"Sam!"

"Is that you?" Ullar calls out.

"Nah.. that can't be!"

Sam's grin only widens as he hops and skips towards the rest of the party. "None other than the great Sir Samalot. At your service of course..." Sam's face becomes comically serious as he bows with confidence and then continues. "I have battled dragons and warlords and now I find that I am spent. Joy overtakes my soul as I am reunited with my band of followers. Come now, and gather around, for I have a tail to tell of my journeys!" Sam's eyes are wide with enthusiasm as he speaks. You all get the feeling that something is not quite right about him. A fibber is bad enough, but things can get strange when you start to actually believe what you say. Before anyone can reply to Sam's proposal, he starts again tugging on Kridges hand as he towers over the little man. "Excuse me, I almost forgot. I would like you all to meet my most humble servant Kridge, who has more than once battled by my side in the haords of orcs and dragons that I slay before breakfast. So gather around.. my kingdom awaits me and I fear I cannot stay long." Sam grins again and oustreaches his hands to the party members as if they are to now actually kiss them.

Marika takes Sam's hand when offered and examines it carefully in the moonlight, turning it over to study both sides. Finally she lets it go and looks him in the eye. "It's a hand," she diagnoses confidently, before sitting back to listen to Sam and Krige's tales of their journey here.

Rhune looks at the little man and smiles. "It is good to have you and Krige with us again. Very good." she says and joins Marika on the ground ready to listen to Sam's tale of their journey.

Rhune looks up and sees both Sam and Krige and smiles warmly at them. She lowers her bow which she had notched an arrow in. Laying it down she quickly goes forward, "Sam, Krige, quickly over here," she calls in a low voice. "Are we glad to see the two of you," she exclaims warmly as they come over. "We were just about to set up camp for the night," she explains to two of them.

"Hello!",says Krige catching his breath, "We had to run to catch you up! I saw a tomb. Has anyone died?". Then he runs closer to the group. "Who is that girl?" asks Krige, looking at Xania.

"That is Xania. She joined our party at the town we were just in. We got caught in an ambush just after we sat out the other day. She and some others got seriously hurt. None of the party has died. The woman that Captain Kalanos was to leave us with to help us was murdered and horribly as well. We buried her," she replies to Krige's question. "But come sit and warm yourselves we can talk later," she says with a smile at the elf

"Aye, greetings, friends," says Marika softly, happy for the unexpected visit. Judging from Sam's ever-present grin, there is no chance the two have fallen to the Church's mind-killing magics. "Are you on an urgent mission, or can you stay and make camp with us?"

"I think our mission is to reach Sukiskayn with you. We should meet Stephan there. So if you have decided to make camp here we will stay here too," says Krige sitting at the ground. After a little rest he says:" I think we should make fire. Does anyone have any ideas about it?"

"A fire sounds wonderful," says Marika wistfully, "but we don't dare. Churchmen are dogging our every step, and a campfire would be a beacon for them if they're nearby."

"Although it would frighten any wolves getting close, I agree with Marika, a fire would attract too much attention," Ullar adds.

Marika continues, "But we should fill you in on what's happened since we parted in Arrezo. Rhune mentioned the ambush. The boat was set upon by a couple of dozen mindless Church slaves -- Captain Kalanos says they're known as "the branded," or "hounds" -- led by one or two men with unscrambled brains. It was a well-planned attack, and Kalanos thinks they were after us, not his cargo. It was by the grace of the gods that we survived..."

"Well.. more thanks to the grace of Asif, who displayed his shooting skills at the right time," Ullar says with a huge grin.

"That was Asif?" Marika asks, feigning wide-eyed surprise. "I was short of blood and a little light-headed at the time; I thought it was Jupiter tossing thunderbolts at the shore."

She relents, grinning. "All right, then. By the grace of the gods, and Asif's old archery teacher, we survived."

Asif smiles warmly with the offered praise as any youngster would. He nods humbly with Ullars words, and replies:

"Efendi your praise is unworthy of this most humble servant of Aten. I was but an instrument of displeasure at those who transgress his laws of fair play. Those who transgress the laws of Aten, face his wrath. They were not an honourable enemy, and I tried to teach them the lesson they needed to be taught."

"Well.. you most certainly did, my friend" Ullar replies. "If we ever have the time and the means of playing around a bit with a bow, I'd be glad if you could teach me some of your tricks!"

Asif smiles.

"I would be honoured Efendi to teach you what little I know. It pleases me to think that a humble student of such fine an art, is now considered worthy of passing on that which he has learnt. I pass on what I can. Italians shoot not same as those of Arabia. Bows are drawn different, not same grip or tension. I show you better than I speak."

Asif then draws his bows, revealing the Arabic style of pullling the bowstring.

OOC - I'm no expert of archery but I did read somewhere that the muslims did shoot the bow with a different action to that of the Euroepean in medival times. It gave them a greater rate of fire, and an ability to shoot from horseback. Somthing like that anyway, but at the cost of a little accuracy.

Ullar returns the smile. "Although I'm Italian, I'm not accostumed to working with any missile weapons besides spears, so I don't care in which way you teach me...As long as I can learn to hit something with a bow. I believe there are long and short-bows? Which one are you using, a short-bow?"

"The helmsman was not as lucky," Marika adds to the earlier topic, her voice tinged with lingering guilt. "The branded ones all fought to the death, while their masters slipped away. And possibly hurried on ahead of us, for when we disembarked at the home of Stephan's grandmother Misha, we found her murdered." She sighs deeply. "It was her grave you saw."

