[4E] Ages of Athas

Backstory:

"Is it true? Kalak dead? Slaves freed? Magic wild in the streets? Doubtful, but we’ll know soon enough."
—Shahin, wandering hermit

As far as most Athasians are concerned, Tyr has always existed. Certainly it has endured through the entire Desert Age, and even with the fall of its sorcerer-king, it seems likely to endure for centuries to come. And throughout all the long years of its existence, it was a city-state enslaved.

That has all changed.

In the courts of the other city-states, rumors of King Kalak’s overthrow are only whispered, but in Tyr, the repercussions howl through the streets. Many scheme to succeed Kalak, and the templars and other power groups vying for control struggle to keep the city-state from disintegrating into anarchy at the hands of people eager to enjoy their freedom. Nobles and merchants clamor for influence, and commoners and freed slaves openly celebrate, challenging civic authority and social boundaries at every turn.

You find yourself in Tyr during this time of unprecedented rebellion and turmoil.

Huren - [Tyr - Palace]

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"So, this informant of yours says that Hamanu is on the move?" The speaker's voice has a light rasp to it, as if the edges were wearing due to exhaustion. "Is this the same informant who talks of a 'broy-house hero' who seems to think there's no fight he can't drink his way out of?" The speaker waits for a response, then stands up from his desk. "Rikus, you know I love you, and I know that you are trying to take hold of this . . . " the man gestures at the empty air "situation that has unfolded over the past year, but I can't take the word of this informant over what my own men have told me."

The man identified as Rikus cracks his battle-scarred knuckles then runs his hand over his smooth pate. "Very well your grace, I'll see about getting more reliable information for you. In the meantime, you want me to see about getting someone embedded with House Stel? It might be our best bet at striking back at Urik."

"As cliche as that sounds, you are right. See if we can get some of our people, Calder, perhaps, and a few others, into the caravan heading to Alturak. Hell, grab that drunk if you can find him. House Stel has lost a lot of money from Tyr due to the slave trade, so they shouldn't say no to a few gold tossed their way for travellers."

From his position in the shadows, Huren reaches out with his mind and gently shuts the side door. His mind's eye saw the entire scene unfold - apparently Rikus and Tithian had plans to infiltrate Urik and Rikus was going to be putting some insiders together - priceless information. Huren brokered in information, however, and knew quite well how much this was worth.

Calder - [Tyr - Arena]

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With a whirl of skirt and a stab of a trident, the crowds once again erupt in cheer and applause. Calder stops a moment to catch his breath - his flame-red hair glinting in the sunlight. The energy of the crowd surges around him as they are whipped into a frenzy by the violence of the circus before them. Calder's opponent, a thri-kreen wielding a spear in each pair of arms, staggers slightly then lurches forward into a charge.

A glint of mirror light catches Calder's eye from the stands. A mul - one well known to this arena - stands there with a grim look on his face. Once he sees that he's caught Calder's eye, he gestures with a curt nod of his head toward the exit. Calder casually sidesteps the lunging thri-kreen then smacks the edge of his shield against the back of the creature's head, knocking him to the ground, unconscious.

Calder glances over his shoulder to where the ex-gladiator stood in the stands, but sees that he is gone. Scanning the crowd once again, he breaks into a raucus grin and caws loudly, much to their delight. He raises his trident over his head and walks out of the arena to a chorus of cheers.

Rikus is waiting for him at the exit. "Calder, it's been too long." The mul and the half-elf exchange grips. "Tithian hopes you've got a mind for something more dangerous and exciting than the arena life. What do you say?"

Van - [Tyr - Golden Inix]

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"Another? You haven't paid for the last one yet." the bartender says, eyeing the scruffy man at the end of the bar. "Going to drink himself half-blind that fool is," the bartender mutters to nobody in particular. One of the other patrons chuckles, then slides two copper coins across the bar, "From what I hear he's already half-blind."

The bartender harumphs, then looks down, "You covering him? This more than pays for your drink." Nodding, the patron grabs the mug of broy in his hand and sidles down the bar toward the drunk. "Alright, this one's on me. But you better be as good as they say. Van, is it? I've got a proposition for you. We are in need of someone with your set of skills - both in drinking and fighting. Up for a little life outside these walls?"

