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Garavel comes over to Dashki, retying the bonds around his wrists, and giving him about 10 feet of rope. "Lead on, worm," Garavel says, flicking Dashki on the back of the legs with his riding crop. "It seems this new group has some trackers of it's own, so no monkey business." Dashki and Garavel start off, the black-haired leashed man dropping to all fours, looking like a dog on a leash.
Flex Time with Almah ------------------------------- "It seems far-fetched that Dashki had anything to do with Eloias' death. Rubbing at her temples, she is distracted by Dashki talking once again about the pugwampi. "A race of gremlins who dispatch bad luck like the winds blow sand?" Pondering it for a few moments, Almah motions her guards to let Dashki go. "If he's correct," she says, "the hills around here would be crawling with these pugwampis, or at least a sign of their passing through. Being such an expert tracker, it should be easy for him to find one and bring it back to me." Almah turns to Fahada. "As he is, however, our best suspect in this affair, it would not do to send him out into the darkness alone. I'm afraid that your investigation is not yet at an end. Go out into the desert with Dashki and find me one of these pugwampis." Without another word, she turns, and heads back into her tent. She pauses for a moment, watching the black-haired man, then heads inside.
The tracks were made within the last 2 hours. They split up, then converge once more, heading over to the animal pens. -------------------------------------------- "They say...so you don't share in that theory?" Almah asks. She motions to her guards, who come to relieve Fahada of Dashki. "I didn't have anything to do with that fool's death!" Dashki reiterates.
Fahada leads Dashki over to Almah's tent, where the lead guard steps away from the rest. Looking Dashki up and down, he says "Found yourself a rat did you?" He gives one of the other guards a hand signal, who disappears into the tent, and emerges in tow behind Almah. She walks over, looking at Fahada out of the corner of her eye, but her attention solely on Dashki. "What is the meaning of this? Why is my desert hunter bound, and a blade to his side?" ------------------------ D'witt finds numerous tracks that are clearly not human criss-crossing the campsite. They all enter the camp, and then lead over to the animal pens. You're able to make out 2 distinct individual sets of tracks.
"Perhaps we should take your prisoner to the princess. Her guards would be better able to watch over him." Garavel says. Listening to the exchange about the pugwampi, Garavel replies. "Stories used by mothers to frighten children."
Dashki smells himself, smiling. "A young pup that I found out in the desert." "These accusations of magic...I don't understand. I'm no sorcerer." Snorting, Garavel throws his shoulders back. "I'm sure I have much more pressing tasks than watching over him."
"He has knowledge of the clans that reside in the Pale Mountain region. He claims to have slain a large number of the Three Jaws tribe, carrying on his father's legacy. I find the tale a sham," Garavel says. From his prone position, Dashki sits up, his eyes turning red with anger. "My father was a brave man who did more in his short life than you'll ever do!" He snaps his head around to Fahada, his anger not yet abated. "What I think of the women in this caravan is my own business. I'll not be judged by an interloper!"
DC 10 Fort save:
As you lean in close, the pungent smell of body odor washes over you. You gag a little, but manage to keep your stomach under control. Failed Fort save:
You lean in and get a whiff of wet dog mixed in with days of body odor coming off of Dashki. You gag, and throw up a little in your mouth. Ragznor: Your mother told you of the warriors who went out into the desert, hunting prime grounds for food. When they arrived, their good luck at finding lush grazing sites was washed away by the pugwampi--gremlins who have the ability to cause bad luck for anyone around them.
Dashki slits his eyes, gnashes his teeth, and struggles against his bonds when Fawziya mentions killing the gnolls. "Using magic? Me? The magic-man was like a flea digging into your haunches. If he was to die, who would miss him?" Scowling at Deridia, Dashki spits on the ground. "The pugwampi." Looking Fawziya in the eyes, Garavel gauges her, then sighs. "I don't trust him. Not since her Highness added him to our caravan. I tolerate him because she needs this man's expertise in dealing with gnolls.
