Asher continues to race towards the horses, tethered out of sight and distant from the gnolls.  Aidrin and Perrato, wounded and aching, continue to stamp out and smother the small grass fire that threatens the fallen bodies of their companions.  Garryn, and then Caylin, join them, and soon there is a line of blackened stems and scorched earth that provides a firebreak--and keeps the fire from spreading further to the east.  Asher arrives soon after, leading a string of slightly skittish horses.

OOC:  You have successfully retrieved your horses, and the fire poses no immediate danger to either you or your dead companions.  Actions?

"Well, that could have gone better..." Garryn comments idly while gathering his thoughts. His own wounds were severe but looking around he seemed to be doing as well as anybody else, and that was a bit disheartening. "Alright, lets set about it. Asher, will you help me get the brothers on the horses? And Perrato, please tell me you can spare our fallen companions from the ravages of rot and insects at least as long as it takes us to get back to the city?" Garryn asks the priest hopefully. Not waiting for an answer he continues, "Caylin, Aidrin, why don't you search the bodies, look for maps and valuables. Maybe we can get some sense of how to avoid them in the future. Perrato, do what you can to heal people, paying special attention to yourself and Asher. When we are done here we'll move on to the Gnolls Caylin dispatched,I noticed a nice set of armor on the one riding the big hyena. There'll be no more splitting up for the meantime, and everyone, please, keep your eyes open."

Asher nods in response to Garryns request for help with the bodies and leads Vils horse to the fallen brothers. Ashers head cocks slightly at sight of Villhalas' dismembered head, betraying the doubts he feels about the task at hand.

He decides to start with the half-beast.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:32, Tue 06 Sept 2005.

After working with Aidrin to stop the spread of the prairie fire, Perrato retrieves the potion imbued with a Prayer for Well-Being and Salubrious Mending from the corpse of Totmacher. "El momento oportuno es todo, amigo orque. No debes esperar hasta que estás muerto antes de pensar en tu salud. Quizás hay algo que podemos hacer para tí."

The cleric hands the potion to Asher and recommends that he use it rather soon. Then he seeks the assistance of Vagrani to convert the divine favor granted him for his orisons into minor Prayers for Well-Being and Salubrious Mending, saying one each for Garryn, Caylin, Aidrin, and himself.

[OOC: Perrato turns 4 of his 5 0-level cleic spells into healing spells for 1 HP each. He will save his last orison, Detect Magic, until the caravan has been investigated and the gnolls looted.]

"I am in your debt, Priest," Aidrin nods at Perrato. The wizard strikes out towards the fallen gnolls while donning his singed robes, and tries to keep in sight of the short ranger.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:18, Wed 07 Sept 2005.

The smell of burning grass is in the warm and darkening air, as the twilight deepens.  Garryn and Asher maneuver the incredibly heavy body of the dead half-orc onto one of the steeds--divesting the barbarian of his weapons and gear prior to doing so.  The body of Villhalas is much easier to handle, and is soon consigned to another horse.  Both bodies are lashed to the horses' saddles.  In the meantime, Perrato administers what aid he can, praying and casting the last of his minor orisons.

While Asher and Garryn are arranging the bodies, Aidrin and Caylin quickly rifle the fallen gnolls.  Aside from notched and battered axes and filthy leather armor (the latter alive with lice and fleas), not much else is forthcoming.  However, the collected odds and ends from the gnolls' belt pouches and satchels yield a small number of battered silver, copper, and a few lonely gold pieces, along with three or four semi-precious stones.  By the time their dead companions are slung over the horses and the bodies of the gnolls in the immediate vicinity have been searched, nightime is only a few moments away.

OOC:  You'll be operating in darkness, although you have a waning half moon to work with.  These gnolls netted you 195 copper pieces, 89 silver pieces, and 27 gold pieces, plus 4 gems.  Let me know what you want to do--the other gnolls and their leader are to the north, and the remains of the caravan are beyond that (see previous map).

