"No, Rik'Check is the guard captain. I'm second in command. I get you lot sorted out at the gate, but she'll be giving you your orders once we're on the road."
The Road of Legions
Outside Balic - 12th of Breeze
Another horn call breaks through the din of noise near the gate, and as the massive mekillots lift up their bodies and begin trudging forward, the rest of the caravan quickly falls into step. The smell of dirt, spices, cargo, and animal musk slowly gives way to the smell of fields and farm land. The road stretches ahead of you as Balic fades away behind you, and the smell of farms and crops is burned away by the hot air of the desert, giving you the sense that your journey has truly started.
You were told before departing that your next stop is Fort Glamis, two days away. You'll have a chance to stock up on any supplies you didn't purchase in Balic then, as well as an opportunity to sell off anything you don't want to take with you.
For now, walking the road and keeping your eyes peeled are your only duties. You're outside of Balic now, and although there isn't much danger yet, caution is still called for.
I'd like a Perception, Endurance, and Nature check from each of you.
As the day wears on and the sun reaches its peak, traveling along the road transitions from the excitement of a new journey to a test of will against physical exhaustion. Hae is a hard driver, and his delay his put him in an even less forgiving mood when it comes to stragglers. Most of you are prepared, however, and find yourselves up to the task of keeping pace with the caravan.
Chakak'Hoz loses one healing surge.
As the sun begins its slow descent, you hear word that camp will be made late. Hae is looking to make up for the lost day of travel by pushing harder in these first few days of relative safety. Perception (Erdal, Juma, Thar): Although not the sort of thing you're looking for, you can't help but notice that the wind is particularly hot for the time of day. Something about it feels off. Nature (Chakak'Hoz, Juma, Thar): The hot wind indicates one thing and one thing only: a sandstorm is approaching. By your judgement it's a big one, and it will reach the caravan in a matter of minutes. Nature (Juma): Just by feeling the wind you can tell that this is no ordinary storm. If your perceptions are right, and you think they are, this may be the biggest sandstorm you've ever witnessed. You would even venture to say that this storm is unnaturally large.
You're about 100 feet behind him, though you're on the ground and he's up in a howda on top of a mekillot. You'd have to yell at someone else to pass the message up to him. That will take about 30 seconds if you're brief with your message. The storm will be here in about 5 minutes.
Erdal is closest to the lead mekillot where Hae is, at roughly 60 feet behind him. Juma is right in the middle between you two, but on the other side of the caravan. Chakak'Hoz is farthest behind at about 140 feet. For reference, the forward section is about 150 feet long. The middle section is about 200, and the rear section is another 100.
Juma decides that a storm warning may not be enough. Something is wrong here. He sprints ahead to catch up with Hae's mekillot to warn him directly and press upon him that he should not take this storm lightly.
Hearing Thar's warning and seeing Juma run past, Erdal follows suit. As fast as he can move in his motley collection of armor and clothing, the mul attempts to keep pace with the other half-dwarf.
Both of you arrive at the lead mekillot at roughly the same time. "I see it," Hae half-shouts in response to your warning. "We don't have time to get out of the way."
"It's not the season for this kind of storm," the human next to him says.
"I know it," Hae says. He hands the reins over to the human and stands up. "Full stop!" he yells, the sudden volume of his voice nearly knocking you backward. "Get the barriers down! Secure the animals! We've got a storm coming!"
"I fear that it is more than just a storm coming."
Juma looks back across the caravan, spying the thri-kreen and half-giant hurrying others.
"You should have the guards on alert. I will go confer."
He then darts off towards the oncoming winds, whipping at his clothes, to find a forward vantage. A place also appropriate to consult the region's spirits.
