Pharaoh the game begins…..

Starring:

Jozan as Gammius Alacritus, the human male fighter wearing studded leather armour and favouring the long sword and comp. long bow.

Utan as Amelialta Earthheart, the half-elf female warrior wearing scale armour and favouring the long sword and comp. short bow.

Wyrmsting as Webster Riverside, the human male rogue wearing leather armour and favouring the broadsword, dagger and short bow.

YeOlde as Davian Shieldheart the human male cleric wearing chain mail armour and favouring the battle axe and long sword

And finally, Duncan as Artemis Gordeen the human male mage wearing no armour except bracers and favouring staff and spells.

Game will be starting forthwith. Please put a description of your character in your first post.

You open your eyes and close them again in pain from the bright light. It is hot and you are kneeling in sand. Your head feels like it is about to explode and your mouth tastes like a drunkard slept in it. Not the best way to start your day.

Squinting, you look around. Armed men, all with crossbows pointed at you and your companions, surround you. You see you are wearing the remains of the finery you put on last night before going to the Sultan’s party, but they are torn, dirty and tattered now. On the other side of the soldiers you can see your equipment and weapons piled in a heap.

You can remember going to the party, held n your honour by the Sultan for defeating the bandits. You remember a toast to your bravery, and to your cunning, and to your swift actions and after that everything gets fuzzy. What did you do to go from honoured guests to facing an execution?

It all began in what seems like a lifetime ago. It started with Longos the Magnificent.

Five adventurers brought together by a common cause – a paying job. You were hired to enter the lost tomb of Longos the Magnificent and find his staff. All treasure you found as yours to keep as long as you delivered the staff of Longos to your employer. You fought your way through the crypt, fending off all sorts of evil creatures and denizens of the underdark. In the final chamber you discovered that Longos wasn’t really all that dead. You struggled against his magic but he opened a portal beneath you and you ended up lost in a desert, not even knowing if you were in the same dimension let alone if you were close to home. You wandered for days until a group of soldiers riding Pegasi found you and brought you to the Oasis of the White Palm. Ruled by Sultan Zoltan, the Oasis was a large paradise in the wasteland and a central trading post for many tribes of nomads. The Sultan was a rich powerful man and he fought you to be interesting with your different ideal and beliefs. You became his guests and enjoyed a luxurious life while trying to find a way home.

But the Sultan’s advisor –Visier Pfizer, grew to hate you all. He saw you as an evil influence and sought to banish you from the lands. But the Sultan dismissed his warnings and enjoyed your many discussions.

Then you heard of the bandit problem. A group of religious extremists called “Dervishes” were plaguing the trade routes. Visier Pfizer was in charge of dealing with these trespassers but was having difficulty as they moved in, attacked and left so quickly that they could not be caught. Out of boredom, your party decided to help with the effort, and by sheer luck, found a large grouping of the bandits, defeated them and brought back captives to question. That was why the Sultan threw the party.

The sounds of crossbow bolts being pulled back bring you back to reality. A man walks up to stand before you and opens a scroll in his hands. You wish the scroll wasn’t so loud.

“Know ye. By order of his majesty, Sultan Zoltan, ruler and trustee of this realm. Those foreigners assembled here are hereby charged with many serious crimes against the realm and the Sultan himself.

Whereas those accused did act in a manner most unseemly during a festival held in their honour, arguing and fighting among the subjects and visitors. That they did organize a camel race through the Sultan’s humble abode, disrupting the Sultan’s sleep and a private dictation between the royal mage and his personal assistant.

Whereas one member did chase the Sultan’s harem girls through his tents, holding a pair of silver tongs and screaming ‘Piranha Attack!’

Whereas another did organize a drinking game with the Sultan’s personal bodyguards that left them too drunk to fulfill their duties.

Whereas another female member did spread rumours among the Sultan’s wives of the ideas of personal freedom and rights.

Therefore, be it decreed that said persons are banished from our lands. Any attempt to reenter will result in immediate execution, with choice being death by hanging, death by fireball, death by lightening.”

The soldier rolls up the scroll and tucks it back in his belt. He steps a bit closer and leans down to re-tie the laces on his boot. As he does, he whispers to you, so only you can hear him.

“I must follow orders or risk death to myself and my family. But I cannot leave you to die in the desert. To the east, beyond these dunes there are the horses and supplies of five bandits. Take what you need, travel by night, sleep during the day. May Osiris guide you to safety.”

He gets up and rejoins the ranks. “Take your possessions and leave us now!” he says loudly. The soldiers keep their weapons on you as you gather your stuff. Thankfully they have not held back anything and you fine all that belongs to you. With no choice left other than the firing squad, you begin to trek eastwards, hung over and the heat of the desert growing hotter and hotter.

After a half-hour of walking you see a very small oasis with five horses and a mule tethered to a palm tree. The bandits lie dead nearby – the soldier was telling the truth.

Melia opened her eyes, blinked, then yelped from the pain of not being able to stop blinking immediately. But stop she did. Wottinnell had happened? Last she remembered, she and the others were celebrating and they themselves were the guests of honor. After all, they had stopped the raids, when even the sultan's vizier couldn't muster the men to do it.

