You have been travelling for a little over a week since leaving the small town of Solku. Your small party consists of the five of you, your employer Garavel and half a dozen camels heavily laden with enough supplies to support a protracted stay in the Katapesh scrubland. Garavel is a tall man with short, black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Currently, he leads the head camel, the rest of you trudging along behind him through the barren landscape of northern Katapesh.
Your destination is the Sultan's Claw, where you will be meeting Garavel's employer and several more mercenaries and agents. From there, you have been told, your mission is to reclaim the abandoned town of Kelmarane - deserted many years ago and now infested with gnolls and other beasts.
Kelmarane is nestled in the foothills of the Brazen Peaks, a large mountain range running east to west. As you approach the range, you can see the outline of Pale Mountain through the haze to the west. The largest in the range, dwarfing the other peaks as it looms ominously over the chain of mountains.
The day is drawing to a close, however Garavel has shown no sign of stopping for camp. He expects to reach the group you are meeting with this evening and continues pressing on as the sun inches closer to the horizon.
Jahaira followed after her new employer with the grace and economy of movement of one well used to long days of desert travel, though it had been many years since she had last left the city. In truth, she thought he was slightly mental for insisting on travel during the day, but that wasn't the sort of thing one brought up with the man who was paying you. She was an odd enough addition to this expedition as it was, no sense calling even more attention to that fact.
She was an attractive woman. She knew that. She used it to her advantage. After all, it had been enough of a disadvantage already. People would gladly pay a lovely girl to dance or sing or simply tell fanciful tales. That was how she paid her way since she had been set free. Her clothing was practical for desert travel, but it also set off her trim figure to its best advantage. Her dark skin was as yet unmarked by scars. She had thus far striven to make herself ubiquitously useful, rushing to serve as needed lest any thought to question why such a seemingly delicate flower would be heading into the desert to fight gnolls.
Losk stomps one foot down, stoically after another, wordlessly fingering the ornate axe at his belt; As he has since mid morning. Over the past days you have come to know that this dwarf is as quick with a strange joke, and a good belly laugh, as he is to draw that axe over a slight. During the heat of the day though, he does nothing but wear a frown that would curdle a Dragon cow's milk. He speaks to no one, and trudges forward.
As evening progresses, and the dry heat abates, his footfalls become lighter, and after a slow while, he turns to the others; "Ya'd think the boy had hot coals beneath his feet, as well as the desert sand." not caring that their paymaster may hear...
The fierce halfling has spent the day as she has spent every previous one: silent and scowling at the horizon, as if she thought she could intimidate her goal into growing closer. When the group had first gathered in Solku, she had seemed tense and edgy, as though even such a small town was too much civilization for her, but once out in the wilderness, her nervousness had melted away, replaced by a confident, if unfriendly, watchfulness. Still, she spoke only when spoken to, and that only grudgingly. Distant, defensive, distrustful, she strides with a surprisingly swift step, tolerating the group's presence as she does the heat of the day and the stinging wind, as merely a given of the environment within which she finds herself, an environment she intends to conquer.
Now that they were out on the road Neskari's look of amusement and slight contempt at the city have been replaced by a face of tranquility and alertness. Where in the city he seems to constantly make an effort to not come in contact with anything, appearing at times like a rigid and caged cat, out in the natural surroundings of the land he visibly relaxes and his careful steps turn into a graceful stride as he takes in his companions.
Losk stomps one foot down, stoically after another, wordlessly fingering the ornate axe at his belt; As he has since mid morning. Over the past days you have come to know that this dwarf is as quick with a strange joke, and a good belly laugh, as he is to draw that axe over a slight. During the heat of the day though, he does nothing but wear a frown that would curdle a Dragon cow's milk. He speaks to no one, and trudges forward.
As evening progresses, and the dry heat abates, his footfalls become lighter, and after a slow while, he turns to the others; "Ya'd think the boy had hot coals beneath his feet, as well as the desert sand." not caring that their paymaster may hear...
Neskari turns a slight smile to the dwarf, "There is still yet plenty of light left to travel by and I'd imagine that he is determined to meet up with the rest of the group. If one cannot find safety in stealth then numbers is the next best option when dealing with gnolls."
