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Desert Outpost, Roh



At Gwyn's words, Cicero smiled and squeezed her hand. He pulled her in close and hugged her tight. His large frame lifting her off the ground ever so slightly. Her encouragement was all he needed. Cicero gently set her back upon her feet, looked her in the eyes and said with sincerity, "Thank you."

Turning to Ashe, Cicero eyed her die warily, "It could go either way, you say? I don't like the idea of making a bad situation worse." He listened as she inquired his skills and name then replied, "You may call me..Cyrano!" He said suddenly, "Sorry..tired. As for skills, you will find me an adept sword fighter. I utilize both sword and shield in combat, but can ride horse extremely well. This camel isn't quite what I'm used to, but I adapt."

Manzur cut right to the point. No time for deep introspection. For the butcher, the only thing that mattered was deeply personal to him. A man of few words. Cicero respected that. It got them through tough challenges before. In response to his question Cicero replied, "We go. Perhaps their tracks are nearby yet."
Desert Outpost, Roh



Cicero listened with all the focus and clarity he could muster to the demonfolk woman. But the longer she spoke, the more tired he felt. The adrenaline finally ran its course, the tiredness crept in. He squinted his eyes, but forced them open through sheer willpower. Finally, at the mention of Roh's Skirmishers he added, "I was once in Roh's Skirmishers. Before I left for the tournament, Freda." He paused briefly reflecting and continued, "Is it truly the fate of our brotherhood to all die in similar manners? Violent and without peace?" Cicero turned to Manzur. It only then occurred to the former knight that revealing too much to newcomers may be unwise...

The veteran Manzur knew exactly what Cicero meant. The members of their small band seemed to all die in one horrific way or another. Was he and Cicero doomed in the same way? On another note, the reason for his apparent fake name was obvious. Manzur had seen the bounty postings. Cicero and an Elf by the name of Gwyneria were listed as highly sought after. Their blatant crimes against the crown of Avalon offered a ridiculous bounty. Perhaps Manzur would be able to use the reward for turning them in to raise an army of his own. Loyal to him alone. However, Cicero and him had bled together. They suffered the same losses of their comrades. What would the gods do in such a case? If there were any to do anything at all?

As for Ashe, she received a boon blessed by the head ladies of Roh. Her strikes would be more quiet under the help of the banner.
Gwyn had not realized that the majority of Cicero's comrades fell in such violent ways. Some to fates worse then death. The man's voice sounded tired, yet determined. It was obvious they were in this together, but would their story end the same way as his comrades? What chance did they have against such great odds?
Desert Outpost, Roh



Cicero scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as Gwyn eyed him for any more injuries. Before he could respond, Ashe's power activated. What appeared to be a simple throw of the dice ended up having glowing features, "An amusing trick." Cicero thought. However, it was more than a trick. Something was happening.

Suddenly, the storehouse glowed the same yellow color of Ashe's dice. Lights danced inside. Appearing for a moment, then disappearing. "Just what kind of dice are those anyway?" Cicero glanced at Gwyn with an eyebrow raised, hoping for some sort of insight in the strange "trick."

Those who investigated the lights would find that various items of value glowed under the debris and damage already caused by the raiders.

@Timemaster I need you to make a roll at 1d20. Higher the better. Lower...well you know. Rather than 2d12
@Dog@Cyrania@Timemaster If you would decide together what you want to do we can make posts based on that decision.
Desert Outpost, Roh



Cicero turned to Ashe and replied, "If Manzur trusts you then I will too. Though I must admit, I've never met a demonfolk who looked upon me favorably." He turned to the others, "Shall we take what supplies we can and pursue? Or rest and recover?"

What would the group decide? To pursue immediately or recollect and recover first?
Should have something up this weekend along with @Cyrania
Go ahead and jump in @timemaster
Desert Outpost, Roh



Cicero nodded grimly to Manzur. The deaths of more comrades must have been hard for the grizzled vet to bear. Yet he managed to shake it off just as quickly as he cleaned his weapon stained with the flesh of his former comrades.

Cicero echoed Gwyn's question, "Yes, are you certain they can be trusted? Being a demonfolk I mean." He added quickly.

Gwyneria was unable to determine any significant damage to Cicero. As far as he seemed through his mannerisms, nothing was amiss. He did speak as if he was still catching his breath, however. As for herself, she had perhaps a few more fire spells in her before she needed to rest.
Desert Outpost, Roh



Gwyn's flame missed as the undeath moved right before it hit. A ball of fire burst in the sands erupting in a cloud of dust. However, the two undeath that were aflame from before had caught fire to two others! They ran off and collapsed into the sand.

Manzur, however lined his foes up opposite with Cicero. At just the precise moment he lunged with his spear and impaled two of the undeath through at once! Their heads popped like melons at his swift strike. Afterward, he lunged backwards in time to retract his weapon. An undeath leaped at him, but narrowly missed. Manzur stuck his spear through the fiend and into the ground. It growled one last time before it went silent.

Cicero bashed his opponent with his shield and lopped its head with a strike. Suddenly, the only sound to be heard was the crackling of flames in the night. The stench of burning, rotted corpses wafted the air. Cicero looked up to Gwyn and called out, "He's a friend! Come on down." Cicero wiped his brow and thanked his compatriot, "It's been some time, old friend. Tell me. what happened here?" He reached out to clasp Manzur's right arm in a familiar greeting as he spoke.
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