Zesaste nodded agreement and in short order, gathered his things. An unseen force left Kieran's sword and dagger beside his unconscious body. It did not take him long to finish gathering his valuables and with a bulging sack over his shoulder he made his exit from the house, watching N'bellocq warily. He slowly produced a scroll from his inside pocket and left it on the ground.
For what its worth, I hope you get Salgarth. Give Kieran my regards. Good day to you all...
"It is worth nothing," Tebati replies coldly and waits until he is on his way. Then she sits down and gathers the child-sized man into her lap, channeling energy until he comes to.
One corner of Ansha's lips twitch into a brief half-smile, almost of apology, as Zesaste departs. "Namárië," she says, voicing an Elven farewell, then turning to look at her trio of companions. Fighting down the triumphant smile threatening to creep onto her face--the sort usually accompanied by the words I told you so or You should have listened to me in the first place--she incants the words to a pair of cantrips in quick succession (), then kneels and retrieves the scroll. First scouring the scroll for auras of its own, once satisfied, she then unfurls it and reviews the spell written within.
Seeing Jakob's wounds Qhude glances around the jail for any lingering threat as he asks "What happened Jakob? Who has drawn your blood?" though Jakob can likely tell that his pallor is flushed by emotion as well as the exertion of running to the jail. "The others are at the elf's tower..." a flash of anger wells and plays across his face "...I will stay with Tabansi, you should go to them."
"The what is simple. I was stabbed with that." Here the noble indicates a short sword leaning against the wall. "The who is more difficult. Someone who looked like the guard captain came in to kill Tabansi here. I managed to drive them off but I fear I was not the better for the exchange. Luckily they were more skilled in illusion magic that they were with steel. All I can say about them is they were wearing leather.."
"The wizards tower..interesting.." "So Tabansi, stay here protected by Qhude and these stout walls or stick fast to us and see what happens. I do not think either choice is safer than the other."
Ansha ascertained that the scroll was genuine and it bore a Remove Curse spell upon it. While unhappy that Zesaste had walked away, Mindra was content at least that the group had acquired the means with which to break the dangerous and subtle curse on Tabansi. Salgarth had also been caught; some guardsmen were confused as to why a flustered looking man was trying to flee the town, with a crude disguise meant to make him look Mauxi in ethnicity. His magical disguise spent, Salgarth was brought into the jail, much to Jakob's smugness. In addition to the three hundred gold pieces each, Mindra gave each member of the group an additional fifty.
The curse was removed on Tabansi, who was extremely grateful to the group for their efforts; but the winners of the Trials of Grallus found they had less and less input as time went on; as the remaining council members bickered in private on how to punish those held and on how to divide the confiscated shares of Bellis Mara and Salgarth. With the crisis over and kept relatively quiet in the town, life went on and, disillusioned by their experiences with much of the town of Freehold, the group prepared themselves for the journey ahead; training, studying, praying and practising. N'bellocq in particular seemed to have found a greater level of focus and concentration with a bow in his hand; his arrows flew true for the rest of the competition and he was presented a beautifully crafted, oak miniature figurine of Erastil as his prize; carefully crafted so as to represent the stag-headed deity holding a bow aloft in triumph, as if having made a worthy kill in a hunt.
Finally, the caravan was ready to depart. The staff remained much the same roster as before but a handsome Zenj man, Kamishah, the same man who had approached N'bellocq, was now the head chef; cooking up delicious and traditional food each evening and chatting amiably with anybody. Quite a charmer, there were rumours that he had already had his way with a couple of the serving lasses. He always seemed especially keen to have light-hearted conversations with N'bellocq.
The group had seen nothing of Albert and the other soldiers since Archersfeast, but they had returned in time for the caravan to move on and greeted them fondly.
Two days after Archersfeast, Qhude had finished his work on the ankylosaurus tail - stripped it of flesh, boiled the bones and was left with the tail spikes and vertebrae. Tumbling the lot into a sack, Qhude sought Cru-tho-ni-ax at his shop and presented the trophy "It is done little one... price paid for aid given. I would ask more of you though if you are willing. The bones of the tail, could the spurs be used to icashazi my armor, replacing the metal with bone of the greater foe? Also, the segments of bone are wide... could you aid me to make a hole at their center so they might be worn?"
Ansha notices the look Qhude gives her and replies with a quizzical look of her own. "Is something wrong?" she asks.
Qhude crosses his arms and responds "You trusted a umqambimanga and igwala over the words of your umkhaya. When steel was bloodied you stood by and watched not lifting a finger..." the muscles in his crossed arms tensing and words hardening as he spoke "...and now you stand there with no inhliziyo. Give me one reason why I should feel anything but inzondo for you." spitting on the ground before him.
Ansha's smiles faintly. "I didn't trust him to do anything except to be more prepared for us than we would be for him, if we met him at his home. We were asked to find out how involved he was--so we found out. My spells would have been woefully inadequate in a fight; I didn't prepare much that would have been of use against him, so I tried to talk him down." She sighs in exasperation. "Mind you, negotiating is a lot less effective when they get five different signals from us. You should really let me do the talking...."
"I'm just happy that we broke Tabansi's curse, and that no one got more than a bruise out of the fight," she shrugs. "It's not like he tried to kill anyone."
Qhude simmers as Ansha's words show that she accepts no blame for what occurred and instead has shifted all responsibility upon others. He began to prepare words in kind... until she uttered You should really let me do the talking.... At that Qhude's eyes grew dead and he affixed Ansha with the sort of glare that was usually reserved for a man about to fall bloodied beneath his fists. He drew in breath and let his hands fall idle to his sides before baring teeth and letting his lungs empty by hissing harshly.
With force of will he then turns and walks slowly away from Ansha... words left unsaid dying in his mind and upon his tongue.
