"Well done everyone!" Silas says to everyone as he returns to his place on the caravan. Putting away his sword and shield, he lets out a breath that he didn't know he was holding and clasped his hands together. A warm and comforting smile was upon his face but the truth was, his hands were shaking. He had followed his training, went to fight for those that needed protection, but the adrenaline was leaving his nerves frayed and shaken.
Disaster averted; the caravan gets back underway. Over the next few days the caravan has to stop occasionally to repair the knot tied wagon lead, but is otherwise uneventful.
Some five days later you have successful crossed the Graypeak Mountains and skirted the edge of The Lonely Moor and have entered the Great Sand Sea of Anauroch.
The travels through the desert are not particularly pleasant as it is windy and difficult to keep the dust and sands out of your eyes. As the days go on, the winds only seem to get more and more fierce. Ultimately on your sixth day in the desert you see a red-brown cloud billowing on the horizon. At first a meager line easily mistaken for a heat mirage, the storm soon grows into a force to be reckoned with. It wails an ominous call as it swallows dunes, rocky outcropings, and the meager amount of plant life in its path.
It isn't long until the seemingly living sands overtake the caravan. The wind’s howl turns into a roar. You can barely see through the sand. Squinting against the blast, you whirl your head to get your bearings, and that’s when you see it. It rises like a cliff, but it barrels toward you at avalanche speed—a wall of windblown sand, seemingly miles across. In the moment you watch its advance, it blots out the sun.
When you finally regain your senses and come to, night has fallen across the desert. Looking around you see the shattered remains of Tages's wagons. Drapped across one viciously broken board, you see the unconscious - possibly dead - form of Tages Feru.
Looking around, you see no signs of any other survivors and in the distance, what appears to be a structure unearthed by the violent storm.
Tek slowly unwraps the sand and dirt infused silk cloth from around his face. A series of gagging coughs finally clear the bulk of what got past the scarf from his nose and throat leaving the gnome breathless. Finally his grainy eyed gaze catches a glimpse of Feru. Staggering on wobbly legs through drifting sand he checks to see if the caravan leader, and their guide through the desert, is still alive.
Before the storm, Myev had fallen into a comfortable routine: patrolling the length of the caravan with the others hired to do this job; laughing and joking around the campfire with their companions, occasionally pulling out some dice (her favored low-stakes gambling games); and hanging out with Meebo (and keeping an eye on the gnome's sometimes-explosive tinkering).
Myev had heard of sandstorms and their power, but one really doesn't know much about a thing like that until they've experienced it. It wasn't until the wall of sand was bearing down on them that Myev felt a fleeting regret over being here and resolved that if they made it out of this alive, she would not venture into the sands again.
---
Myev shoots up from her sprawl in the sand, coughing and sputtering and spitting, taking a moment to collect herself before scrambling to her feet and heading over to the only ones she can see: Tekumbray's form staggering towards the caravan leader and Tages Feru himself.
"You hurt?" Myev rasps, falling into another coughing fit as she speaks. She kneels down and attempts to assist Tek in his inspection of Feru.
Myev hears Meebo's voice in her head. She's not terribly surprised, it's one of the gnome's gizmos, some sort of transmitter that lets her send secret messages to people. They used to have a good time with it, jump scaring folks with the old "I saw what you did" trick.
"Meh? Meh! Oo ear ee? Ehp! Uck!"
Meebo is currently bottoms up in a dune, her little feet kicking uselessly as she tries to right herself.
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Having grown up in Calimshan, Baheera was no stranger to the sudden sandstorms that could arise while crossing the desert, recognizing the true danger of the roaring wave of sand and wind, before her companions.
As the caravan is pummeled by the vicious sandstorm, the dust and grit thicker than smoke, as it tries to work it's way past the veil she'd hastily donned as it approached, she realizes the futility of any attempts to outrun is as the very sun is blotted out, a blessing to her patron on her lips as she seeks refuge in her only means of escape.
From her sanctuary, she could hear the disaster outside, the scream of the animals, and cries of dismay and shouts from her fellow caravanners, until everything was drowned out by the ubiquitous howl of the desert winds and the shifting of the scouring sands.