Wincing in pain at Fawziya's strike, Dashki rolls onto his side, glaring up at the human woman. "Your friend there," nodding towards Garavel, "doesn't like me much. He struggles for a moment before settling down again. "I thought I had heard a chittering sound over near the harrower's wagon," he starts. "When I got here, the fire had just started." "That fool Trevvis ran inside, probably to impress his whore," spitting the last word out. His anger melts away, and he looks up at Fawziya, his eyes softening. "You remind me of the princess. So angry on the outside, but a deep spring of love on the inside." "I thought the little bastards might be going after her, so I ran over to her tent to check on her. I found some tracks, but lost the trail. When I came back, the fire was out, and all of you strangers were here. I was checking on the situation before coming out into the open."
Dashki makes a dash for one of the covered wagons, and just before he's out of Ragznor's sight, he collapses to the ground. He's out in plain sight. Deridia's detect magic picked up the same aura as before. ------- Garavel snorts. "I'm sure the boy saw his master burned to a crisp, and assumed he was dead." Seeing the short-lived chase come to an end, Garavel walks over to where Dashki has fallen. "Someone tie him up before he gets away!" GM Rolls:
In between fits of coughing, Kallien explains that they had found the stash of ale, and were quite drunk. It had been days since they had any alone time, and making their way to an empty wagon, when they saw Eloias's wagon burning. Sobering up instantly, they tried rescuing the old man, but couldn't get through the flames. She had to drag Trevvis out before he too burned to death.
Watching the exchange between Deridia and the black-haired man, Garavel re-sheaths his sword. "Dashki," he says, then lowers his voice. "A wretch of a human. There's little to worry about from him, unless you enjoy the bites of sand fleas." Dashki easily avoids Deridia's attack, side-stepping the quarterstaff, and flinging his own to the ground. Darting between the wagons, he is as sure-footed as an elf.
The burned male soldier grabs Fahada by her shirt, pulling her close. "Yes..*cough*...Trevvis. We tried...*hack*...*cough*...to save him. Wagon burning...*hack*...when we arrived..." Wracked by a fit of uncontrollable coughing, the soldier rolls onto his side. The halfling forgets his fear, and rushes over, tending to the soldier. Kallien reaches out, stroking Trevvis' face, a tear rolling down her cheek as she struggles to suppress her own coughing.
Deridia:
The black-haired man activates the rune, and flames envelop his feet and lower legs. He grunts, winces, and backs away from you before turning to run.
The male soldier looks at the female, and starts to answer Fahada's question, then is silenced by a small explosion nearby. Looking around, the party sees Deridia and a black-haired man squared off against each other. The man's feet have wisps of flame coming off them, and he's holding a staff defensively. Garavel pulls out a sword, while the halfling cleric cowers behind a barrel. "Not another fire..." he moans.
Garavel clears his throat. "These two burned souls here are Trevvis and Kallien," indicating the two soldiers laying on the ground next to the dead Harrower. They are very much alive, moaning and writhing over their wounds. Deridia:
The man turns around, and you see he's in his mid-30s. "Murder! Hah!" He steps towards you, adjusting his walking stick so that it can be used as a weapon. "I would not waste my skills on that old charlatan."
He's almost nose to nose with you, and you can feel his hot breath on your cheeks. "Stand away and let me do my work." Ragznor: No one has seen Dashki since before the evening meal.
Garavel's eyes level at Fahada, seeming to pierce her. "The caravan will continue on, and reclaim Kelmarane." Inclining his head towards the central camp fire, Garavel points out the soldier who had beaten on the boy. To D'witt, Garavel answers the question about family. "He was an old man. Who knows what he left behind. Princess Almah plucked him from the bowels of misery in Solku, and he seemed to be looking for any reason to leave. I imagine any ties he had, he wanted severed." Deridia:
You carefully pick a path through the wagons, and come up behind a man with black hair, leaning heavily on a cane. Absorbed with what's happening over at the burned out wagon, he does not hear you sneak up behind him. Fawziya heads over to the central campfire, where the soldiers are demanding food from a haggard old woman. An equally old man is shouting at the soldiers to help him gather the animals. His voice is raspy, like he's traveled through one too many sand storms. Behind the old man, animals are running around, some of them heading for the scrubland beyond the camp. Handle Animal/Wild Empathy - DC 10: You manage to round up the animals, and herd them back into the makeshift pen.