Then they were on their knees in sand and being charged with all sorts of strangeness. What amounted to "upsetting the redfruit cart". All she remembered was the drinking and knowing she'd have to nurse a hangover in the morning. This was no hangover. This was serious.

" ... female member did spread rumours among the Sultan’s wives of the ideas of personal freedom ... "
What?!?! The only time she remembered speaking with the sultan's wives was during the bathing and dressing to prepare for the celebration. And although whe was a big proponent of personal freedom, she was not fool enough to foist her personal beliefs on those of a different culture, least of all one she was unfamiliar with. But if she was drunk -- or influenced, somehow? Hmmm... -- .she may have done just that. Oboy.

" ... immediate execution ... death by hanging, death by fireball, death by lightening ... "
Death by what? Oh, this just keeps getting better and better, Melia thinks.

Wait. He said 'any attempt to re-enter the lands'. So they weren't gonna die just yet. But the HEAT ! That would be a slow and unpleasant death.

Wait again. Spotting their gear beyond the crossbowmen, she sensed salvation, of a sort.

All of this was noted in sullen and prudent silence, but inwardly Melia was as hot as the sands surrounding her. She -- they -- couldn't be responsible for the crimes spouted by this guy! So many transition lately! In a tomb, the owner of said tomb transports them to a desert. They make friends, then help their new friends, then they get accused of -- well, stuff! They were far removed from familiar surroundings. They needed to find out where they were, first, and THEN decide what to do and how to do it. No, FIRST they had to find shelter of a stable sort, and somewhere they weren't being chased. But how far would they have to go to be outside the sultan's lands and free from "persecution"? Oh, just wonderful !!

Then the bastitch that was doing the announcing surprised her. As he bent in an arrogant and flamboyant motion to tie his bootlaces as it flaunting his position of power, he whispered that they would die unless they sought the aid lying just beyond the next dune. He even described briefly what they would find. Then he stood and adopted his "official" demeanor and ordered the party to get their gear and leave.

She wasted her breath on asking a single question as she rose, and while he was moving back into his ranks: "May I have your name, sir? I would know the name of my enemy, on the chance we should meet again.".

[[ ooc -- She's not expecting an answer, but hoping for one. A reason behind the madness ... ]]

While sorting through their gear, Ameilialta set one of her boomerangs aside until she was finished donning her own sccoutrements. Then she picked up and hefted the weapon while eyeing the "announcer"-turned-helper,. as if judging whether or not to risk a shot. Then she turned and followed the others moving quickly to the east, as directed. Topping the dune, she sees a smallish knot of trees. Trees? More like huge, rough-stalked flowers near a small spring. Anyway, there were dead bodies, as mentioned. Also, there were five horses and a mule, convenienly tied to the trees -- or whatever they were.

Once in the area of the trees, Melia chose one of the horses and dis a quick inventory of its tack and gear.

[[ooc -- if no one approaches the mule, she will do a cursory visual to see what it may be carrying before tying the lead rope to her own chosen mount. ]]

Tanned and a bit-more-than-slender, Amelialta easily passes for a human. One would have to look twice, or maybe thrice, to notice the ever-so-slight slant to the eyes and the nearly invisible vestigial points on the tips of her ears. Even her hair and eyes are the non-descript brown found in most of humankind. Then there is her size. At slightly less than 5 feet tall, she would be considered small for either the human or wood-elven sides of her parental heritage(s).

Amelialta prefers not to speak of her past history at all unless it is with, and includes, her current companions-of-the-moment. She actually has friends among those she has adventured with, for she has found that adenturing types are more accepting of differences, racial or otherwise. So has she been accepted into this group of adventurers.

Wearing light scale armor and hooded cloak, she carries the bow-and-sword combination usually favored by the elven side of her parentage. Her unique addition to those standard weapons are her boomerangs, one of which is carried at all times on one hand or the other. While it is not a fearsomely-damaging weapon, she has come to appreciate its "knockdown" capability and it's indirect angle of attack.

Davian Shieldheart the Glorious, Hero of the Second Rank, Priest of Heironeous of the Holy Order of the Supernal Topaz Defenders, opened his eyes and squinted against the sun; shaking his head he looked around and frowned at what he saw. Armed men all about, the Sultan’s men, and they didn’t look friendly.

Looking down he saw that he was still wearing the finery from the celebration last night; but it was now tattered and dirty. He didn’t understand what was going on; last he remembered they had been at the celebration and he had been eating and drinking, but only a little. He didn’t imbibe too much alcohol as it left the mind slow and feeble.

Rising to his full height he checked out the others and seeing them as confused as he but apparently unharmed. He thought briefly of his new companions, they had gone off in search of some staff in a lost tomb and somehow they had been whisked away to this location deep in the desert. All had not been bad though; they had become guests of a Rich Sultan of these lands and even chosen to help him with their bandit problem. That is what the celebration had been about: they had just returned from dealing with these bandits that had been causing such trouble for the Sultan. So, how had they would up here. He was glad that they at least were all still alive and together.

His head jerked up at the sound of crossbows being readied; he glared at them wishing for his weapons so that he could make them pay a great price for this treachery. He focused on the man walking up to the group with a scroll which he opened and began to read, rather loudly; why did his head hurt?

