Episode 2

Good shit, X. Thorn still a bad mamma jamma, even with a hole in his gut!

Up 4-1!

Right. Since we're up 4-1, Kray will start with the +9 Persuasion with Lucky. Then Ryhim can take a shot with Persuasion after that if need be. Best odds.

The Korvaran patrolmen had given chase at the courtyard. One had blown a horn, signaling some of the other nearby guard teams that had arrived as the first on the scene to post surveillance prior to the arrival of the full force. Now this preliminary reconnaissance group had quickly become the first of the pursuit.

Kray, Thorn, Ryhim, Maeriks, and Sizhen had been able to lose the two initial trailers in the darkness, cover, and concealment among the eastern collection overgrown buildings of the Old Temple district. As they run, they find themselves weaving past the imposing Red Bastion of Midrad. The size of the ancient structure is daunting. Though they had seen it in the day, now in the night it is all them more imposing.

But soon it is something that they must ignore and fly past. In short time they are leaving all of the menacing megastructures of the abandoned Old Temple section behind as they climb the old wall and continue their flight through the winding cartways and narrow alleys of the Shrine District.

"Follow me," says Sizhen, leading the way through a grimy and cramped crossroads that cuts through a collection of irregular two-story hovels. "I have a contact in Canals who should be able to get us across the river undetected."

It happens so suddenly when they round a corner out of an alley. The guards are right there at a surprise opening in what was thought to have been an empty stretch of the running wall separating Shrine District from Canals. Gilded Armsmen, and they have already sighted the group.



No time to change direction., Kray thinks. He has to act to avoid suspicion.

"Toss the bow and arrows. Now." he snaps back at Ryhim before the Sarceran exits the alley.

Ryhim complies, dumping the gear just in time before emerging from the narrow walkway.

"Sizhen, they ask - we are on our way to Canals," Kray speaks as he continues walking, "trying to get through before devotions. If they harass, translate exactly what I say."

Sizhen moves forward as the lead, all of the others coming up behind him to approach the guarded passage way.

"Hold it there," the husky younger guard says. "What is this troupe? State your business and present your plaques."

The two Heshbaan myrmidons stand steady, spears attentively in hand, eyes watchful. The morning sun is coming up, but the light is still low.

Sizhen tries a couple of pleas, requesting passage and being evasive about presenting documentation. It is not working. "Your credentials, traveler. Who is your sponsor?"

"We are on contract," Kray says, in Yuoric, dropping the statement loud and clear and staring at the older Armsman who has said nothing so far - the one who has been dutifully noticing weaponry and watching the hands and eyes of Kray and each of his teammates.

All attention turns to Kray. The younger guard looks questioningly at Sizhen, who promptly translates.

"We tried to get through before night close, but had to stay in the field last night. They delayed us moving through The Market. We are late on turn-in. We were due yesterday. We have to get some supply through to our employer."

Sizhen translates. Kray speaks to both the younger guard and the older one, but ends holding eye contact with the latter.

The younger guard has a questioning look. He tilts his head in disdain and grips his spear tight as he turns strong to face Kray. He speaks outward to Sizhen, but makes it clear that he is staring Kray down. Kray shifts eyes over to this younger challenger.

"And just who is this employer of yours..." a short pause, "Korvaran?" The last is delivered as a sharp barb. "Answer me as you drop your weapon."

The muscled myrmidon shifts stance, one foot back, shield out, spear tilts forward.

"I'm not Korvaran," Kray says, holding steady. He looks the young warrior in the eye.

The seconds are like minutes. Time is at a pause, as if just before a calamity.

Sizhen translates.

"What kind of contractors are you?"

The silence breaks. It is the older Armsmen, who has stood back in silence until now. He has been watching Kray the entire time.

Kray slowly shifts his eyes back to the senior guard. He answers without delay, "Collectors."

The ranking Armsman walks forward, and keeps speaking. Sizhen translates, "These other foreigners - they are Markelanders too?"

"My translator is local. On carry. Alijanian, but he speaks Youric and Zutaran," Kray says, calmly, nodding at Sizhen. "The Sarceran is my hire, inside the cut." He tilts his head slowly to Ryhim.

