Athasian Sandbox (IC)

[RPGAgmJAY]

http://dungeonsmaster.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/dark-sun-logo-4e.jpg

This thread is the IC location of the 'Athasian Sandbox' pbp game.

General Background of the Campaign Setting:

Athas is a broken and dieing world. The desert can kill a man quicker than a sword blade. Water is a commodity, wasted by nobles and worth a king's ransom to those without it. The beasts of the wastes are deadly, many manifesting psionic abilities to survive. Only a handful of city-states raise powerful walls against the hostile environment... yet within those walls you can find dangers of another variety. City dangers include the slaver's whip, a bard's poison, and the duplicity of everyone around you.

Magic is despised for it's role in scorching the world. No gods exist to give succor, instead a dwindling amount of elemental priests offer their blessings to those with the coin to afford them. The common folk are appeased only by the bloodiest of spectaculars shown on a weekly basis inside the gladiator's arenas. What kind of life can you create for yourself in such a desolate place? Only the strongest among you may survive to find out.


Specifics for those of you familiar with the Dark Sun setting:

I use the 3.5 rule set developed by volunteers at 'The Burnt World of Athas' a site that has been shut down with the release of the Dark Sun setting in 4th Edition.

The sandbox game takes place in the Brown Age, an undetermined number of Kings Ages before the events of the Prism Pentad series of books. Kalak is alive, as are some of the other Sorcerer Kings who were not alive during the original release of the DarkSun Campaign setting.

That said, I hold everything in the Prism Pentad series to be canon. Since those events have not yet taken place, the PCs are free to interact with the world freely to influence Athas as it spirals into oblivion.


If you are interested in playing in the 'Athasian Sandbox' game, please send the GM RPGAgmJAY a private message. Note: Before participating in this game you must complete a 'Introduction to Athas' session.

Recruitment thread here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=10768089#post10768089).

Sandbox games require a level of participation more commonly associated with a GM experience than a normal PC experience. Not all 'Introduction to Athas' PCs will be invited to participate in this game.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Welcome to Athas
An Introductory Module

The Countless Days:
The Islani have lived in the valley of Nin for as long as anyone can recall. A simple people they have lived off the land for generations. Though not rich by the standards of city folk, having very little coin among them, they have produced a bounty for generations... grains, meats, water, simple woven linens... Islani have not faced the prospect of having to go without these basic essentials.
There are no massive events and games among the people. Instead there is a community built on the warmth of familial love and affection. Evening meals are often eaten amongst extended family members, and the traditions of hospitality are strongly practiced. Traditional circle dances surround large bonfires during celebrations and the laughter of children provides a constant ambiance to their settlements.
The women see to the tending of crops, the preparation of meals and the preservation of foodstuffs. The men see to the animals when they are not busy with planting or harvest and often compete with each other in the fashioning of objects made of wood, stone and bone during their spare time. The elders teach that the world is dieing but the Islani have been saved from the worst of it here in the Valley of Nin. Though their lives are full with toil, the Islani as a whole work with great humility for they count themselves as blessed to be in such a lovely place.

Art in spoiler:


http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs20/f/2007/243/4/0/Under_a_Dark_Sun_by_JasonEngle.jpg


The Darkest Day:
That is... until recently. This day began like many others, with a cool but warming breeze brought on by the sun making ready to rise. Most Islani wake with this wind and begin their toil while the land is still dark. Sure enough, the wind acts as a reliable herald and the crimson sun does eventually peak over the mountains to the east.
With the scorching rise of that blasted orb came the darkness. The darkness came not from some mystical energy or dark magic but it came from the within the hearts of men. Foreigners had entered the valley of Nin intent on pillaging the Islani people. As shepards were coming back from their flocks on the slopes of the foothills they were cut down without warning. The shedding of their blood alerted those in the communities of the threat but this did not offer any advantage.
These foreigners were battle hardened and vicious in combat. Their weaponry was alien to the Islani and they knew not how to defend against it. Children watched as their parents rushed forward with spear and sword to defend them from these intruders. The only thing more horrifying than seeing your parents cut down is the look in their murderer's eye as he walks toward you with the same intent.
Many died that day. Though some survived, the Islani as a people were no more.

The Aftermath:

You were one of the survivors. Some are wounded others untouched. Those of you with injuries wear them with pride, at least you tried to resist. The others, while physically unblemished bear some of the deepest scars... emotional damage and regret. Regardless you all are in the same circumstance, helpless captivity.
The invaders bound you in shackles made of stone and a rope stronger than any you have encountered in the past. In long lines you were lead out of the Valley of Nin and into the wasteland that surrounds it. They marched you through the mid-day sun, the sparce grasslands giving way to barren rocks that were hard on your feet. Many of the older and weak fell out from the line. The first few were cut down in a bloody display. Others were fed to the caravan animals and mounts, often torn limb from limb. Eventually, they were just left to the wild animals of the wilderness.
You marched for days like this, each day more of your people fell from the lines. Your body ached, your feet bled freely and your skin burned from the exposure. You were given a sparce meal and little water, pulled from the loot these mongrels raided from your own lands. Eventually you were led to a large encampment where you were released into fenced pens... like animals.
At least for a time you were allowed to gather and socialize. Some men talked of rebellion and escape, though no one dared it. Even so, to a smaller degree you were again part of the Islani. Each day small groups of you were selected, pulled from these pens and sent away. No one knew where these people went to but one thing was clear, anyone selected was never seen again.



http://i940.photobucket.com/albums/ad246/OptimusZed/kingsacademy.jpg

The Now:
Eventually your day came. You were pulled from the pen and dragged out of sight of the others. There you were poked and prodded by evil men who looked over you as a starving man would eye a kirre steak. Then you were shackled and brought into an enourmous wagon, the size of a building 3 stories in height. In the first floor, in what appeared to be a cargo area you were bent over and forced into a small box along with several others.
The holding area is a box no more than 6' by 8' with a 4' high ceiling. Your shakles are pulled through a single hole in the wall and secured. The only light comes from a small barred window in the ceiling that streams in light from an oil lamp in the larger cargo hold. Given the amount of holes for people to be secured you can imagine that this little box would be fairly cramped when full.
When the first of you arrives, there is already an occupant in the hold, an old pittiful looking man named 'Mewb' who is shackled and appears to resent having to share his space with more people and he moves to make way for you.

[iTookUrNick]

Braad

I am ushered in first and bound opposite from the old man. I barely register his resentful look as he is forced to bend his legs to make room for me. Do I know him? The sheer exhaustion makes it hard to place people's faces in my head.
After spotting the foreigners I did nothing but run, first to warn the elders, the to relay messages to try and coordinate our futile attempts at defense. And after that, the long march to this parched land. Inside the pits I barely moved, trying to regain my strength despite the meager sustenance we were given. I saw some people talking, but did not partake in the conversation. The day I was able to stand without feeling dizzy was the day I was sent away.
Others follow in the container soon enough, a mass of cramped bodies reeking of sweat and fear. A part of me would gladly collapse again helplessly in the corner and into oblivion, but the animal instincts inside me would not allow it. Thus, even as the last of our group are let in I force myself to look around and think.
Why are we here? I did not like the look on the men who examined us. It's even worse, if possible, than the ones who took us captive.
What is there to do? Not much, considering our situation. A simple inspection reveals our bounds are no easy feat to get out of, if possible at all. And assuming one could free himself, he would still have to get out of the locked container, the cart and past the guards. Thinking about escape seems quite futile. Even so, my whole being reels at the thought of doing nothing.
Who is there with me? Many of our people, mostly young, mostly terrified, like carru in a thunderstorm. I recognize the look, its striking similarity between species.
I realize just now that nobody has said a word so far. Perhaps I should say something. I am quiet by nature, I am not a leader, and people are not usually moved by my speeches. Even so, this would be the right time to say something, to give a little confort, to put clear their minds of our recent tragedies and of those ahead.
I am about to speak, but someone precedes me.

[OMG PONIES]

"Fascinating."

The young woman's words seem at odds with her situation, but Alma looks around the slaving wagon with morbid curiosity. "I mean, I've read about slaving caravans before. I've seen diagrams, but I never thought I would even see one from afar--much less be transported within one!" Looking around, she realizes that the others do not look upon their situation as favorably as she does.

Sheepishly, the young woman looks down when she realizes how awkward her introduction may have been. "Apologies," she says to Mewb and the quiet newcomer, "my name is Alma. And you?"

[iTookUrNick]

I fix on the source of these words: a scrawny woman, a child's amazement on her face. How did she survive so far I cannot guess.
Fascinating, she said. Then it hits me. "For the love of our land! We're being sold as slaves!" Seeing her unconcerned attitude, I manage to tone it down a bit and bumble "I'm Braad, by he way".

[Moranica]

'This is really messed up. What did we ever do to deserve this. What kind of people would do this?" Why .... Shamira stops in mid sentence as she realises she's thinking out loud and on the verge of panicing. Acting like this wouldn't help noone.

As a merchant, she knew to look for opportunities and to try and find the best solutions for any kind of problem. These circumstances however, where nothing she'd seen before.

Looking at the others, she realises they are all in the same boat. "I'm Shamira.... and .... well, perhaps we could help eachother out. As Islani, together we can do many things....", she stops again as she notices the non-islani in their midst. "Who are you? And how did you get here?", Shamira blurts out, forgetting it's likely he isn't here on purpose either.

[iTookUrNick]

From another point of the small container I hear a brawny woman, quite unlike the other, overcome her own shock at being sold into slavery and propose to focus into doing something constructive.
She may look like an unlikely leader, but it's better than none. At least until she completely loses her focus and stat questioning the old man in front of me. Bad timing if you ask me. Yet I wait listening intently for his answer, trying to gauge whether he might help or hinder our efforts.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Responding at first to any questions offered by these newcomers the man kisses his knuckles and presses them to his forehead when responding, "I'm Mewb. As for how I got here, my former master sold me to pay off debts he owed. I'm fairly sure I'm headed to the block for auction." His accent is unlike anything you've ever heard before, though his words seem easy enough to make out.