Ansha tilts her head, brows furrowed, as Qhude's countenance contorts in anger. "I mean, maybe if we were prepared..." she starts, her voice trailing off as Qhude turns and stalks off. "...I might have had something more up my sleeve than a single useful spell...."
She stares after Qhude as he departs. "Was it something I said?" she murmurs.
"It is everything you said," Tebati puts in from where she was watching the confrontation. "You did not negotiate with Zesaste; you negotiated with us on his behalf. He presented his terms, and you seized them like a drowning man a rope. Why did you not go with him when he left? He could certainly use a like-minded companion, and I'm sure it would be pleasant for you to have someone you respect at your side for a change," she suggests bitingly.
The enchantress turns to look over her shoulder at Tebati. Ignoring the biting remark, she replies, "You saw how overmatched we were. It seemed more prudent to take the offered way out than to fight him on his own terms. We got what we wanted out of it, didn't we?"
Kieran smiles as he accepts the rather original gift. Putting one hand on the Bas'o's shoulder, he bows his head briefly, acknowledging the gesture. "I will accept this as a token of friendship, Qhude," he says, "but not of apology, for there is nothing to apologize for." The half-elf pauses momentarily before continuing. "Your task was equally important. How were we to know Tabansi was safe thanks to Jakob? What if things had been just a little different?"
He shrugs nonchalantly. "Besides, no harm came to us. I admit, we did not do quite as well as I would have preferred, but still... Plus, I got to see what it feels like to be a halfling, so I suppose there is that." The last phrase is accompanied by a chuckle.
Clearly disturbed by the magics unleashed on those around him, "I would not laugh so. To have one's manhood taken by a skinwalker..." and here N'bellocq visibly shivers. [b]"I would not be sure he did not feed on your essence while you were small and only a ghost form has come back..." He spits on his Eristal statue and rubs its belly three times in an obvious ward against evil.
The enchantress turns to look over her shoulder at Tebati. Ignoring the biting remark, she replies, "You saw how overmatched we were. It seemed more prudent to take the offered way out than to fight him on his own terms. We got what we wanted out of it, didn't we?"
"You got what you wanted," Tebati corrects her. "Your thieving kinsman walks free. Perhaps some of us wished to see him shamed for his greed, even if he is an elf and the one wronged only a human -- and a Mwangi."
The next day after Zezaste's escape, Qhude seeks out Tebati after her dawntime meditation... likely not during if she was still within the inn; Qhude having seemingly made a choice to stay with the caravan rather than within the inn even after Bellis being cast out. Tebati can see that Qhude still feels anger about the way that events unfolded, and over a short conversation asks her a simple question: "Why did you send me away Sangoma?..."
Tebati sighs, bowing her head so that her gaze is on the ground at their feet. "Because I was afraid for Tabansi. What would it profit to capture the elf if the conspirators succeeded in killing him? Because I thought we had only one elf for four to contend with rather than two elves against three. I thought Kieran and Ansha could speak reason and N'bellocq could back them with his bow. If it matters, I intended to follow you, thinking healing might be needed at the jail. Then, in the space of a few breaths, Kieran was crumpled on the ground and my cousin next in line for the sword. I bargained for their lives and make no apology for it. Zesaste's life means less to me than theirs."
Clearly disturbed by the magics unleashed on those around him, "I would not laugh so. To have one's manhood taken by a skinwalker..." and here N'bellocq visibly shivers. "I would not be sure he did not feed on your essence while you were small and only a ghost form has come back..." He spits on his Eristal statue and rubs its belly three times in an obvious ward against evil.
"He is no ghost, Cousin," Tebati asserts, though she simultaneously rests her hand on Kieran's shoulder as if to reassure herself that he is truly flesh and blood, and once again the correct size. She gives a slight frown as N'bellocq addresses his stag-god fetish. While she had been ecstatic over her cousin's victory in the archery contest, the prize had displeased her, as if the tiny idol might lead a good Bonuwat boy to stray from his rightful goddess. "I hope," she goes on to Kieran, "now that you do know what it is like to be a halfling, the time you spent as one was sufficient? I had no intention of allowing Bellis Mara anywhere near you in that condition," she teases him about the elderly innkeeper.
"You got what you wanted," Tebati corrects her. "Your thieving kinsman walks free. "
"He is no kin of mine," Ansha interjects, frowning. "Any more than the Mwangi whose lives you and Jakob spared after they ambushed us on the road are yours."
"Perhaps some of us wished to see him shamed for his greed, even if he is an elf and the one wronged only a human -- and a Mwangi."
She gives Tebati an incredulous look. "Why would you want to shame him? Do you delight in causing others unnecessary suffering? Besides, as I said to Qhude--even if the fight had continued, I had nothing prepared that would have been of use against him. Given how quickly he dealt with Kieran, I'd say we got the best possible outcome from it."
Qhude is fighting with an internal shame as he responds, though Kieran's words have mollified at least some of his angst "You are umkhaya... If he had used the edge rather than the flat..." near to tears coming to his eyes before the emotion is repressed and Qhude seems to struggle with finding words to express his heart. "The next time, I will stand... and will not run." the disdain for self evident on the last word... as the Bas'o views his actions as those of a coward... and not an ibutho.
"Igazi was on the air... and your words turned my back to it... had me run like an igwala..." a building self-loathing evident, as Qhude seems to feel himself a coward for being turned from the battle that seemed inevitable to chase after only a possibility "Thinking back on the words Sangoma and when they were said... it makes me wonder if you have mina-ethemba."
"run like an igwala..." So you consider saving Tabansi and my worthless self and act of cowardice? That could be considered an insult Qhude but I will choose not to see it as such. Jakob smiles.
