[WFRP] The Bloody Crown II

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

Reluctantly, Sieghard released his grip and gave their captive a small push forward. He had agreed to release the man when they left and didn't like losing their prisoner any sooner. He didn't trust Gautmar not to backstab them without that bit of leverage.

"There. Now treat his wounds."

[LCP]

Akela sniffed, and turned away. Fishing among the junk that seemed to clutter every surface inside the smoky hut, she produced a spool of thread and bone needle.

"Sit," she commanded Adelbert. Licking the end of the thread, she began to thread the needle. "Hold still."

Placing a hand on Baldred's arm, Gautmar turned towards the door. "A moment of your time, friend Baldred" he murmured.

Baldred nodded, and made the slightest motion in Sorin's direction. The tribesman followed them outside, along with Kashto.

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Heal check on Adelbert: (1d100)[46]
If successful, she restores 1 wound.
EDIT: She does.

Does anyone have any more business they want to carry out in Turnpike Hollow? If so, go ahead; if not, let me know and I can make a big post that advances things a fair way.

[Northern Lad]

Viggo Hirtzel

Viggo couldn't help but notice the irony and despite his best intentions he found himself muttering under his breath, "You lot set up an ambush with the intention of robbing us, fill us full of arrows, nearly kill Elsabeth and then say we must prove that we mean you no harm?" he shook his head ruefully.

Although he wasn't invited Viggo longed to escape the dim, smoke filled hut and so he took his opportunity and followed Sorin outside as he left.

[LCP]

Adelbert didn't feel much better, but Akela's stitches and a quickly-applied bandage seemed to have stopped the bleeding at least. Elsa too seemed to be breathing a little more steadily.

When they emerged from the hut, Baldred and Gautmar seemed to have made some kind of deal. Ludo saw the glint of coins changing hands – not too many – before their employer turned away.

“Sorin,” he said, “go down to the carts and get our water cask. You can refill it at the stream.” He pointed to Viggo. “Take that one with you, you'll need help carrying it when it's full. Halfling,” he said, looking at Ludo, “Gautmar here's agreed to slaughter one of his goats for our stores. Make sure they give us a fat one, not all skin and bones.”

Pausing, he looked at Adelbert. “You've got a promise to make good on,” he said. “Might need some help to carry that body up there, so you'll go with him,” he said, patting Sieghard on the shoulder. “Skender, Pepin and myself'll stay with the carts.” So that nothing gets stolen was the unspoken implication.

Parting with the villagers in uneasy silence, they set about their various tasks.

---

1
The crest of the ridge that separated Turnpike Hollow from the desert was windblown and dusty. The earth there was baked hard and dry as a bone, littered with gravel and loose stones. The shovel Adelbert had been given clinked as it dug only a few inches into its surface.

The body of the dead man lay behind him, staring sightlessly up at the sun. The blood that had streamed down over his face had dried into dark, crusty streaks, making the whites of his eyes stand out all the more starkly. It was him, Sieghard and the dead man on the top of the hill, and Sieghard seemed more concerned with rolling up the rope he had retrieved than with helping to dig. Akela had asked Adelbert, after all.

This was the village's graveyard. The graves were shallow affairs, covered over with mounds of grey stones to keep out the scavenging carrion birds. Two buzzards were already wheeling overhead, waiting patiently while Adelbert dug. The sun beat down on the back of his neck, and before the grave was even half dug he had exhausted the water in his skin. It was alright, he comforted himself. Sorin had been sent for more.

The scattered grave mounds were dominated by the stone obelisk he had seen from Akela's hut. Leaning at a precarious angle, it had been sandblasted by the wind until all fine detail was obliterated. Nonetheless, it had the hallmark of craftsmanship superior to any of the mud-brick hovels down below. Adelbert suspected it had not been made by Turnpike men. From the look of it, it might have been standing long before the village was ever built. There were the eroded traces of strange, vertically-arranged lines of characters on its eastward side, where it was most sheltered from the wind. At the very top, it had worn-down stubs of sculpture that were vaguely reminiscent of the ears and muzzle of a hound.

