"What is this 'Freeman Brotherhood?'" Tebati asks Jeggare. "The Custodian mentioned them at the Trials."Ex-slaves mostly. They style themselves as freedom fighters who want slavery abolished and are aided by the underclass in Eleder, but recently they seem more like anti-government terrorists. I surmise they might have no idea what your task is but are still attempting to stop it purely to oppose the Grand Custodian.
Jeggare takes a deep breath, breathing the night air in before softly adding.
Or they know something we don't.
Tebati's eyes shoot across the campsite to N'bellocq. "Then you see a distinction between being anti-slavery and anti-government?" she asks Jeggare coolly. "Is it not the one institution which supports the other?" She tries to remember the disruption at the Trial of Athleticism. N'bellocq had been far ahead of the intruders, and her attention had been largely on his progress rather than on the scrum behind him.
I do see a distinction miss, especially as the Grand Custodian is taking steps to reduce Sargava's reliance on slave labour- not that any of the Freeman Brotherhood would answer his calls to stand down and work in helping to promote this policy. You'll see when we get to Freehold- that big ol' ranch is well ahead of its time in how it employs its workers.
Wristdeep in blood, N'bellocq looks up to catch Unwe's work on Qhude's back and gives a little shiver. He marvels at the faint scar left by Tebati's powers. On the river boat it was a hot knife and a stick to bite on.
He marvels at the skin, It was a good hunter and leaper. I take its powers upon myself.
The carcass, robbed of its power, will be fitting for some stew meat.
I do see a distinction miss, especially as the Grand Custodian is taking steps to reduce Sargava's reliance on slave labour- not that any of the Freeman Brotherhood would answer his calls to stand down and work in helping to promote this policy. You'll see when we get to Freehold- that big ol' ranch is well ahead of its time in how it employs its workers.
"Ah. 'Steps." Tebati replies mildly. "I believe I remember from his speech: a gradual reduction of slavery, while still recognizing all its benefits for 'petty criminals.'" Her angry eyes flash to N'bellocq again. "How many of these 'petty criminals' being humbled for the benefit of Sargava are of Avistani descent? Or are only native peoples capable of 'petty' enough crimes to warrant hard labor? These men weren't willing to wait generations for the Custodian's 'steps' finally to get where he says he's going -- or to trust that his successors will subscribe to the same policy. I fight on your side while our courses lie together, Jeggare, but don't try to make me believe that these men don't have reason to hate this government." Her voice has slowly risen as she was speaking and she is now clearly upset. Looking away from the caravan's leader, she crosses the clearing to pull her no-longer-glowing staff out of the mud. "When we get to Freehold," she adds as an afterthought, still not looking back at Jeggare, "if the ranch is owned by a Mwangi, while fair-skinned workers labor in its fields? Then I'll be impressed." She stalks away toward the mass grave being dug, turning over some of the dead men with her foot to see if any of their backs bear scars like N'bellocq's.
Jeggare shrugs, not nearly as moved by Tebati's fiery words as perhaps he should be. He makes one point before she stalks off.
Of course there are more Mwangi slaves, miss. There are more Mwangi citizens of Sargava and thus more criminals. I'm not saying their cause isn't a just one- but attacking a festival, killing innocents, causing stampedes in Eleder... Their methods do as much harm to their own as the colonials, when they lose sight of being an anti-slave organisation and become terrorists attacking the country as a whole.
Tebati's quick inspection reveals the signs of many scars on the warriors, and not just on their backs. Its hard to tell whether they were battle marks like Qhude's or results of the lash.
Tebati takes the chance while she is there, leaning over the bodies, to murmur a quick blessing over the dead men. "May the spirits welcome you. May you find the freedom in death you were denied in life. May every mark of the lash be redeemed by a scar received fighting as a free man." She straightens up, gripping her holy symbol, and ends with the traditional Bonuwat funeral liturgy. "Everything ends but the sea and the sky."
After she finishes removing the dangerous musk from the area, Ansha approaches Albert, brushing her fingers over his forearm lightly (). "Want me to handle the...interrogations? I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," she says with a smirk and a wink. Before he answers, she glances over her shoulders at the prisoners and continues, "I'll need an hour or so to prepare."
Qhude endures his stitching and poultice application in stoic silence, not showing much exterior sign of the pain. He does turn his head to watch Unwe work on him when he can, though his mouth does not proffer any further questioning. When she is done, he gives a simple nod and touches fist to chest in appreciation before turning back to his lion - completing his work skinning the beast.
Albert seems to succumb to Ansha's charms and smiles a little.
Well, if you think such work is fitting for you my lady, who am I to argue. But i'll be on hand in case they are too much trouble for you.
A couple of hours has passed and the camp seems to be mostly winding down for the night again. The gear taken from the attackers has been organised and placed into a wagon- Albert has informed you that you are free to help yourself, within reason, and the rest will be treated as supplies for the expedition.
