Asif looks at the arm of Forte with some interest and concern. He studies the arm looking for some form of puncture wound. If one is apparent, he shall suggest bleeding the wound to release the venom.
"So what now my friends. Do we finish this, or depart in search of Stephen?"
"I say we depart and take some, well-deserved, rest. At least I need to regain some of my strength" says the warrior, slightly embarrassed to admit this.
Asif smiles at Ullar. "Feel no shame my friend. A withdrawal from this place is no display of weakness. I feel it is the right thing to do. This place is unimportant to our destiny. We should retake the right path and find Stephen. Later if the gods will it we can teach these godless heathens a lesson in manners."
Still rubbing her neck and looking around, "I think we need to leave. I...don't feel all that well and Ullar and Forte are very weak. We need to leave and get someplace to rest for a day or so," Rhune utters in a low, raspy voice, retrieving her longsword.
"I vote for 'or so'," says Forte, wincing as he looks at his useless arm. "Unless we get back to full strength, we'll start dropping like flies."
The depressed warrior takes his right wrist in his un-injured left hand. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he forces the bad arm to move. He opens his eyes and looks at the mangled limb, almost as if he's trying to will it to heal itself.
"I agree, Rhune. We are in no shape to take on these goblins," says Amibar, visibly shaken from what has just transpired. We should leave now, while we are all still able to walk out."
"You got my vote!" replies Ullar, determined to leave this place.
Asif looks towards each of the injured members of the party with concern.
"Yes by Aten I think this is best. Let us depart this foul place. This son of Aten is blessed and free of harm this day, but others not so lucky. I think we have more important matters to take care of. Come, go we must. Follow me, let us find a place to regain our strength this night."
"You're right. We have no choice. We have to rest, or risk not only losing Stephen, but our own lives as well." Forte looks around the group. "We've got to get rested and supplied. We're out of oil, almost out of torches, half of us don't have armor or are missing weapons. Or both." He shakes his head and starts to walk away. Then he turns, looks at everyone again and asks, trying to lighten the mood a little with a feeble smile, "Now, remind me again, why I hooked up with you?" Forte looks at his mangled arm and then leans on his horse to rest, patting the animal with his good hand.
Rhune smiles at him with twinkling eyes, "Because we are such fun people to be around and where else would you have found such excitement? I mean it isn't every day you get to travel to strange and exotic islands, have acid spit at you, snakes bite you, pixies shoot at you, goblins try to kill you, wolves try to eat you and other really fun things."
"You have a strange sense of fun," Forte says with a sly smile at the elf. "And don't forget flying blood-sucking bat-things."
"Oh and the undead things as well. We mustn't forget those you know," Rhune replies chuckling
"Such a simple question, efendi. No one, whether believer or not can dodge the hidden hand of fate. Fate has put your upon the same path as us. The same hand which dragged me thousands of miles from my home to this strange place. What ever will happen will happen, the gods shall have their way no matter what lesser mortals such as you and I have to say about it. My faith tells me thus, that the hidden strings that bind us are for the greater good. We do what is right and all will be revealed."
Rhune smiles at her lover, and for the umpteen time thanks the gods that she is alive, sane, and has him with her.
Ullar hears Asif words with awe. He scratches his chin (noticing in the mean time that he hasn't shaved in ages) and ponders about the wise words of the Arab.
"Fate can't be dodged, but can it be parried?" Ullar asks, a sincere smile on his face.
Asif laughs at Ullar's Joke.
"Now that is something, this son of Aten does not know. My time here upon this earth has only been a short one. Some of the ancient and most wise prophets may know the answer to that one. But not all impart there knowledge of such things so cheaply. Maybe as we walk this path of life we shall find out the answers for ourselves."
"Fate?" snorts Forte in derision. "Fate had nothing to do with it. WE make decisions. WE do things. It's all a consequence of OUR OWN actions. Not some other-worldly entity directing a stage show." Forte tries to throw up his arms in exasperation, but his right arm won't obey any commands without a great deal of pain. "Ow! Dammit!" After a grimace of pain, Forte tries to continue. "It just-- I mean -- aw, forget it!" He tries to wave his right arm is a dismissive gesture, but this just bring another bolt of pain. Forte grabs his mace with his left hand and slams it into ground in frustration. "Dammit!"
