Tiberio will make clear, he understands little in Kothic, then in Ophirian or Hyperborean  if others translate and convey the meaning, the horse trader makes some points.

We can take the lame horse and it will be slow, but to gain any usable meat from it, it would have to be cured, which takes a fire and a few other thins, and time. To carry that much fuel for the curing, it is impracticable.

Other than using the remaining horses to help rotate through the tasks that Sarajen may use them for, perhaps using the lame one in some type of ruse? Otherwise Tiberio will lead it off and end it's life with dignity instead of at the merciless terror of the devil dogs.

After that it is a about carrying water and helping with finding food. (Survival)
This message was last edited by the player at 02:19, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

Ayan stands vigil as the group winds their way South.  Secure in the strange beliefs of his people, of fate foretold in the eyes of the wild, the old man cannot be moved from his chosen course.  After a time, when eyes look back, he is no longer visible.  But the mountains of Southern Koth which divide it from the lands of Shem draw ever closer.  It takes longer to reach them than one would surmise, the distance deceiving by the sheer size of the peaks.

Of the journey through the rugged land there is little to describe.  As Ayan said there is little game but the horses ensure the group survives.  A sudden storm threatens to sweep them onto the rocks below but somehow the survive and afterwards the numerous pools of water ensure they do not suffer dehydration.  On the 13th day after parting with Ayan the land once again becomes level.  It is a dry, arid region, where scrub foliage and clay-rich soil eventually give way to nomadic desert.  The hills of Koth look lush in comparison.  After another day sight of unusual green draw the party further South to an oasis, an island of emerald in a sea of reddish clay.  Sweet rest after the hardships of the mountains is welcome.  A well-worn track mark the passage of civilization.  With full bellies and their lone, remaining horns the party follows in hopes it will lead to a village where they might purchase supplies (or steal fresh mounts).

After another day the path intersects a larger trek at an old well.  It is clear that a large body of men have passed this way not long before, their footprints mix with tracks of horse and chariot.  While filling their waterskins the group spies the dark cloud.  Any who have been in battle know the sign of carrion crows and other of their ilk, and the violence that draws them.  There has been a battle to the Southeast.

Is it curiosity that draws you hence?  Do you hope to be hired by the victor to replenish their ranks?  Or is the the lure of spoils from those who will no longer need them?

Regardless after another hour you reach the scene of desolation.  Vultures spiral above the battlefield. Blood soaks into the rocky ground from hundreds of dying men and their horses, a grim reminder from the desperate hours prior.  For the moment there are no signs of survivors but the site lies upon the edge of rocky escarpments which cut through the land.  If any survived and fled they have likely attempted to loose their pursuers in the switchback valleys and stony ridges that the wind and ancient waters which once flooded this plane carved away.

What will you do?

Battlefield:


The switchback valleys nearby:


Both Niamh and Tiberio have recovered 3 BODY
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:34, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

The trek was graciously uneventful for Sarajen. Their pursuers don't seem to be in sight. He concludes that they have probably given up on their hunt, which makes for easier travel. There is no hurry to his steps anymore.

The sight of the battlefield brings back old memories for Sarajen. His old platoon died in a fight, and they were all left to the predators as well. There is some measure of sorrow from the old man, for things long ago past but not truly forgotten. He walks the battlefield in silence, on the lookout for anything or anyone moving. There is no point in prolonging a lingering death, something he would not wish on himself. As he searches through the many bodies, his keen eyes also spy for any equipment worth salvaging: weapons, armor, shields, arrows, a better bow, perhaps another good set of sandals, maybe rings or any forgotten jewelry. It won't do the fallen soldiers any good any more. And it might buy them food and supplies in the nearest town.


Does Sarajen recognize any of the standards, colors, insignia, uniforms, or anything?
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:35, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

Marduke looks to loot the dead for clothing, boots, armor, weapons, shields, arrows, and anything that fits. He looks for kits and backpacks, belts and satchels, to carry what he takes.


21:45, Today: Marduke the Red rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,2,3.  Perception 12-.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:35, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

This message was last updated by the GM at 14:35, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

Chang Jun was happy when they made it to the oasis. After the time in the pit and their escape, not to mention the last two weeks of walking. A chance to rest and clean himself and his meager gear was a gift from the gods.

He stood watch and allowed the others to refresh themselves first. Though a heard of elephants could have walked past during the Syssiah's exhibition and he would have paid little attention.

As they came across the field of battle he joined Sarajen and Marduke as they searched for items useful to the group, while keeping a watchful eye for a trap or possible enemies.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:36, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

It was a the most rewarding bath of his life. That the rags he wore to shreds since leaving the Red Pit, the dirt, dust, sweat, and lack if grooming, all taken away by the waters of the oasis.