Ansha spends the interim hours studying her spellbook. After she prepares, she approaches Nolwazi and Thenjiwee, who are guarding the two prisoners. "Wake one of them up for me, would you? Let's see if we can't get some answers from him."
Jakob spends the two hours after the fight helping to get the damaged wagon as repaired as possible.
After that he washes off what blood the rain has not taken care of before seeking out Tebati and anyone with her.
"Thank you for caring for those poor men. I can't be sure but I think the stains on their lips were from some kind of numbing drug. They may not even have known it when they died. Not that it makes much difference to them."
"There have been way to many coincidences lately. The freedmen attack on the Trials, the pirates knowing when to attack yet leaving themselves so open to a counter...now this. I think this trip will be quite interesting. The freedmen, or whoever is behind this, know where the caravan is so they can reach out to us at will. N"
"Our presence is bringing danger to the others. It might be better to strike off on our own and send the caravan back. They will still be able to find us but it will take them a bit longer and the attacks might be more improvised and easier to overcome. Of nothing else we will be the only ones to die."
Ansha seems far too preoccupied with removing the musk from her clothing to respond to Tebati's question about the cantrip removing blood. She spends quite a while removing every last trace of blood and musk from her clothing, but after she is finished she lets her eyes travel up and down Tebati. Closing her eyes, she visualizes the shamaness in her mind and begins removing the bloodstains on Tebati in her mind--with a corresponding change in reality. When she's finished, she opens her emerald eyes and looks at Tebati again. "I think that answers your question," she says with a lopsided smile.
Tebati grows a bit uncomfortable as the elf's eyes roam over her body; she crosses her arms over her to feel slightly less unclothed. When Ansha closes her eyes and the bloodstains start to disappear with alarming accuracy, she is momentarily startled and then stands very still until the elf's eyes open again, as if afraid that if she moves, the magic might miss and take off a finger or a rib. "That is nothing like doing laundry at the river," she breathes to Ansha, turning away as Jeggare approaches.
Wristdeep in blood, N'bellocq looks up to catch Unwe's work on Qhude's back and gives a little shiver. He marvels at the faint scar left by Tebati's powers. On the river boat it was a hot knife and a stick to bite on.
He marvels at the skin, It was a good hunter and leaper. I take its powers upon myself.
The carcass, robbed of its power, will be fitting for some stew meat.
She turns away from the dead men, still angry over the caravan master's words. Glancing over at the temporary abattoir, she sees that Unwe is tending to Qhude and winces at the field medic's barbaric methods. Like she's patching a torn cloak, she thinks, watching the draw of the needle. N'bellocq is alone now, finishing up his job with the lion's carcass. Allowing Unwe a respectful berth, she approaches her cousin, careful to avoid spoiling Ansha's magical cleaning work with fresh blood. "Cousin," she drops a hand onto his shoulder, "you shot well. Ansha likely owes you her life. Shimye-Magalla was with you tonight."
Qhude endures his stitching and poultice application in stoic silence, not showing much exterior sign of the pain. He does turn his head to watch Unwe work on him when he can, though his mouth does not proffer any further questioning. When she is done, he gives a simple nod and touches fist to chest in appreciation before turning back to his lion - completing his work skinning the beast.
When the soldier woman has finished her bloody work and gone away, Tebati approaches Qhude deliberately. When he has nodded his acknowledgement of her company, she crouches down near him, again careful to avoid trailing her freshly-cleaned garment in the blood. "You have won many scars tonight -- and more from Unwe's ministrations," she adds wryly. "I have healing yet unspent. Will you accept it? I warn you, I cannot promise needle-pricks and smelly ointments."
Jakob spends the two hours after the fight helping to get the damaged wagon as repaired as possible.
After that he washes off what blood the rain has not taken care of before seeking out Tebati and anyone with her.
"Thank you for caring for those poor men. I can't be sure but I think the stains on their lips were from some kind of numbing drug. They may not even have known it when they died. Not that it makes much difference to them."
"There have been way to many coincidences lately. The freedmen attack on the Trials, the pirates knowing when to attack yet leaving themselves so open to a counter...now this. I think this trip will be quite interesting. The freedmen, or whoever is behind this, know where the caravan is so they can reach out to us at will."
"Our presence is bringing danger to the others. It might be better to strike off on our own and send the caravan back. They will still be able to find us but it will take them a bit longer and the attacks might be more improvised and easier to overcome. If nothing else we will be the only ones to die."
Tebati blinks at him. Seventeen days she has known him and the thoughts that come out of his mouth still have the capacity to dumbfound her. "I would be dead now without the caravan," she tells him quietly. "There would have been no one between me and the attackers from the south. There would have been no wagons, no obstacles to keep the lion from Ansha. Perhaps the battle as seen from the north was such as to inspire your confidence that the handful of us could have managed it, but seeing the soldiers fall and rise and fall again on the south instilled no such certainty in me.