Ullar feels sorry for his fellow warrior, but, wisely, keeps his mouth shut.
Remembering something that had happened, "Sometimes that is not true, Forte. I know of instance where the gods did intervene. they helped but...there was a price to their help," Rhune utters then falls silent
"I didn't say gods didn't exist. Or even that they didn't intervene. We've all seen that when Augustus healed us. I don't think they control everything. I don't think they just push us around like puppets." Forte looks at her, truly curious. "What happened? What sort of price did you have to pay?"
Scuffing her foot in the dirt, "...it...was when you were dying...from the acid."
Forte shudders at the memory of that encounter.
"I...ah...asked my god, Erevan if he would help."
Forte looks at Rhune in astonishment. He doesn't know what to say. It would never have occurred to him to ask for divine aid for a fallen comrade.
"I....just didn't want anymore of my friends dying. Remembering what happened shortly after the acid attack, Forte looks a little worried. It is obvious from his face, that he is also starting to feel a little sick to his stomach as well.
"...I said anything...."
Forte closes his eyes and softly says, "Oh my god."
"Well.....ah that was when I sort of thought you all were trying to kill me or just wanted to separate me and...and I had the urge to kill everyone except Asif...."
Forte opens his eyes as his stomach continues to tie itself in knots. He remains silent, but his eyes look as if he is about to cry.
Rhune replies looking every where but at Forte for the moment, "And you know what? I would do it, calling on the gods again to save someone I care about," she looks up at him and smiles.
"I...I...I-" Forte stops short, his mind still unable to articulate a clear thought in light of Rhune's revelation. He wipes his eyes with his good hand, brushing away any tears that might have tried to sneak out, and looks at the elf. "You...you...went through all that. I can't even begin..." his voice trails off. He turns his brown eyes away from Rhune and stares intently at the ground. He shakes his head slowly.
After a few seconds, the warrior looks up at the sky, avoiding everyone else's faces. "It's all my fault." He turns to look at Rhune and begins to stammer again, "Rhune, I.. I.. I guess I just don't know that to say. And you...I...me. Augustus. My fault." There is a very long pause before he says simply, "I'm sorry." He tries to smile at Rhune in gratitude but his face just looks sickly, "And I hope you never have to go through anything like that again."
Regaining a little more of his composure, Forte tries to finish the conversation with a simple, "I owe you my life." He gets up to walk away, but first turns to Rhune and adds with a weak smile, "And Erevan, too, I guess. Thank him for me the next time you talk to him."
"Forte, it is not your fault. What happened to me was not your fault. And you don't owe me anything. You are my friend. I would have done it for anyone in this party." Looking over at Kyo who joined them afterward. “Even the one that thinks I am a daemon from the 999th plane of the abyss,” she says to him.
Forte smiles as he steals a glance at Kyo for his reaction.
Then, "Yes I will thank him. I already have. And I hope I don't have to go through anything like that again either, but if I have to..." she lets the sentence drop, her sparkling deep purple eyes glittering like jewels and full of meaning.
Looking back at Rhune, the large warrior can only manage to say, "I, too, hope you will never have to live through that again." He shudders at the thought of what Rhune went through. "Well, I'm glad you didn't waste it." Forte lightly pounds his chest with his clenched left fist. "See, all healed up. Well, at least from *that* particular incident," he says with a smile, feebly trying to wave his right hand.
"You want me to see if he will heal you of these wounds? Hey maybe he will let me become his cleric," Rhune replies with a merry smile, which turns to laughter, "Rhune Morthaine...thief/cleric of the god of thieves -- Erevan Illserie"
"Become a cleric? Now THAT is a fate I would not wish on anyone," Forte says with a grin.
Rhune chuckles at Forte's joke. Glad that he seems to be feeling better now about what happened before.
"Hey. Dakath. Is becoming a cleric anything you fancy?" Ullar calls out, overhearing the whole discussion between Rhune and Forte.
Asif shakes his head sadly, amazed at the earlier antics of Forte. Worried as to the mind of Forte he speaks to try and calm him: "Efendi, my poor Efendi. Fight not the hand of fate. It will only bring you pain if you try."
Forte just stares at Asif. Too tired to argue - or, rather, continue arguing - he does not speak.
Asif winces at the obvious pain Forte is experiencing in wielding the mace. "For Aten’s sake my poor friend put down that mace before you do yourself further mischief!"
