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

[Insight]

[sblock=Group 1, NPC-ing Isphet]
"Yes, well, I'm not altogether certain I am meant to be a militaman, either," Isphet says. "So I understand your concern. Tell me, fat one, what is the pay, and what sort of work would we be required to do?"

Chief Jobbor squints one eye at Isphet's comments. "Har, the life of a city guard is nothing like what you might be used to. You've got the look of an Ashadi nobleman to me. Probably never had to lift a finger in your life. What brings you here anyway?"

"Never mind you that," Isphet replies. "Suffice it to say that I do not wish to be here, but I find myself with little choice. What is the pay?"

Jobbor belly laughs, and that is quite a belly. One might imagine the rumblings from this thunderous hacking to be heard several doors down. "Two coppers a day in training. Once we determine if you are fit for service, you are provided with room and board, and a salary of five silvers a week."

Isphet frowns and turns to the window in contemplation.[/sblock]

 

[YeOldeAlbatross]

Droban Ironthane

[sblock=Group 1]

"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.

Droban glowers at the obese captain, wondering inwardly how such a man, who can hardly move, would ever be promoted to a position of authority. Beads of sweat drip down from the dwarf's thick, dark hair in the hot room, and Droban cannot help but notice that Jobbor does not offer any water to his guests. This does not improve his mood, or his liking of Captain Jobbor, in any way.

"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?"

"Maybe the dwarf?!" Droban splutters, nearly choking in his indignation at this Captain Jobbor. Hefting his greataxe, he continues, "I'll have you know that this is Marakul, and she's taken the head of more goblins and orcs than you could count. Aye, and a few lowlife humans as well..." Droban finishes, muttering under his breath. "These lads with me are no laggards in a scrape either...I've seen it evidenced with my own eyes. Oh, and the name is Droban of Clan Ironthane, son of Grodun, son of Duggan."

Droban listens to Isphet's exchange with the captain, then turns to Avardis, with wide eyes. "Two coppers a day to train? That doesn't even cover my bar tab! Ah, maybe this was a bad idea." The dwarf pauses and wipes the back of his meaty hand across his sweaty brow, waiting to hear what Avardis thinks of this arrangement.
[/sblock]

 

[Rolzup]

[sblock=Group 2]
"Excellent," G'harn snarls, "We can finish this now." He paces off to the side, to a flanking position with Dirk. His scimitar remains sheathed at his side, but his hands are twitching, moving almost unconsciously through the gestures that will conjure Magic Fang.[/sblock]

 

[Ilium]

[sblock=Group 1]

Droban listens to Isphet's exchange with the captain, then turns to Avardis, with wide eyes. "Two coppers a day to train? That doesn't even cover my bar tab! Ah, maybe this was a bad idea." The dwarf pauses and wipes the back of his meaty hand across his sweaty brow, waiting to hear what Avardis thinks of this arrangement.

Avardis smiles and says, "Well, he did say 'Once they determine we're fit.' I'm sure once the trainers get a good look at Marakul in action it won't be long before we're assigned to useful duty." He turns to the captain and asks, "Tell me, sir, do you by chance have chaplains of the goddess Muir under your command?"
[/sblock]

 

[Insight]

[sblock=Group 2]

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.

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."

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."

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.

"Excellent," G'harn snarls, "We can finish this now." He paces off to the side, to a flanking position with Dirk. His scimitar remains sheathed at his side, but his hands are twitching, moving almost unconsciously through the gestures that will conjure Magic Fang.

Following the tracks, Dirk leads the rest of the group away from the Obelisk. After approximately half a mile, the three of you see the ruins of a merchant caravan. Four wagons, mostly ash now, half-empty carcasses of their former selves. Bodies lie broken and bled out amongst the wagons. Three dozen arrows prickle from the wagons.

Dirk stops upon this scene and notes that the scorpitaur tracks are all around. He cannot make heads or tails of them, but that this is almost certainly their handiwork.

Upon closer examination, Dirk checks the scorpitaur tracks and realizes that the tracks go around this ambush site. The scorpitaurs may have had nothing to do with this attack!
[/sblock]

[sblock=Asad]Nearing the wagons, you can barely make out some symbols you recognize - those of the Temple of the Eternal Sun. This temple, within Majoor itself, is known for its good works throughout the region. Some of the dead are dressed as adepts and acolytes. If these wagons were the part of some sort of pilgrimage, you don't see anyone here of sufficient rank to lead such an expedition.[/sblock]

[sblock=G'Sharn and Dirk]
Upon closer examination, these are not scorpitaur arrows. Scorpitaurs tend to use larger arrows, as their huge bows are half again the size of the bows that normal folk use. Plus, scorpitaurs tend not to waste their arrows; the shots here seem placed mostly for effect; the majority of the dead were felled not by arrow fire, but by slashing and bludgeoning weapons.