"Okay lets get search the bodies of the gnolls north of here and I want to retrieve the armor the mounted gnoll was wearing. Perrato, I want you to look for a place where we can spend the night. It doesn't look like much light is left, so we better hurry. Caylin, add this to what you've collected," Garryn said, tossing a satchel and purse to the halfling, and guiding the horse burdened with Totmacher towards the northern bodies.

Asher takes the vial from Perrato with gratitude before addressing the others, "Thank you. Perhaps we could get your leathers on the way to the site of the lost caravan? I'm thinking we could find a place to set up camp near the there, and check it out at day break? Asher suggests.

OOC: What was in the satchel and "heavy pouch" Garryn took off of the absconding Gnoll?
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Wed 07 Sept 2005.

Caylin nimbly catches the heavy pouch in one hand, and the satchel in the other.  The halfling unties the leathern thongs that close the pouch, pouring out a mixture of gold and platinum.  Caylin grunts a bit, and then unclasps the sinew-and-button arrangement that closes the satchel.  A sheaf of papers spills out, and by the light of the still-burning grassfire, the archer peers at the writing.

"Looks t' be some'at o' th' nature o' letters o' credit.  Hmmm...drawn t' 5,000 Nobles, 'ppears."

OOC:  400 gp, 100 pp, and 5,000 gp in a writ of species

[21:53, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 15 using 1d20+7. Survival Check--Find Good Campsite.]

Perrato begins to comb the area for a likely spot for the group to bed down the evening. Before he starts in earnest he asks Caylin, "From where was this letter of credit drawn? Are there any telling signatures?"

"Hmmm....looks t'be some folks outta Deuxchay fer th' creditors, but no signatures--jes' a signet mark...an' there's a Merchant Mage mark on th' letter, too.  I'm thinkin' this might be good anywheres, if ye ken."

OOC:  Darkness is upon you.  What are your plans?

"Interesting. Perhaps I can identify that mark, Caylin," Aidrin says.

Caylin shrugs and hands the sheaf of papers to Aidrin.  The wizard recognizes the Merchant Mage mark from the chapter in Deuxchay.  Clearly, this letter of credit was from a caravan was at least partially underwritten by the Merchant Mages.  The only reference to a date concerns the topmost page, which refers to the Year of the Basilisk (PY 850)--the current year.

These types of letter can be retrieved in any medium-sized town along the trade routes throughout Arret.

In spite of the deepening darkness, Perrato is able to use the light of the rising moon to find a reasonably comfortable and defensible camp site.  The priest makes certain that they are far enough from the rotting corpses of the ambushed caravan, choosing to avoid both the stench and the bothersome attentions of nocturnal scavengers.  Ensconced on a small knoll, the party sets about settling in for the night.

Totmacher and Villhalas are unceremoniously dumped from the horses, and the animals are rubbed down, led to water, and fed a ration of oats and allowed to graze.  Bedrolls are unfurled, and a brief, fireless meal is taken.  The day has been long, and the evening bloody and exhausting.  The surviving companions are bone-weary, and sleep is a welcome respite from the grim loss of two of their number.

 OOC:  What is the watch order and length of each watch?

Before resting his weary and battered body, Perrato observes the gathered loot from the caravan and the gnolls and uses his last orison to determine if any of the items possess arcane properties.

[OOC: Perrato casts Detect Magic]

Having stripped the gnoll leader of everything of value and gathered all of the items taken from the gnolls together, Perrato intones a brief Prayer for Blessed Perception of Occult Dweomers.  The only item that shows any aura is the gnoll leader's studded leather armor--a moderate enchantment of the school of abjuration magic.  Caylin sets about ridding the armor of its vermin, using a flask of oil and rubbing the fluid into the hardened leather.

The night passes, observed by the five surviving party members:  Asher first, followed by Garryn, then Caylin, Aidrin, and finally ending in a warm dawn with Perrato.  The night is alive with sound--the barking and howling of coyotes and wolves, the harsh laughter of hyenas, the call of owls and nighthawks, the susurration of crickets, and chorusing of frogs from the nearby small lake and wetland.  No larger or more dangerous creatures make themselves known, however, and the darkness fades into a new day with little else to mark the night's passage.

