Insight's "The Shadow of Set" - IC Thread

[Insight]

[sblock=Group 2]
ED: I've re-arranged these slightly to make it flow better.

Dirk nods silently and walks out into the newly shifted sands. Kneeling, he picks up and handful of sand and feels it around in his hand. Looking off into the Desert, he bluntly states "Follow" and sets off after the cultists.

'We'll have to trust your instincts," G'sharn says to Dirk as he stares off into the wasteland. "Lacking any other choice, it seems. Still and all, your instincts have proven sound enough for me before. I see no reason why this time should be any different."

He shrugs. "No point in wasting time, either. I doubt that they were able to travel very far in this weather."

Asad nods his agreement, then quickly looks back the way they came. Fate has erased our separate paths. My future seems linked to yours. He takes another look at the markings on the walls, trying to memorize any that seems to repeat itself more than others then he follows his two new companions back into the dunes.

"A man of few words," G'Sharn observes. "An admirable trait, that." Without further word, he changes form and follows Dirk.

Dirk leads the group in the afternoon heat, across dune and valley, with nothing but sand in sight. Blinding at times, it is hard to imagine anyone surviving in this environment, yet the three heroes have all done it to a certain extent for some time. Though following essentially nothing in terms of tracks, Dirk seems confident, leading the others on and on.

Around dusk, you come to a major landmark, the Grey Obelisk. No one really knows the origin of this odd piece of carved stone, but nomads, bandits, and travelers alike all know of the Grey Obelisk's location. Beneath and around the Grey Obelisk is rough stone; for some reason, the sand of the Blasted Desert won't come within 20ft of the obelisk.

It is likely that the cultists came through here, but it could have been hours or mere moments before the sandstorm and Dirk wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Just as you are about to take your leave of the Grey Obelisk, Dirk notes scorpitaur tracks in the sand. He follows them all around the dune that forms a horseshoe shaped hillock around the site. The tracks are relatively fresh, made after the sandstorm.[/sblock]

OOC: I'd like to see some posts from Group 1 fairly soon. I'm going to have to NPC people who haven't posted anything by Friday afternoon.

 

[Ilium]

[sblock=Group 1]Avardis sips thoughtfully at his beer, a smile curling one side of his mouth as he listens to the dwarf's salty description of the situation. He tears a small piece of bread from the loaf on the table and hands it to the black bird perched on his shoulder before replying. "I think it sounds like a good idea. Nothing like a little crime-stopping and peace-keeping to get the right kind of attention." He sips from his beer again and adds, "Besides, these drinks aren't going to pay for themselves."
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[YeOldeAlbatross]

Droban Ironthane

[sblock=Group 1]

Avardis sips thoughtfully at his beer, a smile curling one side of his mouth as he listens to the dwarf's salty description of the situation. He tears a small piece of bread from the loaf on the table and hands it to the black bird perched on his shoulder before replying. "I think it sounds like a good idea. Nothing like a little crime-stopping and peace-keeping to get the right kind of attention." He sips from his beer again and adds, "Besides, these drinks aren't going to pay for themselves."

Droban glances sideways at Avardis' pet with a bit of a scowl. He always did prefer animals that made their homes on or under the ground. Then, dismissing the black bird with a shrug, he responds to Avardis, chuckling. "Really? I thought this round was on 'Moneybags Isphet' there." The dwarf slams down another empty mug with a smile, his fourth at this sitting. "No, you're right. Honest employment and honest gain is best. There's no time like the present is there? Let's be off and see about it."

Droban settles his tab, gathers his axe and shield, and heads for the door, not bothering to wipe up the ale still dribbling down through his beard.

OOC: Insight, assuming it's a reasonable time of day, Droban is going to head directly for the nearest guard post, and inquire about the need for new recruits. He's hoping Avardis and Isphet will be following.[/sblock]

 

[Ilium]

[SBLOCK=Group 1]
Avardis stares dumbly after Droban for a moment, taken off guard by the sudden decision. He fumbles in his pouch for a few coins and drops them on the table. Then he hurries out after the retreating dwarf, Besha spreading his wings for balance and grumbling in protest.[/SBLOCK]

 

[Rolzup]

[sblock=Group 2]
G'sharn rises to his feet, brushing sand from his hands "Does it look as though they were heading towards the Obelisk itself? Or simply skirting it?

"I've never liked this place," he adds, scowling at the offending stone. "It's not...natural."
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[Insight]

[sblock=Group 2]
G'sharn rises to his feet, brushing sand from his hands "Does it look as though they were heading towards the Obelisk itself? Or simply skirting it?