"If Salgarth had bothered to plan or brought his minion you would have arrived to find us in desperate battle or dead rather than simply nursing our wounds. Would you be igwala then? Perhaps I should not have fought for my life quite as hard so to spare you some glory. Or perhaps I should have run? Let Salgarth kill Tabansi so that you could have avenged him in as epic personal battle?" The smile is now a smirk.
Jakob stared directly at Qhude. "Why do you think I didn't run? I am no fighter, I can barely swing a sword, so why did I stay. I don't care for the fame, if I did I would have stayed in Elander and married someone 'suitable' and lived a life of luxury and politics. So why did I stay, why did I risk my life?"
"You have a strong thirst for glory my friend. Be sure who is guiding your steps, such a thirst is a cruel master."
"You got what you wanted," Tebati corrects her. "Your thieving kinsman walks free. ""He is no kin of mine," Ansha interjects, frowning. "Any more than the Mwangi whose lives you and Jakob spared after they ambushed us on the road are yours."
Tebati shrugs. "I count them my kin, though they were Zenj, just as I do Tabansi. They are more my kin than the colonials -- just as you treated Zesaste as more dear to you than the humans of Freehold."
"Perhaps some of us wished to see him shamed for his greed, even if he is an elf and the one wronged only a human -- and a Mwangi."
She gives Tebati an incredulous look. "Why would you want to shame him? Do you delight in causing others unnecessary suffering?"
"For revenge, Ansha," she replies with a wry smile. "For lying to and humiliating us, for valuing my kinsman's life less than the weight of his money pouch, for wishing to see my people more mistreated and disrespected than they already are. Is revenge not a concept you find familiar?"
---------------
"Igazi was on the air... and your words turned my back to it... had me run like an igwala..." a building self-loathing evident, as Qhude seems to feel himself a coward for being turned from the battle that seemed inevitable to chase after only a possibility "Thinking back on the words Sangoma and when they were said... it makes me wonder if you have mina-ethemba."
Tebati speaks sharply. "And what would you have wondered if Tabansi had been slaughtered in his cell while I told you to stand guard over a man who had agreed to turn himself in to Mindra? The wind blew in one direction, but there is nothing to say that it could not have blown in another. In the one place, we had a man with murder in his heart and no way of knowing Jakob was already there; in the other, we had a man confessing and seeking a peaceful outcome. I judged the threat of violence greater in the one than in the other. You are swift and strong; I judged you to be the most likely to get to the jail in time and stop the murderer. I can be swifter, but I am no warrior; I might have arrived at the jail but been unable to defeat the killer."
She sighs. "Qhude, words are in my heart, and I speak them; it does not mean that they must be heeded. Yesterday, I judged wrongly: Ansha would not lend her voice to ours to dissuade Zesaste from his course; Jakob had already turned Salgarth away. But if there were only one thing we could accomplish, I would rather save Tabansi's life than defeat Zesaste; that is why I sent you. If you were in that moment sure that you were more needed at the elf's house than at the jail, you should have ignored my words and stayed. I am not General Morvius, issuing commands and expecting to be obeyed; your choices are your own to make."
---------------
Before leaving Freehold, Tebati seeks a word with Mindra Macini. "As long as power is achieved through wealth rather than wisdom, you will have no end to quarreling and corruption," she tells her. "If you wish your son to have anything of worth to inherit, things must change. I would advise you put the shamaness Ntisi on the council -- but do not give her shares. Her heart can be for the community, without being distracted by the effects of her decisions on her personal wealth. Considering the snakes you have nurtured in your bosom, I should think a tendency to gossip would be the least of your worries."
Qhude deflates and sinks into a crouch "My choices led me to the leaf and blood." tracing one of the older scars upon his chest that he had before he met Tebati. "My choice saw me accept the isinkwe's token of favor... and it was my choice to make the man who bore my weapon before I took it suffer." staring now at the same patch of earth before him that Tebati was staring at earlier "My umkhetho yesterday would have been to bury the blade of my weapon in the elf's gut when I saw his blade bared...." halting and shamefully spoken "I am learning not to trust my choices Sangoma... they do not bring me honor."
"You count murderers among your kin. Should I not have helped a liar and possible thief who is as alike to me as those murderous Zenj were to you?" Ansha asks, one eyebrow raised. She falls silent, then shrugs. "For what it's worth, I could do little to assist once the fight started. But I have no desire to see Kieran or you or anyone else in our little company come to harm, and would have done--and did do--what I could to prevent it."
That will have to be enough.
N'bellocq will continue to avail himself to the delicacies of the town until the time to leave comes....although he comes to find he is quite pleased with the acquisition of Kamishah and his cooking.
His one last task is to pick up his lion skin, (hopefully) now a quiver, boots, and a vest (suitable for later possible enchantments).
Qhude deflates and sinks into a crouch "My choices led me to the leaf and blood." tracing one of the older scars upon his chest that he had before he met Tebati. "My choice saw me accept the isinkwe's token of favor... and it was my choice to make the man who bore my weapon before I took it suffer." staring now at the same patch of earth before him that Tebati was staring at earlier "My umkhetho yesterday would have been to bury the blade of my weapon in the elf's gut when I saw his blade bared...." halting and shamefully spoken "I am learning not to trust my choices Sangoma... they do not bring me honor."
She lays her hand over his. "Merely heeding the choices of another brings you no honor, either. Your weapon may kill many strong warriors and powerful beasts, but the honor accrues not to the tool but to the one who employs it. You are a man, not an implement to be wielded by anyone. It is better to choose poorly than to surrender your right to choose."
She sighs. "You accepted the Ravener King's symbol in ignorance; you are no more to blame for that than Kieran is to be implicated among the conspirators because, in ignorance, he placed a stolen ring in Tabansi's house. As for the rest, if you do not approve of the choices you have made in the past, you have the opportunity to choose differently in the future. But do not make yourself an object to be used by another. If you wish to be a man who takes orders and asks permission to act, then enlist to serve under Albert and make an end of it."
