Niamh steps close as Satabus is helped up, concern all her hard work will be for naught. Her face shows it as she watches them manhandle the seriously wounded man. "Careful," she said, in warning but it came out essentially as a command.

It appeared this was happening, as Marduke's query got the prince moving and giving them a direction. She took in a deep breath and let out a heavy exhale as she thought about what this might entail. Dark spirits were troublesome in the best of circumstances, this was hardly ideal. "Let us prepare," she said, glancing at the others.

She looked at the Satabus and Neferet, giving a quick glance to Marcian before her eyes landed back on the pair. Her lips were pressed tight. "You understand that this could destroy us all. You barely survived, and the things you spoke of rended an asshuri squad with little effort. We have our lives in this moment. We risk everything for this Amunet," she said to them, her voice and expression was somber...solemn. "This beyond your wealth. This is our very souls at stake," she went on.

"And all of this with the Shemite forces still looking for you and the remnants of your forces," she finished. Ensuring these people understood the depth of the task and the risks involved.

Once they acknowledged her, she went to assist in preparing for the task at hand.

Satabus' pained eyes are downcast as he hears the words of the Pict.

"These events I cannot change," Satabus nods weakly, "I have only we here to meet the need.  I have faced battle without qualm and do not fear to draw my blade against these terrors to secure Amunet...but I am no fool.  Pride in ignoring these wounds would kill my love as surely as the demons will.  In this I am useless..."

It seems to Naimh that this is a condition the prince of Khoraja is unused to dealing with.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:43, Sat 04 Apr 2020.

Niahm struggles briefly with the iron collar, not wishing to disrupt Syssiah's words, but it quickly become apparent that the lock has somehow clicked closed.  The bouncing of the horses?  For now it makes little difference.  It seems the princess must bear the chains of bondage a while longer until they can be struck from her or the lock picked.

"Amends? Marcian scoffs, "After your harsh rebuke of my prince?"

Neferet's own eyes narrow at this further verbal attack, "A princess of Zamora?" she wonders aloud, not mention the name the capitol is called by most, Zamora the Accursed, but it is there between the words, "I have never been to the land, nor the city which bears its name, but have met once with a delegation of King Jaagir and recall none so scantly clad."

While the Khorajan's do not feel their legitimacy of nobility is in question they seems to find Syssiah's claims...suspect at this moment.

"I am unclear how I have affronted you," Satabus slowly shakes his head, "new-met as we are but if you are at all familiar with gentry then a soldier's defense of his lord should be expected.  Mistrust of those same lords...that may be understandable.  Still I have little else to offer at the moment and your companions appear willing to accept.  You may decide not to, as you will, but my offer stands."

"If indeed you are as you claim, Zamora is but a few days ride from Khoraja, and I can see you safely returned should that be your wish.  If not, if there is another boon I can repay your help with, I will do so.  But if none of this is to your liking then I do not think we have more to say, dark gods or no."

Satabus demands no apology nor offers any in return.

This message was last edited by the GM at 15:27, Sat 04 Apr 2020.

Marduke grunts out  He then proceeds to scout ahead, tracking the creatures to their lair.


15:39, Today: Marduke the Red rolled 4 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,1,2.  Tracking 14-.

15:38, Today: Marduke the Red rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,1,4.  Perception 13-.


12:28, Today: Marduke the Red rolled 13 using 3d6 with rolls of 2,5,6.  Perception 13-.

12:28, Today: Marduke the Red rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,1,3.  Tracking 14-.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Sun 05 Apr 2020.

As the Vanir ranges forward, following the scratches and impressions left but the creates of this place, the rest prepare to follow.

Tiberio gathers kindling and small branches from nearby bramble, enough for 2 torches.  Perhaps some of the alcohol found earlier might serve as fuel to preserve the wood as it burns?

The Khorajan's converse together, Satabus' voice raises in protest, as does Marcian's but Neferet's own remains level.  In the end Satabus unbuckles his sword and hands it to the princess who loops the too large belt over her shoulder.  "I will join you in the search for my sister," she states simply to all, a warning glance back should either of the Khorajan men offer further complaint.

"We will keep the horses and any supplies you choose to leave," Marcian nods, the concern for Neferet thick in his voice.

"And the asshuri you spoke of," Satabus adds, "Should they manage to track us here we will do as we may to draw them away from you.  They would ransom me, this time I shall let them if it means you are able to find Amunet and return her to Khoraja."

If you wish to leave any of your meager belongings here, now is the time.

If any have instruction for Marcian and Satabus, give it before you follow Marduke

Please ensure you know what items your characters carry with them for that is all you will have available unless more is found.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:26, Sat 04 Apr 2020.