"I've never liked this place," he adds, scowling at the offending stone. "It's not...natural."
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[sblock=G'Sharn]Yeah, G'Sharn, being a druid, feels ESPECIALLY uneasy about this place.[/sblock]

 

[Redclaw]

[sblock=group2]
Asad looks at the obelisk, envying its peaceful existence. He calmly contemplates the silence and predictable nature of the world from a rock's perspective. [/sblock]

 

[Necro_Kinder]

[sblock=Group 2]
Dirk notches an arrow and cautiously follows the Scorpitaur tracks around the Obelisk. He had been to the Obelisk before, it's odd presence had helped him find his many many a time. Following the tracks, he calls out to G'Sharn and Asad. "Be on guard. They are still nearby"[/sblock]

 

[Redclaw]

[sblock=group2]
Hearing the ranger's warning, Asad shakes himself free from his moment of meditation. He gently touches his kama to assure that it is ready if needed, and follows the ranger around the obelisk. [/sblock]

 

[Insight]

[sblock=Group 1]

Sitting at a low table in a seedy tavern, Droban Ironthane slams down his empty mug and wipes a trickle of foam from his dark, braided beard. "Isphet...Avardis...I tell you, it's gettin' to be more than I can take! The constant sunburn is bad enough, now I have to look up and down my own hairy backside every mornin' just to make sure there be no boils! Curse, plague, bah! Whatever it is, it's got my hackles raised, and my nerves frazzled! Give me cool stone and the neck of an orc to hew any day." Droban sighs then, and signals for another mug of ale. "Still and all, I guess so long as we're here, we might as well see if there's aught we can do to help. I hear there may be need of some fresh blood, so to speak, amongst the city guard? Aye, I could do that. Maybe there'd be a chance for some axeblade action thataway too. What say the pair of you?"

Avardis sips thoughtfully at his beer, a smile curling one side of his mouth as he listens to the dwarf's salty description of the situation. He tears a small piece of bread from the loaf on the table and hands it to the black bird perched on his shoulder before replying. "I think it sounds like a good idea. Nothing like a little crime-stopping and peace-keeping to get the right kind of attention." He sips from his beer again and adds, "Besides, these drinks aren't going to pay for themselves."

Droban glances sideways at Avardis' pet with a bit of a scowl. He always did prefer animals that made their homes on or under the ground. Then, dismissing the black bird with a shrug, he responds to Avardis, chuckling. "Really? I thought this round was on 'Moneybags Isphet' there."

Isphet smiles, watching the tavern for signs of life -- or perhaps an opportunity. "I don't know if working for the city guard is what I had in mind. The hours are long, and the pay is a pittance."

"This plague, or curse, whatever it may be... it concerns me greatly. Still, I am stuck here in Majoor, and as you both know, I have a debt to repay. If I am stuck here, I wonder if there is an opportunity in attempting to care for the poor. Not that I am much of a healer, mind you. But people are going to be worried about this plague, and there might be coin to be had in trying to heal people."

"I've heard tell of traveling peddlers visiting town beset with plague and offering a cure-all that may or may not work. Now, that's an idea."

Isphet watches as a pair of guardsmen enter the tavern. "But perhaps charlatanry is unwarranted at this time. Your plan may work, Droban. I suppose it doesn't hurt to inquire."

The dwarf slams down another empty mug with a smile, his fourth at this sitting. "No, you're right. Honest employment and honest gain is best. There's no time like the present is there? Let's be off and see about it."

Droban settles his tab, gathers his axe and shield, and heads for the door, not bothering to wipe up the ale still dribbling down through his beard.

Avardis stares dumbly after Droban for a moment, taken off guard by the sudden decision. He fumbles in his pouch for a few coins and drops them on the table. Then he hurries out after the retreating dwarf, Besha spreading his wings for balance and grumbling in protest.

Isphet smirks at the dwarf's impatience. The moneylender pays for the remainder of the tab and scurries after Droban and Avardis.

***

"Ah, new recruits," Chief Jobbor says in response to Droban's hasty inquiry. "But it is hot in here. 'Tis as if Amum himself were breathing down my neck." The massive man, whose chain mail shirt could surely coat two normal-sized folk, gets up from his chair and, knees crackling, waddles to the window, whereupon the adjacent shelf, Chief Jobbor gets a pitcher of water and a cup. He turns to look upon Droban, Isphet, and Avardis, then pours himself some water.

"Yeah, we are always looking for fresh meat... I mean, hehe..." Jobbor watches the responses in the applicants. "What I mean to say is... new recruits. I hope you know what you're getting into. Ya see, well, I mean that, you sorta... don't really look the type to be guards. Maybe the dwarf."

Jobbor waddles back to his simple chair and grabs a parchment and a quill. "Names?"
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