He's a wretched looking creature, thin and gaunt with a weathered look like a piece of leather that had been left too long out in the sun. He wears a rusty loin cloth that appears to have been poorly dyed with off-white and dark tan stains. The stench of his oldness fills the small room you're stuck in.

[Khantin]

Goby

A young dark skinned man is shoved into the crate. His features would be handsome if they weren't stained with filth. His pitch black shoulder length hair is matted with sweat and silt, and his eyes are unfocused and glassy.

The door slams shut and his manacles are pulled tight against the wall of the crate. The young man doesn't resist: the invasion and subsequent slavery of his people had been particular cruel to him, and it had left him near lifeless.

During the journey from Nin, the danger and harshness of the march kept Gomy in a primal state. His only concern was surviving, and it took all his focus, leaving nothing to dwell on the atrocities committed. But his time in the pens brought the horrors back. He had seen all four of his brothers killed and his parents as well, and he had not seen any of his sisters since that day either. The events of the day replaying in his head.

There is an exhausting heat in the crate, with so many bodies cramped into such a tiny space it felt like there was sweat in the air. A quiet chatter from the other inhabitants slowly brings Gomy out of his near catatonic state, and he recognizes most of the people from are from home, except for one old man.

The words of the old man are so different from anything Gomy had heard before, the shock of it kept Gomy silent, at least for a little while.

[iTookUrNick]

"Do you know where are we? Where are we headed to?" I ask. Then i add with a somewhat husked voice:"Is there a way out?"

[RPGAgmJAY]

"Where we are? Where we're going? No idea." Mewb responds with distain. To the hushed question about escape he only cackles, "You best not get any ideas on that last part... not if you value your life."

And with a jolt you feel the caravan beneath you begin to move.

((OOC: Last official post this week, feel free to rp through the weekend with Mewb or each other. Monday will be eventful.))

[OMG PONIES]

Alma curses under her breath as the jolt of the caravan causes her to bump her tailbone against the floor of the slave crate. "From what I can surmise," she states, "the engineer of this vehicle gave heavy consideration to exactly how to deprive us of that information. I'm afraid we won't know where we're going until we get there. As for escape, just some basic calculations could show that your probability of surviving in the wild after an escape is equal to or lower than your probability of surviving as a slave." She flashes a brief smile, as if her cold facts were designed to be words of comfort.

[iTookUrNick]

I look at Alma. Her tone, if not her words, sounds entirely reasonable. But reasonable is not what I would like to hear now.
"If that's the case then I do not see what good would it do to keep talking". And with that sour remark, I slouch back to my corner.
Not the friendliest of remarks, perhaps. Whatever, I am having a bad day and lots of time to contemplate that very fact.

[RPGAgmJAY]

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3eujKUs8Ny4/THXHHbM7feI/AAAAAAAAB30/s5uUPbMDyF8/s1600/caravan.JPG

Perhaps it was the shock of the past few days but the group of you mostly traveled in silence. For the last four days you've had the same routine, 2 meals per day with a cup of water each. Two days ago Alma noticed the bread was sliced from a loaf of Grenich's famous 'Broy rye bread with scuppernong berries', the momentary reminder of your home lightened the mood for only a moment before dropping you back into the dark realization of your circumstances. Each day at high sun, when the caravan came to rest each of you were rotated out of the box one at a time to stretch your legs, feel the sunlight and tend to your... personal business, all the while with a guard not more than an arms length from you, holding your shackles as a cavalryman would hold his kank's bridle.

Yesterday was different, the sound of strong winds could be heard through the walls of the caravan. No one came to let you out during high sun and the caravan seemed to sit in place for much of the day. No guard came to bring evening meal either and your stomachs knotted up with hunger pains and the feeling of dehydration weakened your limbs. When you awoke this morning the cell reeked of human excrement and a layer of filth covered the floor of your holding cell.

It’s now noon time and the daily meal is served as it usually is. The door is opened. A gruff voice says, “Backs against the walls! Shackles forward!” A guard looks in; his sandstone helmet makes it hard to identify him compared to the other guards who have performed his duty. Judging by his voice this guard is different from the others who have performed this duty but you’re not exactly sure. After checking that the shackles are in good order he squats in, stooped low and carrying a plate but not allowing anything but his boots to touch the filthy floor. Sand falls from his obsidian studded mekillot hide armor as he sets the plate down in the center of the cell.

The plate has a bowl full of dry Dem bush leaves, ground faro and smoked kip slivers (a pungent but filling mix often fed to slaves as it expands in the stomach) for each of you as well as the usual ceramic cup of water. As the guard backs out of the room he adds, “Sandstorm kicked up and we lost two barrels of water… things will be lean for the next week.” His words do not seem harsh but rather hard as the slaves are not the only ones affected by the recent turn of events. It is at this point you realize that the ceramic cups are only half full of water, a meager ration.

((OOC: Anyone not slaking their thirst with a full cup of water needs to make a DC10 fortitude save for dehydration or become fatigued. Those who do not even have a 1/2 cup of water make the save at DC12.

Actions, further conversation... Post 'em. The module actually picks up from this point forward. The week-end was left open for conversation and RP... not much characterization done. :frown: We'll see if an uptick in the action doesn't pick things up.

If you don't make something happen on your own, Wednesday's post will keep the timeline going. As always, I'll post between then and now for any conversation with NPCs that you may have or to give you the results of any actions your PCs take.))

[OMG PONIES]

[roll0]

Alma drinks what there is in her cup, then waits until the sounds of the guards pick back up to the usual din that signifies they've gone back to ignoring the slaves. This changes the calculation, she thinks to herself. Now it seems our odds of survival in the wild are on par with our odds in captivity. Moreso, it might mean that the guards are weakened and present less of a challenge in a fight. Escape might be a plausible possibility.

The girl examines her surroundings, paying close attention to the door, the shackles, and the condition of her fellow slaves. She visualizes the shackles, attempting to think of any way she can free herself of them. Any way that makes them seem intact is best, but even if she could detach her shackles from the carriage itself, she'd gladly run with hands bound.

[roll1]
[roll2]

[RPGAgmJAY]

There is nothing like thirst to bring out the primal spirit in people.

Alma examines the door. It is made of strong agafari wood, both the hinges and the latch are on the outside of the door. When the door is closed it is effectively a wall of wood with no holds or access points from the inside.

The window at the top of the cell is long but very thin, no more than 6" wide. The whole length of it is barred by small agafari wood branches set into the thick clay that the walls and ceiling are constructed out of, with just enough room to reach a hand through.

The shackles are made of stone tied together with a rope that seems as strong as steel. Even knawing on it does little more than to make your teeth hurt and already cracked lips bleed from abrasion. Perhaps something with an edge would have a better effect on the rope. The stone seems solid enough as you test it against the surface of the floor.

Mewb whines at you when you do so, "Stop making noise, otherwise the guards are likely to come and give you a beating for the nuisance. You'll be lucky if that's all they do to a young thing like you." The look Mewb gives you on that last part is rather unsettling but it seems clear that he knows how these people think.

[Khantin]

Fortitude save [roll0]
Ooc:
If endurance counts towards this roll, add 4 more to the results

Goby picks up the small ceramic cup and looks at it's contents doubtfully, them shrugs his shoulders and downs the contents in one go. The meagre half cup barely wets his lips, and Gomy wonders to himself: will it be enough?


With the old man's admonishment in mind he begins speaking in a muted voice. "Normally I would agree with the old man, and try to wait it out until we get into a more advantageous position. But without knowing how long it will take to arrive at our destination we may end up dead from thirst before our situation improves. If we are ever in a situation where escape is a possibility, I can..."

Guilt and doubt and shame are borne on Gomy's face as he tries to explain.


"I never told any one before, but I can manifest an entangling goo, if we ever need to escape, or even fight." with that admission Gomy drops silent and states studiously at the floor.

[OMG PONIES]

Alma seems puzzled. "You're ashamed of this? That's...that's fascinating!" She pauses in thought before whispering her next words: "Perhaps you could entangle the guard when he comes in to feed us next. The closest among us could cut our rope on his blade, perhaps, before using it to free the others." The gears in her head seem to start turning as she thoughtfully taps on her chin.

[iTookUrNick]

Hushed: "Are we sure this is wise? And even if we decide to proceed, we'd better come up with something a little more solid than that. We would be risking everything on one attempt. I would not be surprised if failure would mean our death."

To Goby: "If we go ahead with this tomorrow, we will be counting on... that thing you said." Little goose bumps appear beneath the tattered clothes I am wearing, but I manage to keep my voice steady. One can never be prepared to this kind of revelations. "If you feel like you really need more water, you can have my cup. I figure I can take it for a day or so. I hope, at least".

OOC:
Fortitude vs dehydration: [roll0]
Escape Artist (trying can't hurt, can it?): [roll1]

How much leeway do these shackles give us? Enough to tackle a guard? Maybe with penalties, aiding one another or such?

[RPGAgmJAY]

At Goby's confession at manifesting a 'goo', Mewb just cackles with glee and points to the floor which remains a mess with human waste. "So you're the one who made this mess..."

Seeing as the others were content to talk to one another, Mewb sat back and ate his meal and sipped his water quietly. Until Braad speaks up about the penalties for escape, at which point Mewb again speaks up. "The penalty for attempting escape is a sound beating for all involved. All..." he says as he motions around the room and finished by point at himself, "and this All doesn't want to get punished because you youngsters are so sun-scorched you've lost your minds."

With that his crosses his arms and turns his head away from you, as if that could seperate him from the lot of you in such close quarters. Mostly mumbling to himself he quietly digresses, "B'sides... they likely gots a psion or two amongst the guards..."