Niamh gave the prince a nod at his response. "There really is nothing more to be said, then," she replied, her words heavy.

Niamh looked at Syssiah with frustration with the disguise actually becoming truly binding and her continued jabs at the newcomers. "Syssiah, please. Unless you have a personal vendetta from before with these people, let it go. The ones that would have done you harm are the Asshuri or these dark spirits. That is not on these people," she said, leaning in close so only the Zamoran woman could hear.

Niamh trimmed down to her weapons, her meager healing supplies, some cordage, a water skin, and a small bag of figs...it was enough. The small pile of spares weapons and additional food, water, and wine lay next to the rest that were being left by the others.

Never a slave, again, she thought, a small prayer to the good spirits she hoped might yet be in this cursed place.

She gave Neferet a nod at her desire to go. Even giving the woman a small smile for her pluck. It also linked her party to theirs and they would be less likely to abandon them.

She went to the animals and gave each a gentle touch. She then started working her way between her companions, checking the relatively minor injuries and ensuring they would not be troublesome. She eventually found herself standing before the prince. She gave him a nod and checked at her work. "We will find what's become of her and bring her back if we can," she said calmly and quietly to the prince.

She shifted enough to include Marcian. "We will try to be back in a day. Do not linger for more than two even if you think you are able. Give us a route by which you think we could find you after, in case you have to leave before we return," she said, shrugging slightly to adjust her weapon harness.

The horse master laid down all but a flask with Marcian. The figs, the hard biscuits, apples.

Collection of materials and the wrapping preparation created two torch like bundles.

Tiberio approaches the Zamoran. The language is still new, haltingly spoken, yet better than it was even two days ago.

"We will need light, likely we descend to dark places, we may track until night. I need you to carry torches, light them when needed and allow others the advantage of having light guide them. Can you do this?"

With the others nearing readiness, Tiberio joins to follow the Vanir as he tracks the quarry.

Tiberio does turn his attention, after the torches, before talking to Syssiah, to the fallen asshuri he takes about 15 minutes, looking over the bodies, opening pouches looking, shifting, discarding objects that do not interest him.

After that search he takes up two asshuri scimitars and a steel cap.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:08, Mon 06 Apr 2020.

Chang Jun sat quietly contemplating things as the others spoke. There were numerous dark creatures that infested the world and the princess's fate was dire. He looked over the small amount of items he carried, weapons, armor, a full wineskin and some small amount of food stuffs, nothing that would slow him down or be cumbersome.

Standing he moved forward to join Marduke as the big man looked over the tracks.

Once all are ready to depart, please describe how you will proceed into the ruins.

Fast?  Slow?
Together or spread out?
Anything else you think might be useful.

Also, please include 2 PER rolls

Tiberio suggests this positioning. With Chang Jun and Tiberio switching Front and rear watch every 10 minutes.


                          Marduke                             Marduke


                          Tiberio                            Chang Jun
                                                               Niamh
                   Niamh  Syssiah  Neferet                    Syssiah
                                                              Neferet
                         Chang Jun
                                                              Tiberio

The pace is set by Marduke as he tracks


12:18, Today: Tiberio rolled 11,11 using 3d6,3d6 with rolls of 3,5,3,4,3,4.
PER 1, 11  12-
PER 2, 11  12-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:14, Mon 06 Apr 2020.

If any come close enough, Marduke says

Marduke starts joggingas he has the pattern of his quarry now.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Sun 05 Apr 2020.

Niamh takes her spot within the group, to the left of the center element, or right behind Tiberio or Chang Jun, depending on who is lead, if they have to get into a line. Marduke set the pace with his tracking as she kept her eyes and ears and nose peeled.

19:46, Today: Niamh rolled 12,7 using 3d6,3d6 with rolls of 4,4,4,4,2,1.  Perception 12-.

OOC : 13:55, Today: Syssiah rolled 10 (with 3 body) using 3 with the Hero (Champions) system.  Percpetion roll 12-.

13:55, Today: Syssiah rolled 8 (with 2 body) using 3 with the Hero (Champions) system.  Percpetion roll 12-.

Chang Jun either quietly followed Marduke or brought up the rear of the group, which had its own pleasant views. But he did his best to keep his eyes scanning the ruins for any sin of trouble.

OOC: 09:02, Today: Chang Jun rolled 13,6 using 3d6,3d6 with rolls of 5,2,6,1,3,2.  PER roll 11-.

Tiberio hands over a dagger, hilt towards the Zamoran, yet his grip does not relinquish it, until the Zamoran looks to see why it is she cannot take it.

"I do not find favorable 'surprises,' when we are facing creatures of the Dark, in an unknown ruin, with a limited number against unknown numbers.