When the pit was deep enough to accommodate a body, Adelbert dragged the sorry corpse of Nahab into his dusty grave. Piling up stones to cover the man, he left the shovel leaning against a rock and headed back down the slope, dusty and exhausted. High above, the buzzards shrieked their displeasure.

---

1
The best part of the day had passed by the time Adelbert came trudging back down the slope. The carts were ready to leave, however: it was clear Baldred wasn't about to trust in Gautmar's hospitality.

Elsa was carried back down from Akela's hut between Sorin and Skender. She had been given water, and was now beginning to regain consciousness. Dumped unceremoniously onto the back of the second cart, she murmured something about duels.

Sieghard had got his rope, and the members of the party had not been challenged about their stolen bows. Perhaps the Turnpike men were willing to let it slide; perhaps they just had not got around to insisting on their return yet. Baldred wasn't about to give them a chance. With a crack of the reins, and a fearsome glower at the few scrawny souls watching them from the rocks, the caravan got under way.

“Well,” said Baldred. “That wasn't so bad.”

There was a long silence.

“Not great,” he said, “but not so bad. Still got all our cargo, after all.” He allowed himself the smallest smile of satisfaction. “And next time... well, next time maybe old Gautmar will think twice before he sends his boys to ambush us.”

~

That night they made camp in the shelter of a hummock at the edge of the waste, roasting the better parts of Gautmar's goat. Sorin and Skender took it in turns to keep a careful watch while the others ate, making sure no Turnpike men were creeping up from behind.

“See over there?” said Skender, chewing on a greasy bone. He was pointing east, where the sky was growing dark. There huge crags could be seen jutting up from the low hills around them, rocky faces burning orange and scarlet with the reflected sunset. “Those are the Giant's Teeth. Keep good watch after sunset, hey?” He laughed and clapped Viggo on the back, a little too hard. “Is goblins up there. And worse things, yes.” He grinned at Elsa, who by now was fully conscious once again. "Maybe they are smelling blood tonight."

As Viggo watched, the crags were slipping from view, fading into the dark.

OOC:

Spoiler

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Pausing here because there are a lot of places where people may want to make time-split responses. Once I have a go-ahead from everyone I will continue. I assume the order of watch is still the same.

Everyone receives 100XP for their adventures with Kelda & Gautmar. Elsa receives a bonus 50 for her magic show in the hills; Sieghard receives a bonus 100 for leading a very successful ambush party and subsequently intimidating Gautmar into backing down.

[-Sentinel-]

Leaving Turnpike Hollow

“And next time... well, next time maybe old Gautmar will think twice before he sends his boys to ambush us,” were the first words Elsa heard when she regained consciousness in the wagon.

"Uh. What?" Elsa sat upright, giving her bandaged hand a surprised look. "You mean we let them get away with it?" She blinked slowly. "What did I miss?"

She tried to flex her fingers. It sent a lance of pain up to her elbow, but at least there was movement.

---

1

At the camp

Elsa shrugged, unconcerned. "My master fought goblins in his youth. Says they're afraid of their own shadows."

Despite her pain and her weakness, she almost itched for another fight to make up for her poor contribution to the previous one. She reached for her bottle of brandy and took several gulps to dull the throbbing in her hand. After losing so much blood, it would not take all that much alcohol for her head to start spinning.

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

At Nahab's grave Adelbert whispered an old Reman shepards prayer to Morr he'd translated from the Classical. It seemed suitable to these bleak occasions.

The scribe felt mixed feelings. On the one hand he wasn't sorry he'd killed the young man - it had been pitched battle in which he had been gravely wounded, and Elsa nearly killed. On the other now that the ardour of battle had faded away he felt empty... triumph had vanished as easily as pity.

---

1

Exhausted, both mentally and physically Adelbert had little energy for conversation at the camp, though he did shoot the Giant's Teeth a wary glance before turning his attention back to his book. He'd memorised the marks on the strange monument in Turnpike Hollow and as they settled down he'd inked them down. He was a trained calligrapher and was reasonably certain he had the glyphs printed down correctly... even if any meaning eluded him.

With a sigh he wrote down 'Connection to Nahorek?' and 'Sculpture had hound like aspects' in the margins of journal, along with a crude drawing of the monument - he was alas no artist.