Qhude grunts and seems mollified by Tebati's words, rising before touching fist to chest "Thankyou Sangoma... though I do not know if I would heed your words more by following them or ignoring them" a slight smirk touching the edge of his lips as he notes the duality of being told by someone to follow his own instinct instead of those of others.
Qhude spends little time in Freehold, preferring to spend it upon the plains to the town's East in search of either game or merely enjoying the solitude allowed on the run. That time that is spent within the town is kept to both Jeggare's camp and within the workshop of Cru-tho-ni-ax. He is not dismissive of his umkhaya, and offers greetings to most of them... Ansha being the only one treated with coldness.
His demeanor about town less than warm there is a chance that some of the more audacious soldiers or ranchers might take offense at the bas'o, but any who do are wrestled into submission and left unharmed bar their pride.
While it was difficult to ascertain exactly what was going to happen to Zesaste's shares and home, the house was swiftly boarded up in the days that followed the wizard's departure; likely a temporary measure until some consensus was reached. Ansha knew from her informant in the Lion's Maw that the house had been thoroughly searched and stripped, the possessions of his now in storage in Lady Macini's estate. As for the Lion's Maw itself, Eliandra had continued to run it while the official story was that Bellis Mara had taken a vacation. Eliandra herself knew this was not the case, but did not know the details.
Bellis was apparently held securely within the town jail, along with Salgarth. As far as the group was aware, no attempt was made to track down Zesaste Talathel. Qhude had no idea what Mindra did with the head of the slain beast and her staff only met his inquiries with polite protests of ignorance.
Cruthoniax was only too happy to perform another service for Qhude; and the small but curious fellow was none-too-subtle in dropping hopeful hints to the Bas'o that perhaps it was time to close up shop and join Jeggare's caravan.
It took some time for Tebati to eventually get access to Mindra and even when she did, the matriarch looked stressed and ill at ease. She did nod her head and acknowledge the wisdom in Tebati's words though, promising that she would see the priestess brought into the council.
N'bellocq found that the items he desired had been crafted to his satisfaction.
Give me an hour or a day or a moment
It will be enough time for me
I will speak and words will foment
Your enkindled desire, your bent will, your met need.
Like clay, you are moldable, malleable, plastic.
And like a potter, I mold, shape and redirect.
You say I am faithless, a liar, toxic to your trust—
I am as good as my word, but my word is elastic.
"Thanks, hon," Ansha said with a faint smile, her hand brushing against Eliandra's after the girl 'woke her up' for the day. Careful not to push her luck with the interim proprietess' sexual proclivities too soon again, Ansha took Eliandra inside her bedroom and ushered her to a pair of chairs set close to one another. Striking up a conversation with the girl, she was first content with the latest news. But after that topic had been exhausted, the enchantress began to strategically reveal details about her own past in an effort to coax any interesting tidbits or secrets out of the brunette. "Oh, you don't say! You have a brother in Eleder?" she exclaimed, "I was there a few weeks ago myself. It's quite a nice town, but I'd say you have it better here in Freehold. Oh, yes, I agree completely--it's much quieter here."
She nodded at just the right places, an engaging smile on her lips as she got the serving-girl's lips loosened. "Oh, mm. I see. You don't say? And with the baker's son, too? And what'd she say? Ooooh. Yes, I imagine that didn't go over very well."
Tiring of the one-sided game after a while, she made one last, half-hearted attempt to lure Eliandra into a compromising situation in bed with her. Rebuffed as expected, she concluded that it would take time that she did not have to inure the brunette to the idea. "I absolutely adore the chance to chat with you," she said, glancing at the door. "But if I keep you for myself any longer, you're likely to be missed. But please, do come back as soon as you can! I'd appreciate a wake-up call tomorrow too."
Rising with a friendly smile, she sent the girl on her way. So, all that Zesaste left behind is now in Lady Macini's care. That's bothersome. Maybe if I could convince Kieran to help me break in. For now, though, she would content herself with breakfast. Pulling her blond hair up into a bun, she threw on an over-sized tunic--a gift from a besotted merchant ("Something to remember me by," he had said)--and plodded downstairs toward the bar.
-----------------
"Is this seat taken?" Ansha asked, fingers tracing lightly over the man's shoulder. Hardly waiting for the affirmative answer, she settled herself on his lap. Deep in his cups, he didn't seem to mind a bit. Given the leers his companions offered the elven vixen, they didn't seem to mind either.
"'Sall yours, wench!" the man replied.
Draping her arm over his shoulder, she settled in as the four merchants discussed their latest mercantile triumphs. She expected the pinch that followed, discreetly on her thigh. She smiled at him in their shared secret. She hadn't expected the words that followed.
"Yer know, yer not s' bad lookin' fer a knife-ears!" he said, and Ansha's gaze froze, the smile draining of all its warmth.
"Wot? Were yer expectin' me ter melt like a schoolboy?" he sneered. His friends all guffawed.
"Is this your idea of a joke?" Ansha asked icily, fingers weaving in the subtle gestures of magic.
"No, no! This here's a joke! Wot do yer call a knife-eared git what don't know her place in a man's world? Breedin' stock!" the man said, laughing.
Jaw tensing, Ansha's smile turned saccharine. "I have a joke for you, too. How do you know when a halfling's being perverted?"
A pause as she extricated herself from his lap. "He tells you your hair smells nice."
The man's laughter turned urgent--compelling--and increasingly loud as he began to snort, chortle and howl hideously. Doubled over with laughter, tears streamed from suddenly panicky eyes as the enchantress stalked away, the merchant's companions staring after her in shocked silence.