Ato walked quietly. His head hung low to avert the sun from his eyes. He didn't mind the heat so much-'Least less than most folks he figured. He had worked for plenty of men- Cruel or not he was commonly in this very situation, trudging through the heat. If he cared, he never showed it-In fact he hardly spoke He was happy to be traveling without shackles on his feet.
Throughout the trip Ato has been quiet and respectful, his eyes commonly averted from those of any of the others he traveled with. He noticed them but thought it rude to stare-Even if the Badawi girl was worth staring at.When spoken to, He is happy to speak-displaying an unexpected grasp of his words and an unsurpassed politeness despite his rough exterior. He was a surprisingly pleasant half-orc, as it were.
If one cannot find safety in stealth then numbers is the next best option when dealing with gnolls."[/b]
"Numbers, a defensible position, and luck," she adds, gently correcting the elf. "Is there ought I can do to ease your spirit, good dwarf, to make the travel less burdensome to you?"
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Neskari turns a slight smile to the dwarf, "There is still yet plenty of light left to travel by and I'd imagine that he is determined to meet up with the rest of the group. If one cannot find safety in stealth then numbers is the next best option when dealing with gnolls."
"Aye man, that there is, and right ya are. A guess it's just the hastiness of his race that makes mi chuckle"
"Numbers, a defensible position, and luck," she adds, gently correcting the elf. "Is there ought I can do to ease your spirit, good dwarf, to make the travel less burdensome to you?"
"No offence missey. But no, I have burdens that I dwell on more than a should, but this trip should se to them."
"The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. Freedom and slavery are mental states." His deep voice carries loud, even against the stinging wind-No doubt warranting a glance from Galavel. "Many a men have owned the rights to my unpaid labor, but never have I been chained by my past, 'Least not for quite some time I believe Losk." He told the dwarf simply-Looking over his broad shoulders to give a gentle smile.
"The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. Freedom and slavery are mental states." His deep voice carries loud, even against the stinging wind-No doubt warranting a glance from Galavel. "Many a men have owned the rights to my unpaid labor, but never have I been chained by my past, 'Least not for quite some time I believe Losk." He told the dwarf simply-Looking over his broad shoulders to give a gentle smile.
"Ya donne know my folk, orc-man, if ya think that can apply t'me. Ma past'll make me stronger, because of the hurts it contained. I may dwell by day, but I look t'future too, and thas where am headed."
Smiling gently still Ato Shrugged complacently. "Right You are Losk, I don't know your folk. It was merely a word of advice, albeit it might have been misplaced." He shifted the weight of his meteor hammer slightly."Trust that I meant no slight Losk. I hope you'll forgive me for my boldness."
Jahaira shrugs. "It was a noble enough sentiment, Ato. Slightly incorrect, but I understand the idea."
"I am sorry there is nothing I can do to help you, Losk. I do not understand the ways of your people, it is true, but I am interested in learning and always willing to listen."
Her smile looks a little sad and distracted.
"Thanks Ma'am" Ato replied politely."But the statement hold's true enough for me." He remarked, giving a glance down upon his arms at the multiple slave brands which marred his ruddy skin and traced the newest one which claimed him as belonging to the state."To each their own I supose Jahaira."
"There are some places that one cannot get free from no matter the state of one's mind. They don't use brands in the harem, but trust me, there are no ways out."
Ato's smile is persistant." And that's why I said to each their own ma'am." Satisfied with this reply, he turns his attention ahead.
"Trust that I meant no slight Losk. I hope you'll forgive me for my boldness."
"Ah, ma green friend, it'll take a lot more an that to slight this dwarf! Am bein' a grumpy bugger an ah know it, ah'll be better once ah've had a good look at Kelmarane, and sliced me off some Gnoll Steaks. Ah do wish we could make some camp and get somethin' roastin' though."
"It won't be long now," Garavel remarks briefly over his shoulder. "We'll make it before it gets dark."
As the sun begins to disappear over the hills on the horizon, you are highly doubtful his prediction will prove correct. The red evening light spills over the landscape showing nothing indicating this stretch of hilly scrub is any different from the miles and miles behind you. Nonetheless, your party continues to follow the faint trail as it meanders and gradually climbs up through the hills.
"Gnolls. That is one thing I think we can all agree we need a few less of. They constantly seek to horde the desert mother's bounty for their own and exploit it for their ravenous appetites."