"Even if we were to agree that this was the best course of action, is it our decision to make? The soldiers are under orders from General Morvius to protect us. Will they simply turn back because we tell them to? Would they not be risking disgrace and punishment back in Eleder for insubordination? And Jeggare, little as I like him, is the only one who knows where we're going. Without him, how are we to find our destination?"
"And I would like to add that they are just that," Kieran continues as Tebati finishes, moving to stand next to her as he too addresses Jakob, "soldiers. They are not innocent bystanders but trained men and women with a mission and a duty."
He smiles. "Now admittedly, I am not one to speak about following orders and some such, but I do agree that without them we would probably have been overwhelmed. And, quite frankly, that does not sit particularly well with me. I find life rather better than the alternative."
"Regardless," the half-elf sighs softly, "it is not your choice or mine to send them back or not. Such a decision is theirs alone, I should think."
When the soldier woman has finished her bloody work and gone away, Tebati approaches Qhude deliberately. When he has nodded his acknowledgement of her company, she crouches down near him, again careful to avoid trailing her freshly-cleaned garment in the blood. "You have won many scars tonight -- and more from Unwe's ministrations," she adds wryly. "I have healing yet unspent. Will you accept it? I warn you, I cannot promise needle-pricks and smelly ointments."
Smiling with equal wryness "Most of these scars were given... only one has been earnt." the uncovered wound at his chest now crusting over with dried blood. Qhude then nods "If you have healing to give Sangoma, I would accept with thanks."
After she has performed her magic, Qhude turns to the lion. "A fine beast is it not." wringing his hands and flaking off some of the crustier blood upon them. Qhude is not sad to have slain the mbube, but obviously respects it "It will make for a stout cloak I think... and something to steal some of the air's chill at night."
Trying to find the least gory place to touch him, she slides her hand onto the side of his neck, beneath his ear. "Shimye-Magalla, flow through me," she murmurs as the positive energy cascades through his body like a waterfall, healing some of the wounds beneath his bandages but leaving his honor scar unchanged.
"It is a fine beast, felled by a mighty warrior," she readily agrees. "And for those with the taste for it, the meat will feed us for days." She looks less than enthusiastic about the prospect, used to a diet of fish and fruit.
Tebati nods. "Even with your new title, I do not think this is an order you can give and expect to be obeyed. The caravan is not solely for our benefit; it carries supplies that are needed at the General's camp. That said," she goes on a bit cynically, "we ourselves are no doubt the most valuable commodity among the cargo. The Custodian went to no small expense to stage the Trials, and he is not about to allow us simply to wander away after feeding, housing and training us. His palace was a prison, albeit a luxurious one. This, no doubt, is a traveling prison, the soldiers here not only to protect us but to make sure we go where we are sent. If you doubt me, try to walk away."
"Jakob," she relents a little, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder and gazing deeply into his eyes, "I do not intend to let anyone die defending us, no more than I intend to die myself for the Custodian's dream. But we are not free to do as we wish. After all, if you were to purchase a passel of slaves at market to work your new land, would you point them to the road out of Eleder and trust them to deliver themselves?"
Letting the energy flow through and over him with eyes closed, Qhude taps his fist to his ches in thanks. Wry smile unchanged he replies "You should tell Ansha you think her a mighty warrior, as it was she who passed the mbube from this world.... If it was by my hand there would be a second crease upon my chest." Nodding thanks, Qhude completes his work on the mbube's skin - after he strips it off he notes many places where stray flesh is still attached to the coat and needs go over the skin with his blade once more.
"No need to hurry, Qhude" Kieran quips with the smile and the somewhat flippant tone that seems to be characteristic of the half-elf. "I am sure you will have ample opportunity to add to your... collection before all this is over. But for now..."
Still smiling, Kieran's silver eyes meet the Mwangi warrior's as he finishes, "That was most impressive and worthy of respect. How many are those that can say they fought a lion with their bare hands and came out of the ordeal not only the victors, but with the marks to prove it?"
His eyes momentarily drift to the animal's skin. "A fine cloak indeed, beastslayer. If you will excuse me?"
Taking his leave, Kieran approaches Ansha next. "How are you? Certainly all healed up now and I do not seem to detect any residual... odor?" There is a soft chuckle barely suppressed, but his following words as he sits next to the elven mage sound -and are- sincere. "Should I start calling you by some catchy moniker as well, Ansha? You more than held your own and also felled a lion. I am impressed! You did really well...," he says before quickly adding, "for an elfmaiden." His tone, however, is teasing in a friendly way, not mocking, a tone the sorceress is quite accustomed to.
