were going south to look for orcs. What does everyone else think? Let's at least move while we talk. But stick close; the dunes have ears..."

A short distance away from the dead bodies you find a wonderful campsite. It has a soft bed of sand to lay in, and a wonderful view of the nothingness of the surround. A fire will push off the chill of the night but will also attract some attention your way.

You have never had a thirst like this (double normal consumption). Even after drinking your fill the dryness of the desert makes you feel parched once again.

Kwen understands the truth of the phials (desert tarantula venom injury DC 15, 1d4 initial damage, 1d4 secondary damage 1 minute later). You have 8 applications of the poison.

According to your research there is only one location, within the Desert of Ro, where the Deathfist orcs can be found and it lies south of Takish-Hiz.

In your possession are four Cutthroat Insignia Rings. An uncommon possession even among the dervishes, for it is a status symbol that is earned through bloodshed. These items can be traded in as part of the bounty on Nogglegrop's head, but you have no idea if it will be enough to save him. Finding more of this specific group of bandits in the desert might be a simple proposition or it might be nearly impossible.

The choice is yours, and a heavy choice it is because if you choose wrong the consequences are most dire.

It is possible to survive in the desert without water, as long as some kind of moisture can be found. A traveler familiar with wilderness lore can survive for several days on the fluids of certain cacti, insects, and animal's fatty tissues (wilderness lore check DC 17 each day, can provide food and moisture for one additional person for every 5 points by which their check exceeds 17). While foraging will slow the group's speed down, and is not ideal is supporting the group completely, it can help to extend the group's supplies.

(please include a wilderness lore check for each day you are seeking to stretch your supplies)

Cuddling together, for those with cold weather gear, provides sufficient additional warmth to make a passable night, though it is far from comfortable. Those that did not buy cold weather gear have only their own clothing and the bandits garb to protect them (will require fort saves for every hour).

(please include a watch order and state whether you have cold weather gear in your next post)

" I don't think that only four rings will help us out, and we did spend a bit of coin supplying ourselves to get here then again, I will leave the decision to you, but we do have a limited number of supplies. We did get more water from the bandits so that is the good news, now I will take the second watch. "

Cold weather gear, plus a winter blanket

Sajeek shrugs at the mention of the orcs. He had little in the way of a plan. His "plan" was to wander around.

"Well, short of wandering around closer to towns or caravan routes, I have no clue were to find either group," Sajeek says as he bundles up in the layers of dervish clothing. "From what the map indicates, the desert of Ro is massive. I mean we could travel towards the orcs, the healer said he had bought Noggy some more time."

"I'll take first watch, I suppose," Sajeek offers.

The Vah Shir yawns, not looking forward to his watch. He thinks back to the the fight and it's aftermath. The mention of food sparks his memory.

"Did anyone take the rations off the bandits?" he asks. "I didn't think about it at the time. I'm pretty sure they each had a few days or so worth of rations each."

The Beastlord slowly comes to the realization. The bandits only had a few days worth of rations.

"You know, those bandits only had a few days worth of food," Sajeek says. "I wonder if they have an encampment nearby." The Vah Shir muses outloud.

"Even more telling, they each had only two waterskins. Enough for half a day, unless they are particularly adept at conserving water. And I thought someone else had grabbed the rations too. Now, we have two tents, right? Let's set them up." says Revery, glad he has his cold weather clothing.

As they are setting up the tents, Revery says, "We have several choices now. Which way do we travel. Also, we can choose to travel in survival mode, minimizing our use of rations and living off the land as much as possible, but taking longer to get wherever it is we're going, or traveling at full speed and hoping to run into more water and food along the way. I'm sure most of you know the body can survive for a week or longer without food, but without water in a place such as this? I don't know for sure, but I'd guess less than a day."

Nothing untoward happens during the short reprieve from your waking hours (all wake full mana and full health after hours of sleep afforded Gwendalyn the opportunity to heal people when her watch came around).

4 adventurer's survive the coldest part of the night between blankets, body heat, cold weather gear, tents and the dervish's stolen and bloodstained clothing.

The watch order makes nothing but sense considering the erudite's night blindness and will remain the expected norm until someone decides to change it: Sajeek, Kwen, Gwendalyn and then Revery.

Far before morning light you find the period you had heard about, where the chill of night is not as sharp, but the heat of day has not found purchase. This is the time to ride. With camp packed up you are ready to ride in whatever direction that might be.

A day has passed since the delay was provided before Nogglegrop is to be executed.

Getting lost would be very easy, especially with the lack of landmarks to go by. One only has the sun to tell them where to go, and you easily discern the cardinal directions without too much in the way of trouble.

The Deathfist orcs have nearly 2 dozen encampments set up a few miles south of the Phantom City of Takish-Hiz. It is made incredibly clear that you want to go nowhere near Takish-Hiz, for it is a place of incredibly powerful roaming undead.