Now the veteran soldier is standing face to face with Kray. The rugged Heshbaan gives nothing away in his expression. "What is your answer then?" he says quietly. "My soldier asked you a question." The last is so under the breath that Sizhen cannot hear to translate.

But Kray understands well enough. Staring the old soldier eye to eye, he answers. "Rama Ash."

The old soldier makes no move at all at first. Then he sniffs and shifts his mouth in a bit of a chew. His mustache rolling. He looks to the side, nods his head then looks back at Kray.

"Well," he says, confident and satisfied perhaps, "then you should have your credentials. Plaques?"

Sizhen starts to translate.

"I've got it," Kray stops him.

Kray breaks eye contact with his Armsman counterpart, looking down to unstrap his belt pouch. From it he draws forth four Archalasion obals, the oversized gold coins of the ancient loot. He looks back at the guardsman as he hands off the payment.

The veteran turns away sharply as he pockets the money. he says sharply, in command voice Heshbaan. He walks away to the other side of the gate.

The younger guard looks confused for a moment, and turns to verify. "Hen Ron?" he asks.The young Armsman shifts quickly to obedience, stepping to the side. he says, motioning to the gate way.

Kray: Deception Success

From the side street, they watch. Another cart full, hopping out and meandering around. Mixing with the Gilded Armsmen already assembled.

It is a big square. The large crowd of marketers are not coming forward until later in the day, after religious devotions. Only a few laborers are milling about so far in this early morning hour. Instead though, the square is fast becoming a central formation area, a hub for both the Korvarans and the Sar's Guard.



Something is amiss. It is clear now that the word is spreading. Not everyone in the city knows yet, but the myrmidon forces do - there is a manhunt underway.

"We have to turn back," Sizhen says. "There are too many of them here. We will have to make a large loop to get around and down to the river houses."

Kray looks back down the thin alley through which they came. Sixty meters back and around the corner, there is a four-man squad on smoke break. "We can't," Kray says to Sizhen, matter of factly.

The Alijanian knows he is right. Sizhen looks at the buildings, all across the square. He sees the big corner stores, sitting like anchor points, serving as the frame work for the market. A young boy ascends out of a sunken staircase on the opposite side. He is carrying a box of apples.

Sizhen has a suspicion. "Follow me," he says.

-----------------------------

After some searching, Sizhen finds a way into one of the basements of the adjacent building. Rummaging through the dark rooms there, he discovers stairs leading down a flight further. Soon he is in a narrow hallway. The group follows, with some concern. Does he know where he is going?

In a somewhat unnerving method of trial-and-error, search-and-estimate, Sizhen makes a connection to another set of rooms. After twists and turns, then a narrow spiral staircase, the group is in another basement.

Through another door, up a very skinny flight of stairs, a double door angled shutter - the group emerges into another alley.

Sizhen checks the positioning, a quick glance at landmarks. "This way," says the Alijanian.

Everyone is on the move. After they pass another crosswalk in the alley, it becomes clear that they are moving downhill, towards the river. Ryhim, Kray, and Thorn realize that they are indeed on the other side of the dangerously patrolled square.

They had passed several city blocks through interconnected rooms and tunnels underground!

Sizhen success Investigation

Sizhen's contact is a warehouse and labor boss named Isik Nivi.

Sizhen meets with him as the rest of the groups gets a welcomed rest, partitioned off in a side room of one of Nivi's warehouses. Though on alert throughout, it is a welcomed rest and break from the heavy carry and constant 360 degree vigilance of the previous hour.

Because of religious observances, no laborers or boats are crossing the river until late morning, after Devotions. Once the "Songs and Bells" are complete, non-Heshbaan laborers are allowed to work for a 2/3 day.

Nivi has several boats full of Bishtu that he is sending across to work the brick pits. He has agreed to help Sizhen. The group will be allowed (sold) a boat. They can cross with the labor group and then divert away into the side tributaries at The Swamp.

From there the plan is to take the ditchways through to the flooded wetlands of the Reed Fields.

It is going to be an incredibly difficult trek. Challenging to navigate. The worst of terrain.

Guards will likely be patrolling the high cut trails, so the team will have to stay down in the muck.

But, about five miles of miles of misery, maintaining discipline to avoid doing something stupid, and with a little luck . . . they could reach the Jara Hili, the most ancient of all forests.

There, they disappear.