Taking Kieran's praise grudgingly, Qhude seeks to downplay "The beasts were young, and I did not slay mine alone - unlike N'Bellocq. He is more worthy than I this night."
Taking Kieran's praise grudgingly, Qhude seeks to downplay "The beasts were young, and I did not slay mine alone - unlike N'Bellocq. He is more worthy than I this night."
Pleased to hear her cousin praised, Tebati does not point out that the collapse of the wagon probably contributed to the lion's wounds a little.
N'bellocq comes back to the skinning worksite and deposits a pile of thin young trees and several lengths of vine. "We can build frames to stretch out the hides as they dry. Perhaps let them ride on top of the wagons and let the sun do its work."
He goes and rummages in the supply wagon and comes out with a container of salt. "Rub some of that that in. Helps the drying and keeps away the bugs."
Tebati nods. " ...the soldiers here not only to protect us but to make sure we go where we are sent. If you doubt me, try to walk away."
"... But we are not free to do as we wish. After all, if you were to purchase a passel of slaves at market to work your new land, would you point them to the road out of Eleder and trust them to deliver themselves?"
Jakob becomes absolutely still and his voice grows cold and clipped. The squabbling of the carrion birds grows quiet.
"I will thank you to never refer to me as a slave holder. My family traffics in talking-cargo but I do not, I expect I will be pulling their knives from my back before this is over. Should that land ever prove to be more than a bribe rest assured that no slave will ever work there. If I could manage the strength to enforce the edict I would free every bound-man from here to the Linnorm-kings."Jakob takes a fresh breath with some effort and the birds resume their raucous dinner.
"Do you seriously think this caravan could hold us if we did not choose to be held? Would they choose to detain Ansha? Could Kieran not vanish in the night? You or I could simply walk into the jungle if we chose and they would be hard pressed to find or follow us. Heavens help them if Qhude or your cousin were detained against their will. The palace was a prison yes but here there are no walls and the guards an afterthought. The only hold they have on us is our greed. We do not know the path to the custodian's little project and so we must follow. But if, perhaps with some help from the more persuasive among us, we were to acquire that information then we could make our own way and by so doing remove the target from the caravan. At least that is how I see it."
Qhude was knew of the means to cure and tan a hide from his youth as a butcher's apprentice among the Bas'o, but he accepted N'Bellocqs guidance easily. As he finishes his work on the hide, he sever's the lion's head, paws and tail - leaving a stretched flat blanket like pelt.
"I've...had better nights. But I'm alive, and that gods-awful smell is gone. But please, if you find a catchy moniker, do let me know. I'm due an everyday name yet," she says, half-smiling as she places a finger on the place she had been reading in her spellbook. "I thought for sure I was going to die when that lion leapt up after me. Thank the Song of the Spheres that my destiny isn't to be that lion's dinner--and N'Bellocq for being such a crack shot. You came out of it well enough though, I see."
Jakob becomes absolutely still and his voice grows cold and clipped. The squabbling of the carrion birds grows quiet.
"I will thank you to never refer to me as a slave holder. My family traffics in talking-cargo but I do not, I expect I will be pulling their knives from my back before this is over. Should that land ever prove to be more than a bribe rest assured that no slave will ever work there. If I could manage the strength to enforce the edict I would free every bound-man from here to the Linnorm-kings."Jakob takes a fresh breath with some effort and the birds resume their raucous dinner.
"Do you seriously think this caravan could hold us if we did not choose to be held? Would they choose to detain Ansha? Could Kieran not vanish in the night? You or I could simply walk into the jungle if we chose and they would be hard pressed to find or follow us. Heavens help them if Qhude or your cousin were detained against their will. The palace was a prison yes but here there are no walls and the guards an afterthought. The only hold they have on us is our greed. We do not know the path to the custodian's little project and so we must follow. But if, perhaps with some help from the more persuasive among us, we were to acquire that information then we could make our own way and by so doing remove the target from the caravan. At least that is how I see it."
"And I'll thank you not to ascribe motives to me," she steps closer and tells him in a voice that is no less angry for being low. "You may be walking this path due to greed; I walk it as a scholar of my people's history. You claim to wish to preserve the lives of those who travel with us and in the next breath suggest we fight our way free of them or steal away and leave them to suffer the consequences of their failure to obey orders. And you may be an expert jungle survivalist, but you quite overestimate me. I am a city girl, from a city older and finer and more civilized than any in the land of Sargava; I have no experience living in the wild. But please, feel free to continue to presume that because my skin is dark I live in a grass hut and hunt and kill my own food." She steps back, her lips an angry line. "Do what you will, Jakob, but stop asking us for our opinions when all you really want is our agreement."
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To Tebati "As you wish. I will bother you no further."