He waited for the ink to dry before closing his journal and turned to Viggo, smiling tiredly. "So any stories about goblin slaying to get us in the mood?"

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

(At the grave, before the digging is finished)

Sieghard tucked his rope back into his pack and looked down at the body.

"He the one who shot you? Or Elsa?"

---

1

(At the camp)

"Depends on how many of 'em there are. They're a bit braver when they have numbers. Not much, but a bit. Damn bastards always have numbers..."

Sieghard walked over to where Sorin and Skender were and pulled a wine bottle from his pack. He held the bottle out, offering it to the brothers.

"Got something to warm this in? It's yours if you like it."

Looking at Sorin specifically, he added.

"For what you did back on the rocks."

[Northern Lad]

Viggo Hirtzel

Leaving Turnpike Hollow

“And next time... well, next time maybe old Gautmar will think twice before he sends his boys to ambush us.”

"Now see here Baldred, I think it's only right you give me my twelve Schillings back now, don't you?" Viggo's voice raised in pitch, stopping just short of an outright whine. "You might not want to pay me for guarding your carts, but I don't want to pay for that privilege either. You might think I'm next to useless but I played my part back there, just ask Sieghard and Sorin."

---

1

Camp

Viggo did his best not to seem rattled at the mention of Goblins. Hopefully it was just Sorin teasing him, either way Viggo kept an eye on the distant crags until the night completely hid them from view.

"So any stories about goblin slaying to get us in the mood?"

"I know plenty," Viggo nodded and stroked his wisp of a moustache, preening slightly somewhat at being asked. "Used to scare my little brother half to death with this one!"

He launched into a gruesome tale which involved a heroic struggle to rescue a maiden from a band of savage Night Goblins. It ended badly for the young gallant, who ended up in the cooking pot beside his maiden fair. Only as he was finishing the tale with a vivid description of gnawing on bones complete with accompanying lip smacking did he realise that perhaps a story with a happier ending may have been more appropriate.

[LeSwordfish]

For most of the rest of the journey, Ludo trudged alongside the cart, keeping Stoutheart away from the goat carcass.

He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to arrive home mere weeks after leaving, with less money and nothing to show for it except a few more bruises. It would be nice to wander into town with a mercenary and a wizard, but it was hardly riding through with a wagon of gold and reclaimed artefacts of arcane power and mystery.

Later, while the group was camped, Ludo lifted Stoutheart onto his lap and scratched the small dog behind his ears.

I can't do this again, He thought. I can't run away from home again. When i get home, i'm staying there.

Stoutheart whined. Ludo knew how he felt.

[LCP]

Leaving Turnpike

"Now see here Baldred, I think it's only right you give me my twelve Schillings back now, don't you?" Viggo's voice raised in pitch, stopping just short of an outright whine. "You might not want to pay me for guarding your carts, but I don't want to pay for that privilege either. You might think I'm next to useless but I played my part back there, just ask Sieghard and Sorin."

Baldred treated Viggo to a deadpan stare.

“Fair enough,” he said at last. He looked back at Elsa. “But I'm not paying wages for an invalid to guard my goods. You can ride for free, but from here on neither of you takes any coin from me.”

---

1

Making Camp

Sorin made an appreciative face at Sieghard's offer of the wine. Rummaging in his pack, he produced a battered and none-too-clean-looking iron pot, in which the wine was soon simmering over their fire. It had a smoky, spicy taste that made Sieghard cough at first – but it was difficult to deny that it was good stuff. Between the three of them, they finished it quickly. With the brothers' tongues loosened, Sorin was soon singing Sieghard's praises, telling the story of their flawless ambush of the Turnpike men on their side of the road.

“Their faces!” he laughed. “Like frightened children. The jackals were wetting themselves!”

Soon enough, however, the cold of the desert night drowned the warmth of the wine. When Viggo had concluded his greenskin tale, the travellers retreated into their tents.

---

1

Elsa Only

Spoiler

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Elsa continued to have troubled dreams. The throbbing pain of her hand and the burning itch of the wise woman's salve kept her from sleeping deeply, but whenever she did manage to close her eyes, the images came swirling through her head like dust down a draughty corridor. There was fire, and heat, and the restless tramp of dead feet. Twice she woke to the sudden memory of the falling star, slicing its incandescent trail across the inside of her eyelids.