Religion (Juma): The caravan bursts into a flurry of activity behind you, but that fades to a dull background noise as you commune with the primal spirits. The passing wind, which would often speak as a whisper, screams at you as it rushes by. The sounds are incoherent shouts of rage and confusion, and the land beneath your feet trembles at the approaching storm. The tumultuous cries of the spirits eventually coalesce into a single message:
DEATH IS COMING
For anyone else, you can make Athletics and/or Dungeoneering checks to help with the preparations. You can also investigate the storm with Perception, Nature, Arcana, or Religion (if you're a primal character). You can do one or the other (help or investigate), or you can just hide.
Chakak leaps into action, helping to secure his section of the caravan. Heavy lifting is no problem for the thri-kreen, as he helps to move the heavy barriers into place. He knows what these storms can bring, and works hard to make sure the caravan is ready.
Athletics (Chakak'Hoz, Erdal, Thar): The three of you manage to secure more than your share of barriers against the swiftly approaching storm. Your efforts free up other workers to focus on tying down cargo and securing pack animals beneath the heavy domes that have been formed over the caravan.
As you take stock of your surroundings and help to count passengers, you notice that Juma, one of the few passengers that you've managed to learn the name of, isn't nearby. Looking around, you see him crouched atop a small outcropping of rocks, facing the storm with the stillness of someone in deep concentration.
The sky is growing darker now with the approaching storm. Although it's difficult to judge the size of something so massive, you would be surprised if the wall of wind and sand was less than a mile high, and the low rumble of the storm is rapidly ascending to a thunderous roar. Passive Perception (Chakak'Hoz, Thar): It's difficult to make out, but you're sure you see black spots mixed in with the roiling sand.
3cl1ps3I will build a labyrinth to house the cheeseRegistered Userregular
edited February 2011
Thar frowns, the expression barely visible beneath his filter mask. He secures his Crodlu under one of the barriers and goes to find Hae; black spots do not typically accompany massive unseasonal sandstorms.
Disturbed by the cries of the winds Juma races back towards the caravan, the butt of his spear stabbing the sands and rocks in an erratic fashion as he steps faster than it can keep up.
As he approaches Hae and the others his voice is collected but his manner is panicked.
"The lands, they are tormented! This storm is vile!"
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3cl1ps3I will build a labyrinth to house the cheeseRegistered Userregular
edited February 2011
Thar comes up behing Juma. "I don't know about spirits, but there's definitely something wrong about this storm. There are pieces of...something...mixed in with the sand. Black pieces. I have no idea what they might be."
As Chakak sees the spots in the air, he attempts to focus his eyes on them. As well trained as his eyes are, the spots move too fast for Chakak to get a good look. Knowing that Juma and Erdal are helping with the caravan, he comes up to them in the oncoming winds.
"Black comes with the wind. I see it not." He tries his best to explain in common, "Not good."
Perception: 1d20+916
As that's less than my PP, I assume that fails.
With his limited experience in the wastes, Erdal isn't confident in his ability to discern the nature of the disturbance, but he cups his hand over his eyes and stares out into it anyway. Perception: 1d20+119
Perception (Thar, Erdal): It's difficult to make out anything in the sand, but you're almost certain that those black spots are rocks.
Everyone: As the storm grows closer and closer, what little preparations time allows are completed. With the animals secured and the tarps drawn over the caravan, there's nothing more to do than wait.
You don't have to wait for long.
But it's not a wave of stinging sand that comes first. The first thing you experience is a high-pitched whine, followed quickly by an explosion of sand and rock next to the main wagon. That explosion is followed quickly by another, then another, then another. Before you even realize what’s happening, shards of obsidian, some the size of a fist, others the size of a half-giant, are crashing down all around you. Chaos erupts around the caravan as the shards tear through the tarps, crash into the wagons, and crush people and animals.
Within a matter of seconds, Hae’s mekillot and the two behind it are dead, and the main wagon is in pieces. And then the sand hits.
Give me an Athletics OR Acrobatics check, and an Endurance OR Nature check.