[OMG PONIES]

Alma smirks. "A well-placed, well-timed stone to the noggin makes a psion just another bookworm." She considers the possible time and effort involved in freeing everyone; having the "All" Mewb mentioned on their side increases the chances exponentially, but also the required time and energy.

[iTookUrNick]

"A beating, that's all?"

Not too loud, but clear enough for most people to hear: "Do you think that in a lifetime of servitude we won't get our fair share of beatings? I'd say there will be enough that one more or less will make little difference. Little enough compared to the difference between freedom and imprisonment, I'd say".

"I'm not saying everybody will make it tomorrow. Some will be captured and beaten, and sold as slaves. Even among those who escape, the harsh land we find ourselves in will take its toll. But we are one people. We look after each other, and we do not forget. If some of us escape, there will be hope for the rest. Hope for freedom, hope of reunion with our kin, and hope for a land to call our own."

I scan the room and look at the faces around me. What are they thinking?

Again to Mewb: "You are not an Islani. I do not even know if you ever tasted freedom at all. But if you care to help us in our attempt, we will count you as one of us.
Think about it, but not too much. The lady there seems to be working on some kind of plan and she may need your answer to proceed. Besides, since you will most likely get beaten anyway, you might as well give it a try".

[Khantin]

Goby sees Braad lobbying the old man for any help he might provide and joins his voice to Braad's.

"Say what you will about our chances Mewb, we are going to try and escape. If we had the help of someone with more knowledge about the situation, our chances would greatly improve. Your choices at this point are to ignore us, and probably get a beating later, or to help us and maybe get beaten. They aren't great choices but one is clearly better than the other.

Have you ever lived free? You go where ever you might want to, you do work that suits you, you keep what you earn. I woke up happy every day of my life until I was taken, that fate is still open to you, if you help us."

ooc:Diplomacy on Mewb: [roll0]

[iTookUrNick]

To Goby, under my breath: "Nice pitch. If we make it out of here we'll need someone at least vaguely familiar with the land and the people that inhabit it."

Both to Alma and Goby: "We're still missing a solid plan though. The only thing I could come up with was choking the guard with the shackles from behind and take them down quietly. This would let us save your... thing... for the guards outside. Sounds good to you?"

OOC:
I hope this can be done. It depends a lot on the amount of rope available. It works best if there is a straight connection between the two shackles, but even if there isn't one could use one tract from the shackle to the wall and warp it around the guard's neck. This latter method requires more rope.

[Khantin]

"That could work, we'll just place the tray so that the guard has his back to our strongest, and pretend to be so fatigued from dehydration we can't pass it to them."

[Moranica]

Fort save [roll0]

"I am not yet sure about this plan of escape of you. We have hardly been weakened yet by the reduced rations, so I doubt our guards will be. We could trip them, goo them, even kill them perhaps, but then we'd still be in here and have no clue about outside. Any idea about the size of this caravan, the number of guards? Really, surviving AFTER our escape is the least of our worries."

"We have nothing to bargain with and our lives to lose. Unless you'd like to gamble with your life of course. In my profession as a merchant I learned to be patient. There is always a small window of opportunity that presents itself, and it is in those moments that you can make a difference."

"Mewb, you've been here longer. Have you seen anyone escape, ever? And when would be the most opportune moment to make a dash for it? What do you think about this whole situation?"

"For those that wish to try and escape, I would wait for a sandstorm. Visibility is very poor in such conditions and most guards will be seeking cover, so I couldn't think of a better time to make a run for it."

[iTookUrNick]

"Good thinking. Now, why are we even waiting for tomorrow? The nighttime would give us a slight edge in not being discovered and in covering our tracks, at lest for a while and as long as we can manage to keep it quiet. That assuming we do get night rations.
If we do get discovered, or if we try this during the day, it would be best to split in groups of no more than five persons each. This way each group will be harder to tail and they might decide to cut their losses and concentrate their manpower on some groups, letting others go. Perhaps splitting would be best anyway. Our... scent... is probably unmistakable.
Last, but not least, if they bring us water, we might want to let the guard put it down before acting. That may be the last for a while"

As I keep speaking up, it occurs to me I might be the most qualified in the group to comment on the subjects of hunting and wilderness in general. Suddenly, I feel responsible in person for the success of the escape. That, mixed with the anticipation of the hunt and the promise of freedom, make my pulse run faster. I've never felt this way for anything or anyone. It is, and I would never admit it to anyone, intoxicating.

We will not fail.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Mewb shakes his head. "Escape from a caravan hold? Never heard of it. There are plenty of slaves who manage to escape from their masters but that happens in the city, not out in the wilderness. I've seen plenty try to escape and the punishment they recieve is harsh. Some make it out into the wilderness never to return, though I'd wager most of them are dead."

"The most opportune time to escape is once you're safely in a city. As for what I think, I think the lot of you are crazy. If the guards catch wind of what you plan we'll all be in a heap of trouble. In time they'll learn you well about the proper place for a slave."

And with that he balls up in his corner and turns his back to you all.

[Moranica]

"That decides it then, I'll wait until the city, before trying anything. No need to get myself killed, just because I'm getting thirsty. On another note, I don't trust this non-islani and don't think it is wise to discuss plans near him. For all we know he could be a rat."

[iTookUrNick]

"A rat? What would even be the point?"
Sense motive on Mewb: [roll0]

"I would have done it tonight. I am still doing it, if enough of you are willing.

But then, when it comes to decisions, it all boils down to accurately estimate risks and rewards. I am the first to admit we do not have any solid info on what to expect around here or at our destination. All we have is hunches and guesses".

To the merchant lady (merchant?!? she sure doesn't look like one, unless she does all the heavy lifting by herself...): "A sandstorm would not do: our own chances of survival would go way down. I am reluctant to say it, but it's better to be recaptured than to die out there. More to the point, there are no guard rounds during sandstorms'.

[iTookUrNick]

"If we were to wait for external intervention, perhaps the best time would be during an attack or a raid. Perhaps from wild kanks trying to free their imprisoned kin..." I look pointedly at Mewb, to see if he betrays himself. But man, it's hard to tell under the disguise.

"On a side note, does any of you remembers how many different guards have we met so far?".

[OMG PONIES]

Alma raises an eyebrow as Mewb speaks; the senior citizen might be sharper than he likes to let on. Escaping while in a city would heighten the possibility of anonymity, as well as the likelihood of survival. She had heard of enough tales and read enough to know that even the most measly, dimwitted individual could survive in a city if they had enough tenacity.

Alma bows her head in thought, trying to calculate the probability of safe escape in a city. It was difficult, though; she had never been in one, so it was tricky to estimate all possible considerations. She raises her head as Braad speaks up. It was nice to hear someone else had begun thinking logically--talking in terms of risk and reward.

She speaks sharply and softly. "Tonight is too hasty, and waiting for a raid is too variable. We wait until we reach a city; we'll know during our...rest stop." First a scholar, now a criminal...a thin smile crosses Alma's lips. If nothing else, this experience is certainly serving to broaden her horizons.

[iTookUrNick]

"I bow to the decision of the group".

My pulse slows and I slouch a little more. The call of the wild fades to the back of my mind, subdued but not driven away. We bid our time now, but in the end we will need to embrace it.

[Khantin]

Goby listens to the back and forth with interest. At the mention of counting the guards he scrunches up his face and tries to think of how many different guards he has seen on the caravan.

Ooc
intelligence check to remember how many guards he has seen
[roll0]
"If we all aren't committed to an escape right now, then we should wait. We'll only get one chance most likely and we've got to make it count. Let me think for a moment about the guards, I was kind muddled when they dragged me in here so I might not have the best count."

[RPGAgmJAY]

http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/images/183806/goliath.jpg

The holding cell settles into a time of quiet contemplation as the day wears on. Night meal arrives much in the same manner it has for some time. "Backs against the wall you worthless Renk!" he grunts loudly. Pulling open the door he couches to peak in at the lot of you, his sharpened bone sword drawn behind him as he cautiously eyes you. A much more cautious action than any of the previous guards had practiced before... or was he one of the same guards that served you in the past couple of days? It was hard to tell, each wore basically the same kit of gear with sandstone helmets.

As he steps into the cell you can see through the open door several other guards with crossbows drawn and pointed towards you. The guard sets the tray down in the room and begins to slowly back out, the tension in the air is palatable and his muscles bulge with restrained power. The meal is simple as it was this morning: a bowl dried Dem bush leaves, ground faro needles, with a smattering of smoked kip slivers and a cup of water... half empty.

((Actions?))

[iTookUrNick]

OOC:
Actions? Heck, no! :smallbiggrin:
Intelligence check to remember the guards: [roll0]
Perception to see the ones outside: [roll1]
Fortitude check for half rations: [roll2]


I suppress a curse. I do not stir, I try to breath slowly and quietly. This is so not standard procedure. They must have heard us. When the guards get out, we will have to do things much more quietly if at all. But until then, I do not move or meet their gaze.

I manage to shot a glance at the old man, though. I can't honestly make heads and tails of him, which is strange, as I usually am a good judge of character. Among my people, that is.

[Khantin]

Ooc:
diplomacy on main guard: [roll0]
AND/OR bluff: [roll1]
Fortitude for half water ration: [roll2]
Perception on guards: [roll3]
Trying to get out of this box to try and assess the defenses and personnel.


The bare bone-sword and cocked crossbows shake Gomy out of his new found equilibrium. A cold sweat runs over his body, and there is a crushing pressure in his chest. The words he had prepared simply evaporated in his throat.

As the guard places the meal down and begins to slowly back out of the room, Gomy slowly fights down the surge of panic that had engulfed him at the sight of their ready weapons. Hoping that his panic attack had added to his appearance of desiccation.

"Wait! Don't go yet, please, we are going to die on half cups of water. How much longer until we arrive somewhere with water? Please I would do almost anything for more water."