Jakob returns to helping the others get the caravan ready to move. Or digging a massgrave if that is needed for the attackers and the less edible bits of the lions.
thinking, "...a city older and finer and more civilized than any in the land of Sargava."She worships a bit of driftwood. Actually that may well put her ahead of the old homestead in the civilation stakes. I wonder if we could elect it grand custodian."
"Pity. Still it is good to know I am on my own. As if I have ever been anything but. The close quarters will be uncomfortable but I've survived worse. Besides I can always walk into the jungle if I need to."
Jakob smiles and chuckles to himself "expert jungle survivalist".
Tebati bites her lip as Jakob walks away, still angry at his arrogance but clearly regretting the rift in the group. She turns to Kieran to gauge his reaction. "Is what I said wrong in your eyes?" she asks quietly.
Tebati watches Kieran approach Ansha and sit by her, their heads close together as they speak. "Dry clothes," she decides, drier than what she has on anyway. If she lays out the garment she is wearing near one of the campfires, it might dry before morning. Although the wagon they were riding in is collapsed, her bedroll was the one nearest the back; she is able to retrieve it without getting too much in the way of Mengak and slip into one of the other wagons behind some crates for a bit of privacy. When the lion brought down the canvas, the spare garment she stored in her bedroll got a little damp, but compared to the drenched clothing she wore into the rainstorm, it is as good as dry. She unbuckles her leather armor and strips off the wet clothing, pausing to examine the skin where she took near-mortal blows, now smooth as the sea in a calm. Pulling the only-damp garment over her head, she hesitates to re-equip her armor; it is stiff and smells heavily from the damp, but she knows it will be more pliable and conformed to her shape if she lets it dry on her body so she reluctantly rebuckles its straps before ducking back out.
Laying her clean but wet clothing near one of the campfires to dry, she goes to find Unwe. "You are well?" she asks her. "I understand it is ... disorienting to pass from darkness to consciousness and back again so quickly. You would not have died from the javelin wound. If it had not been for the lions, I would have tried to spare you the experience." She smiles a little. "I would have been wrong. You were needed in the battle."
Laying her clean but wet clothing near one of the campfires to dry, she goes to find Unwe. "You are well?" she asks her. "I understand it is ... disorienting to pass from darkness to consciousness and back again so quickly. You would not have died from the javelin wound. If it had not been for the lions, I would have tried to spare you the experience." She smiles a little. "I would have been wrong. You were needed in the battle."
The Mwangi medic seems tense, but loosens up a little as she chuckles at her own thought as she replies to Tebati-
They don't prepare you for that kind of experience in training. You did the right thing. I feel sort of detached from everything now though, like I don't quite belong here suddenly. Do you have any experience with that?
As Tebati and Kieran exchange words with Jakob, Qhude observes their demeanor as he works on the lion carcass. Seeing Jakob's expression turn jovial at the talk's completion where Tebati's remains flushed his brow furrows.
The Mwangi medic seems tense, but loosens up a little as she chuckles at her own thought as she replies to Tebati-
They don't prepare you for that kind of experience in training. You did the right thing. I feel sort of detached from everything now though, like I don't quite belong here suddenly. Do you have any experience with that?
"I? No," she responds with a slight smile. "Tonight was the closest to death I have ever come, and although it dimmed, the light never went out of my eyes. But perhaps it is the very quickness of the healing that is unsettling. Had you healed naturally from your wound, it would have taken several days for your body and mind to recuperate, to swim slowly back to the surface of consciousness, rather than being plunged in and out of the darkness like a man who has fallen overboard into stormy seas and is pulled downward by the tide and upward by those trying to save him. It is like the difference between sitting before dawn and watching the sunrise and stepping suddenly from a dark place into a blazing afternoon, or between awakening in the morning and being startled from your sleep in the middle of the night. But that is all it is. You were vulnerable and helpless, but they still would have had to take action to kill you. I did not pluck you back from the brink of death; I only hastened the process of your healing."
Tebati bites her lip as Jakob walks away, still angry at his arrogance but clearly regretting the rift in the group. She turns to Kieran to gauge his reaction. "Is what I said wrong in your eyes?" she asks quietly.
Kieran takes a moment to think before answering. "I think your perspectives are different and what is more, you both feel rather strongly about them."
"I too believe that, as far as as the Custodian is concerned, we are...," the half-elf continues before pausing briefly to search for the right word, "an investment and he is not about to let us go about without at least a way to check on us and make sure we do what we are supposed to."
"Jakob's heart is in the right place, I think. It is just that some times he seems to think with it as well," Kieran shrugs, the words accompanied by a soft chuckle. "Add to that his background as a noble and, from what I can tell, the white sheep in a family of black ones and there you have it probably."
"He should, however, work on the cooperation thing a bit more though, I do agree with that," he finishes with a smile.
