The late afternoon sun has just begin to set, as it beats down upon a dreary camel caravan trudging steadily through the scrublands of northern Katapesh. It's been more than a week now since the caravan set out from Solku, the last sign of civilization seen in what feels like weeks...if not longer. In the distant haze to the west, the PCs can just make out the immense outline of Pale Mountain looming over the horizon like a tombstone.
Garavel, the no-nonsense major domo of the merchant princess Almah Roveshki, has assured the group that their rendezvous point draws near, but it's hard to get more than two or three words out of the man at any one time. He keeps to himself at the head of the group, leaving the others to spend their days and nights getting to know one another. It seems to be the only diversion from the endless miles of sere, packed earth and scraggly vegetation.
Eli is a good-looking, well kept man with black hair, blue eyes, and bronzed tan skin identifying his Taldan heritage. He stands 5’8 and weighs in about 150 lbs. He is lean and in good shape, showing that he is well fed and in good health for his 27 years. His attire is fitting for some one of his status, fine quality cloth and expensive jewels. He typically wears a colorful vest over a lose shirt and comfortable pants with decent boots. His dark hair and beard are kept neat and trim in true Taldan style. Picture of Eli
Though the road has been long, Eli has been in good spirits and is eager to see the desert and find adventure. Wiping his brow with a soft handkerchief and pulling his expensive sweat stained shirt away from his sticky skin, he mutters a curse about the heat. Since arriving in Katapesh and starting his employ with Garavel, Eli has been slowly working a plan to acquire the only piece of gear he has found himself lacking. At nights he has been hosting a card game, inviting the caravan guards to play. Using the table skills he perfected in the gambling houses of Absalom he wins and looses just enough to make them believe they have a decent chance. He has picked his mark, a not so bright local with a descent set of leather armor who Eli let win a big streak the night before.
Approaching the man Eli says, "You had a good run at cards last night. You'll have to give me a chance to win back all that you took from me, how about right after the evening meal we deal out a hand?"
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Aaliyah is an attractive young woman with brown hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. She dresses well, in practical but colorful robes of nice fabrics trimmed in traditional decorations. At her side is a scimitar, which she hones and oils each evening in a ritualistic fashion. She also carries a small shield, bow, and a small travelling pack.
She is friendly toward the others in her group, and clear devotees of Sarenrae will have drawn her interest most keenly. Each morning at dawn she faces the East and gives thanks to Sarenrae for the light of the sun that is to come. Each evening she faces the west and prays for its swift return.
Though Garavel has been closed-lipped for most of the journey, Aaliyah is eager to pry out some information about what faces them in Kelmarane. She approached the man as they near their destination and says, "Blessings of the Sun, Garavel. If you are willing, I would learn more of the tactical situation we face at Kelmarane. Has the location been scouted? The enemy's numbers and strength been ascertained?"
Though Garavel has been closed-lipped for most of the journey, Aaliyah is eager to pry out some information about what faces them in Kelmarane. She approached the man as they near their destination and says, "Blessings of the Sun, Garavel. If you are willing, I would learn more of the tactical situation we face at Kelmarane. Has the location been scouted? The enemy's numbers and strength been ascertained?"
Garavel looks straight ahead, making no eye contact with Aaliyah. He does reply to her question, however. "We know little as yet of the situation at Kelmarane. This is why we hired you and your companions, of course." A small pull at the edge of Garavel's mouth accompanies his statement. Could that be an effort to smile?
Though the road has been long, Eli has been in good spirits and is eager to see the desert and find adventure. Wiping his brow with a soft handkerchief and pulling his expensive sweat stained shirt away from his sticky skin, he mutters a curse about the heat. Since arriving in Katapesh and starting his employ with Garavel, Eli has been slowly working a plan to acquire the only piece of gear he has found himself lacking. At nights he has been hosting a card game, inviting the caravan guards to play. Using the table skills he perfected in the gambling houses of Absalom he wins and looses just enough to make them believe they have a decent chance. He has picked his mark, a not so bright local with a descent set of leather armor who Eli let win a big streak the night before.