It was a fight to restrain himself, the grinning and drinking in the sights of femininity on display fed him a meal that would last, at least that day.

It was not in the nature of man to be naked.  The rags had to be replaced and the sorrow of seeing so many dead at the battlefield, to only dulled the need to rejoin civilized man a little.

As he moved among the bodies, the horse trader looked for any living. Those living but mortally wounded, he called out to the healers, as he had not the skills to detect anything but the rise and fall of breath, marking each he found, if any, with an upright weapon stuck in the ground with a ribbon of torn cloth of leather.

Respectful, Tiberio listened and gave words of comfort, regardless of any language he did not understand.  Then on to the next, and next.

Any dead he found, he placed them in a peaceful repose, while looking for any marks as to which side they may have fought for in life, trying to learn the colors and symbols, so he may later identify the sides.

It was also a hunt for boots or sandals for his feet, better, covering that had blood which could

 be washed out, anything that was not a uniform or symboled to one side or another or that could be removed by knife.

A shield and weapon last. Then to the horses and it was a heavy thing to do, ending their suffering was a mercy.


08:35, Today: Tiberio rolled 11,10,8,7,10,17 using 3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6 with rolls of 5,5,1,5,3,2,3,4,1,3, 1,3,2,5,3,5,6,6.

Six, 5 Min, search checks. 11,10,8,7,10,17
This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Thu 31 Oct 2019.

The scene of woe stretches away as the group begins to search for anything to aid them in their survival (or later barter).  Those who have not succumbed to their hours old injuries are few; the first dies as you prop him up to speak.  The second however speaks in a rasping whisper informs those who listen that he was a soldier in the army of Prince Satabus of Khoraja marching to aid King Ulam-Khala of the city-state of Akbitana in a war against his cousin, King Nezurab of Shumir.  Well know are the rivalries of the Shemitish city-states so conflict between two is of no great surprise.  The doomed soul can only relate the sudden surprise attack, the treachery as soldier of both Ulam-Khala and Nezurab sprang their trap upon Prince Satabus and his men.  The battle was over before it could even begin.  The horns sounded the order to flee and the Prince's men scattered across the dry plains and into the nearby foothills and hard-baked gullies.  But they were pursued by the asshuri, the elite nomadic warriors of a Shemitish city-state, and picked off one-by-one.  This group was cut-off in their flight by the Shemitish cavalry, cut to pieces by the heavy footmen, and died still wondering why they and their prince were betrayed.  How many more like it dot the countryside around you?

His words cease eventually.  His chest no longer moves.

During this time your ears hear the sound of distant horns.  Some call from away across the low hills, some from the switchbacks and ravines.  Any who have served in an army will recognize the sounds as units communicating though whether the blasts call for help or are simple acknowledgement is unclear.  For the moment none appear nearby though that cannot be guaranteed to last.

But there is an abundance of equipment and possessions surrounding you and those of a needful mind have only the difficulty of sifting through the lot to locate items not already damaged beyond usage.  All that is needed it time and a strong stomach to ignore the blood or gore which may cover any finds...

There is no shortage of usable weapons, short swords being the most common.  Bows are also in abundance along with arrows.  Armors tend toward Brigadine or Ringmail coats covering shoulders to vitals.  Shields tend to be metal, most medium sized.

For every 5 minutes spent searching roll 3d6 to see what other prizes you chance upon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:09, Wed 30 Oct 2019.

Any who are not nearby to hear the last words of the betrayed soldier, Tiberio wil call over, inform them of what was said.

Whomever is near, the Aquilonian makes his ideas known.

"One force, those of Prince Satabus of Khoraja, they are on the run and without.. reinforcements.

I put it to all of you that we could find a friend in Khoraja if we rally quickly and go to save as much of the forces of Prince Satabus, we have the element of surprise and with the routing, the betrayers would not expect an attack from their rear.

We return to the Prince with as many as we can save and earn some respite in his lands.

What say you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Wed 30 Oct 2019.

Sarajen continued to cover the field, his first priority lessening the suffering of any unfortunately maimed survivors without any chance of recovery.

He listens to the Khojaran soldier's account of treachery, battle, and flight. It was not unusual for war to be cruel, and victory can come in many forms. An ambush and a slaughter was a very common one. From the victor's perspective, it was probably an easy fight, with minimal bloodshed and nary any losses. From the loser's perspective, it was a betrayal and a cruel slaughter. Who can say who was right? Sarajen did not know why they fought, or who was in the better position. The only people left to tell the tale, whether it was true or not, were the clerics of the winning side. And, like all histories, they were to be taken with a pouch of salt.