[iTookUrNick]

It feels harder to keep curses in my throat as someone near me starts blabbering in panic. A beating? If one of the guards snaps, it's going to be a bloodbath, more likely.

I stay motionless and hope for the best.

[RPGAgmJAY]

As Gomy begins to plead with the guard for a moment the man flinches and his sword comes forward with trained ease. One of the crossbow weilding guards raises his weapon to his shoulder and takes aim. They both settle as it becomes clear that Gomy is deperate and making a plea for water. (Bluff Success)

As Gomy completes his request for water the guard flexes forward aggressively, feinting to strike with the pommel of his weapon as he barks out, "We're in the middle of the wastes you fool... None of us have the water we need. Count yourself lucky that you're not forced to walk like the rest of us! Now shut yer yap you burnt spoiled slave... we'll be pulling in to Altaruk in a few days..."

[Moranica]

Fort save [roll0]

A few days huh, I'll last that long. Not sure about the others though, from the sound of it. Guess I'll just wait and see.

[OMG PONIES]

[roll0]

Alma shrivels up her nose at the meal in front of her. Simple food for simple folk, she thinks, longing for her nightly suppers back in the village where she'd experiment with various herbs, spices, and seasonings...usually much to the chagrin of her parents and their tastebuds. Her parents. It's the first time the idea hits her; she looks around the caravan, studying the faces. No...they probably didn't make it out of the village. Of course, if they weren't here, the odds were most likely--

She stops herself from following that train of thought and instead focuses on the guard who has entered the caravan. Okay, we'll need a pneumonic device to remember the guards, she thinks. How about making up names? This one carries a bone sword, so...how about Femur Frank? Okay, he's one. She studies the outside guards with crossbows, trying to see how many there are and assign nicknames to each.

[roll1] to remember how many guards she's seen
[roll2] to see the other guards and their conditions
Autohypnosis: take 10 for a total of 15 to memorize guards


Her system is interrupted, however, as Gomy blurts out his plea for help. Alma says nothing, but shoots him daggers with her eyes. Hopeless fool, he'll increase our odds of a beating exponentially. He's frightened; if only he could step back and see the logical-- The girl sighs under her breath. She finally realizes (or finally admits to herself): she is scared too.

The guard's words bring her strange comfort, however. It sounds as if they are only days away from a city! She scans her brain for anything about Altaruk that she can remember. Why does it sound so familiar?

[roll3] for information about Altaruk
[roll4] for information about Altaruk

[iTookUrNick]

A few days we can handle. Let's see how they present themselves next time they bring us rations, if they remain so much on the alert.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Alma recalls meeting a foreign merchant when she was only a child. Her father offered him hospitality for a night and when he was leaving he commented, "I'll likely head south and pull into Altaruk to ease my feet for a few days before moving on..." but that's all she can recall. (Knowledge-local)

The guard backs out of the cell cautiously and secures the door once again. You hear the sound of feet shuffling around in the cargo hold and a shadow falls over the light that streams through the window above your cell. You hear the guard's voice once more, "You wanna get outta here and into the sandy wastes?! Here's a taste of what's waiting for ya!"


http://www.animalsgallery.com/gallery/scorpion-pictures/scorpion-pictures_2.jpg


With that he pours a small bag of scorpions into your holding cell. Mewb immediately begins to cry out and thrash as they fall right in the middle of the cell with you.

OOC:

Alright, he's the game. There are 8 tiny scorpions in here with you. Due to the cramped quarters, no one gets a Dex bonus to AC. They are fairly easy to hit and crush, having an AC of 12 and 1 hp a piece. Just make sure you are accurate, there could be penalties for missing your attacks badly. The initiative belongs to the PCs, act accordingly.

[Moranica]

Shamira looks in terror as the scorpions drop in their midst.

"Aaahhh, crap, look what you did!!!", she shouts angrily. "KILL THEM!! Quick!!"

Attack on the nearest scorpion. [1d20+4[/roll]

[iTookUrNick]

I stand up as soon as I realize the guard above us is trowing something down. I bump my head, not remembering we only have 4' of space. Between that and the mass of people it's hard to move effectively if at all.

I take aim at one scorpion and try to crush it. Really not looking forward to the sensation of squishing the creature with my bare foot, but there is very little choice right now. Hopefully, none of us will get poisoned.

Attack roll on the scorpion: [roll0] vs AC

The merchant (I don't recall her name, not sure she told us*) is starting the blame game already. Fantastic, really. Way to go. At least she swatted one of the blasted creatures.

I grunt: "Yeah, we get it. It was a bad idea because, you know, we got caught. Keep stomping, we'll talk afterward, or not at all if you prefer"

*OOC:
Turns out she did. Oh, well...

[Khantin]

As the small scorpions fall to the ground, Gomy stands up as straight as the tight confines will allow. The fear and desperation stamped over his face seconds ago disappeared so quickly they might as well have never been there.

With a calm look on his face he tries to stomp on the closest one with his foot.

Attack roll on the scorpion: [roll0]

"At least we picked up some information out of that exchange. For one, they listen to our conversations, and for two, we are headed to somewhere called Altaruk that is only a few days away."

[OMG PONIES]

Alma breathes deeply as the scorpions crawl over her feet. "Watch out for the stingers," she says, attempting to hide the quaver in her voice. "and try to attack them with blunt force. The thick carapace protects their softer organs. Those in bare feet may not want to step on them, though, at risk of being stung and poisoned." She looks around the caravan for pebbles, hard foodstuffs, or anything she can throw at the little beasties. If she can't find anything within her reach (and is wearing sufficient footcoverings), she'll attempt to stomp one of the scorpions.

Rolls:
[roll0] for Knowledge Devotion and any further scorpion info (special powers or vulnerabilities)
[roll1] to find any sufficient ranged weapons (improvised or otherwise)
[roll2] if she finds anything*
[roll3] if she doesn't* (and is wearing shoes)

*before +3 to attacks and damage from Knowledge Devotion.

Ranged attack 14 vs AC or
Melee attack 13 vs AC

Either way, I think I kill one. :smallbiggrin: Alma will still try to find ranged weapons (pebbles, etc) so she can Rapid Shot in later rounds.

[iTookUrNick]

I hear Alma's advice a little late, as I already have scorpion goo under my heel.
Is there anything *I* know about scorpions?

K (nature): [roll0]

"Alma, use your empty cup if you don't want to use your body".

[RPGAgmJAY]

End of Round 1:

You hear the laughter of the guards as you react to the scorpions.

Shamira hammerfists the nearest one and flattens it.

Braad feels the swish of bug guts between his toes. Gross.

Gomy tries to stomp one as well but the critter quickly scurries under a bowl of food and Gomy is wise enough not to stomp the little food and water they have.

Alma looks around for something to throw but only sees the cups and bowls on the tray. Not wanting to chance getting stung uses the stone manacles on her feet to smash one of the beasts as it crawls predictably towards a concealed space near one of the others. (Knowledge Devotion & Knowledge Nature check) These scorpions are little sand scorpions, not a lethal threat but their poison will leave a burning sensation in the limb for days.

Scorpions turn:
The scorpions pour onto the floor and immediately begin skittering around looking for a place to hide. Unfortunately, there are only two locations... near the food or under a person. All of the yelling and Mewb's thrashing have them irritated and their tails are up and ready to strike.

OOC Rolls/Rules-

5 scorpions left. 1 attack on each of the PCs in the same order as listed above and the last one on Mewb. All hits do 1 hp of damage and require a Fortitude Save DC 13 against the poison (Damage -2 to all actions for 1 minute/1 Dex Damage).

I think it's a fair assumption that without Dex, everyone is at AC 10 at the moment.

Rolls in OOC thread...

Take your damage as appropriate and then list your next actions.

[Khantin]

One of the scorpions makes a bee line for Gomy and tries to sting him, but Gomy simply moves out of scorpions stinger range. Chaos breaks out in the little containment cell, and Gomy sees Braad squish one under his foot and revulsion flickers across his face. That's really gross, Gomy thinks to himself.

Desperately looking around he sees the old man get stung and start panicking, but Alma remains collected and uses her manacles to smash one of the bugs. Now there's a good idea..

Gomy tries to imitate Alma and squash a bug with his manacles.
Attack roll: [roll0]

[Moranica]

Seeing the scorpions scatter Shamira looks focused.

Remember, there were 8 of them, we have to kill them all or sleeping will be painfull.

"Ok guys, five more to squash, keep it up!"

STOMP!!!


Attack [roll0]

[OMG PONIES]

”Scorching son of a…” Alma spits as the scorpion pricks her foot. She crouches back a step, and throws her cup at the creature.

[roll0]
[roll1] (+4 if not improvised)
[roll2]

[iTookUrNick]

The sensation under my feet is indeed as gross as it looks. Better copy Alma's technique. That girl got talent, I have to admit.

[roll0] <bug squishing.

I eye one of the water cups. Perhaps I could drink my cup and use it to trap a scorpion, but I do not want to chance being stung unnecessarily.

[iTookUrNick]

I reach with my hand, take the cup and gulp down its contents as quickly as possible, trying at the same time not to losse sight of the remaining bugs.

I take a look around, looking for my next target. Ideally, it would be best if the guards do not realize what I am doing.

[RPGAgmJAY]

End of Round 2:

Mewb cries out as one of his flailing feet catch a scorpion... stinger first. He now coddles his foot and cries from the pain of it's venom enflaming his entire foot. "Ahhhn!! I wasn't with them!! I wouldn't try to escape!!", he calls out in a half whimper.

Gomy attempts to mimic Alma's method but not only completely misses the scorpion but also trips himself up in the process. He does manage to catch himself from falling directly ontop of one of the scorpions... but at the expense of the tray of food and water which is dashed against the door of the cell. Food and water spilling everywhere. (Bad luck... it happens)

Shamira takes out another scorpion with a solid stomp of her heel, making easy work of these critters.