G'Sharn also notes the likely presense of poison amongst some of the dead.[/sblock]

 

[Insight]

[sblock=Group 1]

"Yes, well, I'm not altogether certain I am meant to be a militaman, either," Isphet says. "So I understand your concern. Tell me, fat one, what is the pay, and what sort of work would we be required to do?"

Chief Jobbor squints one eye at Isphet's comments. "Har, the life of a city guard is nothing like what you might be used to. You've got the look of an Ashadi nobleman to me. Probably never had to lift a finger in your life. What brings you here anyway?"

"Never mind you that," Isphet replies. "Suffice it to say that I do not wish to be here, but I find myself with little choice. What is the pay?"

Jobbor belly laughs, and that is quite a belly. One might imagine the rumblings from this thunderous hacking to be heard several doors down. "Two coppers a day in training. Once we determine if you are fit for service, you are provided with room and board, and a salary of five silvers a week."

Isphet frowns and turns to the window in contemplation.

Droban listens to Isphet's exchange with the captain, then turns to Avardis, with wide eyes. "Two coppers a day to train? That doesn't even cover my bar tab! Ah, maybe this was a bad idea." The dwarf pauses and wipes the back of his meaty hand across his sweaty brow, waiting to hear what Avardis thinks of this arrangement.

Avardis smiles and says, "Well, he did say 'Once they determine we're fit.' I'm sure once the trainers get a good look at Marakul in action it won't be long before we're assigned to useful duty." He turns to the captain and asks, "Tell me, sir, do you by chance have chaplains of the goddess Muir under your command?"

Chief Jobbor takes a sip of water. "Chaplains? No, that's a matter for the church. We exist only to guard the city. If you want to join the chaplains or somesuch, go pester the priests."

He takes up his quill once again. "So, what'll it be? You know, we've got some prime openings coming up. In fact, Captain Ludo mentioned something to me... here, I wrote it down..."

Jobbor flips a few pages in a journal. "You know... I may be able to get you fellows into bazaar duty. The pay's a bit better since the merchants front some of your salary. But you have to know what you're doing. Prove to me your mettle and I'll sign you right up."
[/sblock]

 

[YeOldeAlbatross]

Droban Ironthane

[sblock=Group 1]

He takes up his quill once again. "So, what'll it be? You know, we've got some prime openings coming up. In fact, Captain Ludo mentioned something to me... here, I wrote it down..."

Jobbor flips a few pages in a journal. "You know... I may be able to get you fellows into bazaar duty. The pay's a bit better since the merchants front some of your salary. But you have to know what you're doing. Prove to me your mettle and I'll sign you right up."

Droban sighs loudly, and considers his decided lack of current employment opportunities. "Well, I suppose that doesn't sound too horrible. What sort of proof did you have in mind? We already spent the last week traipsing about the desert rounding up camel thieves for the city. Does that not demonstrate our mettle enough for your liking?"[/sblock]

 

[Redclaw]

[sblock=group2] Asad somberly walks over to the wagons and starts to reverently remove the bodies of the deceased monks and acolytes. He silently prays to Horus for the opportunity to avenge their deaths as he covers each body with a few handfulls of sand.
When he looks up, his eyes are hard and his jaw is set in determination. He meets Dirk's gaze and then speaks in a voice that sounds devoid of emotion, Find them, then we kill them. [/sblock]

 

[Necro_Kinder]

[sblock=Group 2]
Dirk walks through the carnage to a smoldering wagon, careful not to disturb the dead. He pulls an arrow from the wood, and notes that something is not right. "Something is wrong. These arrows are not right.". He tosses the arrow away, and kneels to examine a corpse. "These wounds are not right as well.". He studies the slashed and bruised bodies, his mind running through his mental inventory of weapons and who uses them. He wanders the sight, looking for more clues. Upon hearing Asad, he stops, turns to him, and nods.[/sblock]

 

[Rolzup]

[sblock=Group 2]
G'sharn snorts, as close as he seems to come to laughter. "I think that I might come to like you, Asad. Like Dirk, you cut right to the point."

He crouches down next to one of the corpses, tracing a wound with one finger. "But what's the point of this? Who is it that's trying to cover their tracks?"

[/sblock]