The day dawns warm and sultry, with no real wind or air movement.  A dawn chorus of songbirds accompanies the slow illumination of the plains as the sun begins to rise.  Soon enough, everyone is awake and engaged in simultaneously breaking their camp and breaking their fast.  The remains of the caravan lie to the north, marked by the presence of carrion crows and vultures even at this early hour.

OOC:  Moves?  Map showing whereabouts of party and caravan is HERE.  Everyone recovers 4 hp, due to natural healing.

While the others break camp and prepare to break their fast Aidrin pours over his spellbook, replenishing the magic's presence in his memory.

"Unless someone objects, I'd like to try out the gnoll's armor, Garryn states as he starts preparing for the long road ahead.

"I don't expect we'll find anything valuable in the remains of the caravan, but it won't hurt to check. I'm hoping Perrato can get some sense of where they trail goes and maybe we can learn something of the identity of the bandits. If it is the gnolls, which seems likely, we can easily be able to compare the arrows at the caravan site against the ones from the gnolls we fought yesterday. Once we have done our search I suggest we get back to Bordertown in the shortest time possible. Anyway, lets get moving," Garryn concludes as he finishes repacking his belongings.

Perrato greets the dawn as always, peering at the horizon, meditating on how the newly shed light falls upon the flora Arret graciously provides and how the panoply of diurnal animal species will begin the day, once again able to make their way in the world aided by the gift of sight. He communes with Vagrani by means of what other men might describe as "natural theology", but too few outside his sect understand what that really means. Soon he is granted with divine favor and charged with the obligation to use it justly for those who respect The Light and thrive in its bounty.

Walking over to the gathered mounts and their grim, cadaverous cargo, the cleric takes the dangling hand of the fallen half-orc and places his knee to the ground, chanting quietly and almost melodically as he does so. "Vagrane, gratia tua corpum amici mei conserva dum suum fatum ultimum congredior potest." And the Prayer for Gracious Corporeal Preservation of the Fallen is complete. [Perrato casts Gentle Repose on the corpse of Totmacher.] He sees the decapitated corpse of the sorcerer, and ruefully remembers the harsh, utilitarian discussions which current tragedy has brought upon the party. His ultimate fate lies not with the group and their coming endeavors. "Lo siento, amigo. Verdaderamente, lo siento, Señor Villhalas."

Turning again to the dawn, the eternal reminder of how the present meets the future, Perrato looks to his battered colleagues, their wounds barely stanched as the stench of the vanquished gnolls begins to carry across the winds. He continues his work and, as always, thinks about things to come.

[OOC: It's a healing extravaganza!
 03:20, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 12 using 2d8+4. Cure Moderate Wounds--Asher.
 03:21, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 18 using 2d8+4. Cure Moderate Wounds--Caylin.  (Woof!)
 03:23, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 7 using 1d8+4. Cure Light Wounds--Garryn.
 03:24, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 9 using 1d8+4. Cure Light Wounds--Aidrin.
 03:25, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 6 using 1d8+4. Cure Light Wounds--Himself.
 Got one Cure Light left, and a batch of five orisons. Suggestions?]
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 08:36, Sun 11 Sept 2005.

Asher thanks the priest for tending to his wounds and re-packs his belongings.

"Garryn, it seems the armour would suit you best. Aidrin, can you tell us again what you recall about the fate of this caravan?"

Aidrin absentmindedly rustles through his spell-component pouches and sighs, "We had made camp. It was night. We were set upon by some sort of bandits  who had ogres and magic-users among their numbers."

"Hmmm." Asher ponders a moment and begins to scan the grassland for tracks, knowing that this is not his area of expertise.

OOC:We may as well all make Survival checks; who knows which of us (baring Asher of course) may roll that elusive natural 20.

06:40, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 4 using 1d20+3. Survival check- track. I hope there is no such thing as a "critical miss" on survival checks-- "Asher makes a failed attempt at survival, and perishes immediatly."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:09, Mon 12 Sept 2005.

