It's not so long a trail as all that. Maybe eighty yards, between some trees to a tangle of bushes. Looking through the branches of the bushes - Ogier parts them with his spear - you see the sow lying on her side, ribs heaving with each breath, under the shadow of the bluff that is topped by the poplar tree. Eight piglets squeaking and scrambling, trying to suckle.
The pigs have wallowed under the bluff for a while, maybe a week or a month - long enough to make the area fetid and mucky with their waste. Long enough to underburrow a part of the bluff, causing a small collapse of earth, so that one root of the poplar tree dangles in air above what is clearly a sealed stone doorway built into the hillside.
"We kill pigs now," Ogier murmurs. "You again shoot the mother, then can we kill all the piggies."
Arpad
Re: Arpad
I couldn't figure out why Ogier cared so much about killing the sow, but the concealed door makes it all make sense....
Making sure there is a solid tree that I can quickly step behind, I unleash a bolt towards the sow. I once again unleash the Tides of Chaos as I do not want this beast to have the opportunity to charge if missed or nicked. Crossbow with advantage [2d20k1+2] = 15+2 = 17
Light Crossbow damage: [1d8] = 3
And step behind the tree to watch its death throws.
Making sure there is a solid tree that I can quickly step behind, I unleash a bolt towards the sow. I once again unleash the Tides of Chaos as I do not want this beast to have the opportunity to charge if missed or nicked. Crossbow with advantage [2d20k1+2] = 15+2 = 17
Light Crossbow damage: [1d8] = 3
And step behind the tree to watch its death throws.
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
Yeah it was a bit trite I guess! oh well... keep in mind that you're on a schedule.
The sow gasps as your bolt pierces her brain. The piglets continue to suckle, until Ogier plunges through the brush. Then they scatter too slow. He skewers and flings each twitching corpse from his spear blade onto the mother pig's carcass.
"Good," he says. "We string up her also. The farmers be pleased I think. You this time help with the guts, OK?"
The sow gasps as your bolt pierces her brain. The piglets continue to suckle, until Ogier plunges through the brush. Then they scatter too slow. He skewers and flings each twitching corpse from his spear blade onto the mother pig's carcass.
"Good," he says. "We string up her also. The farmers be pleased I think. You this time help with the guts, OK?"
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
Elbow deep into the sow, which dangles one branch over from the boar, Ogier grunts, frowns, gazes away toward the hillock. The tree covered mound stands maybe fifty feet proud from the general and gradual upward slope of the valley. It extends about one hundred fifty yards, southeast to northwest.
as he speaks, Ogier pulls out his hand from the sow, casting the end of her lower bowel to the bloody grass. He makes an odd sign toward the unseen doorway, eighty yards to your right around the east end of the mound.
"This word is not mountain," he says. "Is a tomb of the #### dead. Kaffirim, yeah? They should sleep til the last day."
as he speaks, Ogier pulls out his hand from the sow, casting the end of her lower bowel to the bloody grass. He makes an odd sign toward the unseen doorway, eighty yards to your right around the east end of the mound.
"This word is not mountain," he says. "Is a tomb of the #### dead. Kaffirim, yeah? They should sleep til the last day."
Re: Arpad
"You may be right, Ogier. Perhaps when we are done here, we should continue our mission and report on the crops. I did not bring anything appropriate for visiting the dead." Arpad casts a curious eye more than once towards the door, and before leaving, perhaps while Ogier is talking with a villager about how he wants the sow prepared, will look for any writing or symbology as well as any curses or other magic attached to the door. Arcana [1d20-1] = 1-1 = 0
Perception [1d20-1] = 10-1 = 9
Perception [1d20-1] = 10-1 = 9
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
You find naught of interest. The pig muck clings filthily to your boots. Your horse snorts disdainfully as you go to mount, and shies away til you have scuffed your feet among tall grass to get off most of the brown-black ooze.
Ogier's horse is grazing peacefully in the road edge, tended by a sleeping peasant.
By evening you and Ogier have ridden further out, past the village where roast pig will be ready by midday tomorrow, and to the next village where you will spend the night.
more to follow
14th of Truces
In whosever home you spend the night, it passes calmly. You rise the next day and ride back toward Saraqusta, looking over the fields as you go. At mid-day you may pause for succulent roast pig, before continuing toward the town.
Once cross the bridge, Ogier bids you good day and hauls his horse's head toward the Piss Ward. "Need to see a man about a sword," he says. You continue to the Tower, where you find Blaise lounging on a wicker divan outside the door. The plaza, and the dais, are baked in the sun.