As the sun is just setting, it's last sliver bathing the landscape in a beautiful red light, the monotony of your journey is broken as your destination comes into view. As you traipse up the last hill, you can see a tall, barren tree up ahead.
"The Sultan's Claw,"announces Garavel as he continues leading the way. It is immediately obvious how it got it's name, with five immense, mostly leafless branches thrusting into the sky, the tree looks far more like some giant, skeletal talon than a thing of living wood. You can see the flicker of light from a fire lighting it from below and can hear the voices of you would guess ten or twenty people.
Moving further up the hill, you begin to sense that something is wrong. The fire appears much larger than you would expect from a simple campfire. The voices you can hear resolve themselves - it is not quiet, campside chatter but shouts and calls of alarm. Lifting his pace, Garavel grabs the lead camel and pulls it urgently up the hill.
"There's something wrong!"he calls over his shoulder. "Hurry!"
As the sun is just setting, it's last sliver bathing the landscape in a beautiful red light, the monotony of your journey is broken as your destination comes into view. As you traipse up the last hill, you can see a tall, barren tree up ahead.
"The Sultan's Claw,"announces Garavel as he continues leading the way. It is immediately obvious how it got it's name, with five immense, mostly leafless branches thrusting into the sky, the tree looks far more like some giant, skeletal talon than a thing of living wood. You can see the flicker of light from a fire lighting it from below and can hear the voices of you would guess ten or twenty people.
Moving further up the hill, you begin to sense that something is wrong. The fire appears much larger than you would expect from a simple campfire. The voices you can hear resolve themselves - it is not quiet, campside chatter but shouts and calls of alarm. Lifting his pace, Garavel grabs the lead camel and pulls it urgently up the hill.
"There's something wrong!"he calls over his shoulder. "Hurry!"
At the prospect of something finally happening after the monotonous journey, Nuveril's eyes light up. She clutches her weapons eagerly as she runs toward the commotion.
Jahaira draws her bow as she runs along with the others towards the alarm ahead.
Jahaira draws her bow as she runs along with the others towards the alarm ahead.
"Finally, a break in tha monotony." say Losk as he increases his pace and hefts his ancient war axe.
Silently, Ato's pace quickens as he unfurls the meteor hammer to it's full length, clutching it tightly with both hands as he kept up with Galavel.
As you crest the final hill, you see a scene of pandemonium before you. There are half a dozen covered wagons and a large tent clustered around the strange tree. There are a group of camels staked to the ground a short distance away, prancing in agitation. There are also a small herd of goats, sheep and pigs running amok through the campsite. The cause of the commotion is immediately apparent, one of the wagons is ablaze, huge gouts of flame billowing from it and threatening to spread to its neighbours.
There are perhaps a dozen people running through the campsite, either pursuing agitated animals or carrying buckets of water and running towards the burning wagon. There are two bodies laid out on the ground, with a tall, red headed man kneeling over them, apparently treating their wounds. A group of four burly, armored men are straining against the wagon closest to the inferno, straining to pull it clear and to prevent the fire from spreading.
As you arrive on the scene, the central flap of the tent flies open and a beautiful, regal woman strides out, shouting orders to the men as she takes in the scene of chaos. Turning towards you group, she addresses first Garavel and then the rest of you.
"Ah, Garavel - and just a moment later than the nick of time, as usual," she says before looking past him to the rest of you. "Don't just stand there gawking. Put your weapons away and find some way to help!" With that she runs over to a large, central wagon and begins to direct the fire-fighting efforts of a group of soldiers, madly ferrying buckets back and forth.
Jahaira stows her bow as directed and joins the bucket brigade, filling her bucket with sand to smother the fire.
As you arrive on the scene, the central flap of the tent flies open and a beautiful, regal woman strides out, shouting orders to the men as she takes in the scene of chaos. Turning towards you group, she addresses first Garavel and then the rest of you.
Knowledge Royalty and nobility1d20+7=25 Does Losk have any idea who she is?
"Ah, Garavel - and just a moment later than the nick of time, as usual," she says before looking past him to the rest of you. "Don't just stand there gawking. Put your weapons away and find some way to help!" With that she runs over to a large, central wagon and begins to direct the fire-fighting efforts of a group of soldiers, madly ferrying buckets back and forth.
Losk glances at the woman as he crests the hill, and without pasuing, stows the axe back on his belt, and continues on to help with the sand buckets.