As the sun crests the horizon and begins her climb into the sky, the surviving party members finish breaking camp.  Perrato, having greeted the dawn with a series of silent prayers and quiet reflection, begins to call upon divine aid to stanch some of the wounds of his fellow party members.  His ministrations are successful, and many of the worst injuries of the others are substantially lessened.  Soon enough, the companions head towards the north, into the stench of decaying bodies and the cloud of carrion crows and vultures that hover above the killing grounds, or stride among the fallen and perch upon the bloated corpses.

Jackals and hyenas snarl as the five companions near the dead bodies of horses and men, but the surfeit of carrion has left little real aggression in these scavengers, and they slink away as the humans and halfling approach.  All told, it appears that over two dozen people perished here, along with at least fifteen horses, and the charred and overturned remnants of several wagons litter the area.  The bodies have been looted and torn by scavengers, and nothing of obvious value remains.  A stamped-down patch of grass leads to the northwest, and it appears that numerous creatures moved along this stretch--some of them quite large.

OOC:  Are you searching the bodies?  The stench in the warm summer morning is overwhelming, and will necessitate some Fort rolls to keep your chow down if you get much closer.  No one has any problem seeing the trail leading away to the northwest, but I'll need some Survival checks to see if any additional info is gained.  Asher does not gain any additional info ;), but neither drops dead nor starves.

Aidrin steps closer to the caravan and covers his mouth with his robe. Though the stench is unbearable, he manages to quickly mutter the words for Signify Arcane-Influenced Objects and waves his hand about in the air. The wizard then leaves his hand raised and concentrates, waiting for the magic to intensify.


OOC: Aidrin casts detect magic.
He will wait 3 rounds to find the location of any magical auras.
The range is 60', so I'm hoping he can cast without getting too close.

This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Tue 13 Sept 2005.

Asher continues to walk towards the scene of devestation, drawn in by morbid curiosity. He covers his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his robe and approaches until his stomach shows the first signs of convulsions, looking, but unsure of what he is looking for.

"OOC: Intent is to move in as close as possible without throwing up. Scanning to see if he can find anything that is useful (obviously not tracks). Is there anything worth rolling spot or listen checks for?


12:04, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 13 using 1d20+5. Fort save vs up-chuck.

Garryn, not being as brave as Asher, decides to tear some cloth off of his bloody clothes and fashion nose plugs. He then finds a stick and breathes through his cloak as he nears the bodies. He uses the stick to poke around the pockets to determine if anything fills them. He checks around the wagons for anything that may have been left behind.

"Lets not waste too much time here. I want to get a full days travels towards Bordertown," Garryn reminds his companions.

Upon hearing of the plan to travel to Borderton for a second time, Asher questions, Garryn, why Borderton and not Deuxchay? If we had managed to capture or kill the brigands that have plagued this road, I would envision  a very   generous reception from alderman Savin; but to drag the body of a former inmate and a beheaded 'diplomat' back through the gates of that city, without having learned anything that may aid the trade dillema-- I don't expect to be greeted warmly."

Asher casts a glance at the limp shells of Totmacher and Villhalas. "I do not know much about the sort of healing you seek for these two; if we must hurry for their sakes, then let's. But I feel it has become our accepted duty to bring justice to the brigands that threaten this road. Are you of a similar mind?"

"Hmm, well, lets put it this way, if you wish to proceed you will be doing so without me. Although I am not sure if it will be possible I am going to bordertown to attempt to have them raised. I have heard that it is of the utmost importance that bodies be raised quickly as the insects that feast upon corpses will do the body permanent harm. I know we have only known you a short time but I have travelled many leagues with those foolhardy brothers and I will not so easily abandon them now and that debt supercedes our previous goal, at least as far as I am concerned. To that end my mind is set and the greeting I recieve from Savin and men of his ilk is of no consequence, I travel to Bordertown because it is the closest city. Caylin, are your thoughts on this subject similar to my own?" Garryn replies explaining his position.

