You noticed some tightening around the haty-a's eyes when you mentioned the pharaoh riding the sky by night. She, at least, understands that clue even if she is unwilling to say so.
You don't happen to know who this fellow from Sothis is do you? Shad asks the slave, feeling particularly inspired to do so
Sounds like someone important
The slave bows to you.
Greetings to you, I am most happy to tell you the name of my mistress. Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis, Fan-Bearer on the Right Side of the King has blessed the people of Tephu with her presence.
She smiles as pleased as possible to have such a great mistress.
Perhaps the most respected Muminofrah would be willing to hear our petition to study in the grand Spiral Archives?
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I believe what my friend are trying to say is, any help would be greatly appreciated
dip
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The slave lowers her eyes respectfully.
I cannot speak for the mistress. But if you seek an audience you may find her at the Palace of Gentle Reeds.
Noonan looks at the others. Well let us go and introduce ourselves. Noonan tromps off.
You leave the sanctum and head through the city down to the bank of Wadjet's Walk, the canal that flows through the city.
A great palace towers over the canal, fronted with a palisade of beautifully painted pillars in dazzling colors. In front of the palace, moored to a magnificent marble quay, a luxurious river barge wallows in the turbid waters of the canal. Between the barge and the palace, a makeshift camp of colorful tents and stalls has sprung up, creating a small village worth of bustling activity.
Several hefty, tanned guards wearing heavy armor and carrying scimitars see you approaching and call on you to halt.
Halt! Why do you approach the Palace of Gentle Reeds?
Ahem. We are humble petitioners who seek audience with Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis to ask her to bless us with her favor on our quest to rescue a friend from the grips of an ancient Sky Pharaoh! We have a tale of ancient secrets perhaps best left buried and harrowing journeys beneath the streets of these cities.
Yes we are but humble adventurers seeking to better the world.
aid
The guards seem convinced by your story, perhaps hoping to see you beaten on the orders of Muminofrah after your crazy thoughts spill out in front of her.
A gangplank leads up from the quay to the deck of the pleasure barge. Brightly painted and trimmed with shining gold, the barge’s polished wooden planks gleam in the sun. Toward the stern of the vessel, painted and gilded columns support a silken canopy, shading a pyramid-shaped dais heaped with cushions that rises from the barge’s deck. Sheer curtains between the pillars stir slightly in the weak breeze along the canal.
The barge is inundated with courtiers, guards, slaves, and servants. Wealthy citizens and members of the local aristocracy sit upon cushions on the deck, beneath huge parasols held up by eunuchs. A lion is tethered to each of the four corner pillars, each watched by a guard holding a huge whip. Scantily clad slaves move silently through the gathering, bearing trays and pitchers of refreshments for the guests.
A heavyset woman dressed in revealing silks and wearing a gold headdress lounges atop the pyramid, almost lost in the vast mountain of cushions. As you come on deck she looks you up and down as if appraising cuts of meat, languidly cooling herself with a long fan bearing a single ostrich feather.
Noonan is having flashbacks about being in the harem he fled from.
Not the cutter, my god, the cutter..
Good dwarf, we certainly don't have anything like that back at my home either.
Dwalindor, you know from tales told in Wati by Tephu natives that Muminofrah is a common visitor to Tephu. She has a rather fierce reputation and it is said she has fed people who displeased her to the crocodiles of the River Sphinx.
Her favorites however are given gifts. It is said she showered a poet in gold for writing a particularly beautiful poem and that she made a slave girl a noble for running a hundred miles to pick a rare flower for her.
You can tell by her demeanor that she is waiting for you to make any sort of introduction to her yourselves.
Shad makes an elaborate bow before the woman
Noonan steps forwards and bows. Greetings Mugnificant Muminofrah of Sothis. I am Noonan and these are my friends Dwalindor and Thorrpe, we have come to ask you to bestow upon us a favor to aid in our search for a lost friend from the grips of a reborn Sky Pharaoh of legend, the knowledge of such is tucked away in the Spiral Archives of the temple of Nethys, but alas, we have not been given permission by the haty-a of Tephu: Deka An-Keret to study within and thus humbly present ourselves her asking for your intervention.