Hours pass bringing with it an eerie silence. Somewhere in the monotony of it all, stressed and terrified, she'd fallen asleep, but as she awakens she listens for any signs of life.
Nothing. Not even the wind.
Then she hears a voice...Myev? Close but muffled somewhat. Then another...possibly Meebo?
'Of course, the sand. At least from the sound I am not too far from the surface'
Taking a deep breath, hoping she wasn't mistaken, she focuses, a simple expression of will to leave her safe haven and join the growing collection of voices she can hear outside.
As the survivors begin to emerge, one by one, the eerie night silence is disturbed by the quiet sound of a rush of wind as a sudden swirl of smoke bursts forth from the sand, coalescing into Baheera's form, looking far more rested and unhurried than her companions, no sign of dust or sand on her person as she bends down to pick up the jeweled lamp she normally wore on her hip, reattaching it to the chain at her waist as she stands to look around at the aftermath of the storm.
"Is everyone alright?"
Tek shakes his head as he nudges Feru one more time with the tip of his boot. The move being the greater extant of his medical knowledge.
"Alas poor Feru, we hardly knew you." He mutters sadly.
With hope for the caravan master's survival dim in his mind until the shining silver form of Utsuri comes along to ply his healing arts, the gnome focuses his attention on the nearby ruin. Most importantly he is looking for signs of movement or danger. However, the uncanny similarity to his previous desert experience in the far south; nasty sand storm, eerie stone ruins, an odd combination of adventurous companions, make it hard for him to concentrate on the survey.
Myev is an uncertain medic in the best of times, and after hearing Meebo's muffled cries in her ear and seeing the state of the caravan leader, she mumbles that she's going to go help Meebo and retreats from the (possibly?) dying man.
She strides over to where she sees Meebo's legs waving in the dunes, grips the gnome's ankles, and pulls her out of the sand. Myec kneels down, more to steady herself than anything - she still felt a little out of sorts - and inspects her friend. "You alright, Meebs?"
Meebo spat out a mouthful of sand, then stuck her tongue out and used the side of a finger to repeatedly scrape it clean. She shook like a dog and sand rained from her hair.
"Ugggh there's gonna be grit in my teeth for days. Let's not do deserts anymore, huh? Thanks." She looked around, blinking a lot as she was finding sand got into her eyes as well. "Oh wow...things look worse than I thought. Did we lose anyone?"
"Tages looks bad. Don't think he's going to make it, even with healing. He looks like he was slammed into something, hard. I think the only person we haven't found or seen yet is Silas," Myev replies. She pulls out her waterskin and sips the tiniest amount, swishing the water around to loosen some of the sand, and spits it onto the sands. When Meebo is ready, Myev will head back to Tages and those who have emerged and congregated.
"I don't see any of the drivers...or the horses for that matter." Baheera says, joining the others as she looks around, doing a silent head count.
Searching around the immediate area, you do find the corpses of a few of the drivers and a couple of the horses.
Of the original seven wagons, there is only one nearby. Fortunately for you it is the wagon that contained the majority of the traveling provisions for the caravan.
Tages Feru is badly wounded, with numerous broken bones, and perhaps a punctured lung. He is not likely to survive until morning. As he drifts in and out of consciousness, it is apparent that he is in a tremendous amount of pain.
Myev comes back to the group, Meebo (presumably) in tow, and kneels down next to Tages. She gently slaps him on the face a few times and speaks slow and clear, trying to put on her best calm, comforting face: "Tages. You're not going to make it. Sandstorm hit and destroyed everything. I can end this pain for you, but I need to know if you have anything you want us to know or if you have any final requests."
Despite Utsuri's best efforts to mend the aged caravan master's wounds, Tages gasps for breath, trying to respond.
Slowly turning his head to the odd silver skinned duo that had done all they could to mend his wounds, Tages manages a weak smile. "Th...thank you for tr...trying..."
It quickly becomes painfully obvious to anyone who watches that the simple act of breathing is causing Tages great pain.
Thi...this was to be m...my la..last trip. I..if you can fi..find my wagon, my reti...retirment lies with..in. I wo..would rather it g...go to use than be bur...buried out here with me."
Struggling to focus, he turns his attention back to Myev and utters one simple word, "Please..."