From there you may or may not have an onion boat waiting for you, depending on whether you can get word to the captain that you will take longer to arrive at the pre-arranged meeting point.

Not far from your position lines can be seen running along the sand. The furrows have been cut by large wagon wheels and dozens of feet, both booted and hooved.

By instinct, training, and proverb, the people of the harsh North never let anything go to waste, so Gwendalyn grins at Sajeek's question. "I have the rations, and everything else useful that no one wanted. No way I'd ever just leave it lying there! I'd never hear the end of it from my mother, my mentor, my aunts, my friends, my second cousins once removed, random strangers at the baths... You get the idea."

At Revery's mention of looking for orcs, Gwendalyn looks serious. "I can't remember if we told you yet, but the reason why I mentioned the camps south of Takish-Hiz is the same as why Kwen and I were late getting back to the docks: we were asking around, and those seem to be the only Deathfist orcs in this desert. You didn't want to go there, and we wouldn't have long there before we'd have to leave to try and get a boat, but without actually going into Farport -- and it would take us longer than what we thought when we arranged things with the captain of the onion boat. We're probably better off just hunting cutthroats."

As they muse on the possibility of a dervish encampment, Gwendalyn has an idea. "Sajeek. Could you track the one that got away? He went southeast. Even if they're actually living off the land and moving around, that still seems a promising direction to me; if it takes us too far out of our way, then we can just get more food and water in Kerras... assuming we can get from there to Freeport in time. I think that our best bet is to either follow those five camels to more of his friends if we can, or else to follow those caravan tracks and look for ambushers."

Know that the sun had given them a bit of light, Sajeek sees the furrows cut into the sand by wagon wheels, and the tracks of dozens of feet. A grin finds it's way to his muzzled features. At least that wouldn't be hard to follow. Something that obvious, one would have to be completely blind to miss.

Thinking back to their conversation last night, Sajeek's left ear twitches as he considers the different plans and suggestions. Concerning water, he felt that they were fairly safe between the two barrels he had purchased, as well as Kwem. He knew the others had picked up extra waterkins as well. Not counting the ones that they had just picked up last night.

"Concerning our talk last night, I had some time to think it over as I kept watch," Sajeek says, scratching his belly. "I think flowing the wagon trails would be the most fruitful to our search." He glances at his claws, and pulls a tuft of fur out of the them. "I might be able to track the one that got away, but he could be well on his way to his campsite. Hopefully, to round up a few more bandits. That way they can track us as we follow the wagon trail. Two birds with one stone throw," Sajeek grins at the others.

"As far as water goes, I think were okay to push ourselves a little bit. But if it makes everyone a feel a little more safe, I can keep my eyes open," the Beastlord chuckles. "I've never tried to survive in a desert before, so this is a neat experience for me."

The convoy had headed directly south likely a day or two ago.

While the dervishes carried little in the way of supplies they might be well-versed in the skills to gather food and water in the wilds of the desert. The distance is unknown, though one knows that a single scout had traveled and notified others to return for the party.

The orcs are far away, but you imagine each of them has a scalp atop their heads, unlike the dervishes who only have a few cutthroats among their ranks.

The choice is yours, though this environment is far too dangerous to stand still for long, especially since one of the dervishes had escaped, and you doubt that they are the type to ignore the murder of 4 of their brethren. It is doubtful that they will return in numbers advantageous to the party.

You have only been here a day, but you're already making friends.

Revery nods at Sajeek's suggestion. "I don't really want to face everyone at one time, but I would feel more comfortable trying to catch up with a caravan. If we can then help fight off any attackers, I would feel safer with a caravan there. I vote to follow the caravan."

Gwendalyn grimaces as a consensus builds around her second (or possibly third) choice, but the most important thing is for them to stick together. "Very well. Let's follow the tracks making the best time that we can; we can always turn around tomorrow, if we need to."

Tracking the caravan remains simplicity itself, even in the wee hours of the end of the night and the early morning.

There is one point in the ride where you heard the loud noise of stone impacting wood, but then it is gone as quickly as it came. The tumult was so out of place that you question whether you are experiencing the hallucinations that come with too much time in the desert.

You have the impression that you are being followed, but it is more of a sixth sense than anything you have deduced through your senses.

Hours later the heat of day comes on in full and now it is time to decide whether you will camp, or ride on (fort saves vs. heat will come).

As you consider your options you see something in the distance. Riding perhaps another 700' you come across an abandoned wagon, it's axle and back left wheel shattered by a stone too heavy for any of you to lift. There is a great deal of blood in the back of the wagon, and the stone has matted hair on one of its protrusions.

Giant footprints lead up to the wagon and then away.

You imagine yourself to be half a day's ride, or perhaps even closer now that the caravan is traveling without one of its wagons.