Ato slings the chain back over his shoulders and moves to assist the men trying to move the closest wagon.
Neskari, seeing the fire, immediately moves forward to assist in putting it out without stopping to listen to the woman. As he nears the wagon he begins casting, calling on the power of the land to create a sheet of water that falls onto the flames.
Nuveril throws her weapons down on the ground. This enemy may not be one she can cut down with a blade, but it is an enemy to be fought, nonetheless. Abandoning herself to the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she joins the men pulling the second wagon away before the flames can spread.
Knowledge Royalty and nobility1d20+7=25 Does Losk have any idea who she is?
Losk:
As Losk and Jahaira join the attempt at extinguishing the fire, they receive a slight nod of approval from the noblewoman. Garavel joins the four soldiers who are already ferrying buckets from the central wagon's supply of water in an attempt to douse the growing flames. The four men are dressed in the distinctive red leather armor marking them as personal guards to the Pactmasters - the mysterious rulers of Katapesh. They work quietly and efficiently as they fight to contain the blaze.
Ato and Nuveril join a second group of mercenaries, two men and two women, as they strain against the neighbouring wagon. The four warriors assist the newcomers and gradually the wagon begins to roll clear, although it is still dangerously close to the raging fire engulfing its neighbour. The cries of panicked animals mingle with the shouts of the humans as a great gout of flame shoots up from the burning wagon.
As Neskari casts his spell, water appears miraculously over the wagon, dousing the canvas and inhibiting the spread somewhat. He can see that the wagon is brightly decorated with stars, crescent moons and arcane symbols, the gaudy paint blistering and peeling off in the heat of the blaze. At this stage it is impossible to see what's inside, there is a door, currently open, however the interior is full of flame and black smoke. You would guess that it is designed as a living quarters for one or possibly two people.
Knowledge Royalty and nobility1d20+7=25 Does Losk have any idea who she is?Losk:
** spoiler omitted **
Lost takes note of the woman, and her past, and mulls it for possible implications later....
Neskari will continue casting Create Water until the fires go out.
Jahaira grits her teeth, determined not to say anything. The elf at least seems capable of creating water in large quantities, so it's understandable that he would use it to put out the fire. But what kind of idiots use their water supply to put out a fire in the desert? When there's plenty of sand around that will do just as good a job? This does not bode well...
Nuveril throws her small body against the wagon's weight in an attempt to move it farther from the conflagration but loses her grip and falls awkwardly to the ground. Jumping up and cursing furiously, she spits, "What beast of burden is meant to pull this contraption, and why are we doing its job?"
Nuveril throws her small body against the wagon's weight in an attempt to move it farther from the conflagration but loses her grip and falls awkwardly to the ground. Jumping up and cursing furiously, she spits, "What beast of burden is meant to pull this contraption, and why are we doing its job?"
With a short laugh, one of the mercenaries flashes a grin down at Nuveril, offering his arm to help the halfling to her feet. "Best get used to that, stranger," he chuckles. "That's all some of us are to these people." With a flick of his head he indicates the camels staked out a short distance from the camp, tossing their heads and straining at the restraining ropes. "I doubt we'd be able to get them this close to the fire, to be honest."
Nuveril throws her small body against the wagon's weight in an attempt to move it farther from the conflagration but loses her grip and falls awkwardly to the ground. Jumping up and cursing furiously, she spits, "What beast of burden is meant to pull this contraption, and why are we doing its job?"With a short laugh, one of the mercenaries flashes a grin down at Nuveril, offering his arm to help the halfling to her feet. "Best get used to that, stranger," he chuckles. "That's all some of us are to these people." With a flick of his head he indicates the camels staked out a short distance from the camp, tossing their heads and straining at the restraining ropes. "I doubt we'd be able to get them this close to the fire, to be honest."
The furious halfling accepts the man's arm up. Uttering a constant stream of litanies under her breath on the subject of the ancestries, eternal destinations and mating habits of both the camels and the woman in charge, ending with the possibility of them all finding sexual enjoyment together, Nuveril returns to the task of moving the wagon.
As the bucket chain gathers pace, the fire begins to come under control. No doubt the wagon will never be used again, nonetheless, the flames are growing weaker as the constant efforts of the red-armored guards ferrying water from the supply wagon begin to bear fruit. Taking his cue from Jahaira and Losk, Garavel also begins gathering sand to douse the flames, the three of you sweltering under the intense heat. The whole time Neskari is murmurring incantations, directing sheets of water as needed when flames threaten to overwhelm the efforts of the others.