Bravery having little to do with it, much rather a desire to keep down breakfast, Perrato follows Garryn's example and fashions from the expendable hems of his robes makeshift nose plugs and a mask to cover the lower half of his face. "I, too, am of a mind to return to Borderton. Whatever assistance we require to continue our journey to Deuxchay, is more likely to be found there than on the road." He joins the search for telling information among the detritus that is the vanquished caravan as he quietly regrets the loss of hardy traveler's lives.

Aidrin continues to concentrate on locating magical auras in and among the remnants of the caravan. "For my part, I too would prefer to travel on to Borderton. We may find our welcome in Duexchay somewhat cool."

The halting, tentative search of the dead reveals nothing of value.  At the end of a few moments, Aidrin is convinced that nothing magical is in the vicinity of the scene of slaughter.  The wizard is careful to keep himself at a maximum remove from the killing ground, but an intricate circumnavigation of the dead--and his spell's duration--make him reasonably confident he has missed nothing.

Perrato, Asher, and Garryn venture into the vicinity of the dead.  Clouds of buzzing flies swirl malignantly into the air at their approach, and small, strange rodents of some sort--their heads and forelegs bare of fur and appearing wrinkled and pink--scamper away from the cavities they have burrowed in the corpses of human and horse alike.  Asher is queasy, but is able to proceed with his inspection without incident.  Perrato appears to be virtually unaffected by the miasma of decay, but Garryn is not so fortunate.  With a gut-wrenching heave, the rogue expels his partially-digested breakfast onto the ground in front of him.  Three of the strange rodents immediately rush over and begin to lap up the vomitus, fighting for their place and rolling around in the chunky mess.  This sends Garryn into fresh paroxysms of retching, and the rogue is forced to move away from the site--wretched, pale, and sweating.  Caylin, disdaining to approach and search, has remained upwind and smoking his pipe.  Commiseratingly, he hands Garryn a small flask of whiskey and advises the rogue sit down with his head between his knees for a bit.

Perrato and Asher finish the unenviable task of searching these blackened, bloated corpses--torn by scavengers and housing all sorts of squirming white larvae.  Apparently, everything of obvious value had been stripped, and anything that would have been missed would represent a supremely disgusting task to locate.  The two move back to rejoin Aidrin, Caylin, and a recovering Garryn.

Perrato, in spite of the fact that the search yielded nothing tangible, nevertheless comes away with a sense of the trail leading away to the northwest.  Several Ogres; numerous hob-nail booted creatures of various sorts; two large, four-legged clawed creatures--and two others, whose footprints differed from all of the others in that the imprints indicated a more refined footwear.  The priest suspects these were either leaders of some sort, or prisoners from the caravan.

OOC:  Plans?

PM

When his stomach settles Garryn stands and examines the situation. They lack the fighting prowess to confront the raiders, even if they could follow them. Nothing of value seems to have been left behind and the corpses are too far gone to spend any amount of time around them burying them, or even piling them up to burn them. Garryn does have one idea but he's not sure it will work.

"Aidrin, could you use the flaming ball you used the other day to immolate the bodies? We cannot bury them, but perhaps we could at least to that, what does everyone think? Otherwise, we can't do much more here, lets finish up and head back to bordertown," Garryn says, gathering himself together.

"I am prepared to build a makeshift pyre by more conventional means, if you are disinclined to use your magical talents, Aidrin," says Perrato, still disturbed by the overpowering odor of carrion despite his recent display of intestinal fortitude. "I will not leave them like this, though it may require a little time to enact my particular approach to prepare these unfortunate souls for The Great Beyond."

"I am unable, unfortunately. I have prepared other spells, seeing as that particular one caused us some trouble," the wizard says, fingering the singe marks on his robes. "If I am able, I will help you, Perrato. I would not leave friends and companions like this."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:40, Mon 19 Sept 2005.

"What would you have me do to help, priest?" Asher offers.

"I have some oil that may assist us in starting a fire, but for this small amount to be any real aid to our cause we must gather the remains of the fallen," says the cleric. Thinking of the Burning Disc, a symbol of the source of life which resides in the skies of Arret, he continues, "I wish to arrange them in a circle with whatever available easily combustible scraps of wood and fabric that we can uncover among the wreckage. I would like to treat any scraps of fabric with the limited oil I possess before placing them among their remains. I would also appreciate the opportunity to touch each body in turn with my torch in order to facilitate our purposes, both earthly and divine."