"Yeah.. bloody bastards. We still haven't figured out why she was killed. I can't imagine that it has anything to do with us, it would seem if the whole world would turn around us if that is the case," Ullar adds once more.

"However, I'm getting pretty pissed about all these sneaky tactics used upon us, as if we're out to be killed at all cost. I've purchased this new weapon and I'm really anxious in demonstrating its capacities on anyone not trying to shoot us down."

Marika's lips move silently as she tries twice to parse that last sentence, then gives up with a shrug, trusting that Ullar is too nice a fellow to test his weapon on random passers-by. ;-)

Asif looks at Ullar.

"Efendi the path of ones fate is a hard one. As the prophet Amonhotep said, a burden shared is a burden halved. The Gods have brought us together for a reason I think. Together we shall share the burden and overcome that which stands in our way."

"Well.. I'm already feeling my shoulders.. so I guess that burden shouldn't get any bigger than it is now. And besides that, in all the stories told to me when I was just a little kid, the good guys always won. I think we're the good ones, so we ougt to win; no worries there," the ex-gladiator says with his common smile upon his lips.

"How odd," Marika chimes in. "In the stories I was told, mortals who found themselves caught between angry gods always ended up burned to ashes, or transformed into exceedingly unattractive insects..."

"Who is talking about angry gods here?" says Ullar, now facing Marika instead of Asif. "As far as I'm concerned we're dealing with the Bishop of Florence and his men, not with Gods. People who are tempted by the thought of gaining more and more will sooner or later see it turn against them, and that is exactly what will happen to this Bishop, YUCK!"

Asif ignores Marika's pessimism and responds to Ullar's original statement, "True words efendi, those who walk in the light deserve the rewards. You tell me some of your tricks learnt in the Arena. Life it may save in future. Skill with sword I have plenty, but little experience"

"Hey.. no problem there. As a matter of fact, we could try sparring a little. I need to get a good feeling about my new sword and in the meantime I can watch your movements in battle and tell you some of the tricks they taught me in the Arena".

"So we shall cross steel not in anger but friendship. That pleases me much Efendi. Italian swordmanship is well known but rarely seen in my homeland. Sure am I that much I may be able to learn from you. Question ask I though of you. You professional warrior who fight in Arena. In Egypt there lives much honoured Mamluks, slave warriors to the enlightened faiths. A mamluk born as a beggar, and sold as child to holy mamluk orders can rise through ranks to position of great power as a Phaoroh's Vizier. Gladiator you call yourself. Is Gladiator anything like that? The word is unfamilar to me."

"Sorry Asif, but that's not the case here. I joined the Arena for I was told a lot of nice stories about it. I signed up without considering that I agreed to stay there until I was going to retire or died. It seems to me that I at least had a choice in fighting, but my enthusiam was just too much, so I forgot my reason"

Ullar sighs deeply.

"I managed to flee from the Arena and I guess that if anyone recognizes me, I'll have to flee again, since Master Muphius doens't like it when his assets run off."

"But.. you are right about the fighting of the Gladiator. As I am relatively unexperienced compared to the higher level Gladiators, I only fought in teams of three versus one bear or lion. The really strong Gladiators fought against each other, in a one-on-one fight or with each other against a pack of bears or lions."

Ullar starts to blush.

"It's also true that there were sometimes fights in the Arena where the Gladiators easily killed off some people, and I've come to the understanding that those people probably were people who didn't want to 'confess' to Jerboha. And I did nothing for them..."

Ullar glances over the rest of the party. He feels good amongst them and enjoys their company, in and out of battle.

Marika shivers and pulls her cloak more snugly around her as if the night were much colder than it is. She is silent for a time, her dark eyes glistening moistly in the moonlight. "So, Sam, Krige...tell us of your own journey here," she says at last. "Did you learn anything interesting?"

After the brief reunion, you decide that it is too late to make more progress this night, and set up a camp.

You settle down to a cold camp with a one hour watch rotation for all those who are healthy. Several times at night, you hear the baying of wolves to the north and to the east of you. It does not come closer than a few miles, you anticipate, but they are clearly hunting from their ranging pattern, and there are plenty of them. The weather is warm and you are able to sleep comfortably for the most part when things are quiet. Soon after dawn, you rouse yourselves and begin preparing to set out. The day looks to be cloudy and warm, and you can tell it's going to be a steambath today, especially considering the group must travel through the thick woods for most of the day yet again.

On a positive note, the ministrations of the healers have done well to restoring the party's strength. None carry visible wounds other than Matteo and Urak, both of whom are approximately half strength. Xania still has not regained consciousness, and it is impossible to tell when she might be roused.

Marika distributes the remainder of her rations to further lighten her load.

The group is able to make a good pace after everyone for the second day is provided for by Marika, who informs the rest of the group that she is now out of rations. A couple others, not so heavily encumbered, do have addtional provisions, however, so it is not a drastic situation.

You head further south for a couple of miles until you cross the intersection that Kalanos spoke of. The path continues south and forks off to the east. Remembering Kalanos' directions, you head off to the east, parralelling the path just to the north.

The day passes quickly. It is past sunset. A twilight hush has settled over the forest, and there is no movement on the trail or among the shadowy trees anywhere on either side that you can see. The world seems at peace after your last several days of chaos, but perhaps things are a little too quiet.

Then the silence is broken. A faint cry drifts on the evening breeze which also brings a whiff of woodsmoke. Ahead, you catch a glimpse of flames rising beyond the trees. The sounds grow louder; shouts of men mingle with harsh, guttural war cries and the clash of battle, while all the time the flames grow higher, bathing the forest in a pink glow.