Damakos - [Tyr - Devyn's Desertwear]

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"So, you are travelling to Altaruk and are in need of some supplies?" the lovely human behind the counter winked at Damakos, who was idly fingering some horn-heeled boots. "Altaruk is nice this time of year. You should find refreshment there." Nodding Damakos continues to peruse the woman's wares. "Might I suggest a kandura? It will help wick away the sweat and keep you cool. Well, as cool as possible." The woman gives Damakos a knowing look, then appears to busy herself restocking inventory on the opposite side of the store.

As Damakos lifts up the kandura, he notices a small scale token wedged deep inside. Two crossed scimitars have been etched on the stone. On the reverse is the symbol of a full sun.

Eveve - [Tyr - Elven Market]

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Though several feet shorter than most of the other denizens of the Elven Market, Eveve finds herself quite at home among the poor, destitute and needy. Though she had wandered much of the tablelands with her People, the past twenty years had brought her to places she had never before imagined. Despite all that, she was here, in Tyr, in the Elven Market, channeling her inner Vistani to haggle down the price of some dried herbs and a ssuran tail. Though it was necessary work, she tired of it, and ached to get back on the road again.

While tending to the scrapes of a small Elven child, Eveve overheard some of the other children talking about a great caravan heading toward Urik by way of Altaruk. Her eyes opened wide at this, as caravans are always in need of a skilled healer. Plus, this would give her the opportunity to stretch her legs and, quite possibly commune with Athas some more. Things had been strange since Kalak's supposed - as if the balance of power had shifted, quite literally.

With the boy patched up, Eveve soon found her way out of the Warrens and back toward the familiar sight of the city gates.

Lazam - [Tyr - Merchant District]

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Oresta looks you over and chuckles, "Urga-Zoltapl sent you himself, did he?" The human's brown skin contrasts against the white fabric of her sleeveless dress. "House Stel does not require, nor allow, supervision of our shipments. I suppose we could make an exception, however. We have a caravan leaving for Urik this afternoon, by way of Altaruk. Just steer clear of Raheil - he's handy with a whip."

Lazam's eyes do not betray him as he grimaces beneath his filter mask and headscarves. The diminutive man bows, giving his thanks, before heading back toward the city gates. You would do well not to be so bold. Athas is harsh, but she is also patient. We need you to work on patience. There is plenty of time for Urik's downfall. From the corner of his eye, Lazam sees an ethereal figure fade back out of existence.

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All - [Tyr - City Gates]

Crates upon crates are stacked outside the city gates, all marked with the crossed black scimitars of House Stel. Two large mekillots impatiently stamp at the ground, their tower-like wagons making them into fortresses on wheels. Here you can see a dozen of House Stel's guards and merchants, along with Submatron Ixesti herself. Ixesti's second-in-command, a grim-looking half-giant, cracks his whip across the backs of a few workers who are busy loading up the carts with various trade goods and supplies.

His whip does not discriminate, and more than one traveller is suddenly lashed into action loading crates as well. He continues to scan the crowd for slackers, and you have just caught his attention.

Eveve Cranescap -- gates of Tyr

The short woman in Vistani dress turns without hurry, saying to the runty kank behind her, "Stay!" Without delay it flops down gracelessly, apparently glad to let its saddlebags' weight rest on the ground. Eveve turns back toward the caravan and takes a place in the pack of people hefting boxes and bags. She grabs a box from a mul who was about to be hit with the lash again, sparing him but making the huge overseer glare suspiciously. His annoyance quickly simmers down as Eveve continues working with a good eye for the flow of the process.

After a hot quarter-hour, she returns to the laden kank and slaps her thigh in a signal to it. The small beast resumes its burden awkwardly, one leg slipping in the gritty dust underfoot, then follows her to the overseer. "I'm a physician and a warrior," Eveve tells the half-giant in a hard, rocky voice. "Who do I see about hiring on?"

All - [Tyr - City Gates]

"Miserable little thing you've got there." The half-giant remarks upon Eveve's approach. "I could take care of him for you if you want. Skrrrrkk" he gestures crudely, drawing his thumb across his neck. "No? Fine. Healer heh? Sure, we could always use one. Cost is 1 gold piece - none of that filthy Free-State kank-dung either. Honest Slaver's Gold - Kalak's gold that is." Raheil extends his hand in anticipation.