Ato and Nuveril, assisted by the mercenaries, gradually begin to get some purchase on the heavy wagon and it slowly begins to inch away from the conflagration. Once it begins rolling through the soil, it gradually picks up pace and is soon well clear of any danger.
Some sense of normality slowly returns to the camp as the immediate threat of a spreading fire passes. Gradually, the escaped animals are corralled and the last of the flames are extinguished. A pillar of thick smoke snakes up into the still night air as the wagon still smoulders and the camels, goats and other animals are somewhat jittery given the pervasive smell of smoke.
Seeing that things are under control, the noblewoman approaches your group, speaking so that everyone in the camp can hear. The four red-armored guards remain close to her, the other mercenaries are sitting and resting from their exertions. The red haired man you saw remains to one side, still tending the two wounded guards. Away from the rest of the group sit two middle aged commoners, a couple by the look, the woman sitting with her arm around the man's shoulders consoling him as he sits with head in his hands.
"Thank you for your efforts,"she begins. "My name is Almah of the house Raveshki. It was at my request that Garavel brought you here to aid in our efforts at retaking Kelmarane." Looking around at the still smouldering wagon, a slight frown crosses her face.
"However, it appears that events have conspired against us,"continues the noblewoman."We have lost a lot tonight and for no gain. Not a satisfactory way to conduct business. Garavel, I will leave it to you to discover what happened here. Be thorough and report to me as soon as you know what transpired and have a plan for how to address it." Turning once more to face you, she speaks clearly, ensuring the rest of the camp are clear as to her orders.
"You were nowhere near here when the blaze began," she continues. "That excludes you from any suspicion. I expect you to determine what occurred here. We face trouble enough from the residents of this valley without having to contend with an arsonist in our midst!" Having charged you with your task, Almah turns and heads back inside her tent, the four red-armored guards taking up positions outside as the mercenaries quietly murmur amongst themselves, looking over at you with dubious expressions. Garavel pulls you aside, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Well, this is not quite what you have been hired for," he confesses. "Nonetheless, I think your being here may bring certain advantages. You bring a fresh perspective - you have no preconceived ideas. I will leave the investigation to you. Be thorough, but fair. If there is someone sabotaging our mission, we need to know as soon as possible - however there's always the chance it was an accident..."
"The wagon belonged to Eloias, Almah's personal fortune teller," continues Garavel. "I can't imagine anyone wishing him any harm. Still, no preconceptions and all that... I'll leave you to your task. Let me know if anyone isnt cooperating."
Losk speaks in a quieter tone as the others disperse, hoping to just talk to the group of companions. "Well, a' least we got a thank-ee. As the sun is setting, and we have tha' last fire unner some control, I vote we make another, smaller un, and organise some food an ale for these people. They are much more likely to talk tha' way I'll bet"
Losk speaks in a quieter tone as the others disperse, hoping to just talk to the group of companions. "Well, a' least we got a thank-ee. As the sun is setting, and we have tha' last fire unner some control, I vote we make another, smaller un, and organise some food an ale for these people. They are much more likely to talk tha' way I'll bet"
"That is a wise suggestion Losk. The sharing of water will bind us all closer together and hopefully aid in learning the truth of the situation. I will see to the animals and quiet them down as their unease is likely feeding everyone's anxiety. Quieting them may help. We should also see to the wounded as they were likely closest to the wagon when the fire happened and speak with Eloias as well as it was his wagon."
"A fortune-teller?!" Nuveril exclaims in disgust. She subconciously brushes her hands down her sweat-streaked arms, as if she is afraid the smoke from the fire may have contaminated her. "No doubt the evil spirits with whom he consorts tried to burn his body and claim him as their own! Unless," she continues, "he is a charlatan, telling the pampered she-camel what she wants to hear in return for her patronage. He should have read his own fortune and foreseen his own fiery death," she concludes with a short laugh.
"It'll only be ther'own beer, an food, but it'll be warm, an u'll free um a job. ah'll go see to it."
With that, Losk wanders off to start rounding up food, firewood, and ale. Lots of ale.