He listened to the charges they apparently faced: Camel races? Harem Girls? Drinking Games? Female member spreading rumors among the wives? Well at least he knew to whom that charge was directed since they only had one female member; but he hadn’t thought that Melia would do such a thing. None of these charges sounded like anything he would do, even if he were drunk which he never got drunk; although, the fighting part, maybe that might have been him. He did love a good fight, though to start a conflict in their guest tent after they had been so graciously welcomed, never could he do such a thing.

Why didn’t he remember what happened? Had they been drugged? He remembered eating and a toast to their mission and then…. They must have been drugged, so that meant they hadn’t done those things; so who was accusing them of it? Couldn’t be the Sultan, the Visier then; that pompous ass, he must have seen them as a threat and cooked up these lies to get rid of them.

Therefore, be it decreed that said persons are banished from our lands. Any attempt to reenter will result in immediate execution, with choice being death by hanging, death by fireball, death by lightening.”
What? They were going to let them live? Hmmm? That must be the Sultan’s influence, surely the Visier would want them dead. But then again, turning them loose in the desert was equivalent to a death sentence.

The soldier rolls up the scroll and tucks it back in his belt. He steps a bit closer and leans down to re-tie the laces on his boot. As he does, he whispers to you, so only you can hear him.

“I must follow orders or risk death to myself and my family. But I cannot leave you to die in the desert. To the east, beyond these dunes there are the horses and supplies of five bandits. Take what you need, travel by night, sleep during the day. May Osiris guide you to safety.”

He gets up and rejoins the ranks. “Take your possessions and leave us now!” he says loudly.
Davian’s glare faded somewhat at hearing the man’s words; apparently they had made some friends among these people. For the man’s sake, Davian only nodded slightly and then continued to glare with a look of hatred.

When they were allowed to move to their belongings and dress, Davian stripped away the tattered remains of his celebration finery. His well muscled body glistened with sweat in the sweltering heat as he began to don his armor, weapons, and other belongings.

In mere minutes, his outfit was complete; silver chain mail adorned his large frame, a basinet helm sat atop his head covering most of his shoulder length wavy dark hair, a fine blue cloak with silver trim and a silver lightning bolt on the back hung from his shoulders, and gauntlets of blue with silver trim and the same lightning bolt emblazoned on the back of the cuffs covered his hands completed his ensemble.

His armament consisted of a medium shield, with the same blue and silver color scheme and the lightning bolt, set upon his left arm; a long metal tipped spear rested in his right. A long sword hung in it’s scabbard on his left hip and a large battleaxe hung from his belt on the right.

Hoisting his backpack upon his shoulders, Davian turned and continued to glare at the crossbowmen as the rest of the group finished with their preparations. When they moved out towards the east, he hoped the man had been telling the truth about the bandit’s horses and supplies; it not their chances of survival were slim.

Arriving at the oasis, Davian checks out the mounts and chooses one of the largest horses as he will need a strong one to bear his weight. As he makes sure the mount is sound, the saddle straps are tight, and the bridle is in good shape; his thoughts wander to his faithful mount that was left behind when he was dropped into this desert land. “Charger” had been his Heavy Warhorse and had carried him into battle many times and they had always emerged alive even against overwhelming odds.

Snapping out of his revere, he completed his review of the mount, supplies, etc. and turned to the others with a question that had been on his mind since they had been cast out.

“What are our plans now?” He asked in a deep, authoritative voice, “I think we have been set up here. I think we should go back and find out the truth. Justice must be served.”

A boot to the ribs, the sounds of crossbow bolts being pulled back -- many of them! Webster rolled to his hands and knees, then pushed back to sit on his heels. A guardsman of rank stood before him and the others, his voice raised to be heard clearly over the dry, hot wind..

“Know ye. By order of his majesty, Sultan Zoltan ... those accused did act in a manner most unseemly ... chase the Sultan’s harem girls through his tents, holding a pair of silver tongs ... Piranha Attack!",
Khumbayada-yada ...

Webster focused on cleaning sand from under his fingernails, adopting a careless and uncaring look and attitude. He looked at the shreds of the fine silks and light cottons he had left on his body, poor protection from the heat and sands of their currently HOT location.

But, oh, he listened! Vaguely, he remembered a pair of silver tongs being held out to him at the feast, to select a what was supposed to be a delicacy. Feast? Party? It was supposed to be hin their honor! What's goin' on here? His head hurt. Oh, did it hurt! And so did his eyes, from the sun. And his skin, from the heat. The guardsman's voice thrummed uncomfortably in his head, rebounding and echoing to and fro in a booming cacophony of sometimes unintelligible words. And the constant rattling of the parchment that he was reading from in the wind that swirled around them all was just as distracting, and sometimes louder than the voice shouting at them.

Webster had been drunk before, but this was different, too deep for a simple hangover, too black in memory for the light-hearted and entertauning revelry they had been enjoying before this unpleasantness.

" ... Any attempt to reenter will result in immediate execution, with choice being death by hanging, death by fireball, death by lightening.”
Huh? What'd they do? They helped, that was what! The sultan's "wizzer" was the one what was supposed to solve the sultan's problems, and the 'new kids at the orphanage' did it instead. Webster has aroused the ire of other powerful people before for less. But, in all fairness, there was no certainty that the wizzer was the one what did this. At this point, nothing was certain.