Alma grabs up a cup and launches it at one of the scorpions, scooping it off the floor before cutting it in half when it hits the wall.

Braad squishes yet another one of the vermin with a well placed foot slap. When he grabs up a cup to drink it's contents he finds it only somewhat moist with bits of faro grain mixed into it, already starting to swell with the moisture they absorb.

Scorpions turn:
Only two remain, but where are they? You can hear footsteps as the guards walk away from the cell, having had their fun at your expense for the day.

OOC Rolls:

Random attacks: 1-5 in the order above with 1 being Mewb and 5 being Braad.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[OMG PONIES]

Alma grabs another mug and scans the caravan for any signs of the two remaining scorpions. "They often look for concealed places," she says, hoping to educate the others, "flexing their tails low to reduce their visual profile. They can't be seen, but they can still sting. Stay on the lookout." She thinks she sees a bug, and tosses the mug across the caravan. However, it ricochets harmlessly off the side of the box with a dull thud.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[iTookUrNick]

I feel the sting on the foot I am standing on, and I quickly swap position and start pumping the injured feet in the air, as if there was something attached to it. The pain is...

Fortitude roll for poison: [roll0]

... bad, but not half as bad as one would believe from hearing the old man wailing pleas. I have the strong urge to kick the stinking rat in the nuts, but I keep focused on the task at hand.

I look down below, trying to find the insidious vermin.

Perception check: [roll1]

... there it is! Since the guards left, I decide to try and cup the scorpion.

[iTookUrNick]

With a quick motion I put down the empty bowl:

Intiating a grapple: [roll0] vs touch
Grapple check: [roll1] vs opposite grapple

[Moranica]

"Alright, only two left. Time to finish this up. Enough food and energy has been wasted on this."

Perception [roll0]
Attack [roll1]

[Moranica]

"Alright, that should be it for the scorpions. I am happy to see that we are all still alive. I'd rather not think about the consequences if those were of a more poisonous variety."

"What now? We know they are listening in on us. Just a couple of days to survive, assuming circumstances will improve once we get to the city.... I wonder what it will be like, but it can't be much worse then sitting in this wagon, .......can it?"

"Mewb, any idea what kind of work they will have us do?"

[iTookUrNick]

When the dust settles (so to speak), we are left with one scorpion, alive and kicking under the cup, and no food or water. Not looking good for tonight. On the other hand, picking up the food from the floor covered in human wastes still seems like a bad idea. So far. And besides, we suffered through this already once.

I shot a venomous glance at Mewb, angry for his words. After this, I would not trust that man with a packet of sand in the wasteland. The scorpion sting serves him right.

I have vengeful thoughts about the guards, too. Up until now, they were to me hateful men doing a hateful job. Now I know they enjoy the suffering they are causing us. They feel like cats playing with their prey. But one day, one day our roles will be reversed...

Loud: "I propose not to speak nor try anything else until we get to the city. It's clear that our best chance of making it lies in not irritating the guards". All the while I tap ear and make a circle in the air with my finger, hoping to convey my message without words. I study the faces around me looking for some sort of feedback. Then I point to the cup with the scorpion, raise an eyebrow and tilt my head slightly, waiting for suggestions.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Mewb mostly just whines and cries for a while. "Why should I tell you anything?! You're just stupid and get me stung for nothing! To make matters worse, you wrecked our meal... I'm barely making it on 1/2 cup of water as it is..."

After a while he settles down and adjusts to the burning in his foot and hand. "It all depends on what kind of master hires you." He looks up at the ceiling as he remembers, "My last master was nice. Nothing like the master that raised me... he was evil as a bloody baazrag. No, the last one was nice... worked in his household taking care of the affairs of house. Once a week I was allowed to walk freely through the marketplace to pick-up foodstuffs for the chef or basic amenities. Unfortunately, his wealth got to his head and he lost some large wagers in the arena games. He lost several estates and the slaves that went with them..."

Continueing, "Anyway, if you have skills or a trade it would be best to speak of them before you go up on the block. It's always better to work a trade than to be seen as useless chattle, they get the more labor intensive jobs or..." and he looks at Alma and Shamira and you can tell that in his eyes you are completely bare and exposed as you sit, "there are worse types of jobs they could have in mind for the two of you..." then nodding to Gomy, "and possibly you as well. Riches have a way of making people sick in the mind and twists them to do depraved things."

[Khantin]

Braad's suggestion of silence was a good one, and Gomy nodded his head in agreement. Even if they planned or discussed escape, they had no chance to succeed with the guards listening. They needed a hand code or a cipher if they wanted to get any where.

The old man had been trying to goad Gomy for a while now. It didn't really offend him or make him angry, they were just words, and words are ignored easily enough. His thoughts were elsewhere at the moment anyways. Gomy half heartedly mumbled a response,
"I'm a bone crafter by trade old man, and my work is good."

Being at the mercy of these thugs was starting to grate on him. Dark thoughts came to him: One day, one of my creations will snuff the life out of these murdering slavers. But for now, patience and planning. And Gomy found he liked them.

[iTookUrNick]

Discussing a plan without speaking is much harder than anticipated. Either that, or we do not have much to say to each other right now.

It's at times like these that I wish I knew how to write. Yeah, these times when people uproot you from your home and put you in a box, and then listen to what you say aloud... you know what, its field of application is probably too narrow anyway. I'd be better off learning a hand sign language.

It seems that none of us knows what to do with the trapped critter. If we decide not to try anything until the trip is over, perhaps it would be best to deal with it right now. I signal with my hand that I want to squish it, an interrogative expresion on my face.

[Moranica]

"WHAT?!?! What are you suggesting Mewb? If they think I will ever touch a piece of laundry they have another thing coming. One of my fist for instance. I am a merchant with a good reputation and can take good care of myself. And doing other peoples laundry is not my thing.
...... Anyway, I doubt our stay there will be pleasant. For now, we best sit tight."

Having recovered from the shock Shamira realizes that everyone has gone quiet. Flushing a bit, she raises her hand in a apoligizing way and bundles up her legs under her. When she notices Braad's scorpion she raises her shoulders. She clearly has no idea what to do with a tiny scorpion. After that she takes to herself and tries to get some sleep.

[iTookUrNick]

I break the silence just to murmur: "Yeah, laundry..."

[RPGAgmJAY]

http://www.travelphotosforyou.com/albums/india/jaisalmer/india_jaisalmer_sunset_in_desert.jpg

Later that evening you feel the caravan come to a stop and guards come to let you out one at a time for a walk. Though it clearly is evening the sky begins to light up as the second moon Guthay begins to crest over the distant horizon. Each of you is escorted in a different direction by a guard who holds the rope tether to your manacles. Additionally, you are followed by a second guard carrying a crossbow.

There is less tension in the air this evening than there was earlier. The guard even gives you some slack so that you can crouch in a tuft of desert grass while you take care of your personal business. Looking around you can see that you indeed are alone, you do not spot any of the others and the desert stretches out all around you. A cool breeze chills your flesh as you've been sweating profusely in the cramped conditions of the holding cell.

Goby only: (Do not open spoilers that belong to others without permission.)

Goby, once you've relieved yourself adaquately you turn to head back to the caravan but the guards don't move with you, the short amount of slack keeps you among them. Before you can ask what is going on you see that three others are walking in your diection from the caravan. Two of them are guards, wearing the same armor as the rest. The third walks infront of them as one with authority. Though he too wears the chest piece of mekillot hide with obsidian studs, his arms and legs are uncovered and he does not wear the sandstone helmet.

He stops only a step or two away from you. "You have a talent for the Way...", he plainly states while pointing to the open desert to direct you, "show me." His eyes are dark and hard as he makes his command clear by force of personality. Even the guards step aside some to clear the way for you.


((OOC: Feel free to interact with the guards as you like before heading back to the Caravan. I'll play this out over the week-end but we'll be moving on with things on Monday, unless you wrap this up before then. Remember if you want to RP things a bit post with the [discussion] tag until you are finished.))

[Moranica]

Being outside again does Shamira good. She tries to stretch as much as possible, but the manacles are quite a pain. Looking around she tries to count the number of guards and anything else that might catch her eye.

After she is done relieving herself she tries to chat a bit with the guard to stall for time.

"What kind of work will we be send to do?"

[RPGAgmJAY]

Shamira:

The guard just looks at you for a second after you ask your question then shrugs. "Whatever your master tells you to do I'd imagine. It's not like you have much say about it. Could be housework or farmwork, you could be used a fodder for a beast in the arena, I dunno... think of any job people don't like doing... that's probably what you'll be doing."

And with that he tugs on the lead of rope to your shackles twice, like a pet owner telling his animal it's time to move on.

[iTookUrNick]

I understand, with disappointment, that no one has any fight left in them for now. I sqish the creature under the bowl and wait for my turn to' get out. I collect the tip and pur it aside. You never know.

Outside, I smell freedom (but maybe that's the lack of excrements). I do not attempt anything.

[OMG PONIES]

Alma walks in silence, saying nothing but taking note of everything around her. She looks for any identifying marks on her guards, thinks of nicknames for them, and continues back to the caravan without a word.
Another day, she tells herself, another few miles closer to the city...closer to freedom.

[Khantin]

The unexpected stop and subsequent company had off balanced Gomy. The lead guards request was more proof that their conversations were being monitored, if it wasn't already apparent. The helmet-less man barked his order and Gomy's mind raced over his responses. Lie? Feign ignorance? Blast him him the face with it? A quick count of the guards and escape was all but impossible.

Gomy knew he wasn't a real manifester, but a hedged bluff might improve his situation, and make it so the guards left him alone. Gomy took a split second to figure out what he was going to say.
OOC:
Bluff [roll0]

"I can't really... I don't really know The Way. Sometimes when I excited or really emotion it just happens. Sometimes I don't even mean for it to happen. I don't think I can show you."

