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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Plane Sailing" data-source="post: 752077" data-attributes="member: 114">Vladimar shrugs, the caravan cannot stop for this moment of madness and the errant elf will have to take his own chances. The night passes undisturbed, and they set off as normal the next day, confused and upset by the loss of this popular companion. By mid morning the elf has not returned and things are looking truly bleak when quite suddenly he emerges over a rise behind them perfectly hale, mounted on his own horse and with a steppe pony in trail. As he rejoins the group they can see that in truth he sways overmuch in the saddle, looks inordinately pale and is sweating unnaturally. Scanning for wounds or signs of abuse it becomes rapidly clear that he is simply massively hungover and their sympathy fades to amusement.By his own no doubt embellished version of events Katarn has ridden bold-faced into the horsemen’s camp and blurted out in their own gnollish tongue that he wants to learn something from their Harper. This is so bizarre that the tribe apparently forget their natural urge to make sport with this strange and alien character and introduce him instead to their Harper. The two are left to commune during the day as the Tribe travels North away from the caravan, but in the evening, things rapidly become competitive as the Harper and Katarn build increasingly complex variations around each other’s music. The final performance is of such staggering wonder and strangeness that the very gods must have heard it. Although the Harper has been bested by this interloper the competition is so close and incredible that Katarn is forgiven (and anyway, it does a Harper good from time-to-time to be taken down a peg or two, and even better by someone they’ll never see again). It is truly a party to remember. If only he hadn’t drunk so much of that fermented milk perhaps he would remember more of it. In the morning Katarn is sent on his way by a bemused but certainly entertained tribe who gift him with a pony in return for his gift of music. Despite the splitting headache he is smiling at this achievement of one of his life goals.It is now 10 days since they set out, and they are due to stop to meet another of Vladimar’s compatriots with another three wagons. There are two more caravans yet to rendezvous with on this campaign, and this is the first in a sequence that should see a caravan of some 15 great wagons and 200 beasts roll into Chupek. But for now there is no sign of the others and patrols are sent in all directions to see if they have passed each other by mistake in the misleading terrain. Fareena sees that Vladimar is about to ride off so she approaches him quickly, with her normal imperious manner. She wants to do more than just cook for this group. She has skills, could she be a ‘specialist’, get the promise of extra pay that these others are getting. The distracted Vladimar cannot fathom what she is asking and devolves the decision to Mischa, who equally bemused accepts. ‘Yes my dear, whatever, now be away with the others and join those two elves on their patrol if it pleases you, but be back in time to cook this evening mark you’. Smiling at the ease with which she seems able to get her own way she mounts a horse to join the search away to the South, carrying her trusty iron frying pan, a nice sharp cleaver and a crossbow which she has just been presented with. Katarn wants to know what she “does”, she tells him she is a cook, and smiles.Making swift time, Dariol and Clint have headed East, and finding no tracks start to circle out widdershins in increasing spirals. Where can this caravan be? By high sun they have found a track of gnolls heading North, and they follow for some distance before deciding that they must turn back if they are to reach the safety of the caravan by nightfall. Meanwhile, the less able riders that are Katarn, Drucilla and Fareena are enjoying their patrol immensely, chatting as they go. There’s something definitely odd about that Drucilla though. Creepy. Suddenly they become aware of a strange mound in the grass, and a whiff of something rotten on the chill wind. They approach carefully to see that it’s a pile mostly of ox corpses, although those of a horse and a man can also be seen. The man appears to be a horse barbarian from his foot garb so they determine to pull his body out of the pile to investigate. As Katarn holds his breath and heaves on the feet a shiny blue beetle carapace lurches forward and acid sprays all around him. He flinches back, tumbles clear and clamps his mouth shut. His longsword springs into his hand ready for battle. Two more beetles burst out of the heap of corruption, pincers gnashing and acid dribbling forth. Drucilla starts an incantation while Fareena tries to spur forward on her horse. The animal won’t budge so she unloads her readied crossbow at the nearest creatures blasting it to instant and spectacular oblivion. Katarn finally lands a blow, and Drucilla’s spell freezes one of the bugs in place. Drucilla leaps in with a punch as Fareena moves closer and with a wrench of her mind calls forth fire from her fingers. Katarn and Drucilla dance away urgently as the fire spreads and the bugs die in flames. There is no treasure to speak of, but they are able to cut away a tattoo from an ox, proving this to be a domestic rather than a wild beast.Then it occurs to them that they are going to have to catch the horses that have bolted during the fight, and the sun is going down rapidly. Can they really have lost track of time so easily out here? They are trying to head the beasts off to little avail when riders are seen approaching from sunwards, perhaps investigating the smoke. The riders catch the horses and approach a little less wary, finally identifying themselves as Caravan guards much to everyone’s relief. The group sets off for the camp at a pace and gets lost, to the disgust of all concerned.</blockquote>

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