Webb was interrupted by silence, blessed silence. And the guardsman knelt to tie his boots. As he did, he whispered something of an apology, and not wanting them to die, and there were horses over a dune to the east, and travel at night and sleep during the day ...

And: then: “Take your possessions and leave us now!”

Their gear! Great! Now did Webster rise and move, quickly, to retrieve his posessions, strip quickly and don his leather armor to block the opressing heat of the sun's rays. Even as he and the others, did so, he cast glances at Melia. There was a certain lecherous part of him that derived some minor pleasure as he watched her dance on the hot sands and put on her gear. His own gear was surpisingly intact. Due to the heat of the sand, though, he opted to don the extre pair of boot hose in his backpack for the extra protection not afforded by the thin soles of his soft boots.

Web could honestly say that adventuring with this group had not been boring in the least. Recently, they had been looking for an artifact, and nearly had it in their grasp when it's owner opened a "hole" in the floor and "dropped" them in this place. It could have been worse. The local ruler, the sultan, took pity on them and also seemed to see them as curiosities to investigate and learn from. Webster remembered many pleasant conversations where he learned as much as he felt he had taught the sultan and his advisors. And now, it seemed, they had gone from celebrated heroes to infamous villains overnight.

This was the third group he had associated himself with, and there was no fear, at this point, of being chased by those he feared. If he didn't know where he was, those who pursued him certainly wouldn't, either. Not for a while, at least. So in that aspect, he could actually relax and enjoy his life.

Webb is attractive and appears to be early-middle-aged. His 5 foot, nine inch frame weighs on hundred fifty-five pounds. Although attractive, his appearance is non-descript, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a fair complexion, making his difficult to single out in a crowd.

He wears well-oiled leather armor and a backpack that looks nearly new. He most often wears soft-soled boots for their silence when creeping, and since they seem to wear out more often than hard-soled shoon, he always carries an extra pair of them in his backpack.

When they reached the oasis, as it was called by the people here, there were horses, a mule, gear, and dead bodies. Webster hung his bow from the saddle of one that looked to be slender and wiry, and glanced about at the others silently, as if to say,'This one is claimed, okay?', but he was not surprised to see that the others were occupied in securing their own mounts. Melia just walked up to one, seemingly at random. Davian looked carefully at the animals and chose the largest horse. Oh well. He'd be the one to have to feed it.

Then Webb went about checking the bodies for useable items and wealth. [[of course]] When finished with that umpleasant task, he stood and moved toward the mule, only to see that Melia was checking the animal. She then led it to her own chosen animal to tie it to the saddle.

Fine.

To Davian's assessment that they had been set up and what the cleric had in mind to do, Webster beamed a huge smile of agreement, "I was just gonna ask if we were gonna discuss where to go from here, or what we're gonna do. Or whether we were gonna move first and talk later. But no, I agree with ya Davian, my good man! We need ta find out who did this sneaky, underhanded, dastardly thing to us and see if we can turn it back on 'em. "

Artemis awoke with the bleary certainty that a camel was standing on his head. Another moment assured him that the camel had left some droppings in his mouth before taking up guard position atop his cranium. He took a moment to puzzle over how he had so grossly offended this camel as he tried to take in his surroundings. He saw the blurry forms of people all around him, and he briefly wondered why no one was removing the camel. How rude.

The rasp of the crossbows quickly dispatched the head-camel and brought everything into painful focus. Artemis' jaw dropped open as he heard the soldier utter the charges against them. What balderdash was this?! However, upon trying to recall the events of the party and afterward, Artemis found that his memories were indeed quite muddled. And he did seem to remember speaking to someone in the Sultan's court about which of those fine camels would be the fastest in a race...

Artemis glared daggers at the soldier as he continued to read that damnable scroll, both in anger at these obviously false and trumped-up charges and in pain at the phantom camel that kept coming back to dance upon his head. And what was that deathly taste in his mouth? He was trying to think through the pain and figure out whether these dogs would shoot them in the back as they wandered away to die in the desert, when the soldier finished reading and bent down as though to tie his boots, whispering the words that might very well save their lives. Artemis gave a barely perceptible nod of thanks to the soldier and shooshed away the head-camel, as it was now time to do some serious thinking.

Artemis stretched his tall and lanky frame, went to the pile of belongings and began to gather. He tossed aside the torn and useless party finery and slipped on his brown, sturdily embroidered magician's traveling robes. He shook the sand from his leather riding boots and slid them on. He strapped his wide leather belt around his waist, and after checking his large pouch to make sure all of his spell components were intact, tied it onto the belt, followed by his waterskin. He also slid his Wand of Magic Missiles into his belt, earning a nervous shuffling of the soldiers' weapons as he did so. He slid on his bracers, the only piece of armor he carried, and felt their power as he tied them up, enjoying the feeling of protection, as though an invisible suit of armor was settling onto him. He found a piece of rawhide and tied his long and unruly brown hair into a ponytail, and brushed the sand out of his equally unruly beard as best he could. He donned his simple magician's hat, and as an afterthought, grabbed up the finery he had tossed aside and tied it about his face and neck, Bedouin style, for protection from the fierce glare of the sun, leaving only his piercing brown eyes showing. He found his precious dagger and slid it into his boot. He then shouldered his backpack, slid his quarterstaff into the straps, and picked up his Staff of Striking to use as a walking stick on this damnable trek to the "oasis".