[OMG PONIES]

Back at the caravan, Alma scans the horizon in all directions for any sign of a city. Since she had never seen one before, she felt like a fool (as she wasn't quite sure what to look for). However, that didn't stop her eyes from searching with the frantic longing of a caged animal.

[roll0]

As the others return to the caravan, she continues to note how many guards are returning with each. While she sees the others beginning to return, she notices one absence. Finally she talks to the others, but only to ask: "Where's Gooey...er, Gomy?"

Autohypnosis to remember how many guards and what they look like; take 10 for a result of 15.

[Moranica]

Shamira goes back inside, without complaining and tries to get some more sleep while she can.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Alma, Shamira, Braad:

You make your way back to the holding cell and find that the place has been cleaned out and no longer is coated with human filth. Each of you is resecured in the cell as you were before. Mewb shows up and is secured a little after and complains about having to clean up the mess you all made. Goby's still missing.


Goby:

The man merely shrugs at your admission and turns to walk back toward the caravan. (bluff success) For a moment every breaths a sigh of relief as the tension falls away before the man says "Kill him." to the guard with the crossbow.

The guard looks at the man, then to you and releases the safety catch from his weapon. The man turns his head slightly to look back at you as if expecting you to do something. (You have 1 round's worth of actions before the guard shoots you. You're still shackled, which gives you the entangled condition except that you can manifest without penalty.)

[Khantin]

As soon as the order is given, Goby can tell that the main guard just wants to force his hand, but the guy with the crossbow is going to follow through on his orders regardless. A surge of adrenaline and fear runs through Gomy and he uses the fear of his impending death materialize a glob of sticky ectoplasm and hurls it at the crossbow guard.

ranged touch attack with entangling ectoplasm
[roll0]
the modifier is -1 if being entangled gives me a -4 penalty to my ranged touch roll.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Goby:

(Obvious miss)
Your shot flies wide and the main guard responds by throwing up a hand and commanding the guard with the crossbow to "Hold!", an order which freezes the guard in place, though his crossbow remains aimed at your chest.

The main guard slowly approaches you. "Mmm... a handy gift of the Way you have, though completely undisciplined.", he says... those last words spit out with vitrol. It is clear that the man is mulling something over in his mind as he looks you over. "Your gift would be an asset in the arena, though your physical condition is quite lacking."

A dark energy pulses from the man's forehead and you feel a tug on your mind. (Will Save DC 18) "Of course if you manage to escape I won't get a single ceramic piece off your filthy hide... and we can't have that, can we? Perhaps without access to your precious gift you'll stop entertaining in silly notions of freedom. You're a slave... a thing... nothing is going to change that, so accept the reality of your situation or watch others suffer needlessly for your struggle."

(If you fail the save you lose any remaining Power Points. If you succeed you resist the drain. You can always choose to fail a save without rolling.)

[Khantin]

Jay
Goby's eyes darkened at the threat against his fellow Islani, and he felt a tug at his will, at his mind. His instinct was to resist and throw defiance in this man's face, to rebel. But his rational mind took over last second and he let the helmet-less man drain away his power.

This game was over, he took a gamble and lost. He rationalized it to himself, sometimes, they just hold all the cards, and there isn't nothing you can do if they call your bluff. His anger remained though, and he spat out once last comment.

"Nothing stays the same forever, and where there's a Will, there's a Way."

[RPGAgmJAY]

Goby:

The man just laughs at your words. "Yeah, too bad you've got no Will left to power your Way... I'll see you every day to make sure you stay that way until I can sell your worthless hide."
The guards grab your arms and drag you back to the holding cell.


The door to the cell opens and Goby is dumps in with the lot of you, the lead to his shackles quickly threaded through the wall, pulled sharply from the other side and secured. He looks like he'd been stomped by a mekillot but shows no signs of a beating.

((If Goby chooses to let everyone in on what happened then you can open up and view all of the spoilers leading up to this point. He can also choose to summarize it for you if he so desires. Next post ready and loaded once everyone posts a response.))

[Moranica]

"Welcome back, you look like ..... well.......... just bad really. Anything I can do to help?"

[iTookUrNick]

I move under the small window, trying to glimpse anything of interest outside.
Perception: [roll0]
To Goby: "Yeah. Just ask. And if perchance you want to tell us what happened, maybe we can better help you".

[OMG PONIES]

Alma raises an eyebrow. "Unless you're a medicinist or a faith healer, it doesn't seem like there's much help that the two of you can provide. What happened, Goby? In detail, please."

Is it Gomy or Goby? It seems to go back and forth.

[iTookUrNick]

"Well, I'm no healer like you said, but even I can tend simple wounds. Except that I see none at first sight. Perhaps with a closer inspection..."
OOC:
If allowed to, I can attempt a Heal check to assess the patient's conditions and provide support for natural recovery (if necessary).

Heal: [roll0] let's put that 1 sp invested to good use :)

[Khantin]

Goby is a little ruffled, but mostly drained from his ordeal. His companions concern touches him a little and he begins to try and explain.
"Long story short, they DO have psionists among the guards. I got into a bit of a pissing contest with one and it turns out he pisses professionally for a living. Well... let me start again, from the beginning..."

Ooc
feel free to read the spoilered texts.

[iTookUrNick]

"I see". Pause. "A fighter, then. Could be worse. I'd probably prefer it over, say, quarrying rocks. And beside, it hardly matters right now. We will have another chance at freedom once our captors sell us. You might as well endure the added restriction".

Finally, I try to convey a message with gestures. I put my hand on my forehead and close my eyes, twice. I do it a third time, except I put my other hand in between and keep my eyes open. I hope he understand what I'm trying to say.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Braad:

You spot nothing through the little window except a view of the ceiling. Your give Goby a once over and come to the conclusion that he is physically drained and possibly a little depressed, but not harmed.

Mewb just cackles at Braads display. "Hand signs?! Hand signs don't work if the caravan has a mindbender on hand... as long as your brain thinks it, he can know about it.", followed by even more cackling as he slaps himself on teh forehead imitating Braad.

Another Day...

Another evening passes as the caravan rocks back and forth with the swaying pace of the mekillots, enormous lizards that can gulp up a man with a single lick of its frog like tongue. At least none of you are laying in filth anymore, though your stomachs queeze up from the lack of water and nourishment. Even ground up faro needles are better than nothing.

You sleep fitfully in the cramped quarters. Around morning a loud crack wakes you all as the caravan comes to an abrupt halt. The cell seems to be slightly tilted as you each get your bearings. There is noise coming from outside the caravan, a few beastial yells and the unmistakable sound of combat. This reminds you of the day nearly two weeks ago when your homes were invaded. Mewb curls up very shaken by this turn of events. "Caravan's under attack. I hope it's not the Gith, I've heard tell that those beasts do terrible things to captives before eating them alive... slowly."

After several minutes of fighting and loud noises things become quiet. Some footsteps are heard within the caravan interior, then the sound of things being shifted around and moved. Mewb has gone completely pale with terror and holds a shaking finger infront of his mouth as he silently urges you all to be quiet. He mouths the word "Gith" slowly and points at the door to your cell.

((Actions?))

[iTookUrNick]

(The day before:)
"Well, sorry if we do not know the first thing about those freaks." Small pause. To Goby: "No offense meant, Goby".

I scoop, with care, a cup to throw should something nasty open the door.
Also, I try and concentrate to better hear the noises outside.

OOC:
I am preparing an action to throw if something other than a human opens the door.
Perception: [roll0]. I'd like to concentrate on specific noises and what may be causing them (such as moving cages, opening doors, claws on the floor, etc).

[RPGAgmJAY]

Braad:

The sound of light steps on the floor is all you can pick-up, but you are sure they are not claws. It seems clear that whatever is in the cargo hold is attempting to be as silent as possible.

[iTookUrNick]

I point to the entrance of the box, then I put up two steady fingers, then raise tentatively a third and a fourth.
Whatever the old man says, signs can be useful. Hopefully.

[Moranica]

"HELP!!!", Shamira yells. "Set us free!".

Shamira looks around slightly panicked, "This isn't the time for handsignals, we must act now! Help me yell! From the sound of it, combat is over and there are only a couple of possibilities. If the guards have won, nothing changes, although we might get a trashing for yelling. They won't kill their merchandise though. If it's gith, our death may be horrible, but staying in here and dying from thirst and hunger sounds less appatizing. If it's other humans.... well, they may still sell us as slaves, have us help them or set us free. In any event, we must let anyone out there know we're in here or we might be left to die!!"

[iTookUrNick]

I stop and think for a moment. Her reasoning seems sound, paniked tone notwithstanding. How did I get so fearful, like a cub in the prairie?

I join Shamira's pleas of help and start banging the cup on the side of the container to draw attention.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Mewb seems completely shaken by your yells, by the look on his face you might as well have stabbed him yourself.

You yell for a time but hear no response, just quiet. Something shifts above the crate. Looking up you see a bundle wrapped in canvas teetering on a shelf due to the caravan's tilt. As you watch it falls and completely covers the window, blocking out all light from the cell.

You also hear the distinctive 'clink' of stone on stone inside of your cell. Without light you can't make out what it is but after feeling around you discover an obsidian knife. It must of fallen in when the bundle fell on your cell.

[Moranica]

"....... I think they left us to waste..... we need to get out of here!! ....

... I found a knife I think. Perhaps I can cut open the canvas and find something that will help open the locks.

Shamira tries to cut the ropes/shackles and canvas.

[iTookUrNick]

"Hey! Try and cut the ropes first! I don't mind keeping shakles on my wrist if I can keep both arms".

[RPGAgmJAY]

Shamira cuts the ropes and all of you can remove your shackles (they need the rope to remain secured). Working with the bundle that currently covers your window it is heavy and nothing seems to fall from it. Feeling with your hands it feels like large lengths of hardwood inside of it.