---

1

Konigstag, 13th Nachexen

They woke early the next day, and Baldred soon had them underway. Licking a finger, he held it up to test the wind. It was in the north.

“Let's get moving while this lasts,” he said. “We're not safe yet.”

The desert road lived up to its name. To the east, the Pale Waste stretched out, vast, featureless, and baking in the sun. Eddies of whitish sand blew across the road, getting into the travellers' eyes and mouths and making their clothes chafe.

“You drink from this cask only,” Baldred said early in the morning, thumping the one they had refilled in Turnpike, “and you go steady, understand me? The second cask is for emergencies.” He wouldn't say what those emergencies were.

Around noon, they came across a place where the dunes had shifted over the road. The mules struggled to pull the carts across the slipping sand, and soon the wheels were digging themselves a half-width deep. It took all their combined efforts to push the carts across, and by the time they had finished they were exhausted and parched. The sweat seemed to dry from their clothes as quickly as it soaked them, and the rations of water that Baldred doled out seemed miserably little.

The wind had been becoming feebler and more uncertain throughout the day, and Baldred tested it once or twice more as the afternoon wore on. He said nothing, but his face seemed worried, and he drove the mules faster. Looking for shelter, Viggo was reliably informed by Pepin.

It was when they crested the ridge of the next low rise that they saw it. Out on the western horizon, over the open waste of sand, the outlines of buildings could just be seen. Beneath them a great lake of silver-white water shone in the sunlight, its surface as still as a pond on a summer's day. Its banks seemed to ripple and change in the heat haze, not holding to any firm outline.

Pepin stared at the apparition, shading his eyes. “Quelle merveille...” he murmured under his breath.

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

Adelbert gasped in wonder at the sight - could this be linked with the strange obelisk he had noticed back in the village?

"Baldred, what town is that? Surely we are still far from Sermena." The scribe asked. He paused, then more thoughtfully: "Or is a ruin?"

[LCP]

"Nothing lives in the waste," said Baldred, giving the distant shapes a grim stare. "Sermena's south of here. Whatever that place is, it's long dead."

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

Adelbert blinked and looked back towards the ruins (as they now apparently were) fascinated. "Really? In that case perhaps we should visit it? I'd love to see if it the ruins belongs to the same civilisation that built the obelisk in Turnpike Hollow. It could help confirm my theory that Nahorek is a corrupted folk memory of some long forgotten deity."

[LCP]

Baldred looked at Adelbert as if he was mad.

"You see that?" he said, pointing out towards the ruins. "That's a desert. No tracks, no landmarks, no shade. Sandstorm blows up and the whole landscape can change overnight. Not that you'd notice, on account of being buried under a big pile of sand."

He leaned back over the front of the cart and rapped a knuckle against the second cask of water.

"I've got enough water here to get us to Sermena, and that's where I'm going. You want to go wandering off to die in the Waste, be my guest."

[-Sentinel-]

Leaving Turnpike

“But I'm not paying wages for an invalid to guard my goods. You can ride for free, but from here on neither of you takes any coin from me.”

Chafing at the word invalid, Elsa gave Baldred a sullen look. "I don't need my hand. My mind is my weapon." But she did not argue further - pleading was quite beneath her. She resolved to simply prove herself again.

---

1

13th Nachexen

Elsabeth did not take well to the desert. As a redhead, she needed to keep her hat on at all times to keep her skin from sunburning; a rather ironic weakness, really, given her vocation. Thankfully, she was rather more tolerant to the heat than most people, thanks to Aqshy's subtle changes on her body and mind over the years.

That day she felt more tired than ever, the combined results of heat, blood loss, a morning hangover and a horrible night. She did try to walk a few times, more out of pride than anything else, but she quickly gave up and ended up sitting on the wagons for the better part of the morning. Even that was exhausting.

She squinted at the dead city. "I can't imagine why anyone would settle here. Was this place always a desert?"

[LCP]

Baldred shrugged. "Maybe not," he said. "Who knows?"