When everyone had geared up, Artemis joined them as they set out. During the walk he cast a Mount spell, conjuring a large magical steed and letting everyone in turn take a few minutes riding, knowing that if everyone else felt half as bad as he did that it would be at least a brief welcome respite from the trudging.

Upon reaching the "oasis", such as it was, Artemis left the scavenging to the others and cast a Detect Magic spell on the area that the mounts and corpses occupied, just to see if any nasty surprises were waiting.

((OOC: Al, just advise of any possible findings when ya post))

Artemis dismissed the magic mount and found himself an acceptable flesh-and-blood steed, and as he got it geared up and ready for travel, he listened to Davian and Webster hold forth on what they thought the plan should be. Are they mad? he thought, The Sultan's men outnumber us fifty to one!
"Gentlemen," Artemis said, "if I may interject. I fully agree that we need to find out who is behind this and why. But I feel bound to point out the obvious: we have been promised death if we return, and the Sultan's forces greatly outnumber us, which leaves them in a position eminently capable of fulfilling that promise. As we now have gear and provisions, might it not behoove us to explore the area and see what we might find that would be of use to us in this endeavor?"

The trip to the oasis was made with only the obvious conversational topic(s) discussed: How? Who? We did what?!? Did we really? Drunk or drugged? Melia found herself envying Artemis for his use of the discarded material from his "party clothes". Her own face, she could feel early on, would be burnt nearly to blisters if she didn't find shade soon. Oh, well.

Once at the promised spot that had the promised salvation in the way of gear and transport, conversatin lulled in favor of the choice and inventory of mounts.

And in Webby's case, of bodies also.

Melia made a point of keeping quiet until she had something to add, so she focused on checking the contents of the pack-saddle on the mule without taking the pack saddle apart. A better inventory could be done when they were away -- far away. Davian and Webb exchanged views as to what to plan from here. Both seemed to be intent on revenge of one sort or another. She turned, and was about to comment on their assessment and her own agreement when Artemis chimed in with:

"Gentlemen, if I may interject ... "
Meila's comment died in her throat, and she placed her fists on her hips and glared at Artemis. Either he was only addressing those who had spoken aloud, or he was dismissing her presence -- again. The guys all did it at one time or another, seldom enough, but at the same time often enough to be aggravating -- to her. Maybe she was just too sensitive about it. And that sensitivity maybe could have come from being singled out as the 'female member who did spout about equal and personal rights to an entire harem'. Maybe the guys just weren't used to a female presence. Yet they seem to accept her into the company readily enough. She honestly believed that they did not leave her out of conversations intentionally, but still ...

She turned and resumed her inventory of the mule's pack-saddle., mumbling softly to herself.

Gammius sat up in the blazing heat, sweat already rolling down his face. This was one of the worst ways to wake up; hot and sweaty, clothes on, and with a full nights dinner in your stomach just mulling about, making you feel naseated beyoned belief. He almost wanted to make himself puke, but decided not to. Instead he listened to the ramblings of this man, and his men who had crossbows bearing down their throats. He listened as intently as he could with the hangover he had, and his attention span; or lack there of was not helping either. But eventually he got the point when death by your choice was mentioned.

After they were spoken to and exiled from the lands they once helped rescue, the speaker told them about the dead bandits and horses farther out in the desert. With no other alternative, they all turned and left with their gear in hand. What could of been but felt like many many hours later, they stumbled upon the oasis and it's secret treasures.

Gammius smiled widely and walked to the waters edge and started to drink handfulls of it. It was better than any water he could come up with, it was so cool and crisp, and it quelled his nagging nausea problem sever since they left.

“What are our plans now? I think we have been set up here. I think we should go back and find out the truth. Justice must be served.” Davian spoke up first of the group, wanting to delve straight back into the hell that was the sandy empire of the sultan.

Webb was next to eagerly put his two cence in, whole heartedtly agreeing with Davian.

"I was just gonna ask if we were gonna discuss where to go from here, or what we're gonna do. Or whether we were gonna move first and talk later. But no, I agree with ya Davian, my good man! We need ta find out who did this sneaky, underhanded, dastardly thing to us and see if we can turn it back on 'em. "

"Gentlemen, if I may interject. I fully agree that we need to find out who is behind this and why. But I feel bound to point out the obvious: we have been promised death if we return, and the Sultan's forces greatly outnumber us, which leaves them in a position eminently capable of fulfilling that promise. As we now have gear and provisions, might it not behoove us to explore the area and see what we might find that would be of use to us in this endeavor?" Artemis on the other hand, had other plans for the situation they were in.

Gammius just smiled, leaned up against one of the trees that were here and watched in amusement at Melias fustration. He chuckled and finally made his voice heard.

" I say we should just get the hells out of here and try to get back to some [i] other [/i] civilization besides this sandy death trap of a place. I know a free ride is nice and everything, but maybe we should just get out of here before anything really serious goes down. It's not everyday we get to leave with out lives on such a lucky break after all."