It's at this point that Eveve realizes just how much larger Raheil is - perhaps twice her height and easily double her bulk. His imposing figure actually grants her some shade, surprisingly.

"We're heading out in about 20 minutes, or as soon as these damn slaves can load the crates. You move when we move, and we aren't stopping for your midget legs or that miserable pile of kankflesh either." he says, gesturing at the creature with his whip.

Shifting his attention back to the other travellers milling about, he barks some orders and cracks his whip again, clearly having moved on to other things.

Lazam

Lazam watches as the figure fades, grumbling for a brief moment with a smug smile. "And here I thought I was patient....I'm not a babe no more and yet I thirst." Taking stock of his situation and the caravan he was to accompany, Lazam thought to himself "And be damned, but I was starting to enjoy some shade....she wasn't kidding when she said I must yearn for what I already had."

Taking stock to avoid Raheil, Lazam tries to look busy and aids some others in gathering boxes while prying for more information. Survival was always done best in numbers.

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How roll happy are we going to be in this? If so, trying a Street Wise check [roll0].

edit: Haha, talk about a great start :smallbiggrin:

Damakos - [Tyr - City Gates]

The tall, strapping Tiefling wrapped himself tight in his desert clothing. He had lived for many years out in the wastes and knew full well that protection was the most important factor in survival out there. The rust-colored skin of the tiefling contrasted with the dull browns and tans of his desert gear. His horns were tall and manly but not overbearingly so. He twisted a small scale token in his hand. The Human had given this token to him for a reason and - eventually - he would have to use it. However, for now, he would let the token rest in his pocket. Damakos watched the Whipper use his instrument of torture on the workers with disgust. Such vile and reprehensible behavior, and thrust upon those who are by all rights free. The Tiefling winced as he saw the short woman try to protect a worker. Such reckless behavior would not serve her well in the wasteland. Better to remain in the background and survive than live in the foreground and die. Damakos, growing tired of seeing "so-called heroes" and so quietly helped a few Muls load boxes. He had a mission and it was not served by acting with reckless abandon.

Huren

Huren knows he's taking a big risk. City bred, he'd only heard rumours of how bad it was outside the walls, and now he was venturing into the heart of hell, or so he'd heard.

He doesn't really know the first thing about survival out there, and so looks around at the others to see if anyone has the look of an experienced desert travellor.

Van

Golden Inix

"Need to get a job..." The old man at the bar mumbles to himself as the barkeep starts asking for money. As it so happens, though, there seemed to be a kind patron within the bar. Naturally, Van looks up from his empty mug to the stranger with suspicion, right up until the man begins talking business. Van had been in the trade a while. The only types of people who bought you drinks were either those that wanted to get you drunk and rob you blind when you passed out or those that wanted to hire you for a pittance of what they'd have to pay when you were sober. Thieves the both of them, but one didn't try to kill you. At least, they might not try until the job was done. With some interest he nods his head, signaling the man to go on with his

Gates of Tyr (Sometime later...)

"Shoulda stayed at the bar..." Van mumbles to himself, though there is no bartender or kind patron to over hear him this time. He had been wearing simple rough spun clothing at the bar, which had mostly been stained, so the contrast with his appearance now was startling. His hair was still a mess to be sure, and there appeared to be some crumbs in his scraggly beard, but the gear he had on him was quite impressive. He was already a large and sturdy man, standing at 6'4 with broad shoulders, but now he was a large, armed man in heavy armor. Two long swords in old leather scabbards, one worn favorably on his hip and the other strapped to a large heavy sack hung over his shoulder, sand colored scale armor covered by a light cloak obviously meant to help protect him from the sun, and a matching carapace shield spoke volumes of what kind of man he was. The scars filled in the gaps the heavy armor and weaponry did not. He was a dangerous man.

Unfortunately, it was a hot day on Argus. It was always a hot day, of course, but today seemed especially torturous for Van. All the weaponry and armor made him look impressive but it did little to protect him from the discomforts of the world. He was used to such things, to the point where it would take a lot more to push his limits, but that didn't mean he liked it.