-----------------
No library, no books, no underworld, no excitement. This place is dull, the elven enchantress griped to herself. The enchantress was laid on her back on a grassy hill just outside the town, staring at the clouds. She reached out with an ungloved hand toward a particular cloud, long fingers futilely grasping, their reach far too short. Her gaze lingered on her closed fist. Studying the contours of her knuckles, the elf's thoughts drifted aimlessly, a chaotic jumble that she feared letting settle for too long. She was running out of distractions, but there might be one place left with a few to unearth. Sighing, she rose and smoothed her skirts. Surely there was something to do at Jeggare's caravan by now. If nothing else, there was this Kamishah fellow....
The sprawling collection of wagons, cooking fires and bedrolls that comprised the caravan was slowly building up momentum for the day, staff going this way and that on various tasks and dodging from one bit of shade to the next as the Sargavan sun beat down on sunburnt necks and heads. "Hello!" Ansha said, waving as she spotted one of the caravan's more friendly serving girls, a girl named Apexia.
"Hello, Miss Ansha," Apexia replied, smiling as she set down a cast-iron pot and wiping the sweat from her brow with the loose, billowing sleeve of her blouse. "Haven't seen you around the caravan much lately."
"No, they've been keeping me busy in the town," Ansha replied, not elaborating further. "I hear that we have a new head chef."
The girl's eyes lit up, and Ansha knew she had her 'in'. "Oh, yes! Kamishah. He's quite the charmer!" Apexia gushed, moving toward the shade cast by one of the wagons and motioning Ansha to follow. "And he...bakes a mean pastry, too!"
"Really? Has he been baking for you, then? I overheard another girl saying largely the same thing about him. Said she was the apple of his eye and everything," Ansha frowned.
Apexia's face darkened. "That two-timer! He promised me the world!"
"I'm sure she was talking about another Kamishah," Ansha said blandly, but it was too late. Apexia had already stormed off. Smiling a secretive smile, Ansha wandered after the girl at a discreet distance. It wasn't like this was really news...but maybe this would stir up some drama. Drama was almost as good as excitement, wasn't it?
- The lady in shadow
Whispers in her ear
Breathes lies, breeds lies
Clouds clarity, speaks darkness.
Each thought, each deed its own end
And every move twisting
The tiniest bit more—
She breathes lies, she believes lies,
She is beloved of lies, and more lies in store.
The treatment of Zesaste did little to endear civilization to Qhude, and he made a very vocal account of his displeasure to Mitabu in public and at length.
When he also found that Bellis' complicit actions were also being kept secret from the town and hidden, Qhude was further withdrawn. He did not make any issue of it, but it reinforced his isolation from those not of Jeggare's camp or Cru-tho-ni-ax's shop.
Cruthoniax was only too happy to perform another service for Qhude; and the small but curious fellow was none-too-subtle in dropping hopeful hints to the Bas'o that perhaps it was time to close up shop and join Jeggare's caravan.
The gnome's attempts at subtlety were initially lost on the mwangi warrior, but eventually drove through Qhude's ignorance to be understood. After one such mention Qhude stopped to stoop before the gnome and place one hand companionably upon his shoulder "If you wish to come I will speak for you and you will be welcome... but the choice is yours to make umngane."
"This is pure silver, imported from the far-off silver mines of Landsmere in Brevoy! Thirty gold coins, and it's a steal at that rate," Ansha said, smiling at the sweaty merchant. The noon-day sun beat down, almost washing out the necklace's color with its reflected brilliance. The man hesitated, not quite convinced. Ansha leaned forward over the merchant's stall, lightly touching his forearm in a gesture that could easily be mistaken for flirtation. The man smiled in response to that touch, eyes flitting over the elf's svelte form, and Ansha knew his response even before he spoke it.
"Well, since it's from Brevoy...Deal," he said.
Perfect. Now for the inks she would need to scribe the scrolls.
------------
"...Carry the σ, add a µ...." Ansha scowled, scrutinizing her penmanship. Yes, that would do. She took a small piece of cloth and carefully wiped the excess ink off of her quill pen. Stoppering the ink pot in front of her, she leaned forward to gently blow on the thick paper of her spellbook. Now to wait for it to dry.
:
:
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Blood trickled slowly down his arm, tracing the contours of his muscles, spiraling down toward his wrist. Oozing slowly over his cooling knuckles, it ran quickly down his finger to quiver tantalizingly at its tip...Only to fall with a soft splatter upon the dusty wooden floor.
Giddily, Ansha shivered atop her lover's cooling body. Trembling fingers clasped the dagger in his chest, a faint streak of blood spattered across her cheek and nude body. It had taken years...years of lying to the man who murdered her parents. Years of telling him that she loved him. Years of sleeping with her most hated enemy, and of ingratiating herself to him and his cronies.
A nervous laugh escaped her lips. She hesitated, laughed again as relief overwhelmed her. Her laughter continued, growing louder with each moment, an edge of desperation and of pain reverberating through it for long minutes, and slowly winding down to a nervous, halting laugh once again. He was gone.
Extricating herself from the tangle of their bodies, she unsteadily made her way to a cracked, dirty mirror atop a table in the corner of the room. Leaning heavily on the table, she stared. At herself. At the streaks of blood marring porcelain skin. At the vulnerability she saw in those emerald eyes. At the trembling in her bloody hands. She had killed him. She had a vision of his eyes, dimming as the life bled from him, and she retched.
She had murdered him. In cold blood.
But he had asked for it, didn't he? He was a scoundrel, a pirate, a rapist and a murderer! He deserved what he got! she scolded herself, angrily.
She forced herself to stare into her own eyes, and flinched.
The floor creaked, and she jumped--it was nothing.
It was time to go. They would find out soon enough, and she had to be far away.
Taking a small scrap of parchment from within the folds of her clothes, she felt the cold satisfaction of a long-awaited revenge as she read it: I stab thee from the heart.
