Scattered across a wide stretch of hardpan: wooden debris, torn fabric, a broken wheel spoke. This was a caravan - a real one, with multiple carts. The wreckage stretches for fifty meters. Whatever hit them, they tried to run.
No bodies. Either they were taken, or they got out. A single boot sits upright in the dust, perfectly placed, as if its owner simply evaporated out of it.
Escolhas
1
Search the debris field. Caravans carry trade goods, and not everything breaks.
sem requisito
Sucesso
You work the edges of the wreckage and find a sealed tin wedged under a shattered plank. Inside: dried meat, a flint, and a tightly rolled strip of cured leather. Somebody's emergency stash that never got used.
Falha
The debris has been picked clean by someone faster than you. Every container is open, every crate empty. You find nothing but splinters and the uneasy feeling of arriving second.
2
Leave the wreckage alone. Caravan ambush sites attract scavengers, and not all of them are human.
sem requisito
Sucesso
You give the debris field a wide berth. Vultures circle overhead - they've found something you don't want to see. Whatever happened here is over, and you'd like to keep it that way.
Falha
3
The debris pattern tells a story - direction of travel, point of impact, whether they stopped or were stopped.
The carts were moving northeast when the lead wagon veered hard left - a blockage in the road. The second wagon hit the first. The third tried to go around and tipped. This wasn't an ambush - it was a forced stop. Something was placed in the road. You find the remnants: a cable stretched between two posts, now severed. Bandits, organized ones. You take the cable to sell later and note the ambush point for anyone who'll listen.
Falha
You read the debris as a high-speed collision - two carts hitting each other at a curve. But the terrain is flat with no curves for a kilometer. Your theory doesn't match the geography. The real story is more complex than the wreckage can tell you without more time than you have.