So Van not only looked dangerous, but he looked annoyed. When the half-giants eyes find him, Vans glare leaves no room to the imagination what might happen if the man brought his whip down on the mercenary. One eye, a deep blue oddly reminiscent of a pool of water (which few people have ever actually seen) is joined by a white eye with a wicked scar running through it, to the point where a third of his face was disfigured by the injury. Both eyes stare down the half giant without fear, daring the slave driver to try and warning him of the consequences at the same time.

OOC

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Intimidate [roll0]

Huren

Noticing the Vistani woman, and the fact that she has already procured a place for herself in the caravan, Huren approaches her, doing his best to avoid the attention of the half-giant with the whip.

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Stealth: +10

"Pardon, m'lady," he says to Eveve, "I have business in Altaruk, but have never been outside of Tyr before. You have the look of an experienced traveller. I would accompany you, if you'll allow, to increase my chances of reaching my destination safely. I can pay my own way, and hopefully have sufficient provision to last the trip. It is the road itself upon which my concern lies. In return I can offer some conversation and comradery on the journey."

Huren's filter mask is low enough to make it obvious that he is not human, and a close look would make his githzerai nature apparent. Once he is certain that Eveve has noticed this, he raises the mask higher to hide his features, glancing around to be certain nobody else noticed his reveal.

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Perception: +10

All - [Tyr - City Gates]

Raheil surveys the loading area, watching with glee as the slaves scurry with each crack of his whip. With Eveve on board as their healer (costing her 1 gp in the process), he focuses his attention on more important things, like bellowing and lashing the slaves. As his glare comes to rest on Van, the half-giant pauses for a moment, smirks, nods his head, and continues to scan the ragtag group of misfits accompanying House Stel on this journey.

As the scene unfolds before him, Huren finds that there are about 7 others who have apparently booked travel with the caravan. The flame-haired half-elf and the stinking drunk human he recognized from the descriptions that Tithian gave to Rikus. There are a couple of thri-kreen, animatedly clicking back and forth, no doubt discussing something important. There is a tiefling and a halfling, each well-dressed for the desert but obviously trying to remain nondescript and blend in with the crowd. And then there's the silly woman getting in the half-giant's way.

Huren's brief conversation with the woman reveals only one thing - that they both prefer their race of origin to be kept somewhat private. He notices that she's shorter and stockier than most humans, and that her hair is just a little too clean to be natural. On the other hand, Eveve's trained healer's eyes notice that Huren is just a shade past what is considered jaundiced, and that his yellow-green skin is probably an indication that he is not human either.

Either way, the members of the caravan size each other up in turn and come to the conclusion that none of them are as horrible as Raheil and his whip. Just then, the last of the crates is loaded on to the mekillot carts and Raheil shouts out orders to the outriders - a half-dozen crodlu-mounted humans with wicked looking obsidian spears. The outriders take a formation, three on either side of the mekillots, and with another shout the caravan lurches forward.

Raheil and Submatron Ixesti ride with the other merchants and household staff inside the rolling fortress, free from the oppressive glare of the sun. Slaves and the party (and Eveve's kank) walk alongside and behind the fortress and the outriders begin to fan out - two always staying close while the other four make large looping patrols hundreds of feet off of the main caravan body.

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Here's a picture to give you an idea. The two creatures are mekillots, and Ixesti, Raheil and the others merchants are inside. You all run/walk along outside.

http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r...c/mekillot.jpg

Eveve

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Originally Posted by Shular

"Pardon, m'lady, I have business in Altaruk, but have never been outside of Tyr before. You have the look of an experienced traveller. I would accompany you, if you'll allow, to increase my chances of reaching my destination safely. I can pay my own way, and hopefully have sufficient provision to last the trip. It is the road itself upon which my concern lies. In return I can offer some conversation and comradery on the journey."

Huren's filter mask is low enough to make it obvious that he is not human, and a close look would make his githzerai nature apparent. Once he is certain that Eveve has noticed this, he raises the mask higher to hide his features, glancing around to be certain nobody else noticed his reveal.