Garavel's focus alternates between Almah's tent, and the burned victim of the wagon fire a few times before they settle on Ragznor. "The man you describe is probably Dashki. The princess's gnoll expert." Garavel watches D'witt for a few minutes, his nostrils flaring, hands flexing. Seeing D'witt taking his time with the burned wagon, and listening to the exchange about dinner, Garavel sighs. "I'm afraid we don't have time. Perhaps the cook will have something ready by the time we sort this out." Inside the wagon, D'witt finds sooty ashes, broken glass, a cracked crystal ball, and pools of melted wax. Around the wagon are half a dozen more playing cards. Deridia takes the card from the dead man's hand, and sees it is a harrow card. The Juggler to be precise. Knowledge (arcana) - DC 10:
The Jugler - It represents destiny, deities, and those who play with the fates of others. Fahada:
The boy relaxes under your touch. "Trevvis watched over me. Right after supper, I saw him and Kallien wander off, carrying a lantern between them, jostling each other around. I thought they were heading off for an adventure, but they were only kissing. A couple of times they dropped the lantern." The boy shrugs. "Nothing exciting was happening, so I went back to the camp fire."
Utarchus will now take over. He's been wanting Trevvis out of the way, and Kallien at his side since we left Katapesh." The boy sighs deeply, and continues. "I guess Trevvis kicked over the lantern near Eloias' wagon, then tried to save the astrologer." He stands up, and turns to the fire. "I should get back before they notice I'm gone," and then darts off into the night. Fawziya:
The guards stand at attention around Almah's tent, except for one who steps forward. He bows slightly before taking you by the arm, and gently leading you away from the tent. "Best to not disturb her just yet," he says with a quiet voice.
After passing the first wagon he stops, and turns to you. "Eloias was an astrologer. The princess thought it best to chart her own future. If there's nothing else..." he bows slightly again, turns back to his men, and quickly retakes his position.
Perception - DC 15:
Digging through the wreckage, you find 55gp worth of blackened coins Perception - DC 16:
A few wagons away, you see a black-haired man crouching under a wagon, sticking to the shadows. He appears to match the description of the man Ragznor saw. Perception - DC 20: There are no signs of struggle or violence.
D'witt, as you mull over your thoughts, and finishing a drink from your waterskin, one of the younger, shabbily-dressed soldiers comes over to you, offering an outstretched hand. "Never seen no one run into a blazing fire afore..." He cocks his head over to the two fallen soldiers being tended to by the halfling. "At least not come out unharmed." Kicking a rock idly, he mumbles something which you can't quite make out. His eyes dart between you and the ground, and then he shuffles off. Rejoining the other soldiers, one of the older men cuffs the boy on the side of the head, and pushes him towards the center of the camp. The rest of them follow (2 men and 2 women). The red-armored guards (4 of them), nod to the party, and make their way to Almah's tent, where they take up positions guarding over the merchant princess. Garavel stands near the party, watching everything in stoic silence, his arms crossed, eyes flickering between the burned man and Almah's tent.
Fahada sees the young boy slip away, and goes to console him. She finds him sitting on the ground, his back leaning up against a wagon wheel.
Fahada:
"Please don't tell Utarchus I'm here. With Trevvis dead, that old flea scab will feed me to the hyenas." Tears spring to his eyes, and he buries his face in his hands. "Why didn't I listen to da', and stay in Katapesh?" A short ways away, a voice echoes out on the darkening night. "Blithering blisters! Is it your bellies yer worried about? Help round up these animals!" The source of the voice is unseen at the moment.