Tiberio's suggestion to ally himself with the forces of Prince Sabatus of Khojara struck Sarajen as premature.

"It sounds like a survivor's story. But Tiberio, we don't know what type of man the prince is, or what side he stands for, right or wrong. I like it, as it promises safety and support for us. But I think the first to do is to learn more about them. I know that all of us, together, can take on five times our number in soldiers, but there are armies there." He gazes at the horizon where the horns are audible. "This is a different game. One not to my liking. I've been a soldier before, and I recognize loyalty and courage. But without knowing the odds, or the ambitions of our new would-be prince, we might be walking into the same trap these men fell into. What are the chances it is Khojara that has led the war, to be routed in its ambitions by a coalition of defenders?"

OOC: What does Sarajen know about Khojara and its politics and culture? Are they all equally shrewd and backbiting local warring princes, with little regard towards anything that doesn't line their pockets and ambitions? Or are there good rulers in this area?

Otherwise, I can see Sarajen spending no more than half an hour in the field, looking for survivors and casually picking up arrows and a good set of brigandine.

Rolls for 30 minutes:

16:37, Today: Sarajen rolled 10,6,11,8,15,10 using 3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:37, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

While clearly disappointed that they had lost their ability to make quick work of the journey, at least they were still moving away from their captors and every day only seemed to increase the likelihood of their prolonged freedom. Still, the journey was difficult and sacrifices were made. She ensured that they other horses were distracted when it came to slaughtering one of their brethren so as not to disturb them through that process.

Survival and healing were first and foremost on her mind and it showed throughout the journey.

Niamh took her time at the oasis, her efforts within the precious bit of water seeming to be a purge of sorts from the horrors she had endured. Clearly a beauty in her own right, it was as much from her wild nature and sheer presence that set her apart from other women. While clearly not overly concerned with her own nudity, she made no particular display of herself in the process.

Upon arrival to the battlefield, her eyes took in the scene. She had seen death like this before, only the scale and nature of the warriors were different. There would be plenty of spoils to be had, limited only by what they could carry. Items for barter or to better their chances at continued survival.

Tiberio's suggestion made her blink as she was looking through the mass of bodies. "If the losses here show the scale of the army's fighting, I'm thinking our six would be but an annoyance," she responded in Aquilonian. "If I'm not mistaken, Khoraja is no small bit of travel to the east and I know nothing of the politics of the region. Any friend made would be countered with a powerful enemy. These bodies prove that."

She looked at the others. "I'm inclined to search for what we can and move on. This is not our fight," she said both in Aquilonian and Kothic.

(She will stay as long as the group is willing or until circumstances force them to move.

She's on the lookout for good sandals/shoes/boots, a good bedroll, some better clothes, higher quality weapons...spear, short sword, dagger, bow and arrows and quiver. She makes a travois out of the largest shield she can find, lashing it to spears to pull behind their remaining horse. She finds a smaller shield for her to pull behind herself.)

Rolls?  3d6 for every 5 minutes you search.  How long will you search?  Post here.

14, 15, 8, 14, 13, 10
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:37, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

Using Aquilonian and then other languages as needed to reach the whole of the gathered.

"It is true, I know of Shem through stories, I know not a person in all of Shem, let alone a Prince. Where might be Khoraja , far to the East, it will be hard, good. Few others would consider it.

Would you like a contract? Would you like reasonable chances Sarajen? The same with the rest of you?

Would you like to tread on paths others would?  By Mitra, we are called on to do more than wager the likeliness of a thing.  We can find out more, you promise only problems of the sort a farmer would know. We can find answers, only if we do more than sit and pick at what has dropped.

I counter that we scout, we move to see what forces are numbered and how they chase, against what forces. I counter that a Prince who expected to hear only that the soldiers he sent are raven pickings, would welcome those who risked much, others could not.

Anywhere we go, hands could shake or bring a dagger. Yes, there are many unknowns.

Strange lands these may be, I want to forge my next step than wait."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:43, Thu 31 Oct 2019.

Sarajen listens to Tiberio's words.

"Tiberio, you misunderstand my words. It is not craven cowardice that would have me pick my chances better than you'd like. It is merely experience in the world. I am still alive after sixty summers, and risks I have taken. Some have been reckless, and others have been rewarding.

But I do not fashion myself a fortune teller. I know little more than you do about Shem and its princes. Risks we can take in all manner of things. That is life. This one is high, or so I think. I do not argue against your idea. I merely say let us find out more. We can approach the armies, and see, and learn. This prince might be just what we need. Or we can wind up in chains again, shipped to the salt mines, or into a slave galley. Either way, it is a risk.