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"Not my place to say, friend, but I suspect your coin is as valuable as any here. The lasher has the authority to take it, though I advise you not to accept the 'hard time' he'll give you in return. As for myself, yes, I'd enjoy having someone to chat with. The leagues are shorter that way. My name is Eveve ... family name Cranescap, for the color of the mystical bird. My mother's mother is Vistani, and when I hear she has died, I'll tattoo my scalp red as I take up her tradition."

As the mekillots bawl and the fortress begins to creak forward, Eveve points toward Van and says, "That one might also enjoy some conversation. He's called Van the Scarred. I've heard a dozen heroic tales of his exploits; perhaps he'd be willing to swap a few more over a meal. The others I don't know, though I believe I saw the horned one" -- she gestures toward Damakos -- "in a rebel stronghold shortly after Kalak's fall. I was called to treat two wounded fighters there. The light was poor, but I remember the mental might behind the face I saw there."

As the caravan wends further away from Tyr's gates, Huren suddenly becomes aware of another presence not far behind him. A mul-sized crystal, dull pink in color with a ring of grey-brown stone clinging to its nether half, is floating silently in the air behind Eveve, matching her speed. He notes that it casts no shadow and gets the impression that Eveve is aware of the presence without being bothered by it. He's struck by the idea that the rock is somehow kin to her.

Damakos of the Wastes

The Tiefling uses his staff as a walking stick as he treads over the loose gravel and sand. Demakos couldn't help but admire the ingenuity of the wealthy - they always found a way to put the burden of transportation on anything but their own two feet. The mekillots were to be admired, large, proud, plodding creatures. Perfect for hauling large loads, and egos. The rust-colored Tiefling speedily walked along side the behemoth of a fortress, occasionally finding fleeting relief in its shallow shadow. The wanderer looked around and spied several people rushing out along the windswept plain, obviously scouting and patrolling. Such fools, thought the Tiefling, there were too many dangers in the wasteland to risk moving so far away from the behemoth.

Lazam

Lazam strides along with the rest of the caravan - taking care to keep pace and stay close to the mekillots....he knew all to well how a peaceful situation would suddenly become life-threatening and these monstrosities of the desert were great creatures to have around in a bad situation (well, assuming they didn't crush you in their wake). Taking care to keep his own eyes out and survey the others, he doesn't speak unless spoken too - habits of his defensive nature but compounded by being surrounded by Urik supporters.

Calder

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Originally Posted by Meltheim

Calder - [Tyr - Arena]

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With a whirl of skirt and a stab of a trident, the crowds once again erupt in cheer and applause. Calder stops a moment to catch his breath - his flame-red hair glinting in the sunlight. The energy of the crowd surges around him as they are whipped into a frenzy by the violence of the circus before them. Calder's opponent, a thri-kreen wielding a spear in each pair of arms, staggers slightly then lurches forward into a charge.

A glint of mirror light catches Calder's eye from the stands. A mul - one well known to this arena - stands there with a grim look on his face. Once he sees that he's caught Calder's eye, he gestures with a curt nod of his head toward the exit. Calder casually sidesteps the lunging thri-kreen then smacks the edge of his shield against the back of the creature's head, knocking him to the ground, unconscious.

Calder glances over his shoulder to where the ex-gladiator stood in the stands, but sees that he is gone. Scanning the crowd once again, he breaks into a raucus grin and caws loudly, much to their delight. He raises his trident over his head and walks out of the arena to a chorus of cheers.

Rikus is waiting for him at the exit. "Calder, it's been too long." The mul and the half-elf exchange grips. "Tithian hopes you've got a mind for something more dangerous and exciting than the arena life. What do you say?"

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"You know I tried working with Tithian and the Templars, playing their political games. But I'd rather try and fight another sorcerer-king then go back to those bickering committees!" Emphasizing his point, Calder trusts at the air with his spear. The slightly goofy grin on his face, at the absurdity of the thought, disappears as he sees the serious look on Rikus's face. In a serious tone, he questions "Wait, what does Tithian want me to do?"

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Originally Posted by Meltheim

All - [Tyr - City Gates]

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Either way, the members of the caravan size each other up in turn and come to the conclusion that none of them are as horrible as Raheil and his whip. Just then, the last of the crates is loaded on to the mekillot carts and Raheil shouts out orders to the outriders - a half-dozen crodlu-mounted humans with wicked looking obsidian spears. The outriders take a formation, three on either side of the mekillots, and with another shout the caravan lurches forward.

