Burnt Caravan

(set: $alertText to(text-style:"fade-in-out") + (text-color:"Red")) $alertText[Flames lick] at the painted wood. The moss-coloured wagon wheels, bright yellow walls, and carved cerulean curlicues adorning the window edge melt, char, turn brown then black. Smoke billows, stinging your eyes and burning your throat. A steady snow falls, but all you can feel is the oppressive heat of the towering flames. Your horse, Sansha, lets out a shrill, panicked neigh. He shakes his shaggy mane, so lovingly woven into braids tied with crimson yarn. His eyes roll, his hooves stamping nervously against the icy ground as he pulls at the rope that binds him to your burning caravan. You wish desperately to soothe him, to lay calming hands against his flank, to lean against his familiar bulk. But your breath turns shallow as your lungs fill with the choking smoke and your consciousness ebbs away. [[You awaken with your face pressed into the frozen earth of the forest floor.|1iIntro]]

Awakening suddenly at the sound of Sansha's uneasy neigh, your skin prickled with the presentiment that danger was near. Reaching under your bunk for your sword and the emergency pack you always keep at the ready, you went outside to lay in wait. Finding concealment behind a wagon wheel you pulled your dark cloak up close around you to keep warm and settled in to wait. The light of the crescent moon provided a dim illumination, patterning the forest with moving shadows. Your ears pricked at the sound of cracking twigs, the sign of a heavy, crashing approach. Your keen senses distinguished the sound of two separate footfalls - large, armoured individuals, as judging by the sound of their clinking mail. Sansha whinnied again, you vowed to protect him against any oncoming threat. The appearance of two imposing figures justified your preparations. The two men made no attempt at stealth, their chainmail shining in the light of their lantern. You observed their decisive, searching movements and determined that these were not wandering highwaymen, but well paid mercenaries. But who had hired them? "Is this her caravan?" The first man asked in a rasping voice, his eyes shifting as he surveyed the area. "What else could it be?" Replied the second man, with an arrogant confidence. "We'll surprise her asleep." With that, the second mercenary burst through the door of the caravan, frightening Sansha, who reared up in alarm. The first man followed quickly behind him into the caravan. As the men crashed about inside your travelling home, you repositioned yourself near the door. "She's not here," rasped the first man. "Light that lantern and I'll search the woods." Replied the second. The mercenary with the raspy voice slowly exited the caravan, carrying a lantern in his left hand, his sword drawn and ready in his right. [[You gripped your sword tightly, and readied yourself to strike...|1bFighter]]

Awakening suddenly at the sound of Sansha's uneasy neigh, your skin prickled with the presentiment that danger was near. Reaching under your bunk for your small dagger and the emergency pack you always keep at the ready, you went outside to watch and wait. Finding concealment behind a large oak tree, you pulled your dark cloak up close around you to keep warm and settled in to observe from your hidden vantage point. The light of the crescent moon provided a dim illumination, patterning the forest with moving shadows. Your ears pricked at the sound of cracking twigs, the sign of a heavy, crashing approach. Your keen senses distinguished two separate footfalls - large, armoured individuals, as judging by the sound of their clinking mail. As Sansha whinnied again, you regretted having to leave him tied to the caravan, but you couldn't hazard the risk that the horse might reveal your hidden presence. The appearance of two imposing figures justified your precautions. [[The two men made little attempt at stealth, their chainmail shining in the moon's dim light.|2bStealth]]

You leave your reminiscence and climb to your feet, your joints stiff with cold. You look toward the remains of your wagon with misgiving. You have little hope that any belongings survived the blaze. The reek of smoke pervades the ruin. The walls are gone, the floor blackened, the wheels and axle broken. You decide that climbing on to the wreckage might lead to an injury you could ill afford, given your weakened condition and perilous circumstances. Still, it is possible that you might miss a valuable item if you restrict yourself to what you can reach while standing on ground level. [[You make the reasoned decision to limit yourself to what you can salvage from the wreckage from a safe position on the ground. Finding a valuable tool will be of no use if you break a leg.|3aSalvage]] [[You decide that having a closer look at the wreckage is worth the risk of possible injury.|3aiSalvage]]

You leave your reminiscence and climb to your feet, your joints stiff with cold. You look toward the remains of your wagon with misgiving. You have little hope that any belongings survived the blaze. The reek of smoke pervades the ruin. The walls are gone, the floor blackened, the wheels and axle broken. You decide that climbing on to the wreckage might lead to an injury you could ill afford, given your weakened condition and perilous circumstances. Still, it is possible that you might miss a valuable item if you restrict yourself to what you can reach while standing on ground level. [[You make the reasoned decision to limit yourself to what you can salvage from the wreckage from a safe position on the ground.|3bSalvage]] [[You decide that having a closer look at the wreckage is worth the risk of possible injury, if it will give you a better chance of finding the tools you will need to survive in the winter wild.|3biSalvage]]

