Before the Dragon came,
When water ran like silt.
Krath's all-embracing flame,
But an emblem on a hilt.

Child, have you ever seen the rain?
The great storms in those days.
Not dust nor ash but tears shed plain
By the lord of the waterways.
   For [...] is [...] name.

 -A fragment from a liturgical scroll kept within the Basilicus Templarate Library.

It is Year 715 After the Dragon's Defeat. The sorcerous overlord of Tyr, Nergal, has been dead for 15 years. The Ruling Council of the self proclaimed free city defeated the forces of Urik five years ago. One year ago, your House discovered the location of the Lost Oasis - a seemingly miraculous source of freshwater just three days' journey from the walls of Tyr. If you can secure this wellspring, it will bring great fortune and prestige to you and yours, but only if you can keep it.

---

At the House's outpost at Lost Oasis, there has been ominous noises on the wind of late. For the last fortnight, the sandstorms have been especially bitter and cruel, bringing along with them a wretched croaking gasping noise that has frightened the household guard. Some men have reported seeing emaciated figures in the dust at night. You have managed to fortify and camouflage the oasis as best you can, but the wildlife relies upon its waters, and they do leave tracks. One evening, a ragged old man in frayed robes, face burnt by the sun Krath overhead, stumbles into the Oasis. He falls prostrate before the water, murmuring prayers under his breath. He managed to slip past all of your patrols, and is now asking to speak to someone in charge of the outpost.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:04, Fri 10 Feb 2023.

Fate, it seems, has brought all of you to Oasis at the same time as the appearance of this stranger from the desert.

Voices in the dark awoke Cassilda, if indeed she does sleep like other mortal men, at Il Mercato, the Bellacquan compound in Tyr. The house was silent, and nothing could be heard aside from the skittering of the odd desert mouse or the winds buffeting the rooftops. But there it was, an authoritative, patrician voice radiating from her cloak: "something lost is to be found... seek out... the oasis..." Soon enough, she was on the next caravan there.

Lord Dante Bellacqua, third and favored son of Prince Orsino, was already spending his time at the Lost Oasis consolidating his interests, expediting water extraction, and whatever else he saw fit when sarjent Kem of the Famiglia guard notifies him of the intruder. "My lord," Kem says. "A pilgrim appears to have somehow infiltrated our perimeter, I don't know how he wasn't spotted. Shall we have him brought to your tent?"

Arriving on the same caravan as Cassilda, Renzo DiBellacqua comes bearing a missive from Prince Orsino himself: the Ruling Council of Tyr has hired Bellacqua to provide the water rations for a militia expedition against Urik. Renzo, you know this is a dangerous game, as accepting the contract will show Bellacqua's hand. As far as you know, none of the other Houses are aware of the Oasis. But to decline the contract would also lead to financial ruination. "Damned if we do, bankrupt if we don't," were the prince's words. Orsino has sent you and your uncle Lord Ismael to the Oasis to strategize with Dante as how to best conceal your operations out here in the desert while still meeting the terms of the Council's contract.

Roland Rock, you were watering the pack animals and tending to their needs at the edge of the cool waters of the Oasis. You'd been assigned there since its discovery, and you're one of the more trusted hands of the operation. You were enjoying a rare, gentle breeze when suddenly there was a man, bent over in prayer at your side. His skin was blistered and boiled, and his garb frayed and warn. But his voice, although parched, was clear. "They were right... they were right, by the dust of the gods, I knew it. I knew it. Praise be to Anki. Praise be." He clutches something in his hands, it looks vaguely skeletal.

The master of the caravan taking Cassilda, Renzo, and Lord Ismael is none other than Tova Dan Yarblek. Tova, you know these routes better than most, being a crafty itinerant traveler. Something was, indeed, odd about the winds on the journey south from Tyr to the Oasis. You've made the journey at least a hundred times by now, and not once did you spot any wildlife. There were no tracks, no birds overhead, no beetles or giant spiders. Very odd. At one point, the caravan passed by a dead sunback, a type of lizard often domesticated for travel. Although it appeared as if it had only recently died, in the last hour or so, it was a bone dry husk. How curious.

Finally, there is the Ida-Tyr. You were in Tyr when Mehemet of the Benduin, the desert band that saved you from the storm years ago, rides into the city to speak with you. He asks that you accompany him to an oddity that his tribe has found out in the wastes. Presumably, you agree. Mehemet shows you to a cave about an hours ride from the Lost Oasis. Several other members of the Benduin sit in the shade there, grim, swords at the ready. Mehemet shows you into the cave, and you are struck by what you see: dried corpses. This would not be entirely out of the ordinary in the wastes if it weren't for one detail, they're all desiccated husks. The bodies belong mostly to animals, but there are a few stray travelers among the dead. "We know the House of Bellacqua controls the oasis near here," Mehemet says. "Our people have stories of that place. Of an unquenchable thirst. Have you encountered anything that could have done this? It has fed on our own."