Forte releases his grip on the mace. "I think I just need some rest." He sighs, then picks up the mace and prepares to sleep.
"That is most wise efendi. Rest is the best medicine for all hurts." Asif moves over closer to Rhune, offering his strength to aide her exit from the tunnel.
"I am glad that you are unhurt Asif," she utters a little raspy as she puts her arm around his waist.
"Aten smiles upon me, and so being unhurt I feel I am traveling upon the path he wants me too. I wish that such hurt had not befallen you though. Tonight I shall do what I can to aid you in forgetting your hurts."
Looking at him intently and then smiling as a slow blush rises.... "I look forward to that, my Asif...I think that it is time for us to grow even closer together," she whispers in the low voice.
Ullar walks over to Kyo and asks him to support Forte on their way out.
"I can walk!" Forte snaps in anger. Sighing in frustration, he adds, "Just don't ask me to carry anything." The mangled warrior walks over to his mace, picks it up with his left hand, muttering, "Great. Just great." He takes a few half-hearted practice swings with his left arm. "Useless!" he spits on the ground before walking away. "Damn it!"
In the mean time, Ullar collects as much daggers as he can find, thrown towards him and his fellow party members.
"I'm sorry, but I need to work on my skills with these things. It seems to me that working with something less heavy than a sword can save my life someday."
As Ullar collects the daggers, Rhune walks over to Dakath very slowly, placing her hand on his shoulder, "Thank you for saving my life," she utters with a smile.
He shrugs "Think nothing of it," he says smiling back.
Once the group is outside again Ullar suggest that they ride on a couple of miles and make camp there. After gathering wood and cooking some water to wash his wounds, the warrior starts, playfully, throwing knives at a nearby tree until it is time to sleep.
Asif sits with his arm around Rhune while watching Ullar attempt to throw a knife against a tree. Reminding him of home he calls out to Ullar.
Rhune leans against Asif...just resting, her hand strays to her throat every so often gingerly touching the bruises
"Your hand needs work Efendi. A desert dweller Ahmed al Nasir who rode with my father at the battle of Hattin could make a knife dance in his hand. He visited my father when I was a child and showed us many tricks. Alas I am but a simple novice in such a weapon. But he was something to be seen. With my very own eyes I saw him sit cross legged by the fire with my father turn and with a single throw pin a cobra to a tree. Come let me try this, it shall pass some time while our food cooks."
Asif stands up draping his cloak around a tired Rhune, wipes a wisp of hair away from her eyes and walks over to Ullar.
Ullar welcomes Asif to his not-so-good-dagger-throw-show and asks his Arab friend if he has any more so such stories to tell.
"You're right. I certainly need some guidance here. Handling these little things is really something different from a sword, spear or axe. Nevertheless, I see what use a skill with these weapons could be to me, so I'll practice with them as long as necessary," Ullar says, while gathering his daggers for the 27th time.
Smiling at him Rhune leans back against the tree and watches the two men with the knives. "You know I can throw a dagger sort of okay. Can I try?"
"Be my guest," Ullar replies. "Just make sure you don't embarrass me too much," he adds with a wink.
Asif turns and smiles at Rhune and in a jovial mood replies: "Yes my love, it would bring tears to both the hearts of Ullar and I for you to show us just how inept we are." Asif offers Rhune three daggers from the palm of his hand.
She smiles at him but takes her own daggers first, then will take his and throw them as well.
Rhune stands up a little shakily but with growing strength and steps over to the line that Ullar was standing at. Taking one of the many daggers she has and hefting a few seconds to get the feel of it proceeds to throw it at the mark Ullar was aiming at....then in quick succession she throws three more for a total of four daggers all aimed at the same mark.
Ullar shows some good natural talent at throwing the slight weapons, and more often than not, he actually hits his target, though he has not gotten the gift of hitting it with the blade quite yet. Nonetheless, for being utterly inexperienced, he shows quite some ability.
Asif, while having no experience throwing dagger, uses his naturally impressive hand-eye coordination and phenomenal agility, pegging the tree with several of his thrown missiles.
Rhune shows a bit of rust with her skills, not hitting quite as often as Asif, but still more than Ullar. However, she is able to show Ullar the techniques. After some time working, he seems to be getting the hang of it, though it is slightly bothersome to see Asif succeed so easily.