Approaching the man Eli says, "You had a good run at cards last night. You'll have to give me a chance to win back all that you took from me, how about right after the evening meal we deal out a hand?"
Utarchus shrugs and nods. "Sure, sounds good." He's not much with words.
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Garavel looks straight ahead, making no eye contact with Aaliyah. He does reply to her question, however. "We know little as yet of the situation at Kelmarane. This is why we hired you and your companions, of course." A small pull at the edge of Garavel's mouth accompanies his statement. Could that be an effort to smile?
"My grandfather used to say, 'Patience is also a form of action'. We will learn more of Kelmarane in due course. I see that my companions are of strong arm and keen wit so I do not fear the trials we face there. Thank you, Garavel."
Aaliyah thinks to herself, "I believe he knows more than he is willing to share. Nevermind. I'm sure Kelmarane is nothing that a sharp blade can't handle."
Standing at five foot and ten inches, Sadid is hardly an imposing figure. His black hair hangs short about his face, left to grow but kept close enough to keep out of his eyes and require little maintenance. It frames dark brown eyes and a darkly tanned clean shaven face that has obviously seen many days out in the harsh sun. He is dressed in loose, white, linen clothes of an Osirion style overlaid with well used but well cared for leather armor laced with studs of metal for added strength. Worn leather boots come up his calves, laced tight against the encroaching sand. A falchion is slung over his back, crossed by a quiver of arrows, and his shortbow is almost always within easy reach.
Most of the trip has found Sadid keeping to himself. Even his morning and evening devotions, nearly identical to those of Aaliyah, are performed removed slightly from the camp. He observes everyone with a keen interest, particularly the others that Garavel hired, but does not go out of his way to engage any of them in conversation. A casual observation of the man could reveal that he seems to be carrying some weight with a grim determination.
He is currently riding point for the caravan where his skills can be best used, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.
The small figure silhouetted against the fiery sky might pass for that of a child, if everyone in the caraven wasn't already well aware that it belonged to the foul-mouthed and foul-tempered halfling who had been their sullen travelling companion for many days. Most all of those days she has spent in a fierce silence, stalking the scrubland on the outskirts of the group, keeping to herself and responding with little more than angry grunts to any remark directed toward her.
Her hair and skin are both dark, though how much is natural tincture or sun-bronzed and how much is the grime of her long travels, one cannot be sure. It has been long enough since Solku to have spotted her "tidying herself up" -- a ritual involving stripping off her well-worn clothing, hanging it on the low branch of whatever shrub might be handy and ferociously beating clouds of dust out of it with the flat of her blade -- and anyone curious enough could ascertain that the skin normally covered by her armor is slightly paler than that usually in the sun, though no less besmirched by grime; undoubtedly, the inside of her clothes are as dirty as the outside.
Now, hearing Aaliyah asking their guide about Kelmarane, the halfling's interest is sufficiently piqued to move closer to the pair to overhear his answer. Hearing that he gives no helpful answer, she moves away again with an impatient gesture. "Execrable journey!" she growls. "Will we never arrive? We could move more quickly without the foreign dandy," she adds, with an unfriendly glance at Eli.
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Shadrach smiles at Nuvenil's blunt commentary, as he has spent his few moments of conversation speaking of desert wildlife, hazards and weather conditions, and found Eli to be one of the few present who seems unschooled on matters of survival, which, to his mind, means he has no business being out here...
While they travel, he spends time with sling in hand, sometimes swinging it lazily in time with his pace, watching for signs of edible fauna, to supplement their meals.
At his other hand, his desert wolf companion walks, flashing his fangs in annoyance as a fly attempts to land near his eye. Qafir is remarkable for a sandy-brown coat with tufts of reddish fur at ears and along his neck, as if dipped in drying blood.
Shadrach himself often keeps a veil over his lower face, but has allowed it to fall aside as their shadows grow long before them, his scraggly beard revealing his youth.
Aaliyah thinks to herself, "I believe he knows more than he is willing to share. Nevermind. I'm sure Kelmarane is nothing that a sharp blade can't handle."