Play time is over.  If you have something to tell me, say it now."

Then was the dagger released, but the horse master's attention was kept directly on the  Zamoran, more, the eyes looked for any sign of something of substance beyond the weapon of.. helplessness.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:20, Mon 06 Apr 2020.

The words, however softly spoken, confirm more of a strange history of the Zamoran, going farther back than just the Red Piit.

Tiberio was left to wonder at any connection here in the desert of Shem, a ruin of antiquity, and anything familiar to the Zamoran.. is it possible?

Now his mind is left to wonder how that troubling history could have forced the Zamoran to adopt certain... attitudes.

"Good, let us hope that there is nothing to know. Mitra bless us with enemies that can be affected by steel.

In case this might prove useful, take it and use it as best you are able, if the time comes."

The horse master hands over a small flask, any inspection will reveal it to hold simple, if only noxious, flammable liquor.

Satisfied with her answer, the time came to allow Marduke to set to th e task of tracking.

You leave the wounded prince and his loyal man-at-arms.  The last you see of them they are packing the items on the horses and preparing to move.  Marcian intends to head North to the edge of the ruins and away from the path he expects the asshuri to approach.

The Vanir drives you forward, his path sure as he casually checks the markings of your quarry from time to time and is rewarded to find it as he expects.  His loping jog begins to eat away at the distance and Marduke feels certain that although the demons are some hours ahead of you your speed is greater.  It wears on many, Neferet maintains well but eventually she calls for a slackening of the pace.  So alternating, jog, walk, jog, walk, you descend deeper and deeper into the black skeletal remains of this long forgotten city.

It much have been grand once.  Is it spoken of in legend?  Perhaps sages of Eastern Shem might tell you it was once called Zuhal-Sar.  But even if any recalled the stories of this cursed place, they would not know, could not know, what had become of its people.  Abandoned this land because of...drought or plague or...or simply died out, surely.  Why else would such a metropolis be abandoned...

The ruins thicken; black hewed stone blocks stark against the red sand.  Upright, heavily weathered columns or partially collapsed walls more defined, better preserved than where you first entered.  The carnal stench wafts to your nostrils time and again.  The sun is low when you halt for rest against a mostly intact building; Marduke announces the trail leads within.  Here again is the odor of death but also...a low sound.  Insects?  Rodents?  It is faint but seems to come from several directions around you.

As you each fan out trying to locate the source of the noise, Syssiah is drawn into the building.  It is an open shell, the wooden walls long collapsed and rotted, but still retains part of its ceiling.  There upon the floor, toward the back, lies a darker pitch, a jagged hole leading into the earth.  It was once some reservoir, but now it is a passage away from the light of day, evoking a primal and almost tangible sense of dread at what must lie beneath.  And echoing from inside the darkness is that shallow groan, muffled as if from a distance, with the chittering Prince Satabus described in his recount of the attack of the demons.  Though the Zamoran princess does not believe the sounds are close, and hopefully then neither are any of the demons, there is no knowing what horrors could be waiting in the lightless depths.  The maw seems to exhale rancid odor of corpses.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:50, Wed 08 Apr 2020.

The large red-haired barbarian comes up behind the pleasure slave and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. In his broken Kothic he struggles to say  It is clear he is concerned with her safety. Marduke gathers short pieces of wood from the walls for makeshift torches and waits for the others to join him.

Niamh took Syssiah's warning, her eyes narrowing slightly. Was not this woman a noble from her own country? Perhaps that was why she suspected how these would act, but did it not also mean that she could not trust her? Her lips were tight as she searched the achingly beautiful Zamoran's eyes. She finally just nodded.

The warning still stood. As it was, she was having difficulty trusting anyone. Her companions given fair status from shared struggle and conflict, but people changed as their conditions did. Who knew how long their odd group might stay together if their situation altered significantly? She hated that this was how she thought, now. Her experiences even showing flaws in her own culture and with certain people from her past, specifically. Things would not be the same, even if she made it home.

Which as their current task loomed, seemed less and less likely...

They finished their preparations, her eyes on her companions. Her old habit of looking after the welfare of her people on display as she seemed to constantly check their status. Her eyes lingered on Syssiah and Neferet, a different kind of concern for both.

The move through the ruins was...uncomfortable. She had been exposed to enough civilization that cities were not unknown to her, but they were not her first place to be in if allowed to choose. Had this one just lay in ruins, it would not have been as bad. Instead, this one lay like a decaying corpse, the walls of the remaining structures like the bones of a man beaten to death. The heavy stench and dark spirit of an atrocity as yet unavenged lingering.