Raheil and Submatron Ixesti ride with the other merchants and household staff inside the rolling fortress, free from the oppressive glare of the sun. Slaves and the party (and Eveve's kank) walk alongside and behind the fortress and the outriders begin to fan out - two always staying close while the other four make large looping patrols hundreds of feet off of the main caravan body.

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Hood up and scarf wrapped around his head, Calder's red hair and tattoos remain visible as the wind blows his protective gear around. The loose sand-colored robes he wears presses against his body, and parts of it seems a little oddly angular, but the blowing wind keeps everyone more focused on their own concerns than the exact silhouette of a stranger. He bears a large pack against his back, but it doesn't seem to weigh on him like on would expect. having taken several blows from the whip, he seemed to ignore them more than anything, continuing to help load the caravan.

Seeing the scouts take their position, he begins to run along with them. Calder reaches out his hand, and his trident lifts off the ground and flies to his palm. He steps quickly in the sand, clearly used to physical activity under the sun. He runs as close to the mekillots as he can without arousing suspicion, using the movement of the scouts to let himself be herded closer and closer. Scanning caravan, he looks for holes in the perimeter, and any weak points in the wheel assemblage of the mobile tower.

He also watches the man he assumes to be Van, having already made himself known to the Raheil. A pair of unknown caravaners seemed to be working together, but didn't appear to be a threat. Calder was trying to keep his eyes open for everything he could. This mission did not afford him the safety of the arena. Danger could come from everywhere. He had survived this long, and he intended to live much longer.

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Insight [roll0]

All - [Tablelands - Road to Crossroads]

Calder's unfamiliarity with caravan politics and overland travel is obvious as he fails to glean more than the most basic understanding of the relationships between all those involved in the caravan.

However, he does draw the attention of the two Thri-Kreen who have no problems travelling across the dirt and gravel that makes up much of the hardscape of the Tablelands. One of them chitters at the other, then turns to Calder, "Gladiator? We saw you fight last week. Very good." the creature chitters in an almost alien voice. "I am Ke'chak and this is Tka'cha."

Calder

He nods as he runs, "It's always good to meet some fans. I appreciate getting a chance to meet those that enjoy watching me work. What brings the two of you out this way?" He tries to make small talk, hoping that these Thri-Kreen might be more forthcoming with information. Having spared his last combatant may come in handy. Calder had long ago learned the benefits of having defeated enemies still alive as long as they weren't humiliated or revenge prone. And unlike many, he had realized that one's race had less to do with the quality of one's personal strength than past experiences.

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Diplomacy [roll0]

Eveve

A short distance farther on, Eveve adds in a murmur to Huren, "If you've the trick of mind-speech, I don't mind being the only one talking out loud. I know it saves some water in the body to keep one's mouth closed. And the less House Stel water you drink, the less they'll resent you as the trip wears on."

All - [Tablelands - Road to Crossroads]

Calder has some difficulty with the speech of the two Thri-Kreen, but after a few minutes he acclimates well enough to learn that they are emissaries from the Kreen Khanates of the Crimson Savanna, and that they were dispatched to reach out to this new ruler of Tyr. The two kreen also teach Calder some of their language, providing him with terms such as haazi (the fabled kreen 'khan of khans' who will unite all kreen under one khanate), as well as the names Jhol, T'Keetch and J'kez (the most influencial khanates of the Crimson Savanna).

After a while, the kreen's discussion devolves into more and more of their own language, then eventually goes completely silent as it becomes apparent to Calder that they are communicating entirely psionically.

The caravan slowly churns through the miles, and after 6 hours of relentless heat the group stops for a few minutes to give the mekillots a brief respite. Raheil hops down from his spot inside the fortress and begins barking orders at the slaves to unpack some of the provisions for a midday meal. His whip remains coiled at his hip, but everyone understands by now that the half-giant is easily provoked, and would not hesitate to lash those who moved too slowly or otherwise gave Raheil reason.