(set: $alertText to (text-style:"Blur") + (text-style: "Blink")) $alertText[Blink...] You open your eyes in the thin grey light of early morning and swallow cautiously, feeling a harsh pain in your throat. Your body is numb with cold. A throbbing at your temple prevents you from rising quickly, but you sit up, stiffly. The smoke is gone, but the cold air reeks with the acrid scent of burnt wood. Dizzy, you look over at the burnt remains of your caravan. The blackened, eviscerated ruin bears little resemblance to your only home of the last three years. Your beloved horse Sansha is gone, your home is razed, and you are weak with cold and hunger. You wait for the world to stop spinning so you can gather the strength to arise and sift through the wreckage. You close your eyes and remember the events of the night before... [[You know you are alive today because you had the courage to fight those bastards in defense of your life.|1aFighter]] [[You know you are alive today because you were clever enough to find concealment until the danger had passed.|1bStealth]]

Not expecting your sneak attack, the hired sword directed his roving gaze towards the dark woods. The surprise worked to your advantage as he forgot to guard his vulnerable neck, left exposed above the heavy mail. Your forceful thrust made quick work of him. He crumpled, the dark stain of blood spreading in a pool on the white snow. The lantern smashed upon the stair and flames begin to lick up the side of the caravan. But you had no time to think of that, for you had already engaged the second swordsman. Defeating the second man would not be so easy as the first. You backed away from the doorway, hoping that, in his arrogance, he would choose to pursue you. He advanced, but cautiously, his panting breath rising up before him in puffs of white fog. He's nervous, you thought. Good. Suddenly he launched his attack. His thrust was weighted, heavy, but slow. You dodged, aware that a hit would easily pierce your leather armour in a killing stroke. You needed to move faster. And, if possible, engage the element of surprise. Weaving, dodging, prodding, thrusting, you manouvered the swordsman towards the front of the caravan where Sansha stood quietly, his black hide blending with the forest shadows. Caught up in the fight, the mercenary neglected to notice the horse behind him. At your sudden whistle, Sansha reared up, whinnying. The hired swordsman wheeled around with a swift and powerful strike, but too late. The horse's crushing hooves came down with force upon the mercenary's head. Sansha and the man fell together. Your brave horse had saved your life at the cost of his own. Weary with cold and effort, you staggered towards the burning caravan, only to be overwhelmed by the exhaustion and the swirling smoke. [[And then the flames reared up, the smoke thickened, and you knew no more...|2aSalvage]]

(set: $alertText to (text-style:"Bold") + (text-style: "Shadow") + (text-color:"Orange")) $alertText[Burnt Caravan] By Nina Kaye Original Artwork By Josh Haberman With Thanks To Fernando Restituto, Wind Jester Games, TOJAM [[Read Story|1Intro]] <img src="http://s23.postimg.org/5xfz8yaaz/Burning_Caravan_Splash.jpg" alt="smiley face" height="800" width="1000" />

Fear rippled through you as you observed their decisive, searching movements. These were not wandering highwaymen, but well paid mercenaries. But who had hired them? "Is this her caravan?" The first man asked in a rasping voice, his eyes shifting as he surveyed the area. "What else could it be?" Replied the second man, with an arrogant confidence. "We'll surprise her asleep." With that, the second mercenary burst through the door of the caravan, frightening Sansha, who reared up in alarm. The first man followed quickly behind him into the caravan. As the men crashed about inside your travelling home, you took the oppourtunity to better conceal yourself, calling on the Red Caps, the wild spirits of the oak, to shroud you in shadows. "She's not here!" Cried the keen-eyed first man, emerging from the caravan. "Should we search the forest?" "At night? We'll never find her." Answered the second man. "But it doesn't matter. No one can survive for long in the wilderness with no horse, no shelter, and no belongings. We'll take the horse, set fire to the caravan and leave her to the elements and the wild beasts of the woods." You shivered with more than cold at these ominous words. [[And then the flames reared up, the smoke thickened, and you knew no more...|2bSalvage]]

Absorbed in the task of sifting through the cinders, you do not notice the hungry mountain lion stalking you from behind. Standing on top of the wrecked caravan might have provided a better vantage point, giving you some advance warning of the impending attack. As it is, however, you do not even have the opportunity to defend yourself. The wildcat pounces with a growl, knocking you over. Starving, she does not take the time to toy with her prey, but kills you quickly with a bite to the neck. If you had survived the attack, you might have taken comfort in the fact that the mountain lion and her cubs were able to survive the harsh winter because of your noble sacrifice. (set: $alertText to(text-style:"shudder") + (text-color:"Red") + (text-style:"Bold"))$alertText[THE END]