Controversial Ruling: Short Rest available only for Sizhen and Ryhim.

Closer and closer, step by step.

They had been at it for only an hour probably, but they were already nearing exhaustion.

Staying in the water and mud of the lowlands to stay out of sight put them in the worst of places for speed. Also ran up an incredible burn on energy, especially with the heavy carry of the loot bags.

There was no choice though. The pursuit was on. They had seen foot patrols and even horses up on the few high cut roads.

Both Korvarans and Gilded Armsmen. Searching.



The edge of doubt begins to creep in. Was there any way out of this?

They are low in a flooded depression, having just been cut to shreds by saw grass in the last sprint crossing, now being nearly stopped in their tracks by a thick reed bed.

Up a short bank is one of the high cut trails. At its base is a low gulley ditch that is fairly stable. Not much cover, but it would be a big gain on ground to traverse the upcoming waterway that seems otherwise impassable.

They have to risk it. The team moves in and sprints along the ditch.

Exhaustion starts to set in again. It is a terribly long run.

Then there it is. Down in the ditch, standing alone.

A donkey.

It is fully harnessed and set for a load. But whatever it had must have fallen off. A tattered tarp hangs off of the side of a hanging strap. By the mud caked up on it, the beast must have gotten lost, slid off the side of the road unbeknownst to its owner, and somehow had become trapped in the gulley.

"Hey, a donkey," Maeriks says. "He can carry the bags."

The big man moves forward. He looks like he is on the brink of death. Completely dehydrated. Faced flushed red. Almost in a daze.

Everyone is exhausted. They wonder if it is a good idea, but the big man is not wrong. They are dying under these loads in this terrain. A beast of burden? A risk for sure, but what a resource to exploit if it could work. And in truth, everyone is so tired they can barely speak. So they find themselves watching in silence.

Maeriks puts one bag down and extends a hand. Slowly he moves in, talking softly to the animal.

He reaches for the lead rope.

In a sudden burst, the donkey lurches forward and bites Maeriks on the hand and then brays loudly. Before Maeriks can back up, the donkey is already spinning and kicking, exploding into a flurry of pivots and bucks.

Maeriks falls back into the mud. The animal bursts into a sprint up the hill, still braying. It stands there up on the road, bellowing out again and again, shaking its head side to side.

The group immediately moves out trying to make the crossing. They leave the donkey behind, sprinting under a new dose of adrenaline.

Then up on the road, a couple of laborers look over the edge. They spot the group running by. Confusion on their faces at first, but then interest. They watch and study.

Then start pointing. Talking among one another.

The group finally makes it across the flood zone and cuts back into another reed field. When they look back across at the road, they can see that the laborers have already sent runners.

Surely they are going to alert the Armsmen.

Maeriks failure Animal Handling

"We have to hide," Maeriks says to Kray suddenly.

They are in a low flooded depression, off the bank of a tributary. Lilly pads float in the shallows near the edge. Reeds grow right up to the bank.

"What?" Kray asks, studying Maeriks' expressions. Kray remembers back to another day.

"Someone is here," Maeriks looks at Kray. A dead stare. "We have to hide."

Kray did not delay. "Ryhim, where do we take cover?"

The Sarceran scans, identifies, and moves. Everyone follows without another word.


--------------------------------------------------------------

Laying in the reeds, pressed into the mud and water up to there shoulders and back as they lay prone, they can hear him first.

His soft steps splashing softly through the water. Slowly.

Then they see him. He is only about thirty meters away. Shield. Khopesh. And a golden masked helmet.

What sort of champion is this?



Slow and measured, he scans the area as he passes. The cold look of the mask hide whatever true expressions are beneath, but it is clear that this warrior is as competent as he is deadly. He knows he is close to his prey.

Then they hear the sound above. Not so far away.

"GGLLLLLAAAKK...BBRRRZZZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAA!! "

Overhead, an edimmu flier. Are the reeds enough to conceal them? The bat-winged creature makes a pass up in the sky.

Everyone is poised and ready. Hands still to maintain the silence, but ready to dive to weapons once the cover is blown.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jumoke," Sizhen says again, repeating the strange name. "An Otessite who serves the Sar in the recent year. They say he crossed the desert and passed through the Jara Hili alone. Some sort of Soothsayer. There is a running claim that he can see the future and learn secrets by communing with the dead. Some believe he is a magic-user. Others say a huckster, but none doubt his prowess as a warrior."