Standing six and a half feet, Bosch is hard to miss in the caravan. He has kept to himself mostly. He prays to Sarenae at dawn and sunset like several of the others. While traveling he stays a short distance out in front of the group. At night he sets up his own 2/3rd shelter from his staff, two spears and some canvas. He practices unusual moves and poses until prayer time in the evening, then eats from his own supplies and reads from one of several small books by lantern light using a small hand-drawn portrait as a place mark. He is up and packed early each morning, always lending a hand where needed to get moving again. He has shown no interest in drinking or gambling so far.
If observed one would note that his tattoos cover many horrendous scars. His wrists are particularly bad, an indicator of the many different sets of shackles they have been bound by. His long black hair is well kept and braided, flecked with premature grays. His brown eyes are peaceful but a bit sad, constantly watching the horizon during the light hours. During peak sun hours both are hidden under a tightly wrapped head-dress. He wears only loose fitting clothing, no armor.
Nuveril has caught him studying her more than once. When noticed he does not react like he has been caught, instead he continues looking for a few more seconds then back to whatever he was doing. During her "sand-bath" she may have even caught a hint of a smile.
"Will we never arrive? We could move more quickly without the foreign dandy," she adds, with an unfriendly glance at Eli.
Eli lets the little beastly girls attempt to goad him hang in the air with not but a nod and a smile. He may not be the most seasoned explorer but he has done his best to help the caravans efforts. He does whatever is asked of him, even if he sometimes fails to understand the intent of the request. He turns to Utarchus, "Great, a game it is and perhaps tonight we can raise the stakes, if you're thinking you can take me like you did last night."
Tossing her head in impatience at Eli's frivolous ways, Nuveril heaves an exasperated sigh as she moves back toward the outskirts of the caravan. As she goes, however, her gaze falls on the hulking form of the half-orc and seems, as so often it does, to be caught on him against her will. Her green eyes narrow as they focus on the heavy scars around his massive wrists, and another expression mixes momentarily with her habitual scowl -- an expression which could be puzzlement or disgust.
Eli strolls along the caravan looking for the only other well dressed member of their little entourage. Finding Aaliyah he speaks, "Lady Aaliyah, you have turned down my offers to share dinner every night. In Absalom one of your obvious status would be deemed rude for ignoring such generous offers. I implore you, please dine with me this evening. I am eager to learn more of the customs and culture of your lands."
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"I know little of Absalom but should not wish to be considered rude there, or anywhere else for that matter. I accept your offer and apologize for deflecting your earlier proposals; I have been much in thought over the task we face at Kelmarane.
I too am eager to learn of your homeland...my knowledge of the Empire is limited to what I have learned from my teachers, who were likely not entirely objective in their views."
"Wonderful. Finally a decent night of dinner conversation. We can swap tales of politics and culture. I have read a lot about Katapesh, but books lack the intrigue's and gossiping of court that are glue that hold a society together. Alas, I'm afraid, we won't be able to share a fine bottle of wine as is the custom in my household. Until then Lady Aaliyah." Eli then takes his leave with a polite bow.
He then heads to the back of the caravan so the he can slip off to the side an take care of natures call.
"Ah, another stranger in a strange land. This we have in common and our shared experiance is what we shall talk about. I am eager to learn of all the lands beyond my own boarders, so it will be my honor to share a meal."
As Eli works his way to the back of the camel line he stops to join Shadrach wathcing his wolf's confrontation with a fly. "She is a majestic animal, I love her coloring. What's her name?"
"My apologies, my father kept many hunting dogs that were all female. I just assumed. He is a beautiful example of his breed. Aalyiah is joining me for dinner this evening to share tales of our homelands. Please come, eat with us and tell us of Katepesh."
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I know little of civilized Katapesh, I fear. Save for a night here or a night there, in between travels, I walk the caravan routesm following the family trade, as guard and guide. I do, perhaps, know more about the local spices than I ever cared to, as it seems that merchants like nothing more than to practice their haggling skills on a captive audience...
"Spices, caravans, haggling merchants...all good topics of conversation. Please come share what ever you'd like. We will be your captive audience."