While the meager provisions are being doled out, Eveve appraises the group that has made this journey. She decides easily enough that, other than the two Thri-Kreen, everyone else here clearly has some hidden motives for coming. She knows from her travels that, while Altaruk is nice enough, it is not so nice to leave Tyr. Altaruk, the fortress of the desert, is primarily a fortified town with a market at the center - a drop point for traders who seek refuge from the onslaught of elves, kreen and worse.

Given the entirely alien nature of the Thri-Kreen, the rest of the party finds themselves naturally gravitating toward one another, away from the Kreen, the slaves, and House Stel.

Lazam

As the group gathers together, Lazam takes a moment to survey the others. Overly cautious in a strange environment, it would likely be wise to remain silent...but as impatient as he is and uncomfortable in the desert, he speaks without much thought. Sometimes...patience makes you die alone. "As a watcher of people, it is clear that intentions vary among us. Some hide while others flaunt these signals....but in the desert and this damnable heat, that means little compared to the basics." Realizing he's really stepped forward, Lazam fights the urge to fade back once again and says the boldest thing he has ever said to strangers. "My name is Lazam and I wouldn't mind some company before I shrivel in this sun." Strained beyond words at this public display, Lazam lets out a long sigh...and surprisingly that one breath of air felt refreshingly cold. Lazam smiles as he pulls forth a small waterskin to drink from (hiding his face while he sees if he's just made the biggest mistake of his life).

Eveve

Taking down her dust-mask so that Lazam can see her smiling, Eveve says "You're brave to confront the distrust all the races have for each other. More than races; my own Vistani clan pushed me away for not being paranoid enough toward those I met, and the clan is a mixed bag of races itself." She lifts her wig and scarf, revealing a dwarf's rough and bare scalp, lightly shining with sweat trapped under the headgear.

"My name is Eveve. I'm a healer, a fighter, sometimes a messenger. I've been traveling this region for a long time. Tyr has quieted down enough that I felt it was time to bring my medicines elsewhere. I also rounded up some posts and packages and messages for people in Altaruk ... enough work to pay for my water, I expect."

Jerking a thumb at the insectoid squatted behind her, mindlessly flexing its mandibles, she adds, "That one is H'Ghimpel'la'sahkthn * ... 'Gimp' for short, fittingly. The rock hasn't bothered to tell me a name yet." Floating serenely about fifteen feet off the ground is a chunk of stone and crystal that looks illusory or somehow not-quite-there. Appearing to sense interest, it shivers for a moment, ethereal pebbles falling from the underside but vanishing before they hit the ground.


* If you speak Elvish:

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The name means "why haven't we killed this one yet?".

Huren

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Originally Posted by Dimers

Eveve

A short distance farther on, Eveve adds in a murmur to Huren, "If you've the trick of mind-speech, I don't mind being the only one talking out loud. I know it saves some water in the body to keep one's mouth closed. And the less House Stel water you drink, the less they'll resent you as the trip wears on."

---

Huren raises an eyebrow in amusement. <I suspect they'll appreciate less noise as well,> he thinks at her.

When the other travellors gather, Huren introduces himself. "I am Huren. I am also involved in the delivering of messages. I suppose," he continues, nodding to Lazam, "that I am one of those who would rather hide his signals."

Calder

Having learned everything he could from the insectoids, Calder makes his way over to the small group of wanders that had gathered. He arrives just in time to hear the name of the kank, he smirks, recalling a time when he bore that nickname. Seeing how they are avoiding the main caravan, and they were being rather liberal with information, he decided that sharing some of his own may be advantageous. "Ya'll can call me Calder." He takes a liberal swig from a water skin he made from a beast he slew in the arena, but subtly uses his tongue to stem the flow of water so only a little of the precious liquid reaches his throat.

"I take it you all have your own reasons for leaving Tyr. Personally, I haven't had a good fight since dear ol' Kalak found himself on the wrong end of that spear. I trust the House of Stel to make for another city with all haste, and as long as they don't try to recruit me again, I see them as my best ticket to a real fight.

Then again, I'm sure I'd get a good fight should they try to recruit me know..."

Van

Van looks at the circle of free thinkers, feral desert people, bloodied warriors and spies (probably) before deciding it honestly didn't matter what they knew about him. "I'm Van. I'm here for coin." He takes a sip of one of the water skins he has on him, only to those who know the smells far to strong to be water. Then he takes a sip from a second water skin, and this time there is no smell to go with it. The others introductions don't raise any questions from him, though he looks at Calder for a moment more then necessary before glancing away.