The rest of the night is somewhat uncomfortable for you as you have been downgraded from cramped quarters inside the wagon to sleeping on bedrolls atop canvas atop soggy ground- but the fire is warm and the soldiers share their tea with you, made in a small stove owned by Nolwazi. The sun comes out in full force early in the morning to a clear blue sky, and the caravan begins to rise along with it.
As you make your preparations for the day ahead along with the rest of the expeditionary team and guards, Tebati is found praying for guidance and her daily allotment of divine power from Shimye-Magalla while Ansha is poring over her spellbook in earnest, getting ready for the interrogation ahead. Qhude and N'bellocq are checking over their pelts, making a few adjustments to the straps to ensure they are securely held for the journey. The young lions manes were still growing and sported rather small manes, but their youth gives the pelts a beautiful golden glow in the sun that looks more like a lioness pelt without the limbs and head. Over the other sounds of morning breakfast and preparation, the distinctive sound of Kieran sharpening his blades with a whetstone can be heard ringing out across the camp. Meanwhile, Jakob is pondering what the spirits of nature will reveal to him this day; his eyes wander to the rabbit caught by one of the caravan's hunters nearby, the flocks of birds overhead and the speed and direction of the wind, one hand in a pouch where he keeps a small quantity of sand ready. As he ponders this at the southern edge of the camp, a small black-footed ferret approaches within 30 feet of him, watching him curiously, and without fear- almost as though drawn to him.
Oblivious of the worry some of you have that they are your keepers and cleverly disguised gaolers, the soldiers are far warmer to you today than they have been previously, smiling and making small talk in between their chores- it seems now they have fought alongside you they feel a natural bond developing with you. Having for some reason emerged from their wagon a little later than the other guards, the bright-eyed Stephanie calls Jakob over to help her don her scale armour, causing the rakish Mengak to snicker quietly to himself and whisper something to Albert. Commenting bitterly that whetstones aren't made available "in the field", Nolwazi sits and watches Kieran work, drawing his own short sword and politely asking Kieran to sharpen his blade too. Unwe seems to hover intermittently between Tebati and Qhude when her free time permits it, anxiously checking Qhude's wound and watching Tebati curiously. Thenjiwee keeps a vigil over the two gagged, bound and concious prisoners.
The labourers, porters and other hirelings seem to keep themselves pretty busy and most report directly to Jeggare. As usual, you have very little interaction with them beyond some minor conversation and being served a morning breakfast of crushed nuts, fruit and some bread and carrots. Most of the entire caravan is taking shelter from the morning sun in the shade of two of the intact caravans, while the horses are being given a rub down and some feed in the shade of the third.
Sounds like you have the right of it. Don't get me wrong, i'm glad you kept me fighting but... that rapid healing really hurts. I don't know how adventurers can get used to it on such a regular occurrence. Albert told me to take it easy tomorrow, to rest and let the others do mos of the work. What your saying about my... my mind healing. Sounds like you have similar ideas. Did you use to be a sailor? You seem to speak of storms a lot.
After checking his pelt, Qhude takes his breakfast crouched a short distance from the prisoners. He does not approach, but does keep a weather eye on them for a time as he eats. Given that Qhude saw no need to cleanse the remaining blood and mud from his body he likely cuts a somewhat macarbe figure. When his breakfast is finished he rises to stretch and work out his joints and muscles with a light run around the wagons.
Unwe's hovering is not rewarded until she speaks a request directly, but Qhude creates no barrier between her and her perceived duty checking his wounds. As with the time that the poultices and bandages were first applied, Qhude watches with silence... finding no reason to probe any further with words. When her work is complete, Qhude touches his chest in thanks and returns to what he was first engaged with.
Finding Tebati at prayer as usual at the dawn, Qhude takes a relaxed seat a short distance before her and waits for a break in her reflection before intruding.
Sounds like you have the right of it. Don't get me wrong, i'm glad you kept me fighting but... that rapid healing really hurts. I don't know how adventurers can get used to it on such a regular occurrence. Albert told me to take it easy tomorrow, to rest and let the others do mos of the work. What your saying about my... my mind healing. Sounds like you have similar ideas. Did you use to be a sailor? You seem to speak of storms a lot.
"Not a sailor," she shakes her head, "although I've spent much of my life on the water. I served a term as a ship's healer before coming to Sargava. And my family were fishermen. I spent a great deal of time as a little girl on my father's boat, although all I learned to do was hand nets to people who needed them, not fall overboard, and stay out of the way of the people who knew what they were doing. If I had not been chosen by the shamaness, I might have learned more before I married. My cousin and I," she nods across the caravan at N'bellocq stretching his lion hide, "we are Bonuwat. Even when we are not sailors, we tend to stay near the water, whether river or sea. And you? Who were you before you became a soldier?"
Kieran takes a moment to think before answering. "I think your perspectives are different and what is more, you both feel rather strongly about them."
