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[IC] Evilhalfling's Dark Sun


the magical equivalent to the number zero
Blaze grins. Alpha squad, that sounds about right for an experienced warrior such as himself!

The fire genasi helps gathering the stuff from the fallen, and declines the use of armor himself. He keeps his club close; he's a guard now, after all. The flames that previously covered his body are now gone, except from those on his head forming a sort of living hair.

Trying not to draw too much attention, Blaze moves about in such a way that there are plenty of opportunities to talk with Dukkoti and the other Alpha squad members without any of the old guards overhearing.

"Do you think we can take over when the time comes?" he asks them while dumping another load of loot on the wagon.

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Imperial Mountain Dew Taster
Dukkoti quickly put on the armor of the elf he'd killed and secured the man's desert clothing as well to keep the sun off himself. He tied up the quivers and unstrung the bow, readied to move quickly at need.

Though he just supervised those who were still slaves as they dumped equipment into the weapons wagon. No need to continue to exert himself.

When he was approached by Blaze he shrugged. "Take over what? Better to win favor and then get free to roam the sands at will than to be shackled to a city and a house, even as guards."


The caravan guards do not really see your squad as equals, whatever the Mul says, and you are all put to work anyway (as are most of them)

Shortly after the caravan is moving again …
the scout returns “Merchant House Stel approaches, in force!” he yells.
House Stel is the largest and most militant merchant house in Urik, you have all heard of it.
They are more like a private army of violent thugs that sells goods. Their leaders have enough pull to hire elven mercenaries to soften and delay a big target. - Or they were both hired by a third party-
It appears the elves were only half the problem.

Shortly new orders come down from the traders in the War Wagon: A mile passed the brackish river, the caravan turns off the road to the south, making for a line of hills a few miles away.

The matriarch emerges on a shooting gallery clutching a familiar piece of shiny jewelry.
Behind the wagon a dust devil forms, and then expands – A large creature of Elemental Air pulls itself together from Wind and Sand. The elemental spins up a tornado and passes back and forth covering the tracks of the caravan. The matriarch watching it carefully.

A single elf prisoner is dumped in the middle of the road, he stands staring blankly at nothing.

The near-score of cavalry continue riding up the road, making short dashes back and forth and raising a lot of dust. Clearly laying a false trail on the road.

GM: narrate your contribution to the escape/misdirection
Helping either of the Wagons get unstuck, blasting or moving heavy objects out of the way, encouraging others to do the work, convincing the Mellikots to move a little faster, making intelligent suggestions or helping to disguise the Wagons…

Without some help, House Stel scouts will see through the deception. No rolling is necessary for this scene
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Cal briefly thought about using his Illusion magic to disguise a wagon...but he didn't want to reveal that about himself. Not yet. Not before he knew he wouldn't get lynched.

However, he had other ways he could contribute. Being a stable boy, he goes to the Mellikots and leads them, coaxing them to move quicker.


Possibly a Idiot.
Plool nods his head in agreement with Dukkoti. "I have no intention of staying here forever, there are still places I need to see and people I need to find." He pauses after hearing the scout return. " But right now the alpha squad is a better place than being captured by House Stel."

Plool doesn't have the raw muscle of others, but he is handy with tools. With a few adjustments he alters the rollers of the wagons. Partly to give them better traction after their battle-damage, but also reworking their groove to throw off any trackers who might be following the caravan that way.


the magical equivalent to the number zero
"Might be a better position with them," Blaze remarks bluntly, apparently viewing a guard position at House Stel as a reasonable prospect. However, fighting against them probably diminishes his chances...

The genasi looks around with hesitation. He's a good warrior, but that is pretty much all he has done in his life. So what should he do?

Watching Cal move up to the Mellikots, Blaze decides he can help out with moving the caravan.

OOC: Proficiency with Vehicles (land) comes in handy after all.


Chtckh'Chtckh ran ahead of the War Wagon, checking the path forward for obstacles that might impede its progress. While he was at it, he tested the limits of his new freedom by occasionally increasing the distance between himself and the other guards, and testing the amount of time he could be out of sight before someone noticed and called him back. He always returned, and he kept up the appearance of obedience.


Chtckh Chtckh is called back the first time but the second time he goes out of view there is only a caution to stay closer when he returns. He gets the feeling If he disappeared out into the wastes the merchants, lacking cavalry, would just write him off. But then he would be packless and solos rarely survive long.

The Mellikots protest about pulling the heavy wagons off-road, but with your help, the wagons get behind a hill before the scouts of House Stel get close. The oldest slave Sysra walks well behind the wagon, accompanied by a guard, he spends a lot of time staring at the top of the wagon, which changes appearance – sometimes a cloud, part of a hill or some scrubby bushes.

Crossing the wastes to Raam is long and exhausting. The whole next day is spent forcing the wagons across sand scrubland and bare rock. The local Wildlife gives you lots of room. There is no sign of other people until you get close to the city. Nearer the city the caravan struggles back onto a road, having to stop several times and pay bribes to small armed groups from nearby compounds

Finally, the caravan moves into a walled caravansary on the outskirts of the city. The city appears to be a massive collection of 2-3 story mud-covered brick buildings. Most of the roads curve in circles around the center. The streets that go straight in do not appear to go very far before ending at junctions. There are few templars in evidence, but you can tell the wealthier citizens wear silk or clothes that mimic silk, while guards, laborers and slaves wear very simple garb.

That night you are given spare uniforms, although Plool's is a different style, but similar in color. The Mul captain gives a short combat drill - drilling Alpha and Beta squads separately.
Work together you brainless belogoi! You’re a team now, stop running in different directions like headless Erdu! Your survival may depend on the group!

Afterward You have more time around a table to eat (simple fare) and talk among yourselves
After a night in the barracks, it really feels like you have left slavery behind ... A new chapter begins.

GM: Advance your PC to level 3
take average hp + long rest.
It is hard to find enough alone time to learn the scrolls but you can make out that the spells include sleep, magic missile, shield, invisibility and web.


Possibly a Idiot.
"What is this style of cloth is supposed to mean?" Plool wondered out loud after being handed his uniform.

Plool spent most of his free time fetching arrows. Speed was great for fighting in his jungle-home, however the recent battles had convinced him that range was his primary weakness in these wide open sands. Fortunately, the house caravan had picked up a few extra bows from the fallen elf raiders, so they were not in short supply.

Finding a proper axe was a bit more difficult. Most of the guards were a bit leery of Plool after his post-fight display, and especially so the one who had an axe. He had to be convinced Plool wasn't going to turn around and butcher him like an aprig with it. “Don't worry, I only eat quality meats.” Plool snidely contended before he left with the weapon.

At dinner that night, between stuffing his craw with food, Plool asked the other members of the Alpha Squad “So, you lot are a bit tight-lipped, what's your stories?”


Cal sat at dinner, his hands blistered. He was used to hard work, but not with a spear. It worked different parts of the hand.

He was a little worried that he wouldn't be able to cast his spells. He looked around to Alpha Squad, sizing them up. Could he trust these people? If he didn't trust someone, he was likely to get himself killed. But the last person who knew...

"I grew up in a rich house," he said hunkering down. "My dad did something bad when I was a kid and I got sold. Mom, too. Dad didn't make it. Mom died a few years later. I've been working with the animals ever since."

He held up a hand, and a small flame sprouted from one hand, glowing a soft blue. "And I may have picked up a few things along the way..."

(Minor Illusion to make flames appear, complete with crackling sounds, thanks to Improved Minor Illusion. He makes sure only Alpha actually sees it.)

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