Meebo follows Myev, but hearing her words makes the gnome uncomfortable and she starts doing an inventory of her equipment to distract herself. She wasn't good with losing people, and while she agreed with Myev's offer of mercy, she didn't want to think about it.
Myev nods along with Tages as he struggles to speak, displaying uncharacteristic patience for the dying man's struggle. When he finishes, she murmurs, "Go gently," and slips a dagger expertly between his ribs, granting the man a quick passing.
She stands, frowning, and pulls a cloth out of her pocket to wipe clean her bloodied blade, and then re-sheathes it. She didn't use it much; the dagger was a trophy from a particularly nasty foe she had faced a few years ago. Seemed nicer to end his life that way than with the maul.
"We should scrounge what we can, find some shelter, and figure out what we can do. Anyone seen the healer?" Myev looks out among the dunes, looking for some sign of Silas, other survivors, and any remains of the wagons she had failed to protect.
"Tymora bless your soul, for Beshaba has won your body." Tek says quietly when Myev offers Tages a final release from the mortal realms. With the deed done, he gives the half-orc a nod of respect and helps wrap the caravan leader's body.
"Those ruins are our best bet for shelter." He says glancing in the direction of the looming stone ruins after tying the final knot in the blanket wrapping Tages body.
"Might be any other survivors have already taken shelter there."
Myev nods in agreement with Tek and starts looking around for Tages's wagon and for any food or important items they might need.
"Let's gather what we can and then head to that ruin."
Rummaging through the remains of the wagon you can see you find enough food to feed the party for twenty-five days. The question becomes how to carry all of that.
Despite his best efforts to find the driver's, Utsuri does not see any of them in the immediate area. Myev in turn seeks out Tages's lead wagon but is unsuccessful in her endeavor.
"Well, I can't find anything." Myev huffs with frustration, running a large hand through her hair.
"Let's get to those ruins and try to figure out what we're doing. Stay on your guard." Myev motions to everyone to follow, unstrapping her maul and hauling it over one shoulder to have it ready, just in case.
A mound of sand nearby the party suddenly erupts, Silas sitting straight up as he coughs out a throatful of sand before gasping for air. The half-elf staggers upwards for a moment, falling to his knees to spit out the last bit of debris that scratched his throat, mouth, and lungs.
"By Lathander..." Silas choked outwards, wiping his tears away as he sits up to see the others nearby. With shaky legs, he would stand and make his way towards the other survivors to hear the news.
The loss of Master Tages and so many others brings an actual face of shock to the cleric who looks over the ruined caravan. He gives a quiet prayer of rest for those lost in the storm and looks for survivors amidst the wreckage as well as Tages's wagon. The cleric was nearby it when the storm hit and with their situation, any benefit could help.
The cleric finds nothing as well, using his vestments to wipe away the sweat that was beginning to build along his brow. Seeing what the strange monk was working upon, Silas tried to help guide them to a better, makeshift sled.
It seemed that his own ideas were not that much better and, without much recourse, Silas began to stuff his backpack with as much as he could carry before looking towards the ruins in the distance.
Despite their best efforts, neither Silas nor Utsuri are able to construct a usable skiff to drag the supplies away from the wreckage of the caravan.
Packing up a majority of the food and carrying away wouldn't be too difficult of a burden for those who remain, the real problem would be the barrels of watered-down wine that were to be the all-important liquids you were going to need for the journey across the desert.
While the night is cool, you know full and well that with the morning sun comes the sweltering heat you have experienced the past few days.
In an attempt to find shelter while you consider what other options you may have, you head for the ruins uncovered by the sandstorm.
Approaching the ruins, you see there are large slabs of slate acting as stairs to the top of a seventy-five foot square stone structure. Getting closer yet you notice an opening in the side of the stairwell, held open by the desiccated remains of some unfortunate humanoid.
Upon closer inspection, it would appear that these are the remains of a long dead hobgoblin. The body has a large crossbow bolt sunk deep into the chest of the creature.
Myev will gather as much food as she can carry while also being able to pick up one of the barrels of watered-down wine, intending to carry it with them to wherever they made their makeshift camp within the ruins.