Dakath raises himself from the sitting position he had adopted against a tree and collects three throwing daggers. He says nothing before hurling all three of them at the tree in quick succession.
He inspects the tree before nodding once to himself. "Hmmm," he says before preparing to leave. He will take as many daggers as he can.
Though clearly sharing Rhune's skill for the weapon in technique, his luck is no better than hers. Seems Asif's natural agility compensates for his unfamiliarity. Dakath also shows quite a bit of rust, clearly not having practiced any time recently (not a lot of time for that when you're working a gnomish mine!) Nonetheless, he gathers up several daggers, as do Ullar and Rhune.
"Seems that I am a little rusty. I should practice more often," Rhune says with a smile as she collects her daggers.
"So much is true efendi. One never knows when such a skill may come in useful in turning the hand of fate back in ones own favor. In my homeland the curved knife we call a Jambiya is carried by all males of military age. This was given to me by my father as a gift on my tenth birthday."
Asif draws from its sheath at his waist a curved jambiya with an ornate ivory handle and hands it to Ullar.
"A great piece of work is it not. Not truly balanced for throwing I am afraid. Although in the street of the Wepaoncrafters at Aswan did I once see such weapons available for purchase. Now they flew like an arrow when thrown. Even a novice like you and I could be made an expert. As of yet in this land of yours, have I not seen weaponscrafters of such quality. As a professional warrior and former gladiator of this land, where is the best place to find great craftsman?"
"It truly is a magnificent weapon," replies Ullar. "It must be a heavy responsibility, carrying such a treasure with you."
"Regarding your question about craftsman, I'm not sure. As gladiator, my weapons were provided for me. However, I'm sure that in cities as Florence or any other large city those craftsman have their workshops. Like those crossbows which were fired at us, they originated from Florence I guess. I hate to admit it, but those were good specimens of weapons."
"Forte," says Ullar, calling out to yet another warrior, "and Kyo, can you share your information with us where you know weapons are manufactured? Both of you are able to repair or create armor, but can you forge weapons as well? Or have you ever witnessed it?"
"I can't forge anything without the right tools and two good arms," grumbles Forte, without looking up. "And since a forge is not very portable, I doubt I'll have much time to make armor anytime soon, even after my arm heals." With a sigh, Forte finally looks up at the ex-gladiator, "You can't ply a trade without supplies. Merchants and tradesmen always gravitate to their supply centers. Or their centers of profit. In the north, with all the mountains, there is much ore to mine. I would imagine all big cities near the mountains have at least a few weapon smiths and a armor smith or two. It's easier for merchants to transport the finished products than for smiths to ship raw materials all across the countryside." Forte picks a few blades of grass with his left hand and immediately tosses them away. "But since armor must usually be fitted to a specific person - well, high quality metal armor anyway - armor smiths might not stick so close to the supply centers."
Forte grabs a few more clumps of grass and tosses them away. "Heck, with all the fighting in this land that goes on between dukes and princes, lords and marquise...es, I would imagine any large city has a fair number of smiths."
"I learned my armor and weapon smithing skills in the city of Torino, so I know there are some of those trades in that city to the north. But cities with more, uh, military histories might have even more such smiths. Except maybe Venice. Kind of hard to walk down a canal in plate armor...." Forte smiles at the mental image of a warrior in full-plate stepping into a Venetian canal. "I don't know any specific cities to go to for armor and weapons. But you can't go wrong if you look near the supply centers or seats of power."
His bad mood finally seeming to fade, Forte asks Ullar, "Any particular reason you asked?"
"Not really," Ullar replies. "It was Asif who is curious."
After their response, Ullar smiles at Asif. "We've been through a lot my friend. Perhaps we both possess knowledge we can pass to one another. I'm glad you're with us. I see you as a true friend, who can be trusted with my life if necessary!"
"You honor me greatly efendi. No greater friend can be had than one who stands by ones side when death dances with you. I know a little of weapon crafting for my father was a master sword smith. Both my jambiya and the scimitars upon my back where made in his workshop. His talent granting him the patronage of the Sultan and the rank of an vizier. Alas my eldest brother inherited the great gift with the working of metal. Muddasser I think will be as good as my father, he shall inherit my father's rank upon my fathers embrace by Aten. My talent I fear is in using that which is made and in particular my father's knack at Archery."