And so our story begins...
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:55, Thu 09 Feb 2023.

Roland turned to the man, already displeased with their presence. It wasn't the fact that they were muttering to themselves, that they seemed to be insane or that they were clutching what looked like a dead animal. Roland simply didn't like when people snuck up to him, intended or not. However, hiding his displeasure had been one of many talents he had acquired from his lifetime of service to the Bellacqua.

With a genuine-looking smile and a slightly condescending tone, the servant adressed the stranger. "Can I help you, sir?"

The wagon that Tova sat in rolled through the sands, rocking gently from side to side, both with the varying pulls of the dray animals attached to it, and the rise and fall of the sand path.  Tova snapped the reins, more to encourage the animals to keep walking, rather than for any need to steer.  The flask at Tova's hip sloshed comfortably, and he took a pull from it, feeling the burn of the liquor inside as it went down.  He had been taking light sips from it since the first strange sign, but this was the first full pull he took since they had set out.  Not that he would ever let anyone else know how sober he actually was.

A horseman came up alongside, one of the outriders that would range and then return as the caravan snaked its way along.  Tova looked to the rider, a man with extra cloth around his neck which could be pulled into place to repel a sandstorm should they be overtaken.  Tova nodded to the man.

"All looks clear.  An easy run.  Keep an eye out towards the horizon for anyone stalking the caravan.  It's possible someone ordered this water to try and track its source.  If you find any more dead animals, bring them to Tova.  Perhaps the lords would like a special desert treat when we arrive."

Tova smirked and broke into laughter, and the horseman knew this was a bit of Tova's odd humor.  No one would willingly eat desert carrion, let alone the dessicated carcasses they had found.  The horseman would take this to the other outriders and spread the word of his irreverence.  It would make for odd musings around the campfire later, and a general sense that Tova was a fool who didn't know how lucky he was.

Tova knew that his life had never been so risky, being trusted with the care of three Bellacqua familia.  When he was asked to take them, they used a specific phrase that made Tova's blood run cold.

"Custos Comitatus"

Tova knew they only broke out the old tongue when it was a formal matter.  Custos was a guardian.  Comitatus was an old phrase which used to be used only for the military, meaning a special company bound by oaths.  In the current vulgar it was also used for a commissioned caravan with official importance.

He was being called on to be the guardian for everyone on this caravan.  And guardians had a special responsibility.  If they failed, they would often be blamed for the failure, even if the failure was the result of an underling, or worse, a member of the familia.

Tova's head was on the line here.  And things going wrong on the way in was a bad sign.  Much like the La Bella Donna requesting to come on this trip.

Something was wrong from the start.  Something that Tova absolutely needed to prove had been a problem before they even got there.  And if he could do it when everyone believed he was both drunk and ignorant of how bad things were, he had a chance of appearing both skilled and yet unimportant enough to avoid promotion to a role that might eventually cost him his head.

Tova finally stopped laughing as the horseman rode off, and he adjusted his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes.

If he was lucky, it would be young Renzo riding up soon.  The lad was a genuine bastard, and a wonderful audience for Tova.

And if Renzo was talking with Tova, then it would prevent Lord Ismael from coming to find him.  The older man, Orlando's eldest brother, was notorious for lashing out at the help when things went wrong, and this already looked bad.  Tova did not wish to earn that man's ire.  He'd seen the whip marks on an old half-deaf gardener who had not gotten out of Ismael's way in a timely fashion one day.  Tova had few illusions of what might happen to a real outsider.

He whistled off-tune, and flexed the reins in his hands.  A lazy smile set itself on his face.  Master Merchant Tova, drunkard and fool, continued to lead the caravan towards their destination.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:08, Tue 07 Feb 2023.

Ida-Tyr pulls down the hood of his cloak, moves into the cave and looks over the bodies slowly. Silently, he looks at each one by one, looking for any details or wounds. After a period of intense investigation, Ida-Tyr steps back to the mouth of the cave and looks slowly over the horizon. Mehemet waits, well aware that Ida-Tyr will only speak when he is ready.

After a pause, Ida-Tyr begins to speak, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Please tell me the stories you have heard of the oasis. And these bodies- how old are they? And when has this happened to your people? Any details you have, particularly times things happened."