It only grew worse as they went deeper into the remnants of the city...towards the center of decay and cloying death and residual torment. She felt it in her skin like a layer of tarry oil...clinging and heavy. She idly wondered just how long before she would feel clean if she managed to survive this. It seemed she went from one disturbing experience to another since being taken from her home.

When they discovered that dark cavern, the sounds simultaneously calling to them and warning them, she glanced at the Zamoran girl. Her eyes drawn to her words. In Niamh's mind, their distance was irrelevent except in how long it would be until they were upon the sinister grumblings, chitterings, and moans. That was their goal, after all. They had Amunet and their way out of here. She prayed that if she failed that her spirit would, at least, be free and not become part of this...this darkness.

She closed her eyes and pressed two fingers against her forehead, heart, and loins. Finished, she shrugs against her small bit of gear and watches the Vanir engage Syssiah. "She is no delicate flower, Marduke," she said to the massive man. "And she may have knowledge we need. If she chooses to come, let her," she went on. It was not said challegingly, but more just a statement of fact.

The ruins were far more extensive than Chang Jun had first suspected. He had heard legends of ancients cities in Khitai that had been lost for ages hidden in the jungle. Many of which whispered of darker things.

As the entered the mostly intact structure he stopped and spoke a quiet prayer to his gods. The sounds coming from the portal made his skin crawl and prodded at the part of his being that said run, flee this place. But he stood with his companions, "Everyone should bear a torch if possible and stick close to one another."

The horse master begins to tear into the rotted wood, pulling pieces and forming as large  a pile as he could make, banked, stacked into a pyre formation.

"We should all take cloth, cover the nose and mouth. Even if we all carry torches, time will come,  weapons need be used.

This should be our anchor. We build it as high as we can and light it. If we become separated or overwhelmed, fall back to this.

Everyone who is here has a part. Carrying flame, may prove as vital as steel."

Marduke glances at Syssiah, mostly comprehending Niamh's tone, if not her words. The Zamoran beauty was no brave Aesir warrior-woman, but it did take a type of bravery to take up the chains of enslavement so soon after escaping the Pit, even if she was effecting a disguise. He found himself surprised that this soft, civilized woman had a core of steel as strong as his blade, and a willingness to brave the dark unknown to rescue another. Securing Amunet's return was but a step towards the northman's goals, and he felt a strange warmth towards these strangers willing to face evil at his side.

Neferet's wordless gaze upon the open maw carries the dread all feel yet the same determination to carry forward if it meant the rescue of her sister.  Seeing Tiberio attempt to gather wood for more torches the Stygian noblewoman attempts to assist but the passing centuries have rendered the ancient timbers brittle and they turn to dust.

In this delay a new decision is forced upon all.

A woman's scream cuts the stillness of the city.  Niamh and Chang spring to one side of the shell of a building, looking out and slightly uphill in the path which the cyclopean ruins of the black city follow.  Neferet's own eyes grow wide, "Amunet!" she cries for there is no doubt that she does recognize her own sister's voice.  Hope springs full upon her face to know that her sister lives!

The Khitai and Pict are certain that the cry came from above ground.   As Amunet was carried into the earth here somewhere away she has been brought to the surface once more.  There is a surge of hope in all, could it be possible to find your quarry without need of travel through the nightmare darkness?

Almost as if in answer to Amunet's distant cry, the clear peal of a horn echoes across the ruins.  It is none too close....but not far either.  Neferet mumbles a silent curse bemoaning, "The asshuri have arrived."

Upon this precipice then your path forward must be chosen.  To brave the passage through darkness down which Amunet was taken?  Or remain above as the day nears its end and try to find the noblewoman amid the ruins while avoiding an unknown number of Shemite hunters?  In either case, the denizens of nightmare who haunt these ruins will be a gnawing threat.

You must choose.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:53, Thu 09 Apr 2020.

Niamh, was frustrated with the delay, but understanding the need for more torches.

She looked to Syssiah, as she seemed to know far more about their quarry. Cocking her head at her brazen confidence. The woman truly had a heart of iron. She had never seen such before where a woman would want to be in chains and taken roughly, but she was just as comfortable there as she was leading a group of disparate warriors on a chase to save a princess.

When the cry shot out, she visibly relaxed. Perhaps they would not have to go into the dark cavern, after all. "She is above ground," she said, excitedly, but her only just loud enough for their group to hear. She cocked her head slightly, closing her eyes, sorting out the faint echoes. "In that direction," she added, pointing and looking.

Then the sound of a distant horn echoed through and she grew more visibly frustrated. "We can hope their presence will be more attractive to these dark spirits than our own," she offered, trying to find something positive in the presence of more asshuri. "I prefer we stay out of the pit," she finished, her look of disdain for it unhidden.