"I too believe that, as far as as the Custodian is concerned, we are...," the half-elf continues before pausing briefly to search for the right word, "an investment and he is not about to let us go about without at least a way to check on us and make sure we do what we are supposed to."
"Jakob's heart is in the right place, I think. It is just that some times he seems to think with it as well," Kieran shrugs, the words accompanied by a soft chuckle. "Add to that his background as a noble and, from what I can tell, the white sheep in a family of black ones and there you have it probably."
"He should, however, work on the cooperation thing a bit more though, I do agree with that," he finishes with a smile.
She nods at his words, gazing away thoughtfully into the night. "Everyone is right, and everyone is wrong; it only matters whose eyes are doing the perceiving. I had not considered how his family have affected him. He grew up privileged, with few equals and many servants, and those who were his equals, he finally rejected. He is used to considering no one's counsel but his own."
She shakes her head. "To understand him is not to excuse him. I will be no man's inferior; Qhude has killed in defense of his dignity; and N'bellocq has already spent enough years in which his opinion was worth nothing. How can this group work together when he respects none of us? When he believes that nothing we say is of any value?"
Tebati's rise an hour before dawn is already a common sight to those taking the early morning watch. Although she takes full advantage of the quiet before the rest of the caravan rises with the sun, she continues her meditation despite the commotion around her.
Finding Tebati at prayer as usual at the dawn, Qhude takes a relaxed seat a short distance before her and waits for a break in her reflection before intruding.
When the sun is well up, Tebati opens her eyes to see Qhude waiting for her and smiles. "Good morning," she wishes him and waits for him to speak his piece.
While he waited Qhude had been idly picking at the newformed scab over his honor scar - prolonging it's healing and bringing fresh blood to weep across his skin.
"It is a good morning Sangoma." he says with a genuine warmth "After the night we have shared the new day seems brighter to my eyes. Did you find the night good also?"
Finally finished with her spell preparations shortly after the porters start to serve breakfast, Ansha stows away her spellbook in the satchel she keeps at her side and joins the rest of the expedition under the cover of one of the wagons that hadn't collapsed under her last night. Idly chewing on a mango, she approaches the pair of prisoners after she notices that they are awake. "Good morning, boys," she says softly in Polyglot. "Fine morning, too, isn't it? A bit hot out in the open, but the shade and that slight breeze...."
Sparing a sideways glance at Qhude nearby, she smiles at one of the two prisoners. "A good day to be alive. I'd much rather that we all keep it that way, but my friend here--" she indicates Qhude with a nod of her head--"might need some convincing after last night. I'd love to help, but you two will need to give me something to work with. A few answered questions, maybe. Questions like, Why did you attack us? Who sent you? How did you know where we were?"
If this doesn't work, we'll move on to the spells, she thinks to herself. Her eyes move between the two Mwangi, studying them. Hm, which one's the cuter of the two?
"It is a good morning Sangoma." he says with a genuine warmth "After the night we have shared the new day seems brighter to my eyes. Did you find the night good also?"
Equal parts amused and exasperated by the pleasure he found in the battle, her hands are unconsciously drawn to her ribs where the terbutjes crushed bone. "None in my charge died," she tells him wryly. "That in itself makes it a good night."
Brow furrowing slightly at Tebati's answer "And is that the only measure that holds import to you?" taking in Tebati's hand movement and quick cleansing the night before he continues "It would seem that you hold as much stock in leaving your skin unbroken as I have in breaking my own..."
She smiles at him. "I am a healer, Qhude, not a warrior. My success lies not in the number of enemies slain but in the number of allies kept alive." She flushes slightly as she realizes where her hands have gone and deliberatly folds them in her lap. "I could claim that I was largely concerned with what would happen to the rest of you if you had to go on without a healer, but all that I could think in that moment was that I wanted to live and be whole. I am not Bas'o. Among my people, a woman with scars is not highly to be prized."
After checking his pelt, Qhude takes his breakfast crouched a short distance from the prisoners. He does not approach, but does keep a weather eye on them for a time as he eats. Given that Qhude saw no need to cleanse the remaining blood and mud from his body he likely cuts a somewhat macarbe figure. When his breakfast is finished he rises to stretch and work out his joints and muscles with a light run around the wagons.
Unwe's hovering is not rewarded until she speaks a request directly, but Qhude creates no barrier between her and her perceived duty checking his wounds. As with the time that the poultices and bandages were first applied, Qhude watches with silence... finding no reason to probe any further with words. When her work is complete, Qhude touches his chest in thanks and returns to what he was first engaged with.
Unwe finishes her ministrations and turns up her nose at Qhude, squinting at him in a mocking manner.
Yes yes, you look very manly and animalistic covered in all that blood and muck but have you considered that you could get an infection from it? That and your going to reek in a couple of days time. Go find a stream or a basin and wash yourself already, bruiser. Your not impressing anyone- not since last night, anyway.