" Okay, shall we go? I'm hating the sun already." Kwen says, while stuffing his winter gear into his bag, his arms hurt from yesterdays sun, testing the draw on his new shortbow he gives a grin. Glad that he had something besides daggers, losing those was getting old quick, " By the way the poison they are using is from a desert spider. It hits you, then a minute later it acts again."
 Taking a sip of water he screws his lips up at the water, knowing that it wasn't as cool as he really wanted but was glad, that he had the water.

this was supposed to be when we woke up this morning, sorry posting from phone

Panting in the unrelenting heat, Sajeek squints at the broken wagon. The Beastlord looks back at his friends as the sun hammers them hatefully. Sajeek could only imagine it being hotter if the vah shir was wrapped in flames. 'Then again, that might be cooler then the Desert of Ro,' comes the odd thought from a heat addled brain. The very air seemed to dance off the sands.

"Okay, I don't know about you guys, but, I'm all for camping until the heat dies to tolerable levels," the Vah Shir pants. "I think the camels would be fine," he reaches down and scratches his camels neck. "But, I'm close to melting." Sajeek chuckles at the thought of melting into a pile of fur. He had peeled of the bandits wraps when the sun picked up full force.

"Let's get a little ways away from the wagon," Sajeek says looking at the blood in the back. "I don't want to set up camp with all that blood in the air. And no, I'm not worried about sand sharks."

Sajeek pauses for a few seconds. A confused look comes over his muzzled face, his ears twist half way back.

"Wait, there isn't anything like a sand shark, is there," the Vah Shir asks.

" That settles it, we make camp, away from the wagon, keep watch and wait for slightly cooler weather. The last thing we need is for a lock too burn us." Kwen pauses then says " Urgh, I mean before what brains we have left are cooked at scrambled in this heat."
Kwen feels the unforgiving sun, baking everything it's path, the heat felt like he was getting punched in the face. ' It's a dry heat though ' he thinks sarcastically to himself while trying to keep an eye out for trouble. Kwen swears he can feel his ears wilting on his head, wondering what kind of giants would live out here, if anything at all.

Gwendalyn agrees. "Let's just get a little distance and rest out of the sun. It's too much. And, uh... no one said anything about sand sharks. You'd expect someone to mention them, if anyone ever survived one... let's change the topic! How about that giant, eh? Quite the boulder-thrower! Wait, that's not a better topic. I should stop now..." The heat-addled shaman finds herself rambling and trails off.

"Giants?!" Sajeek exclaims. "Nobody said anything about giants," the Vah Shir looks around in the shimmering air. "Ugh, not that I could see one until it was bopping me on the head with a big rock."

The Beastlord thinks for a few seconds, he relaxes after not seeing any giants in the surrounding area.

"Well, hopefully, no land sharks or giants," Sajeek says with a nervous chuckle. They travel a little bit further before Sajeek says. "This side of a dune looks as good as any to rest up."

The Vah Shir slides off of his camel, his legs feeling rather wobbly.

Continuing on turns out to be the right decision, for there is a smell carried by the ever so rare breeze that speaks of a campfire. What f$+$ing moron would light a fire in such heat is beyond you.

Wandering a bit further you see the first signs of the gypsy caravan.

Though no one has managed to build a permanent colony deep in the Desert of Ro, a group of humans has managed to inhabit the area for several generations now. Rather than building a town with defences strong enough to hold off orcs, undead, and sand giants, these descendants of merchants and explorers have designed a society that is completely mobile. Each family unit owns a single wagon large enough to carry themselves and all their possessions, including several large tents, trading goods, and several days worth of food and water.

Although a wagon is generally unable to outrun an immediate threat, as you saw with the wagon that had been set upon by the giant, the gypsies have become expert at avoiding the most dangerous parts of the desert. When a threat is perceived the gypsies pack up their tent camp, in just moments and move when the sun is down.

You approach 17 wagons with 3-6 people per wagon. These Oasis Gypsies love good songs, dancing, bright colours, and fine foods, but are very suspicious of outsiders.

These people are well acquainted with their surroundings, for they have a large bon-type fire out and are roasting...oh never mind it is a funeral pyre.

The wagonmaster, the one who takes responsibility for the safety and security of everyone within his band, Transhan stands in front of the wagons and awaits your approach. As his side is a young babushka, a wisewoman of great power, Gadallion and her keen eyes scour the party looking for possible threats.

You approach Transhan's Travelers.

Last night Revery had dreamed of Orcs and incredibly huge scorpions with lightning fast poison-tails. And they had targeted him, of course, and Arwen, and he was not able to run in the thick sand, though she had gotten away. He had awakened early and prepared for the next leg of their journey, and tried to forget the dreams.

Now Revery breathes some relief as he sees the large band of Gypsies. He knows they are not particularly hospitable, but at least they were human, and knew how to survive out here. His camel, Wink, is getting tired, and so is he. Funny how merely riding on a beast can be so tiring... The sun abuses Revery, and he's thankful for the light clothes which protect him from the brightness yet keep his skin (relatively) cool.

As the group approaches, he tells the others anything he has learned to date about these people. "And note that they are likely in mourning over the loss of one of their own, by giants."