Explosions of dust and sand erupt all around you as wood shatters, bone breaks, and the tarps are torn to shreds. But you do your best to dodge the obsidian shards that continue to tear apart the caravan and its passengers, and manage to make it through the worst of it.
As the seconds wear on the storm grows worse and worse, until you can barely see more than a few inches in front of your face. It is nearly impossible to breath now, and as the screams of your fellow passengers are consumed by the roar of the storm, all fades to black.
Chakak’Hoz loses one healing surge. Juma loses 15 HP. Thar loses one healing surge and 16 HP.
The light of the sun slowly grows from a dull gray to a blinding white as you awaken. The sand beneath you is hot, and the howl of the storm is passed. Strange sounds, like those of animals picking through food, emanate from somewhere nearby. You stand, your bodies sore, bruised, and bloodied, and find yourselves near a large outcropping of rocks.
The wreckage of the caravan is all around you, but your attention is drawn to the dozen or so passengers also lying in the sand. A pack of baazrags have begun picking at some of them, even ones that are still breathing. As you stand, the baazrags turn their attention to you. They snarl and clamp down on their prizes, eliciting cries of pain from some of the more conscious ones. The baazrags that don't already have a prize in their jaws appear intent on using you to correct that.
Posts
Juma has one.
"You are in charge of the protection of this caravan?"
His gear is already stowed in bags on the Crodlu. Only his weapons are on his person.
Outside Balic - 12th of Breeze
Another horn call breaks through the din of noise near the gate, and as the massive mekillots lift up their bodies and begin trudging forward, the rest of the caravan quickly falls into step. The smell of dirt, spices, cargo, and animal musk slowly gives way to the smell of fields and farm land. The road stretches ahead of you as Balic fades away behind you, and the smell of farms and crops is burned away by the hot air of the desert, giving you the sense that your journey has truly started.
You were told before departing that your next stop is Fort Glamis, two days away. You'll have a chance to stock up on any supplies you didn't purchase in Balic then, as well as an opportunity to sell off anything you don't want to take with you.
For now, walking the road and keeping your eyes peeled are your only duties. You're outside of Balic now, and although there isn't much danger yet, caution is still called for.
I'd like a Perception, Endurance, and Nature check from each of you.
Perception, Endurance, Nature: 1d20+5 25 2d20k1+13 32 2d20k1+10 30
Endurance: 1d20+9 19
Nature: 1d20+1 3
Erdal is alert and coping well, but he's unfamiliar with this "nature" of which you speak.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Chakak'Hoz loses one healing surge.
As the sun begins its slow descent, you hear word that camp will be made late. Hae is looking to make up for the lost day of travel by pushing harder in these first few days of relative safety. Perception (Erdal, Juma, Thar): Although not the sort of thing you're looking for, you can't help but notice that the wind is particularly hot for the time of day. Something about it feels off. Nature (Chakak'Hoz, Juma, Thar): The hot wind indicates one thing and one thing only: a sandstorm is approaching. By your judgement it's a big one, and it will reach the caravan in a matter of minutes. Nature (Juma): Just by feeling the wind you can tell that this is no ordinary storm. If your perceptions are right, and you think they are, this may be the biggest sandstorm you've ever witnessed. You would even venture to say that this storm is unnaturally large.
You're about 100 feet behind him, though you're on the ground and he's up in a howda on top of a mekillot. You'd have to yell at someone else to pass the message up to him. That will take about 30 seconds if you're brief with your message. The storm will be here in about 5 minutes.
Erdal is closest to the lead mekillot where Hae is, at roughly 60 feet behind him. Juma is right in the middle between you two, but on the other side of the caravan. Chakak'Hoz is farthest behind at about 140 feet. For reference, the forward section is about 150 feet long. The middle section is about 200, and the rear section is another 100.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
"It's not the season for this kind of storm," the human next to him says.
"I know it," Hae says. He hands the reins over to the human and stands up. "Full stop!" he yells, the sudden volume of his voice nearly knocking you backward. "Get the barriers down! Secure the animals! We've got a storm coming!"