But we are free to disagree.

What do you all say? Let us look for the armies of the prince and cast our lot with him?"

Sarajen addresses the rest of the group. What is their view in this matter?

This message was last edited by the GM at 12:52, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

Chang Jun moved through the battlefield looking for items of use much as the others were doing, as he listened to the discussion. He had spent several years in the army serving a warlord and had seen numerous battles. This was not a battle as much as a killing field.

"I will go with which ever decision the group makes, for the moment."

OOC: Serching for the following - Swords, Bow and arrows, Brigandine shirt and bronze cap, Boots and clothing in better condition and so on.

08:29, Today: Chang Jun rolled 7,16,13,17,8,6 using 3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6 with rolls of 4,1,2,6,6,4,3,4,6,6,6,5,1,2,5,1,4,1.  Search rolls:.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:47, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

Marduke grunts as he does not understand what the fair-skinned people are saying. Meanwhile he searches the battlefield for brigandine armor, a shield and cap, and any heavy blades or missile weapons. If a military pick catches his eye he will exchange the work pick for it. Lastly he looks for clothing and packs.

11:48, Today: Marduke the Red rolled 8,11,15,12,14,14 using 3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6,3d6 with rolls of 1,1,6,3,4,4,4,6,5,4,2,6,3,5,6,6,6,2.  Search.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:04, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

After seeing the reactions of all gathered, Tiberio turns his attention back to the old man.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:08, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

Sarajen rejoiced at finding a piece of a brigandine shirt that fit him. This man was just as thin and wiry as he was, and about the right height. After a bit of cleaning and checking the leather straps for damage, Sarajen was satisfied he could use this piece with ease and comfort. Or as comfortable as a shirt of metal pieces can possibly be. Since these were sleeveless, they would serve him well in using his bow.

And a few extra arrows were always useful. Unfortunately, quivers were not found. These armies must not have had many archers in their ranks. But someone was using bows, as he was able to find a few arrows in the midst.

OOC: Adding the finds into my inventory on the character sheet.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:50, Sat 02 Nov 2019.

As everyone gathered and was stowing or girding what had been found. Tiberio is now wearing brigantine armor, shield and short sword.

"Did anyone not find rations? I found enough for three days."

The horse trader will indicate and share the five he has to make sure rations are distributed to the group.

"Everyone get ready to move, we are going to see what the horns signal.

Sarajen and I will ride ahead. We may only find more battlefield's, we may find opportunity."

Sarajen do oy have a way to mark an arrow as signal of our path?"

When all was said and done, Niamh did not look all that different after going through the dead. In essence, she just made sure she had better versions of what she had. Still, the clothes were relatively ill fitted if durable, aside from the sandals she wore, at least. And she now sported a bow to go along with her spear and short sword.

She was busy trying to make something work that they might carry some additional spoils that the remaining horse might pull behind it. Barring that, she hoped to make something similar, but smaller, that she might pull behind her.

She glanced at Tiberio and his mention of food. "I found a couple of days worth. We can sort out what we have when we are clear of here," she said, the time spent and the sounding of horns still weighing on her. At least they got some things of value that could help them in whatever was to come.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:13, Sat 02 Nov 2019.

Marduke finally answers "fish, one day. 1 bottle of drink" He is now wearing a Brigantine shirt, a metal cap, and a shield. He has his pick slung over his back with his bow, and both broadsword and shortsword belted at his hip.

Chang Jun was happy to have found a good set of sandals and better clothing. It may have been bloody it was mostly hidden by a shirt of brigandine that fit relatively well and didn't hinder his movement overly much along with a slightly dented but serviceable steel cap. He had also armed himself with a bow and a quiver which only contained eight arrows at the moment, and a scimitar.

As he approached the group he held up a wineskin and a pouch "Found a full wineskin and a pouch of dates. Maybe two days worth."

"Aye, there are ways. I don't want to use the arrows, so I will use swords. There are many of them here. Let us drive them into the ground, and tie a long streamer with two knots. Where the hilt points, that is our direction. Let us see what we find."

Sarajen understand they will have to ride together, slowing the horse down to a degree. But the distance is short.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Mon 04 Nov 2019.

The Aquilonian marks the use of ribbon, knots and the direction by use of the hilt.

With the rations tied to his armor, leaving the spear behind, now that a scimitar is belted to his waist, some water to the mare, a few whispers of encouragement, then vaults onto the back of the mare, a hand to Sarajen.

To the others, "If a horn signals two short, one long and a rising note, that is one of us."

With that the trio start towards the horns in the distance, at a walk , then building speed to a trot, then a half run.