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Zahra
Zahra scrambles to Kiri's side, binding his wounds.

Beneath the Forbidden City of the Dead, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Nine. Morning. 19th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







In the wild, deadly fray, seconds seem like years. Minutes, centuries.

Men slash at each others' faces not five feet apart. Sword thrusts, staff strikes, a wild howling and the gulping of blood. Bodies fall legless, armless, headless, into the waiting arms of the God of Death.

Masked Amethu smites the burned warrior (T9) with the mythical Staff of Uthoth and the Thracian falls hard with splintered limbs and broken back!

The crimson blur of Cruloc's sword lands a near-fatal blow upon the last man standing! (T11) The maniac survives it, batters down Torix's spear thrust, and wreaks havoc upon Cruloc with Thracian steel! (6hp damage)

Zahra binds Kiri's grievous wounds, sparing another soul from the God of Death. Suddenly, she and Amethu perceive in their peripheral vision a spectral figure near Iago!



When they direct their eyes there, the phantom is gone.


Actions?!


Map Detail:

One square = 10 feet.

Behind the DM Screen:



PC Status:
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Amethu struggles with diminishing energy to even come close to landing a blow. That, or the distraction of the ethereal image that quickly captivated his attention... Death, it seems, truly does walk among us...

To Hit (THACO 20): [1d20+2]=3+2=5

Torix is glad to see another soldier drop. He again strikes at the one remaining.

THAC0 20 [1d20+1]=6+1=7 [1d6+1]=3+1=4

Cruloc

Cruloc cannot hit an oliphant's ass.
Thracian longsword vs. S/M opponent [1d20+3]=5+3=8

Zahra
Zahra ducks and dodges to get to Dahinna, binding her wounds also.

Beneath the Forbidden City of the Dead, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Nine. Morning. 19th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







Surrounded by death and blood and gore, Zahra saves Dahinna's life, defying once more the dark will of Thanatos. Nearby, the last men standing labor murderously to fulfill it.

From the deadly maelstrom of weapons comes a deafening crash of steel! At one frenzied instant, their blades spark like summer lightning!

On they fight, with a thirst for violence that cannot be slaked.


Actions?! (for the next TWO rounds please!)


Map Detail:

One square = 10 feet.

Behind the DM Screen:



PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Torix is impressed that the soldier continues to fight, instead of falling on his knees and begging for his life. He didn't expect as much from a city man. He aims his spearhead for the throat.

Amethu continues to parry and lunge with his ancient staff. Unthinking now and relentless. The quest must be accomplished. Sweat running past his mask has his white skin gleaming in the torchlight...

To Hit (THACO 20): [1d20+2]=15+2=17
Staff of Uthoth - Damage: = S/M/L: [1d6+2]=2+2=4

second round of action is more of the same:

To Hit (THACO 20): [1d20+2]=13+2=15
Staff of Uthoth - Damage: = S/M/L: [1d6+2]=3+2=5

Cruloc

Cruloc has had enough.

Crom and his depraved games be damned, the barbarian spins and slams his pommel into the Thracian's head with force enough to dash half his teeth from his mouth.

Thracian longsword vs. S/M opponent [1d20+3]=14+3=17
Thracian longsword vs. S/M opponent [1d8+4]=6+4=10

Zahra
Zahra takes a knee for a moment, catching her breath.

Snatching at her javelin, she springs to the attack.
att [1d20+4]=13+4=17
javelin [1d6+3]=2+3=5

Beneath the Forbidden City of the Dead, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Nine. Morning. 19th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







"Blood and souls for my lord Thanatos!" cries the last Thracian standing.

Does his battle cry wish death upon his accursed enemies? Or upon himself in some mad ritual sacrifice?

Amethu, Cruloc and Zahra silence that battle cry at last. By staff and by sword and by javelin, they shear half asunder the death-worshipping fanatic.

A stillness descends upon the shadowed, ancient ruins.

Panting, they assess the brutal slaughter. The Thracians fought to the last man. None surrendered. Death before dishonor or defeat.

The adventurers have crossed nations with less casualties than the toll exacted by the first hundred feet into the Underworld of Thracia.

And now a fierce Pict savage stands among them, an unlikely brother in bloodshed.


Actions?!


Map:

One square = 10 feet. Lighter areas are visible. All else is from memory.

Behind the DM Screen:



PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Kiri breathes shallowly atop a heap of slashed and broken corpses...

Torix
The tattooed Pict is humbled by his performance in the fight. The armored Thracian ant-soldier completely dodged or blocked his spear, and it was the foreigners who finally took him down. He only contribution was an arrow in a Thracian's back. He says in broken, heavily accented Common, I am Torix. I fight Thracians in Picts' land with Hyborians. He looks at the Verulians and the near-dead Kambujan. And others. He looks at Cruloc, not knowing whether a new battle is about to start. And Cimmerian.

He looks at the Zamoran's ghastly wounds, kneels and lays his elk hide shoulder pouch on the floor. He takes out long, coarsely woven strips of yellowish cloth and some broad leaves. He chews the leaves and a pungent aroma fills the air. He applies the pulp to the wounds and binds them with the cloth strips.

Amethu rests for a moment to catch his breath. He is beyond weary after such a fight. He regains his composure as the quest for the ancient library returns to forefront of his thoughts. "Attend the wounded. Search the cultists for anything of value or usefulness. Then, we must rest - we are beyond weakened and need time to recover...."

Zahra
Zahra nods, panting. She takes a moment to rest, then begins stripping the valuables from the Thracians. The stripped bodies are casually pushed aside as she works.
When he is recovered, I will beat him unconcious. He should have left the doors alone. she mumbles as she works.

Dahinna

The Zamoran rogue shudders as something...she is not sure what...is applied to her wounds. She wrinkles her nose at the pungent odor which assails it and her eyes flutter briefly. Strange...she thinks she sees the tattooed face of a Pict warrior...but how can that be in the land of the dead?

Cruloc

Resting wearily on his sword, Cruloc cautiously observes the Pict. Torix is as skilled at healing as Cruloc, but the Cimmerian is quick to note and magnify the flaws in his technique.

"You will not be the first Pict I have called friend," says Cruloc, extending his hand to clasp the forearm of the smaller man. Smiling, Cruloc silently appraises how much silver the Pict's scalp would fetch.

He binds his own wounds and those of any others yet untouched by Torix's mercies.

Beneath the Forbidden City of the Dead, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Nine. Morning. 19th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







In the wreck and the carnage, Cruloc befriends the tattooed Pict savage. Torix tends to Dahinna's wounds (+1hp) but the little Zamoran does not awaken.

From the crimson pile of Thracian corpses, Zahra harvests longswords, spears, helms, shields and half-plate armor. Every dead man has a death charm around his neck, including Iago.



Amethu pants, "Attend the wounded. Search the cultists for anything of value or usefulness. Then, we must rest - we are beyond weakened and need time to recover..."


Actions?! (...for the next 10 minutes please)


Map:

One square = 10 feet. Lighter areas are visible. All else is from memory.





PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Torix has no interest in the slashed and skewered soldiers' weapons or armor. He looks around at the group. It seems that the woman warrior is the most injured. He approaches her and says in his thickly-accented Common, You are a good fighter. I will put medicine, if you will let me.