Chapter 19: Civilization's End

[ChubbyPixie]

Kiri stands and straightens his bulk slowly, half turning towards the disturbance. His face is neutral as he waits to see how things will fall out.

[ravenn4544]

Amethu gratefully thanks the fellow for his aide. Unaware of the the impending fight from the others, he asks Decius, "Are there practitioners of the magical arts in this fort that I could perhaps meet with?" He also hands him a gp for his help.

[Bluetongue]

Grigor

Exits the priests quarters with his evangelical 'convert or die' theology ringing in his ears. As does the crowd noise as it gathers around an impending testosterone and booze filled standoff.

He goes to see what causes the commotion and is unsurprised to see the barbarian lacking manners and sense at the centre of it.

He thinks about intervening in some way. Casting a 'command' spell to impell the barbarian to apologise or warding a divine sanctuary upon one of the swaggering opponent's. He shakes his head and walks off with Gnasher, distancing himself from the foolishness.

[Paladin]

Iago Vazquez de Quesada

The Zingaran grins as he drains his mug, then swipes one hand across his mouth.

"My friends..." He says calmly, hoping to interject some sanity into the brewing storm. "Do you hear the drums?" He looks from his companions to the soldiers, then motions over the walls. "Do you smell their hunger for blood?"

He encircles the whole gathering with a sweep of his arm. "Men drawing blades within the fort and butchering one other only serves the savages out there." He shrugs. "I want to go home alive one day. Don't you?"

He holds aloft a bag of coin and flashes a sly grin. "And there is enough Pictish blood-money here to keep us in drink for a while yet. What say we celebrate the bare skulls of our enemies rather than scalping each other, amigos?"

He sends a meaningful look to whoever is running the tap or spigot and motions for them to begin pouring.

[hedgeknight]

Dahinna

"I wasn't. Once we took Conajohara, the King of Aquilonia called back half our army. We weren't given the reason. But getting a thing is always more fun than having it, don't you think?" Decius grins bleakly.

Dahinna chuckles and says, "The chase is often sweeter than the catch...but not always."
She takes a mouthful of swill, puffing out her cheeks, and swallowing it slowly...watching Decius' face. The sound of the commotion brings a frown to her pretty face, and she jerks her head toward it. "Sometimes watching a thing is fun too."
She heads toward the angry voices, checking to make sure her sword is loose in its scabbard, and then absently running her fingers along the fletching of her darts.

[Urson]

Zahra
Zahra has already gone to sleep, the comfort of being surrounded by actual walls letting her relax fully for the first time in weeks. She snores occasionally.

[Inferno]

Fort Tuscelan, Conajohara Province, Aquilonian Empire, the World of Hyboria
Day One. Night. 11th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







"Say it again, barbarian."

Every eye is upon Cruloc and Tiberius. Every hand is near a weapon.

Cruloc wisely declines to repeat his slur against all legionnaires present. Instead he deftly pivots to heap cutting derision upon Tiberius only.

"Careful sirrah, or there'll soon be a stranger in Hell," the cocky young soldier says without mirth.

Suddenly, Iago leaps in and defuses the situation with charisma, grace and ale. The carefree privateer buys a round for all assembled (50sp) and the tension breaks. Soon, all is as it was. Except now Tiberius laughs with his companions, perhaps a little too loud to be convincing.

The standoff ended, Amethu turns back to Decius but the Tauran scout is gone, the proffered Verulian coin left behind.


Actions?


Map:

X marks the adventurers' position at Fort Tuscelan.