"I hear no," said Skender, appearing at the side of the cart. Pulling himself up, he began refilling his water-skin; Baldred watched him carefully to make sure he took no more than the rationed amount. "You go to Morr's Seat, Wadim tell you all the old stories."

Dropping back down to the ground, he took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Nodding to himself, he waved the hand in the direction of the desert.

"Once, all was green. Then the great god Morr buried Nahorek here, after the dog turn against his master. Since then, nothing grow. Under the ground, Nahorek is drinking all the water."

Sorin spat at the mention of the name. Baldred raised an eyebrow at the waste of water.

"We done here?" he asked, impatience tingeing his voice. "Or are you old wives going to tell fairy stories 'til the sun goes down?"

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

Adelbert hesitated, aware he was treading on dangerous territory. "But in Alvarran I saw a shrine to Nahorek. There are those who worship him..."

[LCP]

Sorin spat again. Skender only shrugged.

"Different places, different stories. The sheep people pray for Nahorek not to take their children and old men. The edgelanders tell that if they make offerings, he will favour them when he returns from under the earth." He thumped his chest, over his heart. "In Raven Hills, we know he is daemon, and watch for his returning. To keep guard."

"Fancy way of saying you steal the odd sheep," said Pepin. Skender laughed. Sorin frowned.

"Do not mock, little mule man," Sorin said. "We do work of Morr."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

After leaving Turnpike, the journey had become miserable for Sieghard. His armor made the heat all the more unpleasant, yet he stubbornly refused to remove it.

The meager ration of water Baldred allowed them didn't help matters and Sieghard found himself greedily drinking from his own waterskins... Perhaps a bit more than was wise.

At first, Sieghard hasn't noticed the ruins. He had been too lost in his own thoughts (or more accurately, too busy trying to keep his mind off the damn heat). When Pepin drew his attention towards them, he stopped and stared hungrily at the "lake". He took a single step forward before stopping himself. Baldred knew the road. If there was water in the ruins, no doubt he'd have lead them to it. He contented himself with another drink from his waterskin.

"There are those who worship darker things as well. Doesn't mean you should go looking for them."

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo had seen the city on his way out of home. He'd confidently expected to plunder it before the year was out. He harrumphed, and pulled his hat down lower.

The heat was hitting him less hard than the others- it was, after all, not far from the town he had grown up in. Stoutheart was panting freely,and Ludo wished he had time to give the small dog some water.

"Under the ground, you could drink all the water." Ludo said absent-mindedly to him.

[-Sentinel-]

"We done here? Or are you old wives going to tell fairy stories 'til the sun goes down?"

"You know, we could do just that and travel by night," said Elsabeth with the utmost seriousness. "It'd save water."

Gods above, just how long has it been since that man last got laid? she thought, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. Not that she was one to talk when it came to that particular situation. She was, however, not yet desperate enough to try to solve both of their problems at once.


OOC - LCP only

Spoiler

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Now that I think about it, Elsa will use her Magical Sense (target 48) to see if she can get a general sense of which direction the comet fell. Is that a secret test?

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

Sieghard looked at Elsa for a moment and then turned to Baldred.

"It's not a bad idea. Ruins might offer some cover during the day and the going would be easier when the sun goes down."

[Northern Lad]

Viggo Hirtzel

Viggo found himself in an unusually glum frame of mind as they trekked along the desert road. It's the blandness of it all, he thought, that and all this damn sand!

The sand seemed to get everywhere, it was in his boots, in his shirt and inexplicably he thought some had snuck into his waterskin. It was the only explanation for how he could be thirsty straight after taking a swig that Viggo could imagine.

Viggo could not help but be a little awe struck as the city seemed to appear from a shimmering heat haze and he listened intently as the others discussed its possible history. As much as he was intrigued by the apparition of the city, he certainly did not fancy trudging off into the desert for a closer look.

"It's not a bad idea. Ruins might offer some cover during the day and the going would be easier when the sun goes down."

"Wouldn't traveling at night be dangerous?" Viggo mopped at his brow. "We could end up losing a wheel or worse losing the road. I imagine being lost in the desert at night is just as bad as being lost in it during the day?"

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

"I think I agree with Viggo." Adelbert said tiredly. Sweat was running off his brow freely and the nasty wound in his arm, though treated was still painful.