Aidrin takes his pack off his shoulders and begins to rummage though it. "You're welcome to the oil that I have." He removes a flask and extends it to the priest.

The small group of companions--Garryn, Perrato, Asher, Aidrin, and Caylin--are standing some distance away from the scattered, festering corpses of the caravan as the morning sun begins to turn the day sweltering .  Caylin stares at Perrato in outright disbelief as the priest utters these words.  "Fuck that, priest.  They lie where they be.  I'll not sweat an' struggle in th' slime o' decayin' bodies t' move 'em inta some circle."  The halfling archer appears to be seriously assessing Perrato's sanity, and literally snorts when Aidrin offers his one flask of oil.  "Them gnolls tore us up, an' then some.  I'm nae waitin' around an' workin' on movin' corpses like t' be fallin' t' pieces by now--dodgin' jackals, hyenas, vultures, an' who th' fuck knows what all else.  We've go t' GO, lads.  We got two o' our own stone cold dead, we're two days inta th' Wilds, we got two dozen dead men AN' half th' number o' dead horses drawin' flies an' a hell o' a lot worse, AN' THEY BE LAYIN ON TH' GROUND RIGHT NEXT T' US!"  Caylin pauses, then continues a bit more calmly.  "Lets' away back t' Borderton, soonest done be best.  Any other course'll get us killed, sure."

Caylin glances over at Asher, and mutters, "Deuxchay!  Danu's tits..."

"Well said, lets go," Garryn agrees with his small friend.

"I am willing to make practical concessions, but I still insist upon doing something for the dead," says Perrato as he contemplates whether or not the halfling has what in later ages may come to be termed "a mood disorder". He ponders how he might more efficently set the corpses aflame without moving them from their current locations.

In an even and passionless tone Asher speaks, "I am not accustomed to venerating the dead; so to stay for these," Asher gestures to the bodies of the caravan, and then nods to the pair of deceased travelling companions, "or to travel for those, means the same to me. I leave it to the rest of you to decide. I will support whatever action the group should choose."

OOC: Asher's lack of empathy aside, it would be nice to get things moving in some direction soon.

"Priest, we don't have time for this. If Aidrin had been able to recall the flaming sphere, well, that would have been fine, but that would take us a whole day, and that we cannot afford. We lack enough oil to do more than singe them and start a brushfire, and I, for one, lack the intestinal fortitude to even approach the corpses. If it will make you feel better say a prayer but be quick about it, we've got to start moving if we don't want to join them," Garryn says waving his hand in the direction of the rotting corpses.

"A pyre is out of the question. Very well," says Perrato as he searches his memory for some ceremonial act he can perform in lieu of taking proper care of the souls of the travelers, "This will have to make do."

The cleric lights his Everburning Torch and uses his oil to place an unction on the foreheads of each of the fallen members of the caravan. After placing the small amount of oil upon each he recites, "Potestas Vagranae animam tuam liberet" and uses a thin scrap of wood to transfer a small amount of flame from the torch to the unction.

"I am prepared to go, " says Perrato as he turns his head to look at the carnage one last time, "As are they."

Perrato completes the Mithran ceremony, symbolically applying the cleansing flame of the Unconquered Sun to each of the fallen caravan members.  Satisfied that the dead have been honored as well as can be, given the lonely wilds in which they fell, Perrato is prepared to depart.

The companions gather their belonings, their mounts, and their dead...and ready themselves for the journey back to Borderton.  Wounded, weary, and minus two of their number, the remaining companions depart the little lake, small hills, and surrounding prairie with a sense of loss.  The hyenas and jackals slink back to the site of massacre as soon as the party begins their departure, and two vultures tear into one another in a dispute over a corpse--not thirty yards from the party.  The scene of death and decay contrasts strongly with the sunny, rapidly warming day, but the companions are determined to put this grim place behind them.

The trek back to Borderton begins.