The door is secured from the outside and you have no access to any part that could be manipulated from within the cell.

[Moranica]

"Alright! At least we can move again. Anybody got any ideas of how to get out of here?"

[iTookUrNick]

"We could try to open the container using brute force. Do you think we can do it?"

OOC:
Appraise door strength (?): [roll0]

[OMG PONIES]

Alma shrugs and speaks. "Whoever is out there was kind enough to drop a knife near us instead of running one through us." She rubs her wrists and rotates her shoulders, enjoying her natural freedom of movement once more. "There's nothing I can do with that door--it might as well be a sequoia trunk. But these windows..." She moves to the window and begins to examine any possible ways to enlarge the opening, whether by force or finesse.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Khantin]

Goby wasn't much use in these kinds of situations. He sullenly sat in his corner trying to stay out of the way, waiting for a time when his talents might be useful.

An idea occurred to him and he offered up a suggestion, "We should cut lengths of rope out of our former shackles, rope is always handy. If we need to, we can tie it to the bars of the window and try to break individual bars with all our strength."

[Moranica]

"That sounds really good! Mewb, you with us, or would you rather die without trying to live?"

[RPGAgmJAY]

Who-ever made the Knowledge Nature check:

Gith are humanoids with some minor reptilian features. They are barbaric and crude, known for their bow legged ability to leap twice the distance of most men. Dirty tactics can be expected as a standard from them.


As Braad inspects the door he finds it slightly ajar, no longer secured from the other side. It opens freely and you see that the caravan hold has been emptied of all it's contents, save for the holding cell and the bundle of hardwood that fell on it.

Typically this room would have four large ladders to access to roof through trap doors but they also are missing. There is a single door to the back of the caravan (you do not know where it leads) and a large door on either side of the caravan, used for loading. The port side door hangs open by a crack, streaming in the sunlight of midday. The starboard side door is currently closed.

Shamira:

The hardwood is complete junk. It looks like it was hastily wrapped in canvas, likely useful for little more than firewood. The canvas seems to be worthwhile though, a few rips and tears but it would suffice as a blanket or small tarp.


(Actions?)

[iTookUrNick]

To Shamira, not too loud: "Well, since you have the knife, I'd say 'ladies first'. Shall we start by taking a look in there?" - I say, pointing at the small door - "We might even find something useful. Isn't this, after all, our lucky day?"
And with a smile, I lift my arm as an invitaton to proceed. Man, I am in a very good mood right now...

[OMG PONIES]

Alma's eyes dart around her. Even in this short time on Athas, she has learned that nothing comes for free. "Carefully," she mutters to her companions, "and quietly." She keeps her eyes peeled for any other living things, as well as decent hiding places.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2] for any details about their whereabouts
[roll3] for any details about their whereabouts
Survival take 10 (total 10) to get along in the wild.

[iTookUrNick]

I smile at Alma. With a lower tone of voice: "Of course, better be safe than sorry. We'll try and be both quick and quiet. However, if you don't mind, I think I'm better suited to handling our necessities in the wild. And while we're at it, it would be great to find something to help us survive out there".

Perception (take a look around, hear anything coming from either outside or the little door): [roll0]
Survival (for later): 20 (taking 10)

[Moranica]

Shamira firmly grips the dagger. "stay behind me!" Carefully she approaches the door and opens it.

[Khantin]

Goby watches the others jockey for position at the door. He puts out a hushed whisper "Signal me if the coast is clear. I will wait here until you do, otherwise I am a liability."

Interfering with the others might spell disaster and he knew it. Let a kank be a kank, and a Sand Howler a Sand Howler. I am neither and will wait patiently.

[iTookUrNick]

"Indeed". I go second.

[RPGAgmJAY]

After days of being cooped up in a dark environment the bright sunlight momentarily blinds you as every grain of sand shines brilliantly in the sunlight. As your eyes adjust you begin to make out shapes scattered across the open waste. You blink and shield your eyes with your hand in an attempt to focus. As you do you hear a mighty roar that sounds like the very Dragon has swooped in.

After a moment you begin to distinguish individual voices within the roar and your eyes focus to see the people that are surrounding the caravan… all with weapons held high, shaken overhead as they roar... a sound that can be heard for miles around.

(Actions?)

[iTookUrNick]

"By the land! What the.."

OOC:
Perception (to see finer details on these people, such as armors and weapons and banners and perhaps any gap in the encirclement, and to identify any possible leader among them): [roll0]
Knowledge (nature) (what are those?): [roll1]
Sense motive (what are their intentions?): [roll2]

[Moranica]

Shamira is shocked as she gets outside, the sense of freedom from exiting the caravan is instantly crushed as the watches the surrounding people. She crouches down to wait and let her eyes get used to the sun.

She mutters to the others,"Guys, you better get out here. If any of you is good at talking, now would be a good time to show it."

[OMG PONIES]

Alma narrows her eyes to a squint against the harsh light of day. She studies the militant individuals gathered around them, and for the moment can only mutter, "Fascinating."


[roll0] To get a better look at these people
[roll1] For any idea of who they are
[roll2] only if needed

Also, I got no response to my previous rolls. Even if I don't know anything, it's helpful to know you've seen the rolls.

[iTookUrNick]

Back to Goby: "Man, you'd better take a look at this. We might need your good looks and charming manners soon enough".

[Khantin]

Goby pokes his head out of the caravan to take a look at the horde gathered outside. The crimson sun blazes overhead and reflects off the sand, it dazzles his eyes. He tries to use his hand to block the light, and squint his eyes but it still takes him a long minute to adjust to the light.

The jeering horde intimates him somewhat but he is reassured by the fact that they are not dead yet.

"They sure are an excitable lot. Assuming they speak common, I'll take the lead. I'll try to determine their intentions first and then see if we can squeeze any assistance out of them. This is also assuming they don't kill us and eat us first, or something along that vein. If there are no objections, I'm going out there."

[RPGAgmJAY]

Braad:

(Perception )They seem to be a mix of races, though mostly human. Their weapons are diverse and they seem to circle completely around this side of the caravan.
(Knowledge-Nature) They are not Gith. Mostly humans with a smattering of other races (a dwarf, a couple of elves, even a thri-kreen... none of which you've ever laid eyes on before).
(Sense Motive) They do not seem threatening in posture, many are in relaxed poses.

Alma:

(Perception )They seem to be a mix of races, though mostly human. Their weapons are diverse and they seem to circle completely around this side of the caravan.
(Knowledge)These people fit the description of caravan raiders (rag tag membership and weaponry, no symbols or uniforms). Usually barbaric tribes that live in the waste and prey on traveling merchants.

Goby:

(Sense Motive) At first you feel threatened by such a large group of people bearing weapons. The actions of the three who approach relieve those fears... for the most part.


As you leave the shell of the caravan you can see just how picked apart it is, like the skeleton left after the carrion birds have eaten their full. A trio of men walk your way. The leader, a middle aged balding man dressed in a braxat chitin breastplate of rather rocky appearance, has his hands open in a universal sign of peace. The other two; both younger and wielding odd weapons, one made of oversized jaw bones and the other a staff of hard thorn covered wood, both carry broad smiles that put you at ease. The weapon that draws your attention is the metal longsword that hangs at the side of the middle aged man, that weapon alone could purchase a small fortune.

They toss you each a full waterskin as the leader speaks, “We cheer with you as you enjoy your first moment of freedom. Drink now and drink deeply, for there is plenty more where that came from. As you are now, each of us was once. So we each cheer with remembrance of this same moment in each of our lives.” He turns and raises a waterskin high into the air before announcing to those gathered, “Drink now! To FREEDOM!”, and all those gathered reply in kind with a roar, “FREEDOM!!!!”, before each drains the contents of their waterskins.

(Actions?)

[iTookUrNick]

"FREEDOM!". I gulp down the water as everyone else, a smile upon my face.

I am enraptured by the sight in front of me. I swore a silent revenge against those who enslaved our people, and now I found an army to fight them!
Well, technically the army found me, but whatever. The stars themselves smiled upon our plight, and that's all that matters.
And man, look at that sword! The guy must be a king or something...

[Moranica]

The spark of hope that was crushed so fast slowly flares to life again inside of Shamira.

Could it be? Could they really be saved? The islani people never had much contact outside of their own, yet still these people look friendly upon them. Either way, drinking some water sounds really good and a shout of FREEDOM is a cheap bargain for some of the nice water.

"FREEDOM!!! FREEDOM!!!", Shamira yells as she gulps the water down with haste. ..... Between gulps she asks: "Are you really friends to the Islani people?"

[OMG PONIES]

Alma weighs the waterskin in her hands as she weighs her decision. There was no telling how far they were from home; this water could carry all sorts of natural parasites, not to mention unnatural poisons. However, these raiders seem to be forming a bond of solidarity with the slaves, rather than attempting to sneak them into something.

The gears in her head begin to turn. She could make a case that, as her first free act, she would choose to forego a drink and instead offer it to her more needy kinfolk. Perhaps this would earn the respect of the raiders--on the other, it might earn nothing more than the blunt end of their clubs. A delicate strategical impasse, indeed.

"Eh, come what may," Alma mutters to herself. Hoisting the waterskin above her head, she toasts: "to whatever comes next!" before soaking in a long drink.

[Khantin]

Elation spreads throughout Goby as he realizes his freedom had been granted without risking his life. He grabs up the water skin and shouts freedom so energetically he is almost incomprehensible. And then he drained his water skin on one go.

[RPGAgmJAY]

The leader just turns and laughs as you all embrace the tradition of these men. Tapping the man to his right with the back of his hand he says, "Looks like we've got some potential here Belleno..." to which the man merely shrugs and replies, "Yeah... we'll see...", as his eyes continue to scan the horizon as if this conversation were an afterthought.