"Besides remember the goblins Viggo so wonderfully brought to life last night? I'd imagine they aren't quiet after dark."

[-Sentinel-]

"It's not a bad idea. Ruins might offer some cover during the day and the going would be easier when the sun goes down," suggested Adelbert.

Elsa shook her head. "Gods, no, not the ruins. They must be crawling with goblins, and it's the perfect place to get ambushed. I'm just thinking about a spot in the shade where we can keep an eye out."

"Besides remember the goblins Viggo so wonderfully brought to life last night? I'd imagine they aren't quiet after dark."

"All the more reason to be awake during the night, smart guy," snapped the pyromancer.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

Adelbert Sieghard shrugged.

"If there were any goblins in the ruins, chances are they'd have already seen us. We're not exactly hidden."

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

Adelbert bristled angrily at Elsa's tone and the needless insult. "I would have thought you of all people would have wanted to get to civilisation more quickly Frau Holt. And you weren't the only person injured either. Better to reach Last Water and then set out at our leisure with a proper expedition to search the ruins."

[Northern Lad]

Viggo Hirtzel

Viggo essayed a quick bow in Adelberts direction at the compliment, his smile was quickly replaced with a look of concern as Elsa and Sieghard began discussing Goblins once more.

"For the love of Sigmar!" he exclaimed. "If there are Goblins down there, lets not sit here arguing amongst ourselves until they decide to come see what we're about!" he paused to take a quick swig of water. "And lets not go trotting down there to ask if they mind us having a quick nap until the sun goes down either!"

Viggo blushed slightly at his outburst, must be the heat and all this blasted sand!, he thought. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap." He muttered sheepishly, glancing in Sieghards' direction.

[LCP]

Baldred was watching the dispute with an expression of increasing irritation on his face.

"Enough!" he shouted. "Gods' blood, do you lot ever do anything else but argue?"

He thumped the cart he was sitting on. "This is my cargo, and I say we do things my way. Any of you lot think you know better, you can make the trip on your own." He turned back to face forward with a grumpy scowl. "Now come on. We've still got ground to cover before nightfall."

A flaw in the wind sent a veil of dust whirling up over the crest of the rise. By the time it had settled, Baldred's mules were already plodding forwards once again.

OOC:

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I'm going to assume here that no-one is going to split off from Baldred, since he's taking the water with him. Correct me if I'm wrong.

~

That night, they made camp behind a line of exposed rocks that jutted up between the road and the desert. Working together, Sorin and Skender worked out a path to the top of one of the stubby pinnacles, providing a natural watchtower to keep guard over the low hills that surrounded them to the east.

By the time the sun went down, the mysterious ruins and their silver lake had disappeared completely from view. They were no longer so high up as they had been on the rise where they saw it first, but even from the top of Skender's rocky eyrie there was no sign of it. Perhaps it had been some trick of the light - or perhaps, as Sorin thought, it was the spirits of the desert trying to lure them to their deaths.

They set the watches the same as before. In this desolate wasteland, it was difficult to see what else was alive to threaten them - but Sieghard overheard Baldred and the brothers talking of orcs in the hills. That was certainly more worrying than goblins or vengeful Turnpike men.

Elsa Only

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Once again, Elsa had bad dreams. She was hunting the black dog through the streets of a ruined city. Time and again she would see its tail flicking around a corner, only for it to vanish from view. She chased it through silent alleyways and through broken arches, never quite sure whether the ruins around her were the ones she had seen in the desert or the familiar streets of Altdorf.

At last, she ran it to ground in a dead-end alleyway. It turned to face her, and it was only then that she realised quite how large the animal was. It opened its slavering jaws, and she tried to back away - but behind her, the way was blocked. The dead men were there, whispering in ghastly, dry voices. In front of her, the hound stalked closer.

Before her eyes, the flesh began to slough from its head, its neck, its shoulders. The decay ran down its body, fur and skin and meat falling away in grey chunks, until all that remained was a grinning skeleton - and the red coals that burned in the empty sockets of its eyes...