Ogier's horse is grazing peacefully in the road edge, tended by a sleeping peasant.
By evening you and Ogier have ridden further out, past the village where roast pig will be ready by midday tomorrow, and to the next village where you will spend the night.
more to follow
14th of Truces
In whosever home you spend the night, it passes calmly. You rise the next day and ride back toward Saraqusta, looking over the fields as you go. At mid-day you may pause for succulent roast pig, before continuing toward the town.
Once cross the bridge, Ogier bids you good day and hauls his horse's head toward the Piss Ward. "Need to see a man about a sword," he says. You continue to the Tower, where you find Blaise lounging on a wicker divan outside the door. The plaza, and the dais, are baked in the sun.
Re: Arpad
"Good day Blaise. How have you been? Ogier and I and had a fine run up and back. The fields are in good form, the peasants seemed calm, and the grass is sweet. We did have a bit of fun up towards [landmark/village name/distance in travel time]. It appears there was a case of mad pig disease - a boar had trampled one of the farm boys and was making havoc with the fields. Ogier was wounded, but he is a tough man. A good one to have beside in a fight. It seemed we had no choice but to destroy the boar and the sow. It was good to have a chance at some real activity. Nothing so political as pouring coffee." Arpad sits down on a neighboring divan and looks about for some tea.
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
Blaise laughs. "Haroun spoke with me. We agreed it was a confusing situation, and the language issue can't have helped.
Listen: last night I looked at the stars. This is Blaise' code for some kind of divination spell that you don't understand. I need you please to find my brother, Dafythh. Guard him. Go alone, but I will give you a token for passage among his men."
gain 100 xp from the encounter with pigs.
Listen: last night I looked at the stars. This is Blaise' code for some kind of divination spell that you don't understand. I need you please to find my brother, Dafythh. Guard him. Go alone, but I will give you a token for passage among his men."
gain 100 xp from the encounter with pigs.
Re: Arpad
"If you believe your brother to be in danger, I will of course try to look after him. Where do you recommend I begin looking for him? I have been away a full round of the sun; when do you last see him? What type of danger did you foresee?
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
Blaise scowls. "Our mother would have him ride south to ... look at ... the men coming north from Qordoba. In the stars last night I saw a great eagle, written with brushes like a poem in the air. It stoops toward us, and its talons would grip him most. I would not turn him from the errand our Lady mother has set, but I would ask you to ward him from the eagle's grip." He shrugs and rolls his head a little. "All this may be only a dream under stars. Are you thirsty? Would you have water, or quince juice, or coffee?"
He won't say more about his vision of danger, but furthers that Dafytth should be out in the hills south of the city, and that if you ask along the main hill track while showing Blaise's "token" (a string of pierced silver dirhams, strung on a black leather cord), you should be able to find good direction.
He won't say more about his vision of danger, but furthers that Dafytth should be out in the hills south of the city, and that if you ask along the main hill track while showing Blaise's "token" (a string of pierced silver dirhams, strung on a black leather cord), you should be able to find good direction.
Re: Arpad
"I will have coffee, thank you. It may be a long night." Within an hour, Arpad heads towards the south gate on his horse. He brings a few torches and his bedroll along with rations and weapons. On the way through town, he renews Mage Armor. Arriving at the south gate, he shows the token to a guard and asks after Dafythh, before, presumably, continuing towards the main hill track and repeating the action.
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
The Fountain Gate, mid-afternoon, sunny and warm, 14th of Truces
The Fountain Gate is manned by a handful of guards, wearing light chain and standing easy with hands on their spears. One of them is tall dark and rangy, hard-faced and missing an ear; another is short and gutty, knotty-haired, with a gentle and friendly expression on his pudgy tan face. The latter responds to your question while his four companions keep eyes on you and on the surrounding scene. During your initial exchange, a pretty young woman strides from the fountain back through the gate into the inner ward, tunic soaked and clinging with water sloshed from the big jug on her shoulder.
"The prince Dafytth holds the fourth village south on the main track from Baltax Gate," says the pudgy helpful guard. "Uh - by the way, sir - the Young Lady's scribe, Ibrahim? He is a day before you. Went yesterday with the Captain's Gaul."
The Fountain Gate is manned by a handful of guards, wearing light chain and standing easy with hands on their spears. One of them is tall dark and rangy, hard-faced and missing an ear; another is short and gutty, knotty-haired, with a gentle and friendly expression on his pudgy tan face. The latter responds to your question while his four companions keep eyes on you and on the surrounding scene. During your initial exchange, a pretty young woman strides from the fountain back through the gate into the inner ward, tunic soaked and clinging with water sloshed from the big jug on her shoulder.