You climb up onto the wreckage, the fragile floor of the wagon creaking ominously. You move gingerly, carefully testing each area of the weakened floor before applying your full weight. You make slow progress, finding nothing useful among the cinders. Disappointed, you are about to climb down, when you notice something glinting in the sunlight. You take a closer look at the rubble surrounding the unknown metal object. [You begin to remove the debris.]<shout|(click: ?shout)[ (replace: ?shout)[To uncover a small tin box.] ] Removing a tin box from the debris, you see that it is mostly unharmed, but the lock seems to have fused in the heat of the fire. You use your dagger to pry the box open. Discarding the now unusable box, you are delighted to discover that your grandmother's tarot deck, protected within the tin, survived the fire. [[You are growing colder by the second, and your empty stomach growls in protest, but you know you will feel calmer about choosing a direction if you seek the guidance of the divinatory deck of cards.|4bTarot]] [[You remove your scarf and use it to carefully wrap up the tarot cards for a later consultation. The wind bites more strongly against your naked neck, but you rest easy knowing you have protected the oracular energy of the mystical cards.|5bSurvival]]

Once you begin to sift through the cinders, you feel satisfied that you can conduct a thorough search of the wreckage from the safety of the ground. Anger wells up in you as you see just how little remains of your home and belongings. Treasured objects - your books, potions, your departed grandmother's warm quilt - are all charred and unusable. You are about to give up your search when you see the worn leather cover of a familiar book buried under a pile of rubble in the corner. [You begin to remove the debris.]<shout|(click: ?shout)[ (replace: ?shout)[And uncover a thick, well-worn tome.] ]You hold up the book, the Fighter's Manual, for inspection in the sunlight. You find, with relief, that it is unharmed. [[Although your extremities are growing numb from the cold, and your stomach growls with hunger, you decide that your next step is to search the bodies of the mercenaries and prepare the spirits of the dead men for their journey into the next world, in accordance with the dictates of custom outlined in the Fighter's Manual.|5aSearchBodies]] [[You open the Fighter's Manual, hoping for some guidance as to your next move.|4aManual]]

You climb up onto the wreckage, the fragile floor of the wagon creaking under your weight. You see something shining in the corner - perhaps it is your hunting knife. Excited at the prospect of recovering this useful tool, you trust your weight to a [weakened board...]<shout|(click: ?shout)[ (replace: ?shout)["CRASH!"] ] You fall through the burnt out floor of the caravan, your leg caught painfully by the broken wood. You struggle to free yourself when you hear a low growl. Looking up, you see a mountain lion pacing towards you, her green eyes glinting intensely. You reach for your sword, but the hilt is pinioned by your trapped leg. You have just enough time to whisper the Fighter's Oath; "Fight only in defense, serve only in honour, take only in need. Live fully, so that when Death comes, you will not fear to look him in the eye." Then the wildcat pounces with a growl, knocking you over. Starving, she does not take the time to toy with her prey, but kills you quickly with a bite to the neck. If you had survived the attack, you might have taken comfort in the fact that the mountain lion and her cubs were able to survive the harsh winter because of your noble sacrifice. (set: $alertText to (text-style:"shudder") + (text-color:"Red") + (text-style:"Bold"))$alertText[THE END]

You clear your mind in preparation for the divinitory casting. You allow calm to centre your state of emotional turmoil. Your grief for your missing horse, fear at the threats to your survival, and anger with the hired mercenaries stay with you, but you are able to achieve a focused, unbiased clarity. You shuffle the deck, and ask your question out loud; "Grandmother, please guide me. How can I survive this situation?" [[You pull the first card...|4biTarot]]

(set: $alertText to(text-style:"shudder") + (text-color:"Green") + (text-style:"Bold"))$alertText[TO BE CONTINUED]

Five Pentacles, your current state. <img src="http://s9.postimg.org/rvjao2w2n/five_of_pentacles.jpg" alt="smiley face" height="500" width="300" /> A shiver runs through you as you look at the two suffering figures depicted on the card. If you do not find warmth and shelter soon, you will die of exposure. [[You draw the second card...|4biiTarot]]

Knight of Swords, the current threat. <img src="http://s8.postimg.org/ssy190iw5/knightswords.jpg" alt="smiley face" height="500" width="300" /> The mercenaries, having changed their mind, are returning to finish the job. [[You draw the last card...|4biiiTarot]]

The action you should take - The Fool card...<img src="http://www.biddytarot.com/cards/fool.jpg" alt="smiley face" height="500" width="300" /> You smile, seeing your grandmother's wise and wrinkled face. "The Fool, my child, is a card of innocence, trust, and beginings. The fool's folly is a kind of wisdom: To accept what you do not know, Let the world show you where to go." You must begin your journey, follow your intincts, and trust that the forest will provide the means for your survival. A path will reveal itself if you look about you with open eyes. [[You thank your grandmother silently, wrap the cards in your scarf and pack them away in your bag. It is time to get moving, before the mercenaries return.|5bSurvival]]