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"Not a sailor," she shakes her head, "although I've spent much of my life on the water. I served a term as a ship's healer before coming to Sargava. And my family were fishermen. I spent a great deal of time as a little girl on my father's boat, although all I learned to do was hand nets to people who needed them, not fall overboard, and stay out of the way of the people who knew what they were doing. If I had not been chosen by the shamaness, I might have learned more before I married. My cousin and I," she nods across the caravan at N'bellocq stretching his lion hide, "we are Bonuwat. Even when we are not sailors, we tend to stay near the water, whether river or sea. And you? Who were you before you became a soldier?"
Your early life sounds wonderful Tebati. Unwe says with a jealous sigh.
I'm young for the age in which I graduated at the military academy- most my age haven't seen as much combat as I have. I... I used to be a street urchin in Eleder. My family and I would beg and steal to survive- but Sargava is always looking for willing souls to fight, with the death rate in Kalabuto so high. Now I get a fair wage, enough to support my family while I serve my country. I had a knack as a medic so they assigned me to Albert's squad- we might not look it at first glance but we're all well trained and none of us are green. I'm hoping a good performance in this group will eventually get me a promotion. The brass could use more color, if you ask me.
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Sparing a sideways glance at Qhude nearby, she smiles at one of the two prisoners. "A good day to be alive. I'd much rather that we all keep it that way, but my friend here--" she indicates Qhude with a nod of her head--"might need some convincing after last night. I'd love to help, but you two will need to give me something to work with. A few answered questions, maybe. Questions like, Why did you attack us? Who sent you? How did you know where we were?"
If this doesn't work, we'll move on to the spells, she thinks to herself. Her eyes move between the two Mwangi, studying them. Hm, which one's the cuter of the two?
Ansha's approach is unusually aggressive rather than conciliatory with her questioning, perhaps the horrible pee incident and having a lion set on her unconciously coloring her voice and body language. The two prisoners clam up, one of them spitting to the ground defiantly and the other boasting in Polyglot-
We are not afraid to die for our cause, b!%$&. These bindings are far lighter than the burdens we have already borne in this life. Whore of Eleder, waste not our time and yours!
Despite their bravado, Ansha notices their hands are trembling a little and their faces are pale...
One save from moderate addiction.
One save from moderate addiction.
Meanwhile, Jakob is pondering what the spirits of nature will reveal to him this day; his eyes wander to the rabbit caught by one of the caravan's hunters nearby, the flocks of birds overhead and the speed and direction of the wind, one hand in a pouch where he keeps a small quantity of sand ready. As he ponders this at the southern edge of the camp, a small black-footed ferret approaches within 30 feet of him, watching him curiously, and without fear- almost as though drawn to him.
Jakob watches the sky and relaxes in the birdsong. A great variety of birds have been drawn to the conflict site. The flies came for the blood and the birds for the larva. He wonders what this says about his own strange journey.
He notices the ferrett.
"Hello little friend. There has been some excitment here, have you come to see?"
"Hmmm I think I can find something for you since you are so brave."
Jakob tosses the black footed interloper the rest of the small sweet apple he was eating.
Added roll to post. Looks like Jakob made a new friend.
Ansha's approach is unusually aggressive rather than conciliatory with her questioning, perhaps the horrible pee incident and having a lion set on her unconciously coloring her voice and body language. The two prisoners clam up, one of them spitting to the ground defiantly and the other boasting in Polyglot-
We are not afraid to die for our cause, b~~*~. These bindings are far lighter than the burdens we have already borne in this life. Whore of Eleder, waste not our time and yours!
Despite their bravado, Ansha notices their hands are trembling a little and their faces are pale...
Sense Motive or a Heal check could reveal more.
Ansha frowns at the one who cursed at her, giving him an exaggeratedly-hurt look. "That's hardly any way to talk to me, my friend. We are all friends here," she says. Quietly, she begins murmuring the words to a spell, her hands making small, clipped gestures that are no less exact for their attempted inobtrusiveness.
Your early life sounds wonderful Tebati. Unwe says with a jealous sigh.
I'm young for the age in which I graduated at the military academy- most my age haven't seen as much combat as I have. I... I used to be a street urchin in Eleder. My family and I would beg and steal to survive- but Sargava is always looking for willing souls to fight, with the death rate in Kalabuto so high. Now I get a fair wage, enough to support my family while I serve my country. I had a knack as a medic so they assigned me to Albert's squad- we might not look it at first glance but we're all well trained and none of us are green. I'm hoping a good performance in this group will eventually get me a promotion. The brass could use more color, if you ask me.
Serving the country that let your family beg to survive? And the price of a dignified existence is to offer its daughter's life to be taken in battle? she wonders but keeps her thoughts from her face. "General Morvius must be quite an example to you then: a Mwangi who has risen so far."