"Gentlemen," Artemis said, "if I may interject. I fully agree that we need to find out who is behind this and why. But I feel bound to point out the obvious: we have been promised death if we return, and the Sultan's forces greatly outnumber us, which leaves them in a position eminently capable of fulfilling that promise. As we now have gear and provisions, might it not behoove us to explore the area and see what we might find that would be of use to us in this endeavor?"

Gammius just smiled, leaned up against one of the trees that were here and watched in amusement at Melias fustration. He chuckled and finally made his voice heard.

"I say we should just get the hells out of here and try to get back to some other civilization besides this sandy death trap of a place. I know a free ride is nice and everything, but maybe we should just get out of here before anything really serious goes down. It's not everyday we get to leave with out lives on such a lucky break after all."
Davian turned and glared at Artemis and then chuckled at his response, “Artie,” he said in an amused tone, “you wound me! I have no intention of marching back there and being placed under arrest and then, hanged, fried or whatever else they mentioned as punishments.”

“But we cant find out what happened out here in the desert,” Looking around at all of them, “We must find a suitable place to get out of this accused desert and then investigate what has happened. We have been falsely accused of something. I do not believe it was the Sultan behind this, but that snake of a Visier is not beyond such deceit. I am sure you all have noticed his cold treatment and open disregard for us since our arrival. If he is up to doing this to us, what danger might the Sultan be in from this man.”

“I do not seek revenge,” He said shaking his head, “I seek justice. If we let ourselves be falsely accused of crimes where will it end? Our reputations to ourselves, our Gods, and the people we aim to help are in jeopardy. If we let things like this happen, no one will trust us and we will not be able to freely go about and help those that require it. We must fight for our Honor, for Justice, and for the good order of things.”

“Melia,” Davian said as he turned to look at her where she stood silently checking out the supplies on that pack animal, “what are your thoughts upon this issue? Do no be silent, lass. Your opinion carries much weight in this group.”

He smiled at her reassuringly, knowing how she often felt overlooked by the males in the group. Davian had a great respect for her; she was a warrior and a good one at that. Her being a female didn’t affect his judgment or her abilities or her intelligence.

“Melia, what are your thoughts upon this issue? Do no be silent, lass. Your opinion carries much weight in this group.”
Melia dropped her chin to her chest and sighed deeply. It figured. She had learned to keep her temper from overriding her mouth, but had yet to learn to curb the temper itself altogether. She still rankled at the accusation against her, but in retrospect -- and it should be taken in retrospect -- it was almost laughable. So she should not have flared at Artemis' lack of inclusion of her presence. She knew it was not done maliciously. She had retained the presence of mind not to throw accusations of her own at the others, but her silent tantrum had not happened unnoticed, evidently.

Davian's query to her drove that thought even deeper into her reverie. Just when she thought she knew them and their little "janks", one of them -- always at least one of them -- surprised her by being just the opposite of what she had "figured out".

She forced a smile as she turned. "Me? I think we've been had. By who? I don't know. But I intend to find out. I agree that going back to the sultams lands now would be foolhardiness at it's height. It would be nice to find a cave for shelter and planning, but," she glanced around her slowly, "I can't imagine one being anywhere close. Nor did I see any mountains on the horizon that would be a likely spot for one."

[[ ooc: or did she? ]]

'Twould seem to me that this small watering hole would be mapped by others to use as a life-saving spot in this vast expanse of gods-forsaken sandy nothingness. There might a small town somewhere nere, but I don't think any of us has a clue where or how close. I think that east is the direction to continue, since we were sent this direction to start our exile. And speaking of that ... the ranking guardsman seened not to want us to die and coudl be considered an ally. We can figure out how to contact him later, I think."

[[ ooc: was she able to get his name when she asked? ]]

"I carry a tent with me that is large enough to provide a shelter for us in all but the harshest weather. It would be cramped but it would be shelter. I cannot, however, provide shelter for the animals. That is something that we should also look for ... ummm ... well , we also need to maximize our water-carrying capacity... and ... that's what I think ... " She trails off to silence, looking sheepish for her lengthy dissertation and tapping the boomerang against her leg.

[[ ooc: is there anything of interest on the mule/horses/bodies? What'd we get, huh? huh? What? ]]

"May I have your name, sir? I would know the name of my enemy, on the chance we should meet again."

The Soldier rolls up the scroll and looks down at the sand. “I am but a messenger. The order is from the Sultan Zoltan the Wise, signed by the Visier on his behalf.” He looks up at up with a look that speaks of anguish and conflict. “Take your possessions and leave us now!” he says loudly. The soldiers keep their weapons on you as you gather your stuff.

The sun is beaming heat upon you and the sand dunes are immense. After a half hour, you find a very small oasis – a few palm trees for shade, some bushes and hardy growth, and what looks like a very old well. So old in fact that instead of being marked with signs of the current language it is actually marked by pictograms that you heard referred to as hieroglyphs.

The dead bandits were in the process of unloading or loading when then were killed. They were killed by arrows, shot from above them by the angle and look of the wounds.