Ragznor:
You hurry over to the wagon, and no one seems to be paying any attention to you. Turning the corner, you are greeted by...nothing. The person you saw is gone.
There is no lingering spell effect, so the aura was coming off of an object. You'd need 3 rounds to examine whatever it is. Fawziya and D'witt lay the body down on the ground. Deridia leans down, and sees that the figure is only moments past death.
Almah steps forward, "Eloi?" she asks, a hand covering her mouth. A small tear slips from her eye, reflecting the setting sun. She turns away, and grabs Garavel by the collar. "Find out who did this, or I'll leave you here for the hyenas," and starts away. She stops for a moment, and turns back to the party. "I'm paying good money for your services. See to it that you earn it tonight, and find Eloias's murderer." Continuing on to her tent, she doesn't spare a glance back, roughly batting aside the door flap, and disappearing inside.
Turok unleashes another rainstorm, which beats the flames down into submission. The bucket brigade raises a cheer, until Almah steps forward, her chin raised, and shoulders rolled back, says "Has anyone seen Eloias?" The fire fighters turn to the charred wagon, its runes glowing red against the blackened wood, looks of horror on their faces. Ragznor picks up pings of magic in the area. Ragznor:
There is nothing coming from the burnt out wagon. Nearby however, you can sense a faint abjuration. Looking in its direction, you see a black- haired humanoid who nods at you, then steps back into the shadows. Fawziya and D'witt:
Inside the wagon, the smoke starts to clear. Inside, you can clearly make out a body lying prone. At this time, it is unclear if it is male or female.
Round 2 The party all assembles near the wagon, passing buckets to each other, in an attempt to put out the fire. Turok releases another rain storm over top of the wagon, helping to suppress the flames. Coughing and gagging, D'witt stops one of the red-armored soldiers for a moment to dunk his shirt. Sopping wet, he wraps it around his head, leaving a narrow slit for his eyes, and turns back to the wagon, preparing to head back inside. DM Notes - Don't Read:
Will now only take 2 rounds to extinguish the fire
Ragznor moves over to the wounded warrior, and the halfling allows her to come near. His eyes flit over to the second soldier, who Ragznor now sees is a woman.
------------------------------------------- Deridia joins Ragznor, and sees the fallen woman. Her holy light washes over the area, easing her suffering. The halfling cleric raises his eyes to the sky, whispers something you can't hear, and then stands, watching the wagon burn for a moment before joining Almah. ------------------------------------------- Helping the fire fighters, Fahada uses the land's natural resources to combat the flames, not using any of the nearby water. Only time will tell if her efforts are helping. ------------------------------------------- Joining the fire fighters, Turok unleashes a rainstorm over the burning wagon. The hiss and pop of the water hitting the burning wood brings renewed vigor to the bucket brigade, who now run to put out the flames.
DM Notes - Don't Read:
Will now only take 8 rounds to extinguish the fire. ------------------------------------------- D'Witt finds the door already kicked in. Taking a quick look around, he can see that the fire has consumed nearly everything inside the wagon. At the far end, he sees a body laying prone, face down. ------------------------------------------- Fawziya rushes over to the wagon which is ready to catch on fire, and musters the soldiers struggling there. With an epic effort, and the aid of the soldiers, Fawziya pushes the wagon out of harm's way, knocking over a forgotten barrel of water, which helps to douse the flames.
DM Notes - Don't Read: Will now only take 4 rounds to extinguish the fire.