He may not be able to manipulate the arcane forces of the world like so many of his kind, but he does retain a gnome's knack for crafting. Seeing Utsuri and Silas struggle with their attempts at creating a makeshift sled, Tekumbray tries his hand at the task using whatever remains of the scavenged materials.
As the group of survivors consider their options for dealing with the ever so vital watered-down wine, Baheera sighs to herself. These were the only survivors out here, and in order to get out of this alive they would all have to trust each other.
"I believe I can help with us carrying and storing water. The magical power I wield comes from my bond with a great Djinni. As a part of the power she has granted me, I share a connection with this lamp, similar to that of the genies of tale and legend." she says holding up the lamp chained to her hip, the polished metal and gems glistening in the moonlight.
"I can enter it, and take things with me, leaving them there unless I choose to take them with me when I leave, so we would be able to carry them without concern for the weight or bulk. I suggest we all fill our waterskins now, and I'll try to transport at least a couple of the remaining barrels into my lamp." she says, looking to her companions for their reactions.
Meebo saw Silas excavating himself and went to help, handing her waterskin over in knowing sympathy as he expelled the sand. "There you are! At all least that's one bit of good news.". She pat him in the back while he sat and coughed.
When Myev approached the ruins Meebo shadowed her. Upon seeing the body she frowned and tugged on Myev's leg to wait a moment. "I'll bet it's trapped. Let me take a look.". The gnome got out a kit of tools that included a mirror on a stick and a pole with a prehensile end that could bend and rotate to click things, like a long distance lockpick. She inspected the bolt that killed the creature and looked for any openings one might fire from, or slabs that might be pressure plates.
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Just about the time Tek gets a workable skiff together and Myev had decided she was just going lug one of the barrels over, Baheera produces her trick quickly taking the remaining barrels into her lamp.
Arriving at the opened doorway in the side of the stone slabe stairwell, Meebo carefully investigates the entryway for any sign of a trap. A very quick examination reveals a pressure plate on the floor the former hobgoblin must have stepped on. Looking further down the ten-foot-wide hallway beyond the door, she sees a large crossbow mounted into the wall some thirty feet down the passageway. Fortunately, it appears that the crossbow is no longer loaded.
A thick layer of sand coats the floor of the passageway, with no footprints to be seen. At the end of the thirty foot run, the passageway turns north.
Grabbing one of the longer pieces of round wood from the ruin of the wagon and his no-longer-needed-sled, Tekumbray instead fashions himself a handy seven and three-quarter foot pole. (The end having splintered during the storm and subsequent removal from the wagon.)
Never go exploring an ancient ruin without a long poking stick my lad. Sound advice from Elias that Tekumbray saw put to useful effect more times than he could willingly count back in the sand riddled depths of Sokkar. I wonder what the old scoundrels dead remains are doing back in that cursed realm. He can't help but wonder with a morbid sense of curiosity. Curiosity likely brought on by his current situation.
For here he was approaching yet another sand filled ruin in the middle of a desolate desert. The gnome couldn't help but grimace at the sight of the skeletal remains trapped in the doorway. Suppressing all manner of flashbacks and fears of shrieking, moaning, blood-hungry undying fiends, Tek rapidly pokes the skeleton several forceful times. He adds another trio of jabs just to make sure it is quite, completely, thoroughly dead.
"You can never be too sure. Blasted things can lay there for weeks just faking it until some poor sap stumbles along." He says stoically, ignoring any looks of concern for his sanity.
Much to Tek's delight, the desiccated corpse continues to remain motionless, despite the forest gnome's repeated prodding.
Myev nods solemnly at Tek. "Good idea. Smart." She looks around inside the opened doorway and will walk inside (unless anyone stops her) to inspect things. "Shall we head in?" She asks, pointing to where the passageway turns.
"There is a trap here, but looks like that poor guy triggered it. But that means there will almost certain be more. We need somebody with good eyes up front keeping a lookout.
Staying just behind the lead, Baheera aids the inspection for traps, sending small bursts of wind, clearing the immediate area ahead of dust and sand.
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"Yes, I...It seems I survived." Silas says, brushing himself and happily taking the waterskin. The cool water soothed his burning throat and brought life back into his body as he stood up slowly. A sled to carry what supplies they had was eventually made but before they could load it, Baheera revealed the power of her gift.