Juma looks back across the caravan, spying the thri-kreen and half-giant hurrying others.
"You should have the guards on alert. I will go confer."
He then darts off towards the oncoming winds, whipping at his clothes, to find a forward vantage. A place also appropriate to consult the region's spirits.
DEATH IS COMING
For anyone else, you can make Athletics and/or Dungeoneering checks to help with the preparations. You can also investigate the storm with Perception, Nature, Arcana, or Religion (if you're a primal character). You can do one or the other (help or investigate), or you can just hide.
Athletics: 1d20+3 = 22
Athletics: 1d20+5 12
With limited success.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Athletics: 1d20+10 29
As you take stock of your surroundings and help to count passengers, you notice that Juma, one of the few passengers that you've managed to learn the name of, isn't nearby. Looking around, you see him crouched atop a small outcropping of rocks, facing the storm with the stillness of someone in deep concentration.
The sky is growing darker now with the approaching storm. Although it's difficult to judge the size of something so massive, you would be surprised if the wall of wind and sand was less than a mile high, and the low rumble of the storm is rapidly ascending to a thunderous roar. Passive Perception (Chakak'Hoz, Thar): It's difficult to make out, but you're sure you see black spots mixed in with the roiling sand.
Thar does not like this situation at all.
As he approaches Hae and the others his voice is collected but his manner is panicked.
"The lands, they are tormented! This storm is vile!"
"Black comes with the wind. I see it not." He tries his best to explain in common, "Not good."
Perception: 1d20+9 16
As that's less than my PP, I assume that fails.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Perception: 1d20+8 = 19
Perception: 1d20+1 19
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Everyone: As the storm grows closer and closer, what little preparations time allows are completed. With the animals secured and the tarps drawn over the caravan, there's nothing more to do than wait.
You don't have to wait for long.
But it's not a wave of stinging sand that comes first. The first thing you experience is a high-pitched whine, followed quickly by an explosion of sand and rock next to the main wagon. That explosion is followed quickly by another, then another, then another. Before you even realize what’s happening, shards of obsidian, some the size of a fist, others the size of a half-giant, are crashing down all around you. Chaos erupts around the caravan as the shards tear through the tarps, crash into the wagons, and crush people and animals.
Within a matter of seconds, Hae’s mekillot and the two behind it are dead, and the main wagon is in pieces. And then the sand hits.
Give me an Athletics OR Acrobatics check, and an Endurance OR Nature check.
Damnit Orokos -_-
Athletics, Endurance: 1d20+2 13 2d20k1+13 29
Endurance: 1d20+9 28
My natural mul superiority is showing.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
We're boned! Abandon ship!
As the seconds wear on the storm grows worse and worse, until you can barely see more than a few inches in front of your face. It is nearly impossible to breath now, and as the screams of your fellow passengers are consumed by the roar of the storm, all fades to black.
Chakak’Hoz loses one healing surge. Juma loses 15 HP. Thar loses one healing surge and 16 HP.
The light of the sun slowly grows from a dull gray to a blinding white as you awaken. The sand beneath you is hot, and the howl of the storm is passed. Strange sounds, like those of animals picking through food, emanate from somewhere nearby. You stand, your bodies sore, bruised, and bloodied, and find yourselves near a large outcropping of rocks.
The wreckage of the caravan is all around you, but your attention is drawn to the dozen or so passengers also lying in the sand. A pack of baazrags have begun picking at some of them, even ones that are still breathing. As you stand, the baazrags turn their attention to you. They snarl and clamp down on their prizes, eliciting cries of pain from some of the more conscious ones. The baazrags that don't already have a prize in their jaws appear intent on using you to correct that.
Roll Initiative!
Initiative: 1d20+3 20
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Initiative: 1d20+0 2
Initiative: 1d20+5 24
Initiative: 1d20+3 = 4
Man Orokos really has it in for me.