A satisfied smile tugging at one corner of her lips momentarily, she carefully placed the parchment on his bare, bloody chest and carefully wiped his blood from her cheek, legs and torso before clothing herself.
She turned to take one last look at her lover's body, and shuddered.
------------
Ansha awoke with a low moan, her body wrapped in a tangle of sheets. The memories were so fresh. She shuddered, reminded of a nightmare she had lived, and wished to forget.
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Under Jeggare's guidance and the protection of both the hardened Umkhaya and Albert's squad, the caravan plodded south. In tow with a small wagon of his own was the over-enthusiastic Cruthoniax. Although his attempts to modify and improve the caravan, such as arguing to place battering rams on the wagons to "increase their versatility" exasperated Jeggare on a daily basis, the caravan master did note that the Gnome's mercantile contacts might prove useful when resupplying or selling any treasures found. Albert seemed keen to harden his soldiers further and trained and drilled them with little pause, encouraging Kieran, N'bellocq, Jakob and Qhude in particular to join them.
After a little under a week of travel, the caravan had ventured into the Laughing Jungle and a day later, the front scouts spotted the Sargavan base camp in the middle of the day. The jungle was incredibly humid and those in armour felt at the very least, uncomfortable. The first thing the group spotted is the pyramid General Morvius spoke of. It is difficult to believe that the massive structure could ever have been hidden, even by magic. Well over a hundred feet high and with its base sides measuring about a few hundred feet, the structure dominated the camp built around it, its peak level sat well above the tree line of the jungle. It was an ancient, imposing structure built of stone and apparently having weathered the ages immaculately. On the north side, steps led up to the top layer of the structure and a doorway was visible.
This Kind of Pyramid (Not Triangular and Not Pointed)
Around the pyramid itself, the Sargavan forces had set up a base camp. A circular wall of sharpened stakes served as the camp's defence with three watchtowers placed on the south, west and east sides. A wooden gatehouse had been erected on the north side and as far as you could ascertain, it was the only way in or out of the complex. The caravan announced itself and after some security checks, it began to pass through into the base camp itself. Inside, the complex seemed to consist primarily of three to four man sized tents, although four large pavilion tents had also been set up, scattered around the camp.
General Morvius stood waiting with the quartermaster Arkus beside him as the caravan rolled into the camp. It was clear that all was not well here, despite the General's welcoming smile. Some of the soldiers the group spotted were sporting bandages and signs of treated wounds and although the camp seemed well organised here and there were small, tell-tale signs that this place had seen fighting.
Welcome travellers. I trust you enjoyed Freehold? I am anxious to show you around...
"Probably more than Freehold enjoyed us," Tebati responds rather cryptically. Her eyes are entirely for the massive structure dwarfing the Sargavans' camp.
Having been skeptical of the claims of Freehold's virtue, Tebati suffered little disappointment at the exposure of its seedy underbelly. It had been, for her, merely a waystation that afforded her the luxuries of a soft bed instead of the hard ground to sleep on and the privacy in which to enjoy her lover before returning to the rigors of the road; as such, it had served its purposes admirably.
Once travelling again, she accepted the addition of Cruthoniax to their company with equanimity. She had no particular affinity for the excitable gnome, but neither did she object to his presence. She did, however, seem to be annoyed by Albert's repeated attempts to draw the men of the umkhaya into his military structure. "If the Grand Custodian wished more soldiers for his task, he has no shortage of them," she has been heard to mutter whenever he encourages N'bellocq and Kieran, in particular, to take part in his drills.
As soon as the caravan was on the road again, Tebati returned Unwe's belongings that she had been given for safe-keeping. There remains a certain frostiness between the Bonuwat woman and Ansha since the confrontation at Zesaste's house.
The sheer amount of manpower and stone surely required for a structure this colossal, as well as the magic that used to hide it, suggests it is the work of an empire rather than a nation or tribe. This monument is tremendous in scope and stature and as schooled as you are in local Sargavan history, this must pre-date any era you are knowledgeable in.
Tebati finds Kamishah to be quite a genuine, jovial fellow; and handsome. He does little to disguise the fact that he is quite well-travelled and experienced and seems honest to a fault; other than the frequent misadventures he has with the women of the camp...
General Morvius smiled wryly at Tebati's statement but did not inquire further. With a wave of his hand, he motioned the caravan fully inside the complex.
A short time later, Morvius led the Umkhaya into one of the large pavilion tents. Inside, an elderly looking scholar had set himself up, with various drawings and sketches of the pyramid hanging from various lines of rope, criss-crossing the room. Although the pavilion tent looked modest from the outside, it was obviously magical in nature; it was three times larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside.
The white-bearded scholar beamed at the newcomers with the happiness of a carefree grandfather doting on his grandchildren.
Ah, you've finally arrived! Be welcome, be welcome! As you can see, i've been studying the structure from the outside... My name is Arturus. I'm sure we'll be seeing lots of each other, don't you know?! Do you have any questions in particular, before your delve?
While on the road, Ansha keeps her distance from both Tebati and Qhude, occasionally sending somewhat confused looks in their directions--she clearly doesn't think she has done anything wrong, though she also makes several attempts to apologize to the two of them (insincerely, but acted out to the best of her considerable ability).
After her attempt to start relationship drama for Kamishah, the enchantress takes an opportunity to approach him--perhaps she would find him to be enjoyable company, or at least a partner-in-crime. "So I understand that you're the new head chef. Kamishah, right? I'm Ansha," she begins, hand brushing his shoulder () as she approaches, during one of the interminable periods of walking that she has to endure. "What brings you along on this grand adventure?"
Finally, they arrived at the base camp.
Ansha smiles at General Morvius' approach. "I wouldn't mind visiting again sometime. It's such a cute little town! I mean, like it came out of a painting of a pastoral landscape," she says, eyes roving the campsite as she walks. "It's a nice contrast to this base camp and that old ruin."