"In a fight, it doesn't matter where we're from or why we're here. We watch each others backs. If not, and I survive, I'll kill whoever doesn't." The words weren't boastful, nor were they intended to be a threat. It was a warning. A simple, plain warning spoken with honesty. The harshest kind of honesty, sure, but honesty nonetheless.

Eveve

Eveve answers Van's frankness with some of her own. "D'you include the thri-kreen in your grouping, Scarred One?" She neither raises her voice to be heard by the mantis-men nor whispers for privacy.

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Just a general gauge of how well Eveve masks her feelings -- Bluff [roll0] compared to Van's passive Insight of 12.

It's not immediately clear whether the Vistani woman would prefer to exclude or welcome the kreen herself.

Van

"I include everyone in this caravan in that grouping, save the guy paying me for obvious reasons. From now until we're out of the desert, our survival depends on each other. If I can't trust my back to anyone, then they're worse then useless." Van doesn't bother hiding the fact that he could give two craps about race. He's speaking as if he's seen the desert and has been in groups like this many times before. If anyone in the group knows a few of the stories about him, it probably seems to them that he's more then willing to carry out on his promise if someone proves untrustworthy.

All - [Tablelands - Road to Crossroads]

"BAROOOOOOOOOOOOOM" comes from the distance, over one of the sand dunes. "BAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOM" is heard again, from the same direction. "BAROOOOOO-" sounds a third time, but cut off, as if the hornblower were stopped.

From the same direction, northeast of the caravan, the party hears a rumbling and a great war cry. The mekillots begin to stamp their feet and snort, while the merchants and Submatron Ixesti move toward the center of their fortress.

Three of the other scouts wheel on their war crodlu and head in the direction of the noise while two stay close to the caravan. Raheil cracks his whip and the slaves move to form a perimeter around the caravan, clearly intending to use their bodies as shields.

The half-giant looks toward where the party squats down, conversing, and shouts at them to take up formation and prepare for an assault.

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Combat - Round 1

Eveve

"Let the watching of backs begin," says Eveve wryly. She pulls up her filter mask, moves a large shield from her back to her left arm, then hefts her black-dyed alhulak. "Remember to keep an eye on the other side in case this is a diversion. AIIEEEE!" She charges toward the presumed battlefront, protective bony plates rattling under her robe. Her movement aims to put her between the horn's sound and the free caravaners, thri-kreen included.

Although the floating crystal drifts silently over Eveve as she runs, the runt kank just flops down where it is, feelers tense with anxiety.

Huren

Huren reluctantly follows Eveve. As he moves, he looks for some place suitable for concealment. Once found, he does his best to hide, using his sensing eye to keep track of what is going on.

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Stealth skill +10
Sensing Eye: Can determine line of sight from a sqpace within 5 squares of him.

Calder

He turns to the sounds of the trumpet call, the buckles on his pack unclipping and collapsing to the ground. His shirt ruffles as the bag embeds itself in the sand, and as Calder reaches his right arm behind him, a heavy shield, made from a giant scale from a beast he had killed in the arena, lifts from the ground and latches itself to his right arm.

He takes of in a sprint, trident held firmly in his left hand as he yells, "Well Van, you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. I'm getting that fight I wanted." He shouts over the the Thri-Kreen as he takes his position front and center, scanning the dune-ridges for signs of attack. "Hey Ke'chak! Tka'cha! How would you like a chance to fight alongside your favorite gladiator, eh?" He girds himself for combat in the sand, stance wide, shield before him, trident in a reverse grip with sharp tips pointing forward.

Lazam

With a loud sigh, Lazam quickly huddles next to Huren and gets ready for an assault. Removing his filter mask and pulling back his hood, Lazam reveals a wild display of grey hair....an odd color for such a young halfling. "Don't worry, I'm not foolish enough to jump out there until we know whats out there." Lazam gives a calming smile, a relaxing gesture despite knowing well that the unknowns of Athas could be life threatening. "I'll cover the east and south, keep an eye out." Laughing to himself at that terrible joke, Lazam uses his sensing eye as well to see as well he can a perimeter.