Ida-Tyr nods slowly with each point, still slowly scanning the horizon. He waits for Mehemet's reply, not showing any reaction to the armed tribesmen nearby. Mehemet and Ida-Tyr both remembered who saved Ida-Tyr from the desert, and the trust that had grown between them had only grown deeper with time and favors on both sides.

Renzo plods along the track on the saddle-beast beneath him, climbing the long, sloping ridge. He is out ahead of the caravan--a plum assignment that keeps him from eating the dust of the score of wagons in the train. No point pushing his mount much faster than the wagons behind him.

Then he tops the crest and there it is, shimmering in the westering sun like a blue and green mantle thrown down across the sands. He catches the cool, pure scent of the water, so different than the dusty, baked smell that clogged his nostrils the moment before. He feels a thrill almost equal to the first day when he and Dante beheld it.

That day he was a stranger, uncertain of his welcome among his father's family. A foreigner, a half-blood, a bastard by their lights, craving a place in his father's name, the youngest of the siblings of the reigning generation. Their dead brother, though he didn't yet know that. Dante had not told him in the weeks of their journey. There was little to his claim but a signet ring and a letter from his mother, which he could well have penned himself.

Yet they had acknowledged him, accepted him...to some extent. They termed him DiBellacqua, "of Bellacqua", not fully family but more, perhaps, than the servants of the Famiglia. Perhaps.

He had a certain credit with them for the message he brought from Dante to apprise Prince Orsino of the discovery of this oasis: So much clean water spreading over the arid land, immense wealth for any House that might claim it, and hold it. And the message he carried had given House Bellacqua the jump on their rivals and now it is theirs. If they can hold it.

He turns his steed, with some difficulty as the beast too has scented the water, and goes back down the ridge at a faster pace than he climbed it, First, to Tova in the lead wagon so he can urge the caravan forward. Then, on along the line to the wagon bearing the Lady Cassilda Bellacqua, to scrape a bit of favor with that mysterious lady by bearing tidings that the trek was nearly done.

Every day he builds his place in House Bellacqua, a favor here, a service there, a clever trade, a scrap of news. Like bricks laid to create a tower, raising it, raising him higher and higher. He has put together a foundation, now he builds, course upon course. Who knows how tall it may one day reach, how high it might lift him.

`

Lord Dante appeared quite irritated that somehow a pilgrim had penetrated the camps defenses. He nodded before addressing Kem. "Yes! Search him for weapons and then send him to my tent. I want to meet him alone, you can leave two guards outside while I interrogate him." Dante then left for his tent as he had currently been inspecting the work of his employees.

"Help me? Are you in charge here? Are you these... Bellacqua? Those who would profane this sacred place? No, no, no, there is nothing you can do to help me, my kingdom is not of this dust and grit, but of vast oceans... have you even seen an ocean before? I have. My Lord Anki has sent them to me in dreams. Blue dreams."

Liar's Tell: This man may be insane, but he believes wholly in what he's saying.


At that, several Famiglia guards slide down the slope of the dunes that surround the Oasis and roughly grab the hermit. They throw him roughly to his knees and search him for weapons. One of the guards pries a curious skeletal key from his hands.

On the other side of camp, Dante is about to duck under the flap of his personal tent when he sees a caravan crest the horizon. It bears the personal heraldry of Lord Ismaael and Cassilda.

Wilderness Mastery: How could a man on foot reach this Oasis from any corner of civilization? You cannot carry enough water on your back to get here from Tyr. Impossible.
Command: Kem is spooked that this mad hermit got through his men's patrols.



When Renzo turns towards the caravan he is informed that the Oasis has been sighted. Despite Tova's hopes, Lord Ismael does indeed ride up to the bastard. Within earshot of half the caravan, Tova included, Lord Ismael lowers the headscarf protecting his face and says, "Curious, isn't it Renzo, that my nephew Dante should be the master of this treasure in the desert. I've always thought you the more capable one, your heritage notwithstanding. Your father, may his dust find peace, the more worthy inheritor of Princedom. Curious indeed, don't you think?"

Ismael rides on, not awaiting a response, his whip cracking at any stragglers.

Nobility: This stinks of a power struggle. Is Ismael making a play for the House throne?
Liar's Tell: To Ismael, Renzo is nothing but a bastard boy, an uppity servant, and perhaps a useful tool.
Felonious Intent: Ismael is certainly plotting something that goes against Prince Orsino's interests.