PC Status:

Amethu: Verulian Grand Magus Cleric/Magic-User 3/2: Move: 9", AC: 4, HP: 9/14, Spells: 3/7 1st lvl, 3/3 2nd lvl
Cruloc: Cimmerian Northman Barbarian 3: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 45/45
Dahinna: Zamoran Southwoman Thief 4: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 19/19
Grigor: Zamoran Nomad Cleric/Fighter 3/3: Move: 9", AC: 1, HP: 18/29, Spells: 3/4 1st lvl, 2/2 2nd lvl
Iago: Zingaran Southman Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 2, HP: 18/32
Kiri Khutan: Kambujan Easterner Fighter/Magic-User 3/2: Move: 9", AC: 3, HP: 19/19, Spells: 1/3 1st lvl
Zahra: Verulian Amazon Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 3, HP: 20/29
Gnasher: Grigor's Hound: Move: 12", AC: 5, HD: 2+2, HP: 10/11, AT: 1, D: 1-4

PC Magic:

None currently.

Player Resources:

The Struggle To Survive (the story so far)
Mysteries Strange and Deadly (player clues and notes)
An Age Undreamed Of (maps and realms of the World of Hyboria)

[ChubbyPixie]

Kiri finally sets down his empty cup, nods politely to anyone nearby, and retires.

[ravenn4544]

Amehtu is a little put off that he suddenly disappeared. He wonders if he offended him, reflects back upon the conversation and concludes that he hasn't. With the gold on the bar, he will ask the bartender the same question on any practitioners of the magical arts and slide it to him as he asks.

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc

Cruloc smiles at Tiberius' threat.

"Hell? Hreh. It lies leagues south of here, buried beneath centuries of sand. I've seen it."

With that, the palpable hostility vanishes from his rugged countenance. Whether this change is sincere or a pretense, only Crom on his mountain knows.

"Come, legionnaires, a Zingaran's generosity lasts as long as the sun on a grey northern winter's day! Drink!" He raises a cup and salutes the gathered revelers.

The barbarian turns to Iago, discreetly slipping his pouch of silver into the fold of the fighter's tunic (-50sp). "A debt of silver and blood is owed. The silver is paid this night; the blood will be paid out there."

[Bluetongue]

Grigor

Will tour the fort as he is able, trying not to get in the way of guards running of the place. He expects as with most military advances that some caravan baggage train of camp followers will be pitched up. So he investigates thinking maybe to track down any herbalist or trinket maker. It might seem Amethu has similar aims to locate the practitioners of folklore and arcane arts. So he would be happy to tag along.

[Paladin]

Iago Vazquez de Quesada

Iago sends his burly companion a sly wink masked behind an upraised mug.

He will make merry and drink his cup dry before seeking a safe place to rest his weary eyes.

[Inferno]

Fort Tuscelan, Conajohara Province, Aquilonian Empire, the World of Hyboria
Day One. Night. 11th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







The strange, masked sorcerer-priest asks the barkeep if he's aware of any wizards in the fort. The Aquilonian looks at Amethu sideways, pockets his ancient gold coin and says, "You must mean Father Andronicus. Bit late for him now, sir."

Cruloc and Iago drink with the soldiers until last call which comes early for them but not for a military outpost.

Grigor locates the ramshackle caravan of camp followers that was brought in behind the wall before sundown. All is dark and quiet there, so he'll try his luck on the morrow.

The adventurers bunk in a spare common room in the half-empty fortress. (10sp a bed) Surrounded by male companions, no one harasses Dahinna or Zahra.

By candlelight, they trade stories of who they've met and what they've learned.

The distant drumming of the Picts is the last thing they hear before they succumb to exhaustion. Night passes uneventfully at the frontier's edge.



Dawn comes sharp and early to the trumpeting of horns! A wake up call sounds at daybreak to signal the first formation in the great courtyard. Roll call follows after and then stable call for the horsemen.

The adventurers cannot sleep for all the racket.


Actions? (Please roll for overnight healing, +1hp from Cruloc's first aid. Casters may study or pray to replenish their spells.)


Map:

X marks the adventurers' position at Fort Tuscelan.