Almah, Garavel, and four soldiers dressed in red chitin-plate armor make a run for a wagon roughly 20 feet from the one that's burning. Garavel distributes buckets, and the small group gathers around a large keg. Almah is shouting orders, trying to get everyone organized. The wagon which is next to the one that's burning, is being pushed and pulled by four burly soldiers wearing various degrees of armor. They seem to be trying to move the wagon out of harm's way, before it goes up like Sultan's Claw. A red-haired halfling is crouched over two other soldiers, who appear to belong to the group moving the wagon. Although it's hard to tell, with their armor smoldering, and their exposed skin burned to a blackened crisp. The sounds of panicked animals (pigs, goats, and sheep) can be heard over the cracking and popping of the fire. A middle-aged couple are chasing the animals down, herding them towards a pen which has been pushed over by the frightened animals. ---------------------------------------------------------- Out of character:
We're playing this encounter with rounds, only so I can keep track of everyone, and the triggering of specific events.
Don't feel hedged in by the 6 seconds rule. Have some fun with each round, playing up your encounters. All I ask is that you only provide one post per round. They can be out of order, and I apologize if anyone's post gets bogged down by others around them. There should be enough going on to keep everyone busy. I haven't seen an init roll from Fawziya (hope everything is okay), so she'll get an init of 1, unless I see otherwise before everyone else has posted. The current order:
Have fun!
Caravan initiative
Deridia/ragznor:
Looking down on the caravan, you see the burning wagon, the now-burning tree, people chasing livestock, a 2nd wagon dangerously close to the burning wagon, along with red-armored soldiers trying to move it, and a figure hunched over two bodies.
Garavel digs his spurs deep into his camel's side, urging the beast into a flat out run. He quickly overtakes the rest of the party, and rushes into the camp. Lush orange and red flames engulf an elaborate wooden wagon emblazoned with painted moons and stars. A gout of smoke pours from an open door, and as you approach an ill wind blows a number of colorful fortune-telling Harrow cards from inside the wagon. One of these singed cards blows directly at Ragznor, catching against her chest in a burst of orange cinders. Ragznor:
It is the Cyclone, signifying a force that tears through whatever it meets at the behest of an intelligent being. The card portends war, arson, and destructive plans. As the PCs’ eyes shift their focus from the burning card back to the wagon, the base of the Sultan’s Claw erupts into brilliant flame. The central flap of an elaborate tent flies open and a regal woman who can only be Almah steps out into the firelit night. “Douse that flame!” she shouts to the men surrounding the wagon before turning in your direction. “Ah, Garavel!” she says. “And just a moment later than the nick of time, as usual.” Looking specifically past her major domo and directly at the PCs, Almah barks out a simple order before running off toward the fire: “Find some way to help!"
Over the last few hours, Garavel has hinted at your destination: the Sultan's Claw. As you climb the next hill, the craggy tree starts to comes into view. With 5 immense, mostly leafless branches, the growth looks more like a giant skeletal talon than a thing of living wood. "Ah, it's good to be..." Garavel starts, and cuts himself off at the top of the hill. Reaching the summit, you look down and see a caravan of a half-dozen wagons and a large tent clustered around the distinctive tree. Camels in a nearby pen prance in agitation, and a clutch of confused goats and livestock wander the grounds around the wagons. Perhaps a dozen men and women rush around the campsite, chasing down an animal or hastening toward the center of the cluster, near the Sultan's Claw, with pails of water in their hands. One of the wagons is on fire! Flex Time: If anyone wants to continue introductions, I'll Let it continue until tomorrow morning. By then everyone should be finished.
Travelling to the four corners of Katapesh, a no-nonsense major-domo named Garavel has collected a rag-tag group of adventurers to help a merchant princess reclaim Kelmarane, a remote village in northwest Katapesh. The village once dominated the southern end of a trade route between Katapesh and Osirion, but fell upon hard times, abandoned, and now rumored to be the home of a tribe of gnolls owing allegiance to someone called the "Carrion King." The ruined village represents a great possibility to the Pactmasters of Katapesh. Should the village be reclaimed and rebuilt, the resulting trade would strengthen Katapesh's western and northern reaches, regions which have had to face the horrors of gnolls, monsters, and worse. Having set out from Solku a week ago as part of a dreary camel caravan, Garavel has been tight-lipped about your destination. The most answer he offers is the northern Scrublands.
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