A quick examination of their bodies reveals that they are dervishes, wearing leather armour under wrapped cloth. Each one has a falchion, a buckler and short bow. On their persons are a total of 17 silver coins, very old and marked with a man’s visage you have never seen. They also each have a small leather bag filled halfway with salt. On their horses, are quivers with 15 arrows, a bedroll with an individual tent, several water skins (full and wet), dried fruits, meats and rations for five days travel (ten if you eat lightly), and each one has a flask of bluish green liquid that glows under Artemis’ detect magic.

The mule is laden with several bundles of firewood and kindling, many heavy blankets rolled, several pots and pans, and two large bladders of water (still cool). The bladder is made of some cured animal hide that is tough but stretches well when wet. Near the mule lies a coil of rope tied to an open ended bladder lying on the desert sand.

As you are examining the bodies, a group of pegasi can be seen flying away from close to where you were “freed”. They fly away from you, upwards into the sky.

Huh? Wait a minute! Why would they use Pegasi to take you to the border? The flying mounts were only used for long distances.

You look around the oasis for a marker. Watering holes are considered immensely valuable and anyone who could claim them as their own would leave a marker. Tribes would go to war over Well locations. But other than the marks on the well, there are no markers here. There is only one place in the desert where people would not claim water and that would require flying mounts to reach. You have been dumped in the Desert of Desolation - a large track of land where an ancient civilization once thrived. Now a haunted land, filled with evil spirits and undead creatures, damned by the greed and malice of their rulers who defied the gods. You have no idea how deep into this forsaken land you have been placed, or even if the Oasis of the White Palm is in the direction the men flew off.

This day keeps getting better for you. The heat is reaching unbearable levels, especially for those in metal armour. travel by night, sleep during the day the messengers had said.

OOC: the palm trees are quite high here, in case someone wanted to climb one to get some bearings.

As Webb finishes the grisly task of checking for useable posessions on the dead bodies and stands, he catches a glimps of movement to the west, fro whence they had come to this oasis. The flight of the animals he viewed was similar in number and type to the wing-riders who had rescued them shortly after their initial arrival in this desert.

"My friends," he said with an amused, almost condescending tone, withouit turning hie head, "I'd like to call your attention to the western skies, if you are not already looking in that direction. I was ready to discuss a few points, but they have just been answered for me. And at the same time, a few more points of interest have been raised by the sight I am witnessing."

He watches the pegasi riders until they are almost invisible, then turns to the rest of the group. "If, as I have been led to believe, the riders of yon noble winged steeds only use them for travelling long distances, then I thinke we need be in no hurry to leave this watering hole. I fear we are far and away outside boundaries of the sultan's lands."

He turns to Melia. "Melia, I also agree with your assessnent of the guard being a possible ally. He and at least some of his underlings. These dead men here were shot from a height greater than that of the surrounding trees. And from more varied angles than those trees would allow. And the shots were precise and merciful, not painful, lingering slow deaths. I mean to say they were shot from the sky by professionals, if I read these wounds aright. I think our delivery boys are responsible for this, but the nagging unknown is whether it was done in spite of the wizzer, or because of him. I remember the scroll-reader saying the order came from the sultan and was signed by the wizzer. He didn't say anything about the sultan's signature or seal on it."

"Either way, I think we can afford to putch a tent or four or five to provide shade while we and the animals stoke up on water and then we can set up a plan of action before nightfall. Based on what I heard when we were released, and what I have just seen, it is not likely we need to fear immediate pursuit. Our lost night of revelry has set in motion a fast series of events that requires closer inspection and discussion, no?"

"While you all settle in and make ready for whatever you will, I'll try to skin-shinny up one of these trees to see if I can see something of interest or use to us." He moves to the tallest of the palms to attempt to do just that.

[[ I'll not "hog-up" all the points covered in the DM's post, but will leave some for the others to voice as "revelations" ]]

'Twould seem to me that this small watering hole would be mapped by others to use as a life-saving spot in this vast expanse of gods-forsaken sandy nothingness. There might a small town somewhere nere, but I don't think any of us has a clue where or how close. I think that east is the direction to continue, since we were sent this direction to start our exile. And speaking of that ... the ranking guardsman seened not to want us to die and coudl be considered an ally. We can figure out how to contact him later, I think."

"I carry a tent with me that is large enough to provide a shelter for us in all but the harshest weather. It would be cramped but it would be shelter. I cannot, however, provide shelter for the animals. That is something that we should also look for ... ummm ... well , we also need to maximize our water-carrying capacity... and ... that's what I think ... " She trails off to silence, looking sheepish for her lengthy dissertation and tapping the boomerang against her leg.
Davian smiled at Melia and nodded reassuringly, “Yes we do need to find shelter and supplies so let us see what these dead bandits have so graciously supplied us.”

He turns to searching the bodies and horses with the others. Gathering all they find together he nods, “It seems we have supplies that should last us for awhile; Heironeous has seen fit to grace us.”

Their inventory of the newly acquired gear is interrupted by Webb:

"My friends," he said with an amused, almost condescending tone, withouit turning hie head, "I'd like to call your attention to the western skies, if you are not already looking in that direction. I was ready to discuss a few points, but they have just been answered for me. And at the same time, a few more points of interest have been raised by the sight I am witnessing."