---

1

Angestag, 14th Nachexen

The party woke to a high-pitched howling, like an animal trapped at the bottom of a well. Looking up, they could see great billows of whitish sand sweeping through the rocks that sheltered them, the wind keening as it blew.

"Well, bollocks," said Baldred, with a resigned sort of air. "Alright, get this stowed," he said, gesturing to the camp. "And make sure the goods are covered. We don't the sand getting in."

Once they were ready, they set out into the storm. The sand whipped their cheeks and stung their eyes, chafing their skin raw. Shallow dunes had shifted across the road, fouling the wheels of the carts and making the mules bray and struggle for footing. At no time was it possible to see more than fifty yards or so down the road.

"Don't worry!" Viggo heard Pepin shout to him, over the hoarse howling of the wind. It was difficult to make out the wagon-driver's words - he'd wrapped a scrap of cloth over his mouth to keep the sand out of it. "It gets much worse than this!"

Sure enough, this sandstorm didn't seem to have much spirit. By the afternoon, the wind had slackened; by nightfall it had died away completely. Sand still drizzling from their clothes when they moved, the party found a sheltered hollow and made camp once again.

Elsa Only

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That night, Elsa's dreams didn't seem quite so bad. Her sleep was still troubled, but if the dead were still haunting her, they stayed in the ground.

---

1

Festag, 15th Nachexen

The next day, the sun shone down brightly out of a clear sky. Without the murky haze of airborne sand, a line of taller hills were clearly visible to the south. Baldred lost no time in getting the caravan moving in their direction. It was a good thing too - the first cask of water was pretty much gone.

It was around noon that the road began to change. No longer crawling along the sand-blasted ege of the Waste, it instead began to zig-zag up into the hills. These hills were different, too. Higher and greener than the arid badlands that stretched out to the east, they had slopes of mineral soil streaked with ochre and black. Jagged black rocks crowned their highest points, where the wind had stripped the surrounding earth away.

It was a hard uphill slog, but a rewarding one. After a few hours, Skender shouted that he had found a stream. It was little more than a trickle, but it was enough for them all to drink deeply nonetheless.

Reaching the crest of the hills was more rewarding still. There the road ran between two great rocks - and stretched out ahead of them, in all its glory, was the crater landscape of Last Water. Green fields and orchards seemed to shine in the sun, the tiny outlines of houses visible far below.

They began their descent, and left the great white plain of the desert behind.

---

1

Wellentag, 16th Nachexen

It was early the next day that they came into the village of Sermena. It looked rather more prosperous than any of the villages they had seen on their journey south. This was the last day of winter, and men and women in broad-brimmed hats were already setting to work ploughing the rich black soil of their eastern fields.

To the west, the hills - lower here than where the party had made their crossing - shielded the village from the Waste. A spider's web of timber scaffolds had grown up over their eastern face, where the village's iron mine sunk its tunnels into the rock. Odd dwellings surrounded it, little round doors peeking out of the earth like the burrows of some strange animal. If it were not for the volcanic landscape and the southern climate, Adelbert could almost have thought he was in the Moot.

"Alright," said Baldred, calling a temporary halt just outside the village. "We're here,"

Clambering over the back of the cart, he unlocked a sturdy chest and began counting out coins.

"Your pay," he said, "as we agreed. You might be a troublesome lot, but you did what you were asked, and you made a decent job of it. For the most part."

Once the pay had been distributed, he looked around at their grimy, sand-blasted faces.

"I've got a fair bit to sell here, and a fair bit to buy. Then I'm headed on to Isolici and Mirino. They say Sforza's wife has him wrapped around her little finger, and fine ladies love to buy fine things." He smiled, and looked around the faces of his erstwhile guards. "You're welcome to follow with me, but these roads are safe as you can ask in these parts. I don't need any more guards than Sorin and Skender here - so there'll be no pay in it for you. Just the pleasure of our company." He shrugged. "'Course, if your business is in Sermena, then this is where we part."

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

Adelbert was grateful to recieve his pay. The scribe looked a great deal more travelworn than he had before. Nevertheless he managed to smile at Baldred.

"I think I for one would like to spend a little time recovering from the road and I think Elsa at least could probably do with another look from a local healer. Still, perhaps we could meet again in Mirino - what day do you think you'll reach there?"