"The prince Dafytth holds the fourth village south on the main track from Baltax Gate," says the pudgy helpful guard. "Uh - by the way, sir - the Young Lady's scribe, Ibrahim? He is a day before you. Went yesterday with the Captain's Gaul."
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
"Well, uh ... yes, sir, he is the Captain's Gaul. I mean ... there may be others?
But it's a full day ride to the Brig ... uh prince Dafythh's village, sir. Lwaving this late, You'll be wanting to stop for rest along your way, may be? If so, please could you say hi to my old mother, she's in the second village?"
But it's a full day ride to the Brig ... uh prince Dafythh's village, sir. Lwaving this late, You'll be wanting to stop for rest along your way, may be? If so, please could you say hi to my old mother, she's in the second village?"
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
Fahd ibn Tuwan, and my widowed mother is named Sharon. He shoves a hand under his mail shirt, at the sword belt, and pulls out a small pouch of green dyed suede. It clinks. Give her this, please?
The ride south through the pasture is easy. Your horse, who has crossed the passes of the Alps, thinks naught of the switchback trail up to the brown dry cragtops a scant hundred or three hundred feet above the pasture. He nibbles a scraggly olive tree.
It is late afternoon as you start down the south slope in the Valley of Goats. The sun, low in the western sky to you right, strikes fiery glints from the burnished brass helmets of two riders a couple miles down the valley to your left. Dust floats above them in a light cloud as they ride their horses at a walk up the mostly dry stream bed alongside the summer trickle of what might be flood in the spring.
The ride south through the pasture is easy. Your horse, who has crossed the passes of the Alps, thinks naught of the switchback trail up to the brown dry cragtops a scant hundred or three hundred feet above the pasture. He nibbles a scraggly olive tree.
It is late afternoon as you start down the south slope in the Valley of Goats. The sun, low in the western sky to you right, strikes fiery glints from the burnished brass helmets of two riders a couple miles down the valley to your left. Dust floats above them in a light cloud as they ride their horses at a walk up the mostly dry stream bed alongside the summer trickle of what might be flood in the spring.
Re: Arpad
Given that I have a couple miles, I will drift off the road on a side track before these soldiers arrive. If there is an appropriate location, I cast Minor Illusion once or twice ahead of me (off the road) to help ease my transition into a copse of trees or similar hiding area (so perhaps I create an extra bush, or a large clump of grass). Having done nothing wrong (perhaps...), I still avoid soldiers on the road when possible. Once the soldiers pass, I continue along parallel to the road for a bit, slowly working my way back towards it. I head into the second village and ask for Sharon, widow of Tuwan, father of Fahd.
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Eulalios
Re: Arpad
The Valley of Goats; warm, dry, late afternoon; 14th of Truces
It's an easy thing for you to guide your horse off the main track, and under the shade of some actual trees. Reinforced by your minor illusion. You notice that the riders are continuing up the valley bottom, along the mostly dry riverbed crosswise toward the main track. They neither greet nor avoid the two goatherds whom they pass. The goatherds avoid them.
Under their shiny yellow brass helmets, they wear red rags that cover their necks. On their bodies they wear shell armor, dark metal breast plates and vambraces under red surcoats. You cannot read the flowing script embroidered on their surcoats, but you recognize it as Arabic.
About fifteen minutes of you waiting, the two men - who carry spears vertically in their right hands, with small shields slung across their saddles - have brought their horses at a steady walk up to the track near where you left it. They look about them, then pull their horses to their right, and start to ride up the track toward the craggy hilltop from where you recently came. It seems they might like to overlook Saraqusta.
It's an easy thing for you to guide your horse off the main track, and under the shade of some actual trees. Reinforced by your minor illusion. You notice that the riders are continuing up the valley bottom, along the mostly dry riverbed crosswise toward the main track. They neither greet nor avoid the two goatherds whom they pass. The goatherds avoid them.
Under their shiny yellow brass helmets, they wear red rags that cover their necks. On their bodies they wear shell armor, dark metal breast plates and vambraces under red surcoats. You cannot read the flowing script embroidered on their surcoats, but you recognize it as Arabic.
About fifteen minutes of you waiting, the two men - who carry spears vertically in their right hands, with small shields slung across their saddles - have brought their horses at a steady walk up to the track near where you left it. They look about them, then pull their horses to their right, and start to ride up the track toward the craggy hilltop from where you recently came. It seems they might like to overlook Saraqusta.