PC Status:

Amethu: Verulian Grand Magus Cleric/Magic-User 3/2: Move: 9", AC: 4, HP: 9/14, Spells: 3/7 1st lvl, 3/3 2nd lvl
Cruloc: Cimmerian Northman Barbarian 3: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 45/45
Dahinna: Zamoran Southwoman Thief 4: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 19/19
Grigor: Zamoran Nomad Cleric/Fighter 3/3: Move: 9", AC: 1, HP: 18/29, Spells: 3/4 1st lvl, 2/2 2nd lvl
Iago: Zingaran Southman Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 2, HP: 18/32
Kiri Khutan: Kambujan Easterner Fighter/Magic-User 3/2: Move: 9", AC: 3, HP: 19/19, Spells: 1/3 1st lvl
Zahra: Verulian Amazon Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 3, HP: 20/29
Gnasher: Grigor's Hound: Move: 12", AC: 5, HD: 2+2, HP: 10/11, AT: 1, D: 1-4

PC Magic:

None currently.

Player Resources:

The Struggle To Survive (the story so far)
Mysteries Strange and Deadly (player clues and notes)
An Age Undreamed Of (maps and realms of the World of Hyboria)

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc

In Cimmeria, to sleep deeply is to die.

Ere the break of dawn, Cruloc is awake. From a darkened corner, Gnasher observes the barbarian, who quietly chews more leaves into a poultice before applying it to the wounds of his slumbering companions.

"Soft living has dulled your senses, you clodpates," he whispers while working his primitive medicine. "If I were a Pict, you'd all be clutching your open throats."

A low growl emerges from the hound when Grigor is attended to, but a quick look from steel-blue northern eyes turns it into a whimper. Cruloc pads over to Gnasher and makes sure the dog's injury is properly bound, which earns him an appreciative lick. "You and I, brave lion" he assures the animal in low tones, "shall make all of Pictland greasy with blood. Whose matters not - provided it's not ours, eh boy?"

At the sound of the reveille, Cruloc claps his calloused hands together sharply. His voice booms in the close quarters of the bunkroom.

"On your feet, idlers!" A hard kick from his booted foot sends Amethu's bed screeching across the wooden floor. "For those who rise first, a groaning board laden with choice viands, sweetmeats, and the bounty of orchard and vineyard!" He laughs heartlessly at the startled thrashings and weak protestations of the roughly wakened. "Gruel with a wooden spoon for the rest!"

Gnasher rises, stretches, and begins wagging his tail, plainly pleased by the unfolding bedlam.

[Bluetongue]

Grigor

"The early bird catches the worm. Which just goes to show the worm should have stayed in bed."

The gypsy does his ablutions, washing in cold water and waxing his trimmed moustache and rebraiding his top knot pony tail. He does a few stretching exercises and squat dances a few steps over his sword, mumbling a little Steppe learned 'throat singing' chorus. After the breakfast he finds a quiet spot to pray, imploring the Saint statuette for todays' favour.

"I am eager not to outstay our welcome here. Maybe we could hire a scout to guide us through the forest depths. Any thoughts on equipping a pack mule to the team? Maybe the farrier could sell us one? Do we need other supplies?"

He will check on the stables and shanty camp after his devotions.

Grigor and Gnasher both healed 2hp from rest and Cruloc aid)

[Urson]

Zahra
pecentile [1d100]=70 Zahra heals 1 hp, plus 1 from Cruloc's help.

Zahra wakes like a cat- suddenly, and all at once. She readies herself for the day, then makes a round of the traders. She's looking for 2 more javelins, and wants to visit Augustus, the merchant who failed to sell the braclet to Dahinna.

I heard from my friend about this serpent bracelet. If it pleases me, I will give you 35 gold.

[Paladin]

Iago Vazquez de Quesada

[1d100]=70

+2 points of HP total.

Iago cracks one eye at Cruloc and waves the gargantuan man away with a sleepy grumble. "Away, you great ox!" He chuckles in spite of himself and pushes up to his elbows. "She had the biggest..." He makes a cupping and squeezing gesture in front of his chest and sighs. "And I almost touched them. Until you started shouting."