Stepping forward the leader extends his hand to each of you in turn and clasps forearms with any who respond in kind. "My name is Gurak, I'm not familiar with the Islani tribe but I'm a friend to any who wear the shackles of slavery." His arm is strong and his smile is broad and welcoming, a stark contrast to the blood splatter that dots his arm and chest.

Mewb remains behind you all, still cowering in fear towards this band of raiders.

[iTookUrNick]

I know I should probably leave the talking to someone else, but I am eager to fit in this group. I feel a strong kinship for them and their ideals.

"A pleasure to meet you sirs. We are in your debt for freeing us, and I, for one, intend to repay your help tenfold or more with my actions. I might not amount to much, but I can handle a bow and find my way in the wilderness, hunting. I can also shepherd carru, if needed".

"We are Islani. Our land was invaded a few weeks ago by some unknown raiders, who enslaved our people en bloc. So, you see, you have many more friends waiting for you than you used to. I hope we might find and be reunited with some of them in the future.

I'll let the others introduce themselves as they see fit.The old man cowering behind us is not Islani. We know little about him, except that his name is Mewb, and that he easily get scared".

[OMG PONIES]

Only a fool shares his autobiography, Alma thinks to herself. Sharing your strengths just shows your weaknesses, and gives them enough rope to hang you with should things turn South. The less information they have, the less they're able to surmise on their own. The more variables in the equation, the higher your odds of survival.

Alma flashes a tight-lipped, polite smile and curtseys slighty. "Alma A'refa Kuwa," is all she says, and she instantly begins cursing herself for providing even that. And a jester's hat for you! she scolds herself, with a family name they can find... She releases the tension in her shoulders as she comes to a startling realization: nothing. There's nothing of clan Kuwa left except me.

[Moranica]

"My name is Shamira, and as my friend said before, we are from the Islani people and these slave traders have wrecked our small nation. Many slave caravans must have passed by, carrying our people to a cruel fate. Have you, perhaps, been able to save more of us?"

"Do you know what has become of our country? Our people?"

"And another thing, I am a merchant as profession, and rarely things are given free, let alone freedom. What is the price you ask?"

[Khantin]

After a short while Goby calms down enough to start making sense again, but the elation remains in him like warm coals in his stomach. Still clutching his empty water skin he walks up to the man called Gorak and gives him his friendliest greeting.

"I am Goby son of Jorge, I have nothing to offer but my services, such as they are. But they are yours. "

[OMG PONIES]

Alma's ears perk up at Shamira's question. Aye, shrewd as a merchant should be, she continues her internal monologue. I'm interested to hear their reaction. Tribute? Conscription? Carnal pleasures? The scholar's mind continues wandering with the possibilities.

[RPGAgmJAY]

Freedom...?

Gurak greets each of you in turn. The man exudes a friendly warmth and the terrifying cold of a brutal killer at the same time.

To Braad he nods and listens as the man spills his guts. With a broad grin he leans in and whispers, "With all of that you seem to have forgotten your name lad... as for your people, I am sorry to hear of it but we've encountered no one bearing a similar story to yours."

To Alma he takes your hand politely and bows lightly. "Such courtesy is rare in these wastes Alma A'refa Kuwa but I appreciate your gracing us with it."

To Shamira he opens both palms toward the sky. "I know nothing of your people I am afraid. I have no doubt word will spread among my people of your story, perhaps over time some of your kin may be located. As for your freedom, it can have no price... freedom paid for is no freedom at all. But we will talk more on that at a later time Shamira."

Gurak smiles broadly as Goby speaks. "Well met Goby son of Jorge. You four seem to be a rather honorable group, such characteristics are as rare as a cool shower over the barrens. If the four of you are any indication of your people then all of Athas suffers from their loss."

Finally he steps between you to face Mewb who recoils in the presence of one so mighty. Gurak simply kneels next to the man and speaks so quietly that you can barely make out his words. "Dearest elder... long have you toiled for cruel masters. Long have your hands ached and your stomach rumbled and your teeth nashed." A few drops stain the sand dark at Guraks feet, rather than blood or sweat you can see from the side of the man's face that he has a stream of tears as he speaks shakily, "We are a band of brothers and sisters, all bound by that similar suffering into a family... which makes you then one of our fathers. No longer will your hands work for others. Among us you will benefit from the efforts of those younger and stronger than yourself. You will be clothed with honor and sit amongst the other elders in council to guide the actions our people will take."

Standing and removing his cloak he wraps it around Mewb's shoulders. "I honor you my father." Belleno steps forward, having already removed the sandles from his own feet and kneels before Mewb to secure them on the elder's feet. "I honor you my father..." The third man steps forward with an ornate bone dagger wrapped in silver wire and kneels offering him the hilt. "I honor you my father."

Already with tears freely streaming down his face, Mewb extends a shaky hand to grasp the dagger. His whole body begins to shake as this new reality sets in. In shock his legs give out under him and he falls into Gurak's waiting arms and weeps loudly for several minutes. Looking out amongst the large band of raiders that surround you, several wipe their eyes as they look on. Mewb could be the father of any one of these men and as slaves, there really is no way to know.

"They're Baaack..."

As you speak with Gurak, a horn sounds in the distance before being abruptly cut off. Gurak turns saying, “That was Branoff’s horn…” while the man on his left finishes his thought, “a counter attack from the North-East.” Gurak moves off quickly with the other two in tow behind him. As he barks orders, a man pops out from behind you from the caravan. He’s dressed in toughened leather armor reinforced with boney plates. He waves you over, “Quickly… quickly!” and directs you behind the caravan. There you see the nude bodies of a dozen or so slain caravan guards piled together, along with a pile of personal weapons, and assorted piles of other goods.

He directs you to the pile of weapons, “Arm yourselves with whatever you can comfortably use, then take up positions on the right of the caravan. If I know Gurak, we’ll be routing them to the left of the caravan. You’ll protect our flank from any strays.” He looks at you all intensely for a moment, gauging you all before pointing to a sand dune not too far off behind you. Upon inspection you can see many trails as if sleds had been dragged up that dune. “We have non-combatants over that hill. Not one of those filthy aprigs kissing guards passes your position, AM I CLEAR?!” With that he moves off to find his own position.

(Actions?)

[Khantin]

Gomy gives a sharp nod and quickly moves over to the pile of equipment, his eyes darting over the pile rapidly. I need armor, and a bow, I'm not much good in melee. But i should grab a buckler and a long bone sword just in case. For armor I need something that gives good protection, but I can still bend a bow in... Shell armor (chain mail) would be ideal, with a buckler as well I should have decent protection. Long bow would be best but a short bow works... And a one handed melee weapon.

Ooc:

Search roll to find my desired items.
[roll0]

[OMG PONIES]

Alma scours through the pile, searching for a decent weapon. Bone swords and crossbows interest her not; she is searching for the limber wood of a decent bow. Long or short, it makes no difference; she is a skilled enough archer that she can use either to stop her prey dead in its tracks. She looks to Gurak and nods wordlessly at his orders. Though Alma is a scholar, she is also a hunter...and now, a soldier.

[roll0] to look for a decent bow, and a quiver with some arrows.

[Khantin]

The small pile of weapons disappointed Gomy. He would just have to make do with whatever was available. A bone sword and a light crossbow and quiver of bolts then. No armor and no buckler...

Gomy berated himself for not fighting against the power drain this morning. With no other protections his entangling ectoplasm could provide the mobility advantage that would keep them alive today. Oh well, a light crossbow was almost as good as a longbow.

[Moranica]

"Shamira rummages through the pile and finds a big sword (greatsword) and a dagger. She swings it around a bit and happily decides to keep it. She also takes some javellins.

Ok, my fellow country (wo)men. I have a bit of fighting experience, but none military like this. For those of you who find it difficult to hit, stay near me. I will bring some of them down, that should make it easier for you to hit them."

[iTookUrNick]

I look at the rest of the group, judging who would be better off with what. With a sigh, I take up a shield and a crossbow, plus a one-hand sword and a knife.
"Me and lady Shamira should probably stay in the front. I'd rather shoot than fight in melee, but you seem even less suited for the latter than I do."

I take another crossbow for myself and pass along one each to Alma and Goby.
"Here, keep a loaded crossbow at your feet. Just in case you have no time to reload in the middle of the fight.

[OMG PONIES]

Alma curses to herself as she takes the crossbow; an actual bow would have been much more familiar to her. As Braad gives her and Goby the crossbows, she smirks at his advice: "It takes less than six seconds to reload a crossbow, so the timing isn't really any different. Granted, if you know where you've placed the weapon, you can retrieve it without taking your eyes off the enemy. I suppose it's wise."

[iTookUrNick]

"Hei, don't smile at me like that, miss. You are so caught up in your theoretical scenarios you forget where we are. Sure, you can shoot and reload. But can you do it while running away? Can you do it with one hand? How about in front of a guy who is trying to kill you? Perhaps it won't matter, but it's always good to be prepared to the best of one's own abilities".

[Moranica]

"Our survival will depend mostly on luck, as none of us seems to have any good training. Still, if we stick together, communicate and try not to be hero's we might have a chance. I plan to make sure to take that chance!! We didn't spend all those days in that sweatbox just to die minutes after getting back our freedom!!", Shamira shouts the last words as she gets all riled up and moves to the defencive position.

[OMG PONIES]

Alma scoffs, taken aback at Braad's implications. "I was merely amused by your tactical decisions," she says bluntly, "and continue to be just so. Surely, I can reload on the move with more ease than I could pluck a second crossbow from the sand. I've hunted my fair share of game, and slavers are no different--a bit bigger, maybe, but just as dense." The humor returns to her face as she loads her first bolt and heads for cover behind the caravan. "Just try to keep up," she adds.

[iTookUrNick]

I let the conversation drop as well. Whatever. Let's focus on the task ahead.
I strain my senses to perceive something of our upcoming confrontation. Any advanced warning could be important.

Perception: [roll0]