He watches the pegasi riders until they are almost invisible, then turns to the rest of the group. "If, as I have been led to believe, the riders of yon noble winged steeds only use them for travelling long distances, then I thinke we need be in no hurry to leave this watering hole. I fear we are far and away outside boundaries of the sultan's lands."

He turns to Melia. "Melia, I also agree with your assessnent of the guard being a possible ally. He and at least some of his underlings. These dead men here were shot from a height greater than that of the surrounding trees. And from more varied angles than those trees would allow. And the shots were precise and merciful, not painful, lingering slow deaths. I mean to say they were shot from the sky by professionals, if I read these wounds aright. I think our delivery boys are responsible for this, but the nagging unknown is whether it was done in spite of the wizzer, or because of him. I remember the scroll-reader saying the order came from the sultan and was signed by the wizzer. He didn't say anything about the sultan's signature or seal on it."

"Either way, I think we can afford to putch a tent or four or five to provide shade while we and the animals stoke up on water and then we can set up a plan of action before nightfall. Based on what I heard when we were released, and what I have just seen, it is not likely we need to fear immediate pursuit. Our lost night of revelry has set in motion a fast series of events that requires closer inspection and discussion, no?"
“You know for a Rogue,” Davian says with a grin, “you are quite wise. You are right! We are surely far from the Oasis of the White Palm and need not fear the Sultan’s men. It seems those same men probably killed these bandits to provide us with these very supplies so someone in the Sultan’s service is friendly to us, hopefully we will find out some day.”

After they check out the entire small oasis and find no markers stating it’s owning tribe or clan, Davian offers some information.

“Back in the Sultan’s tents,” the cleric relates, “I learned from some of the elders about a place called the Desert of Desolation. It was once a land of an ancient civilization but is not an abandoned place filled with evil and undead creatures. It is said the one time rulers here defied the gods and were punished”

“Not knowing where we are and how far to the Oasis of the White Palms,” he continued, “we will have to find some way out of cursed land as soon as possible.”

“Since we have enough tents for everyone,” he gestured to the gathered supplies, “I suggest we set up those tents and get out of this sweltering heat. I for one still have need of time to recover from the night I cant seem to recall. We should move the water and perishable supplies into the tents to shade them. As for the mounts, maybe we can use one of the tents and string it to some of the palms to provide them some shade.”

"While you all settle in and make ready for whatever you will, I'll try to skin-shinny up one of these trees to see if I can see something of interest or use to us." Webb moves to the tallest of the palms to attempt to do just that.
“Good plan,” Davian says as he pulls out one of the tents and begins to set it up and follow through with his suggestion to set up a day camp so they can sleep during the hottest part of the day and travel at night. He will of course suggest they also set up a watch for every two hours.

Webb climbs a tree to get a good look around. The first thing that strikes his eye is far way in the distance is a pyramid. It is a long ways away, probably a good three days journey, but it is so big that it is visible from this distance. He also notices that there are landmark scatterings of an ancient civilization between you and the pyramid. There are also some more palm trees in this easterly direction, which means water at least. Other than that, there are no signs of life nearby.

You set up the tents and put yourself and the animals out of the sun’s rays. Watches are established, as there is no such thing as being to cautious in these lands. The water from the well feels good on the back of your throat and the hangovers of the drugs or alcohol in your system seems to be chased away by the wet coolness.

As night falls and the oppressive heat begins to subside, you’re left with the question of which direction to go. The only signs of civilization is to the east, and it is an ancient civilization at best.

You begin to pack up the tents when then ground starts to shake. It begins slowly, like a small tremor but it starts to grow steadily. Suddenly, the ground near the horses bursts free and a strange worm-like creature emerges from the ground. Its huge maw is large enough to swallow a horse and that appears to be what it is looking for. The skin of the monster is almost a purple hue with a pale yellow underbelly. The ground on the other side of you breaks open to reveal the tail with a huge stinger.

OOC: Combat time. Please tell me what you plan to do, and what you are likely to do if the plan fails.

Davian gets some rest but once night falls he gathers his things and readies the mount he had picked out for himself; something suitable to carry his large frame. As he prepared the horse and pack, he talked aloud to the others.

“I think it is clear that we have little choice in direction,” he said, “it seems these ruins that Webb has spotted will offer shelter and the pyramid in the distance is closer than anything else. Maybe we can find people there that might tell us where we are, though unlikely.” He doubted it would be that easy here in the Desert of Desolation; surely it’s name was rightly earned.

As they began to strike the tents and pack them away, the ground began to shake. By habit, Davian snatched up his shield and spear and stood ready as the ground rumbled. He took a step back as the ground burst open and a giant purple worm oozed from the ground threatening the horses.

“Purple Worm,” he yelled as he started towards the creature, “ware the mouth and the stinger.” He recognized the giant creature from a previous encounter with one in the Prelacy of Almor; he also remembered poor Simstal the Slippery, a rogue, who became that beast’s meal before they could dispatch it.

Taking aim, Davian drew his large boar spear back behind his shoulder and putting all of his massive strength into it, he cast the spear in the direction of the creatures gaping maw. The spear had barely left his hand before he snatched his battle axe off of his belt and continued to charge at the beast moving towards the side, just short of the head, swinging his battleaxe.

“HEIRONEOUS TAKE YOU!” He cried a battle cry as he charged.