"Did the accursed fool actually die in the fire, or did he escape?" Nuveril asks, glancing around her as if she expects the fortune teller to suddenly materialize over her shoulder.
Stoic, Ato stood observing the group, but once Losk formulated a plan, he smiled warmly."Let me help you with that Losk." He said as he set off to find firewood, food, and ale. Lots of ale.
Losk and Ato set to work collecting kindling and preparing a fire for the camp. The group has been waiting for you here for a couple of weeks whilst they scout the surrounding countryside, there is a neat stack of firewood beside a deeply dug firepit and a small cart nearby with provisions and all the requirements for feeding twenty or so. As they start restoring some semblance of order, the middle-aged couple come over and introduce themselves.
"Hello, we're Hadrah..." begins the woman
"...and Hadrod," interjects her husband, although it's not immediately clear which is which. "It was so lucky you arrived when you did, goodness me, that poor Eloiah..."
"Burned in his wagon, he did...awful thing, an absolutely..."
"...awful, awful thing," agrees her husband. As the two of them chatter to you, they begin setting to work preparing a meal, it is clear this is their domain and that they are well used to preparing food for this sized camp. "So where are you from? More mercenaries, I hear. And a dwarf! Begging your pardon Sir...But I've hardly ever seen one of your kind..."
"Hadrod!" chastises his wife with a scowl. "Mind your manners!...I do apologise, good sir, but he's hardly ever seen one of your kind..."
"That's what I was saying," complains her husband.
"...and you shouldnt have, it's rude,"
"But you said it!"
"Oh Hadrod! Just get to work on the stew would you?" looking towards the Ato and Losk with an apologetic smile as the two goatherders exchange rapid fire comments and questions, she leans towards you slightly. "Do forgive him. He's all aflutter with the excitement. We managed to track down most of the animals, but Rothbard...that's his favorite goat, been in the family for years you know, who'd have thought he'd wander off..."
"Did you tell them about Rothbard?" interrupts the man as he returns from the other side of the cart with a large side of meat, preparing to chop it up as Hadrah gets a pot of water boiling and starts assembling some vegetables. "He's been in the family for years, you know. No way he'd wander off..."
"Yes, Hadrod, I told them..." exclaims his wife with another exasperated expression. "You heard the Lady, they'll sort everything out...What were your names again? I don't remember."
"You haven't let them get a word in, that's why!" exclaims her husband.
"That is not true! We've been discussing the fire! That poor Eloiah!"
"I know, I know...awful thing. An awful..." begins Hadrod before once again being cut off by his wife
"...awful thing," concurs his wife, completing his sentence for him yet again.
The whole exchange has taken less than a minute, the two firing questions and comments back and forth as they chatter away to each other. While they speak, you can see the beginnings of a full meal taking shape. It's clear that the camp is well-stocked with provisions, especially given the extra food and supplies you and Garavel brought with you.
"Did the accursed fool actually die in the fire, or did he escape?" Nuveril asks, glancing around her as if she expects the fortune teller to suddenly materialize over her shoulder.
Moving over to the smoking remains of the wagon and peering in, Nuveril can see the the remains of the unlucky fortune teller, lying on the floor of his wagon. Most of the interior of the wagon has been completely destroyed, it appears it was a modest, yet comfortable retreat.
"That is a wise suggestion Losk. The sharing of water will bind us all closer together and hopefully aid in learning the truth of the situation. I will see to the animals and quiet them down as their unease is likely feeding everyone's anxiety. Quieting them may help. We should also see to the wounded as they were likely closest to the wagon when the fire happened and speak with Eloias as well as it was his wagon."
Hadrod and Hadrah have done a fine job of calming the animals. Although slightly jittery, they have returned to cropping what grass they can find, occasionally looking around nervously but no longer running amok through the campsite. Heading over to where the two wounded mercenaries lie, the red haired man stands and introduces himself.
"I am Father Zastoran, cleric of Nethys," he says inclining his head politely. "I have done what I can for these two, they were very near death. Kellien was trying to rescue Eloiah, but was overcome by the smoke. Trevvis only barely managed to pull her free of the wagon before he lost consciousness. We were very close to losing two more of our band tonight."
"Do you have any skill with healing?" he asks Neskari. "I will be able to do more for them tomorrow, however it might be best if we were to be as close to full strength as possible. You never know what may be out there in the darkness."