Iago shakes his head and shrugs. "I will catch her tonight, amigo. She won't escape Iago." He blinks the sleep from his eyes and pulls a lazy grin.

He rises, arranges his clothing and gear, dashes cold water in his face, and shakes his head like a dog before raking his hands through long hair. "Now. Let us see what this place has to offer in daylight."

[hedgeknight]

Dahinna jerks awake at the sound of the morning bugle, and then jerks again at the booming voice of the barbarian.
Promising death and destruction upon any and all, the Zamoran tosses the blanket aside and begins looking for her boots.
Once dressed she grabs Zahra and says in a gravelly sleeping voice, "Do you need to empty your bladder like I do? Let's go find a privy...or a trench or something to pee in. And then breakfast, okay?"

[Inferno]

Fort Tuscelan, Conajohara Province, Aquilonian Empire, the World of Hyboria
Day Two. Dawn. 12th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







Dawn breaks noisy and bright at Fort Tuscelan. The ominous drumming from the jungle across the Black River has ceased.

The adventurers wander out into the cold, clean air of the large central courtyard. There, contrary to last night, the military discipline of the Aquilonian Empire is on full display. The frontier outpost is as industrious as an ant colony.



After first formation, mess call is sounded and the men break their fast at benches near the camp followers. (free meal to any PC that bought a bunk last night)

Then the soldiers re-muster for sick call and fatigue call, after which they are detailed from each company for work duty: building and repairs, cutting timber, hauling wood, cleaning the post, loading and unloading supplies, tending the fort gardens, guard duty, and more.

After morning prayers, Grigor wanders the stables where men brush, feed and water the horses, and then tack up for stable call.



The gypsy ambles to the ramshackle tents of the camp followers. With the fort half-manned, he realizes the small group that remains has permanently set up camp inside the walls, for protection from the hostile frontier. Grigor sees wives, children, family members and other hangers-on bustling with morning chores of cooking and laundering.

After breakfast, Zahra (and Dahinna?) wanders the merchant stalls near the camp followers. The pale amazon buys two Pict javelins from a brutally scalped trader (2gp each) and then finds the merchant Augustus.



Zahra says, "I heard from my friend about this serpent bracelet. If it pleases me, I will give you 35 gold."

The fat man beams with barely restrained triumph as he produces the strange silver ornament, licks his ample lips and says, "A fair price. Agreed. Unless you'd rather trade your lion mask instead?"


Actions? (And plans for the day?)


Map:

X marks the adventurers' position at Fort Tuscelan.





PC Status:

Amethu: Verulian Grand Magus Cleric/Magic-User 3/2: Move: 9", AC: 4, HP: 14/14, Spells: 7/7 1st lvl, 3/3 2nd lvl
Cruloc: Cimmerian Northman Barbarian 3: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 45/45
Dahinna: Zamoran Southwoman Thief 4: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 19/19
Grigor: Zamoran Nomad Cleric/Fighter 3/3: Move: 9", AC: 1, HP: 20/29, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl, 2/2 2nd lvl
Iago: Zingaran Southman Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 2, HP: 20/32
Kiri Khutan: Kambujan Easterner Fighter/Magic-User 3/2: Move: 9", AC: 3, HP: 19/19, Spells: 3/3 1st lvl
Zahra: Verulian Amazon Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 3, HP: 27/29
Gnasher: Grigor's Hound: Move: 12", AC: 5, HD: 2+2, HP: 11/11, AT: 1, D: 1-4

PC Magic:

None currently.

Player Resources:

The Struggle To Survive (the story so far)
Mysteries Strange and Deadly (player clues and notes)
An Age Undreamed Of (maps and realms of the World of Hyboria)

[Urson]

Zahra
Zahra bristles slightly at the merchant's suggestion, then digs the gold from her pouch and pays.
She slides the bracelet onto her right arm, wiggling her fingers to see how it fits.