Tariq was of average height, but a well built man in his late 20's. He possessed a degree of dark, devastating good looks and potent masculinity that women found irresistible. Though he lounged in a relaxed posture atop a stack of cashmere pillows, his eyes drank in everything going on around him like a bird of prey. His natural survival skills had been honed to a fine cutting edge in both the desert and palace courts.
He nodded to the new comers who had just entered the lionesses den. Smoke curled from the edges of his mouth as he enjoyed another draw from the hookah, the tabac flavored with exotic extracts and scented with rare oils. His interest was piqued, something out of the ordinary was about to happen.
At his side rested an engraved Shamshir, a long curved slashing blade with a reinforced tip for thrusting that lent itself to the whirling, spinning and flashing blade dance of the desert nomads. It's companion blade, a Kindjal, with its deadly palm width curved blade rested sinister in its heavily adorned sheath. A small round spiked shield, known as a targe was hung on a magnificent composite longbow which rested against the pillows.
As Tariq propped himself up on an elbow, a golden ankh dangled into view hanging from his neck.
The one who was speaking and introduced himself as Noonan was most noticeably a hunchback. His curved back seemed to add weight to his lined face, making him look tired all the time. His head was trimmed almost bald seemingly out of choice. Despite this, he seemed eloquent as he made his case. He had a mace at his side and the symbol of The Dawnflower hung around his neck.
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The one intentionally not speaking appears to be a grizzled dwarf with leathery bronze skin from spending too much time in the harshest of desert climes.
From south-west Osirion are the Pahmet or sand dwarves, proud xenophobic warriors who believe that they once held safe the greatest secrets of the ancient pharaohs.
The Pahmet, also known as sand dwarves, are a dwarven culture native to Osirion.
He carries a pair of crossed pole-arms strapped to his broad back....which he affectionally named Lucy and Amanda.
Oh my, what a splendid introduction!
Muminofrah's chin wiggle disconcertingly as she gives you what on a different woman might be a seductive smile.
Come, I would be quite pleased to talk to all of you. Especially that one.
She bats her eyes winningly at Dwalindor. You're led by several slaves into a part of the barge where pillows sit under the shade and several slaves waft breezes towards you using huge ostrich fans.
Slaves come on deck to serve a tagine of River Sphinx perch cooked with olives from huge silver tureens along with grapes, huge loaves of bread and copious amounts of barley beer and mint tea.
She invites Dwalindor to sit next to her after divesting himself of his weapons so he can relax.
Noonan pats Dwal's back. I'm sure you'll do a good job. He then heads to the pillows and gets a cuppa tea and politely eats some grapes as he watches Dwal be the center of attention.
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Dwalindor's jaw drops, not sure he understood what he just heard.
He turns to Noonan.
I ain't exactly my hearing is working in here, but it almost sounded like she wanted me to sit next to her?
He suddenly looks very uncomfortable, before he replies with a clumsy bow.
Your hono...Ladyship. I am sure it is an honor, but us Pahmet are never comfortable without our arms close at hand. Part of the risks of living in the badlands in the desert too long.
If she insists, he will begrudgingly divest himself of his 4-5 heavy weapons. (bow, lucern, breaker, dagger and mace)
Shad grins and offers to hold the weapons then sits in the shadiest spot
Shad glances at the man with the ankh trying to id it
religion
Come now Dwal, the less weapons you have on you, the more she can properly appreciate you. Noonan waggles his eyebrows.
Noonan bumps Dwal with his elbow. Come on, think of Thorppe
Seeing that the hunched man is openly wearing the Symbol of the Dawnflower, Tariq sits up and offers his voice in assistance.
"The Legendary Blessings the Pahmet granted to worthy ancient Pharaohs are known to many across the desert, Dwalindor Bronzed Dwarf of the Two Axes. Your lineage has earned you the great honor of being asked to sit beside the most powerful woman here in the City of Reeds, Her Excellency Muminofrah nobleborn of Sothis, with the power of life and death over her subjects . . . Such fortune of fate should not be denied."
"Her excellency has many blades, magic and trained beasts protecting us here in her floating palace. You need not fear set aside your weapons."
My guest Tariq is quite correctly Dwally.
Muminofrah coos over the Pahmet.
You are quite well protected. Now come, tell me all about your problems they sound fascinating.
She clearly wants Dwalindor to do all the talking.
Now Tariq dear, talk to my Dwally's friends while he regales me with tales of his adventures. These parties can be so dull, I know.