Like Tebati, Ansha had no real investment in Freehold's virtue--and had readily taken to some of the seedier aspects of town-life, regardless--thus she had actually been encouraged that not even Freehold was virtuous enough to be immune to her charms.
As the group files into Arturus' tent, Ansha's eyebrows rise in appreciation at the magical nature of the pavilion. Emerald eyes scan the room's trappings before finally settling on the old man himself. "Good day, Arturus," she smiles pleasantly. "The pleasure is all ours, I'm sure. I'm Ansha. These are my companions Jakob, Tebati, Kieran, N'bellocq, and Qhude."
She indicates each person in the Umkhaya in turn. Introductions made, she approaches the old sage, studying whatever it was that he had been studying when they first entered. "I'm sure we'll have plenty, after the fact. Can you tell us anything about those who have gone in before? What they've faced, for example?"
She pauses, glancing at Morvius. "Given the number of wounded soldiers out in the camp, I'd say either there's opposition from locals, or the pyramid has at least been partially scouted. Perhaps Tebati could offer them aid?" She smiles at the shamaness whose aid she had just volunteered.
"Have you tried contacting the wild elf tribe or the wild halfling tribe in the area? I don't suppose they have tales to tell of this place, or its origins? Would it be an option to contact them for ourselves before we investigate the ruins? I have a feeling that wild elves in particular would be more accepting of another elf than an outsider from among the non-elves."
Upon the march Qhude spends much time ranging wide and forward of the wagons reveling in the ability to stretch his legs each day. He wears his rope and armor, keeping his lion pelt clothing within his bags - though both wrists and ankles are adorned with hollowed vertebrae from the great lizard that was slain. He enthusiastically engages Albert and the soldiers in their exercises, often disdaining weapon entirely to wrestle the soldiers hand to hand. He keeps the company of most of his umkhaya throughout the day and night, but still maintains his distance from Ansha.
Of some evenings he spends time with the gnome, often sharing advice on how best to cure skin and work the leather into goods. He also passed by the soldier's campfire on occasion... seeking the company of Unwe, talking firstly of their time in Freehold, but then of topics mundane. In the dawns, he attempts to spend some time in quiet reflection near to Tebati as she finishes her prayers - using the early quiet to talk of the day that passed and that which follows.
22nd Erastus:
Knowing that they would meet the induna this day, Qhude wore his lion pelt proudly and ensured that his rope wrapped guisarme was well sharpened. He strutted somewhat as they approached the camp, and greeted Morvius with a firm left handed arm clasp "Induna... we are well enough." tersely spoken and the travails of Freehold left unspoken.
To the scholar he gave but scant regard, and listened as Ansha spoke questions of which he had interest. Feet planted and guisarme held firm, he awaited further enlightenment.
Tebati is a little startled at entering the magical pavilion, but she does her best to cover her surprise in front of the stranger. She examines the drawings of the pyramid with interest.
"Given the number of wounded soldiers out in the camp, I'd say either there's opposition from locals, or the pyramid has at least been partially scouted. Perhaps Tebati could offer them aid?" She smiles at the shamaness whose aid she had just volunteered.
Tebati returns her a withering glance. "Indeed, and many of the soldiers' uniforms looked dirty and torn. I am sure Ansha would like to spend her free time this evening mending and cleaning them with her arcane arts."
Ansha smiles sweetly. "It hardly seems as pressing as their injuries, but if it helps...."
N'bellocq enjoys the additional training in addition to his ranging while the caravan was on the move. Any spare weight he gained from the luxuries of Freehold are soon melted away with sweat and humidity.
Noting the tension that seems to have developed within the camp, he finds himself chatting around the fire often with Kamishah.
Nbellocq marvels at the size of the structure and stares at the gaping maw of its entrance.
After introductions he just has two questions for Arturus, How many died in there? And how? As Ansha asked these, he nodded his head, eager to hear the explanation of what awaited them.
Amiable fellow that he is, Kieran holds no grudges during the caravan's little trip. Though he does spend most of his time in Tebati's company, he nevertheless does walk or sit beside Ansha often enough, mostly talking to her about their time in Freehold and what the haughty elven maiden kept herself busy with during their stay in that town. Whether she answers him or not and whether her answers when she does are honest or not, the half-elf does not seem bothered by it.
Whenever the chance for training and drilling comes up, Kieran is eager enough to fight alongside his companions, both for the fun of it and the chance to learn how to better blend his skills with theirs. Of course, the easily bored rogue does find himself not quite so interested in drills after drills now and then, in which case he easily avoids them and goes to see what Cruthoniax is doing, finding the gnome utterly delightful and amusing, or what Kamishah is cooking, seeking to get to know the man a little better and see if he can discern what he is all about.
He even seeks Jakob's company now and then, even though the two men seem to not have so much in common. Still, they are companions and comrades-in-arms and besides, the noble does have a rather unique outlook on life.
As the caravan finally reaches its destination, Kieran's eyes widen at the sight of the massive structure, only to narrow in curiosity moments later after he takes note of the various injured men in the camp. Upon led to Arturus' tent, the half-elf greets the older man with a friendly smile, but remains silent, at least for now. Better to let the cleric and mage ask their questions for the time being. He does, however, allow a sigh of amusement escape his lips as Ansha and Tebati seem to continue with their feud as evidenced by their barbs aimed at each other.
Ansha seems a bit relieved that Kieran doesn't avoid her the way Qhude and Tebati do during the remainder of their journey. Though her answers are heavily sanitized (he doesn't really need to know everything she was up to, after all) and followed up with questions about what Kieran himself had done in the closing days of their stay, she chats readily with him. At one point, though, she does lean in conspiratorially to tell him with a sly grin of a particular merchant whom she was quite sure she'd bewitched so thoroughly that he'd never think of anyone else as longingly as he did his Ansha.