Tova overhears this exchange. Custos Comitatus indeed. An outrider returns to Tova as the caravan pulls into the trade circle at the Oasis. "Tova, I rode fast as I could. There are several Benduin rangers at a rocky outcropping an hour from here. My map shows it as a desert cave. They certainly saw us... and... that is all."

Liar's Tell: This man is withholding some of the whole truth.


The desiccated corpses don't appear to have any visible exterior wounds, but they are incredibly strange to behold. They all would seem to be recently dead, but look dryer than any dead thing Ida-Tyr has ever come across on his travels. The human travelers especially have looks of abject horror plastered on their faces. They died violent deaths.

In Ida's investigation, he finds a scroll of parchment upon one of the dead travelers. It is a contract for transportation. A man named Adath agreed to pay a sum of 150 Tyrian coins for safe passage to this area of the desert. There are notes from the House arranging the transportation to have the man pay in full up front.

Outside the cave, Mehemet says, "These bodies are fresh. Several of my people sheltered here not three days ago. The cave was empty then. Since then, we have lost five of our own to whatever did this. They were like those in the cave. Drained. The stories? My father would tell us that this Oasis your House controls - it is concealing something more. He would refuse to speak of this, but he warned us that there are things in the wastes that thirst eternal. If your people have not seen anything, than we must return to our camp."

Corruption: There is a faint imprint of a curse at work upon these bodies... Ancient power...
Forgotten Lore: Memory serves of legends of creatures whose thirst cannot be quenched, even unto death itself...
Leechcraft: These bodies were expertly drained of every last drop of moisture.

Tova smiles at the outrider with new news.  And then he gestures the rider closer, so he can speak conspiratorially to them.  "It is a good thing you have arrived with that news.  Tova has known many a Beduin ranger before.  They are fierce, enduring, and rightfully full of pride.  Indeed, Tova is certain that you are choosing not to tell him the whole story because you fear the bite of their displeasure more than the wrathful whip of Lord Ismael, neh?  But come,  who is the kinder man?  Tova or your Lord?  Perhaps you recall something more you can share.  The kind of thing that will help to avert a disaster?  Perhaps the kind of information that, used in the right way, could make you a hero?  Tova is all ears."

Tova guided the wagon along, deeper into the valley.  Before long they would circle up and unload.  So much to do.  So much to do.  But it would be best to avoid trouble until everything could fall squarely at Dante's feet.  Or even better, at Lord Ismael's feet, which might help young Renzo as well.

The hardened member of the Famigilia, his name is Urmo, shifts in his saddle as the caravan circles up. "I-- I don't know if what I saw is what I saw, I'm no hero, Tova. I'm out here for the work. But..."

Urmo shakes his head. "No, I couldn't have seen it. It must be the sun, getting to my head."

Roland Rock made sure not to lose his smile. The guards must be slacking if this madman had managed to slip all the way to the stables. Still, he didn't seem particularly dangerous. And today hadn't been particularly interesting.

"Oh, I'm not. I cannot say what Lord I serve, for I am in a secret mission. I was sent to infiltrate the Bellacqua and make reports about their heresy. Lord Anki, huh? It has been a while since I heard the name. What is your purpose here? It'd be bothersome if we accidentally stepped on each other's toes, Mr...?"

Tova takes his flask from his side and hands it over to the outrider.  ”The sun is hot, and a cool drink will clear your head.  Then you can tell Tova what strange thing you saw.  Tova will not tell a soul unless it will help you earn more coin.”

Toga’s flask contains a liquor that has strong notes of anise and mint.  It also burns on the way down, as it tends to be at least 90 proof.

The hermit eyes Roland conspiratorially and licks his cracked lips, "If not Anki... Then Enlil? But... you... you're one of them?" He blinks as the guards stand aside. Sarjent Kem is approaching now, ordering him to be bound and strip searched.

As he's taken away, he whispers, "I am Adath, and I am the last priest of Anki." A single tear falls from the corner of his eye and evaporates before it hits the parched earth.

Servility: This man is a priest of the old gods! A servant of the dead divines. Some say they never existed at all! Imagine serving a dead master...


The outrider Urmo takes a swig, coughing, almost doubling over. He hands back the flask and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, wheezing, "How do you drink that lizard piss, Tova?"

The caravan begins to unpack as Urmo continues to cough. "Fine. I saw-- what did I see... there were three withered men, desiccated men watching the Benduin from a bluff. I think they saw me, and when they did, they vanished in a pillar of dust. I would have sworn it was a trick of Krath, but-- no, I know what I saw. It was sorcery of some kind. I know it."
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 07:12, Sat 11 Feb 2023.