Silas's eyes widened as she explained what her power could do. Looking up at the unforgiving sun for just a moment, a shy smile spread across his face as he nodded.
"Back at the temple, my teachers told us of those who made pacts for power. We were warned of the danger they could be. I will make sure to give a tale of the kindness that they could give." The cleric offered, bringing the barrels over as quickly as his muscles could do so. With their resources secured, he would make his way with the others towards the ruins.
Quietly, he stays within the center of the group. While trained in combat, fighting in melee was not the priest's specialty at all. The unearthed ruins had a quietness to them that left him uneasy, especially as they began to pass the dead body of the desiccated hobgoblin.
"You are right Tek, the undead do not need to breathe, sleep, or move. They can remain frighteningly still." Silas adds, nodding for a moment. "Have you had experiences against the undead abominations or are you just well-read?"
"I've been told that I have keen eyes. A blessing from my mixed heritage, they say. I may not understand the contraption's workings but I will keep an eye out for anything dangerous." Silas says to Meebo, nervously raising his shield and taking a more forward position.
"I'll walk with you, priest." Myev says, holding her maul over one shoulder. "I bet I can take a hit better than you." She grins and chuckles, slapping Silas heartily on the shoulder, an impact that most certainly rattled.
Tekumbray finds himself near the back up the group. The cool air is a welcome respite from the desert heat, but the dark silence of the ancient lonely place weighs heavily on his mind. The constant *tap*tap*tap* of his makeshift staff echoes along the hall as he checks for secondary traps, hidden passages, or other lurking threats that might react when jabbed with a piece of wood.
The group slowly moves down the corridor with Silas and Myev taking the point position while just behind them Baheera does her best to clear the sand - with middling results.
The passageway turns north, ending some twenty feet later in a stone door. After a careful examination it is determined that the door is not trapped and with no other options other than to remain in the hallway or go back out into the desert, you open the stone door.
Beyond the stone door lies a forty-foot square chamber. The room smells stale and musty. Unlike the passageway, the dust on the floor has been disturbed by something or somethings, but you cannot tell what exactly that might be or how long ago it might have been.
Three huge bronze cylinders reach from the floor of the chamber to the ceiling in the middle of the room. In the center of each cylinder, facing you at floor level, is a bronze door. Each door has a bronze handle that can be used to pull the door open.
"We ought to prop the door open." Myev says, looking around for something that they could shove up against the door to keep it from closing all the way. "I don't like the idea of being trapped in here. Meebs, got anything tinkered up that would help?" She peeks back at her gnomish friend and grins.
"Sometimes simpler is better." She poked around for a stone, and if she couldn't find one to her liking, she'd use the small hammer and chisel in her tinker's kit to break a chunk off from the ruins. A couple of good thwacks to break it into a mildly wedge-like shape, and she'd try hammering it into the door frame to keep the door open, placing a few larger stones in the path of the door just in case the wedge failed.
Meebo takes a chunk out of wall and fashions a doorstop. So far, so good, it appears to be holding steady.
Meanwhile, Utsuri investigates the muddled track in the dust of the room, but is unable to determine anything beyond that they were made by a humanoid of some sort.
Intrigued by the curious, circular doors, Tek wanders over to give them a closer look. Especially checking to see in any are trapped, it wouldn't do to end up like the hobgoblin doorstop, or if any of the tracks lead to or from a particular door.
Unfortunately, as he kneels down to get a closer look a one of the dusty tracks, he sneezes causing a tiny back blast of dust to spout directly into his face. This triggers a flurry of sneezing that leaves his eyes watering and his nose running until he finally clears the offending particles from his sinuses with a long trumpet burst into his handkerchief. The entire experience leaves him rather inattentive to matters at hand.
Silas stumbles a little bit as Myev strikes him in the shoulder, nervously laughing before rubbing his shoulder. "Ow..."
Hearing Tek's sneeze, he follows behind the gnome and looks around carefully at hand. The three doors before them showed that something was moving but what was impossible to know. For a sand-covered ruin, the cleric's mind naturally moved to undead or automatons.
"Feeling better?" He asks the small man, eyeing the doors carefully himself. He focuses in on the littlest details, breathing softly to blow away ancient sand.