Walking....
Jakob joins in the drills with more enthusiasm than skill. The tussle in the jailhouse has perhaps left a mark deeper than the scratch on his arm.
The noble also spends some time with the drivers and ox-herds learning what he can of the animals. He seems to have more success here than with the militia.
Arriving.....
A step pyramid... A pyramid here, this deep in the jungle. Perhaps the stick worshipers have something.....It looks really..really ugly though. Pity they hadn't discovered the golden mean....or slanted lines...
"Greetings General. So this is what it has all been about. I was starting to wonder. Freehold left something to be desired but the fault was in the people and not the place.
But enough of that, what trouble are you having here? It looks like half your soldiers are bleeding."
To Arturus: "Many many questions. Let us start with what is that sleeping pile, who built it, why, and what to you hope to gain by tossing a tired, fractious band of misfits into it? This seems a job more suited to the Pathfinders than to us."
Ansha facepalms at Jakob's manners. "This isn't an interrogation, Jakob," she remarks, though that's as far as she chides the man, since she wonders the same things.
At Jakob's words, Qhude looks aggrieved... as though emotionally slapped. His eyes grow sad and his gaze drops to the ground... a few moments later he mutters an excuse "Induna, Omdala... I need to walk a while." taking his rope wrapped guisarme and making to walk a circuit around the perimeter of the campsite.
As he does the words of Jakob lie stinging in his mind - tired, fractious band of misfits - despite even Ansha speaking of us as Umkhaya... To try and occupy his mind, Qhude turns his gaze towards the ground to see if there are any tracks that might decry the cause of the wounds among the men...
Survival:
Kamishah seemed completely immune to your Beguiling Touch, or perhaps simply very strong-willed. He smiled at you and responded enthusiastically-
I was seeking gainful employment in Freehold, but I stumbled across the archer on my way into the town. Happily, Jeggare is pleased with my culinary skills; i'm being paid double what i'd expect to earn in the town!
Arturus did his best to answer each question in turn, gallantly ignoring the brusqueness of Jakob's comments and Qhude's exit. General Morvius frowned heavily at the apparent conflict present.
Unfortunately... None of the squads of soldiers sent through the main entrance has returned. We aren't entirely sure if they have been slain or merely trapped by whatever defences the structure possesses. Detection spells don't seem to function through the walls of the structure, and although the main entrance leads to a corridor of darkness; we suspect that the soldiers were magically transported when they reached the end of it... We have lost four full squads; just under forty men. We haven't launched an exploration in some weeks now; General Morvius was sure a mixed group of both metal and magic would fare better.
General Morvius answered the questions about the soldier's wounds.
We have met opposition from guerilla forces, based somewhere in the jungle. Blowpipes, archery, poison and stealth... never a full-scale attack but they have been harassing this camp for some weeks now and our men are feeling the strain. They seem to be Mwangi but we don't know their motives or faction. If you wish to contact the Elves you are welcome to do so; if you can find them. But the structure was warded with powerful magic; I doubt they were even aware of it.
Arturus tackled Jakob's questions as best he could, frowning at his admittance of a lack of knowledge.
Truthfully, we don't know who built this or why. There are no markings on it and although I have estimated it is at least three thousand years old, there is little indication of who built it. Perhaps the Azlants themselves? The masonry has been magically treated, which is why it is so well preserved; such a thing suggests colossal expense and power hmm?
Arturus looked the group up and down.
You don't seem so tired to me, but you are free to rest a day or two before your delve. The Pathfinders? They would seek to claim what lies within for them. The Grand Custodian has reason to believe great power and wealth lies within this structure; and great discoveries. The Pathfinders would seek this for their own purposes. Arturus looked confused. General Morvius assured me you were willing and capable. I am sure you shall succeed where our foot soldiers failed. You have been equipped by the nation of Sargava at great expense; I hope you are up to the task.
Arturus gestured to the drawings Ansha was peering at.
With a perimeter of 1,200 feet and a height of approximately 150 feet; 20 feet for each of the five levels and approximately ten feet of gradual spacing between them... The area inside could be of immense size. We have tried to tunnel into the lowest level, at great expense and cost. The masonry is incredibly strong and even more astounding; it regenerates itself. Nevertheless, we carved an entire two feet into the outer wall before giving up.
When her beguiling touch fails to phase him, Ansha inwardly frowns. I'll have to try this again later, she thinks to herself. Either he's very strong-willed, or there's more to him than a simple cook.
"I see," the elf says, nodding. "It is pretty good. It surprises me that Jeggare is paying so much better than a town like Freehold, though."
She glances away for a moment, then turns to grin conspiratorially at him. "I understand you've found other things to occupy your time here, as well. It can get pretty boring around here, so believe me, I can completely understand. I don't suppose you're the sort to appreciate a good prank, too, are you?"
"What would be the best way to make the attempt, do you think?" Ansha asks with regard to the elves. Her brows furrow as she continues, "Or should I say, how do you know that there is a tribe of wild elves in the area, if you don't know where they are?"
Her gaze follows Arturus' gesture to his drawings. As he speaks, she nods and murmurs her awed acknowledgement. That does sound quite colossal.
Arturus shrugged.
Scouts reported seeing the occasional hunter or patrol. I gather they are a simple, primal tribe; but its not really my area of expertise. We're here for the structure, not to track down natives.
Ansha nods at Arturus.
"Perhaps we should do a bit of scouting as well, then. With the strain these guerilla attacks are placing on the camp, any allies we obtain can only be a help." She looks at Tebati, then Arturus. "I don't particularly relish the thought of successfully delving the depths of this place, only to return to a camp finally overwhelmed by hostile natives."