They are moving as quickly as possible through another mud and reed field, trying to put distance between themselves and the bank where they had last seen the hunter and the edimmu flying head.

Thron looks over at Maeriks and nods. "We're getting out of here, Maeriks. He won't catch us. You will be able to let us know when he is coming if he gets close again."

Maeriks glances at Thorn and then back down to the ground as he plods along. The Dannein is not just exhausted. He is also terrified.

Kray and Thorn know why. They look at one another and nod in understanding.

"He's a druid," Kray says to the crowd. "The Otessite - he's a druid."

Ryhim and Sizhen do not quite understand, but they assume the truth of it. Everyone moves on in silence.

Ryhim success Stealth

With a heave, Thorn lifts Maeriks up and over his shoulder. Barely able to stabilize, Thorn's entire body quakes as he treads step by step, slogging through the drag of the water. His feet are pressed deep into the muddy floor of the bog flood pond.



Maeriks had entered the chase in the worst shape of everyone, severely injured and utterly exhausted. Plus he had insisted on carrying two heavy bags. It had finally caught up with him. The big Dannein had blacked out, and fallen face first into the water during this latest crossing.

Now Kray carried an extra bag and Thorn carried Maeriks along with his own bag.

The extra bag that Maeriks carried? There was no way. They had to leave it. A bag of treasure submerged beneath the surface of an unmarked flood bog.

Thorn controls against his own collapse as he bends forward to lay Maeriks down on his back at the far bank. He looks back at the others.

Kray is labored with each step under the extra load, getting bogged down in the quagmire at the lowest part of the depression.

Thorn leaves Maeriks where he lays, sets his own bag aside, and sloshes back out to the center.

"Hand it off," Thorn says to Kray. "I've got it."

Kray hands the extra bag over, allowing him to pick up speed.

Sizhen is getting worse. As the exhaustion has set in, his mental condition seems to be degrading again. Ryhim is attending to him, helping him along. The Alijanian has a blank look on his face. He is clammy and white.

Not good, Thorn thinks.

Thorn sloshes back further to meet up with the two stragglers. He quickly unstraps the backpack off of Sizhen and sets it high on his own shoulder, stabilizing it on the other bag that hangs on his back.

"Steady, Inspector," Thorn says. "We're almost there now."

Thorn slogs on, catching up with Kray who has already begun checking on Maeriks.

Once Thorn confirms that Maeriks is alright, he sloshes back out to the center.

There it is. Thorn pulls the extra bag out from the water and jogs it back to the bank.

Thorn success Athletics

Players' Club Update on Skills Challenge: Escape From Gelshemish!

Tracking:
4 Successes
1 Failure

To WIN you need 5 Successes.
You LOSE if you hit 3 Failures.

All is on the line to determine if you face or avoid a DETRIMENTAL ENCOUNTER.Required Action, Players' Club - Elected Representative(s): Proceed with Skills Challenge Round 2

I'll be damned. I missed tracking my shit there. Way to catch it J. As much as I like to win, I like the challenge even more.

"This is good here," Kray says to Ryhim. "Surely a roadblock ahead where this cuts into the trees. We better cross that flood field to make the transition."

Ryhim pulls back on the reins and steers the horse to the side of the cart road. The wagon creaks to a halt.

"Thanks for the ride," the Jeresian says to Ryhim with a devious smirk and nod.

Ryhim had convinced the wood cutter that it was better to take the gold than die fighting for the horse and cart. The last mile driving on the road was a huge risk, but they needed speed more than anything else at this moment. The noose was tightening. The patrols were closing in. The fliers had seen them.

The window for slipping away was almost closed.

Almost.

But there it is. Right across this last flood field.

The Jara Hili forest.



The others climb out of the back of the cart, downloading bags and then strapping them again onto their backs. Maeriks is the worst for wear, but he is still standing. Sizhen's responsiveness is coming and going, but he is mobile. Thorn is spent, but reveals no signs of stopping.

Kray and Ryhim, the two pathfinders, lead the way - down the bank, leaving the horse and cart behind - seeking the best ground for the fastest route. The others follow.

The last crossing.

Ryhim success Persuasion