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The crunch of everyone's footsteps as they crest yet another slope in this unforgiving scrubland sounds again and again. Only occasionally does anyone start a conversation and even then the sapping dry air takes the strength out of chatter.
Now and then there is the call of the odd bustard, searching for carrion. Above one circles over the small caravan hopefully. Before heading back to the Brazen Peaks.
Ahead in the haze the dominating Pale Mountain is centre stage of the range.
Now there is Garavel and a motley sextet of warriors, priests and other adventurers heading north.
The no-nonsense Garavel, has drawn everyone else on to the mission and made it clear that time is passing, his mistress Almah is waiting and he reckons to be with her by noon tomorrow.
He keeps his pure white keffiyeh drawn tight to stop the scirocco wind driving sand into his face, as he rides his camel at the front. His jewelled scabbard for the curved scimitar within easy reach. From time to time, usually when he orders a stop, the man opens up a little more.
There was a seventh, a slave called Topir but he was left in the desert yesterday without food or water, when Garavel caught him thieving. He had been warned so the swordsman said. Garavel even pointed out the bustards circling behind the trail this morning, showing that his will be done and Topir is no more.
Zaid pauses at the top of the rise and surveys the barren landscape in front of him.
"Ah, Nombir," he says, "is it not fine to be back in the desert again? The open sky, the wind, and the warm sand beneath your feet? How I have missed it!"
Erizi walking with his head bowed, and contepmpating what to do once he becomes a free man, overhears the comment. With a sneer he looks at the soft man, and mumbles under his breath.
"Any day is a fine day when you're not shackled in iron". "A fine day will be when I can go and do as I please". Then he briefly raises his brown veil, exposing the lower half of his scarred face, and with a broken toothed grin, hacks and spits on the ground to the side, narrowly missing a black scorpion that peaked out from behind a rock the party had partially dislodged.
He then returns to his silent musings, kicking a rock aside every not and then.
"Save your breath for walking," grumbles the stout, dwarf clad in sand-blasted studded leather armour as he shoulders his crossbow. "We have many hours of walking ahead of us and grim work to do when we arrive. Gnolls have infested Kelmarane and no doubt we will be up to our elbows in blood before our business is completed."
"Yes it is Zaid my friend, some fresh air and sun again at last." Then he speaks quietly to Zaid, "have you found out much about the others yet? They're a motley bunch, but the Dwarf is grumbling so he must be happy! How far do you trust this Garavel?"
FW
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Nombir
A swirl of hot dust breaks around those following Garavel. Grit stings leaving dust around the eyes.
Turning in his seat, Garavel points to a rising high hill. Rocks have tumbled down all the sides. It is only an hour or so walk across the open ground.
"We will rest there tonight."
On the left flank of the group strides Shimei. Short, wiry, taciturn Shimei.
Shimei hasn't said much since joining the party. He caught up as it was leaving the city, asked if this was the party going to Kelmarane to kill gnolls and fell in line when the answer was yes. He typically walks out to one side or the other of the party, a flank scout.
There is nothing to distinguish himself from a typical desert rat. He is clothed in loose, worn, brown and tan robes. A pack, a quiver and waterskin hang from his back; they swing, couterbalancing his arms, as he walks. His hair and beard are so closely cropped and thin as to almost look shaved.
The only thing that really distinguishes him at all is the out-sized bow he carries. It is almost a staff. Quite unlike the normal hunting (short) bows favored locally. It might be the one thing he cares about. Each evening he rubs it down thoroughly with oil from a small vial.
Although he can't make out the words, Shimei hears the conversation start up as it has occasionally during the journey. Looking at the view ahead he's confident there's no ambush in the near future. Giving in to a longing for company, he drifts closer to the group of travelers, hoping to hear their words.
"Yes it is Zaid my friend, some fresh air and sun again at last." Then he speaks quietly to Zaid, "have you found out much about the others yet? They're a motley bunch, but the Dwarf is grumbling so he must be happy! How far do you trust this Garavel?"
"Since Garavel was our point of contact from the Society I think he must be sincere. As for the rest, who knows? The desert will reveal all."
Zaid also wears a white keffiyeh with a beige turban covering his head. He has dark tanned skin and a long black goatee. A scimitar swings at his side. He seems completely unaffected by the heat.
FW:
Raging Swan Press
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Nombir
** spoiler omitted **A swirl of hot dust breaks around those following Garavel. Grit stings leaving dust around the eyes.
Turning in his seat, Garavel points to a rising high hill. Rocks have tumbled down all the sides. It is only an hour or so walk across the open ground.
"We will rest there tonight."
"We shouldn't rest; let us keep going. The gnoll scum should not be allowed to witness another dawn."
Erizi glares at the grumpy dwarf, and growls under his breath. "I for one want dinner, drink, and a few hours sleep". "Notice I said want, not need". "Besides they breed so fast, if we wait another day there will be more of them to pound into a bloody paste".
Shimei joins the edge of the group in time to hear Garavel's closing remark. He shakes his head. Must have been a joke. Goat? Shimei can't tell a joke, and seldom understands them.
A short while later a small mustard-yellow dog trots over a rise. He has been dogging the party on and off during the trip. Usually creeping into camp in the evenings. He circles the small parade stopping to look hopefully at each person. Sometimes he lays his head on his paws while looking, sometimes he barks and wags his tail.
Shimei sees the little canine and shouts, "Beggar! You disgrace all dogs. Go find food." His tone is gruff, but you have all seen him slip the dog a morsel after each evening meal.
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Later Garavel relaxes by the fire after a fine meal of stewed goat in onions and flatbread. He offers everyone a cheroot as the coffee pot bubbles away nicely.
"We will be with my mistress tomorrow and I wish you all to be a little more familiar with her camp. It will make the introductions easier and may even make some of you seem more palatable, a bit like the dried goat here."
He puffs away again then looks up to the stars. "Also one or two of you may have questions burning in your heart. There are many curious souls in this land, I find."
"So cards on the table," he finishes, smiling to himself in the flickering firelight.
After setting up his tent and laying out his beroll, Zaild sits bey the compfire with his new companions, carefully studying each of them in turn. He takes a cheroot gratefully, then after Garavel speaks, Zaid says "I am Zaid Al-Mahaudin of Katapesh. I am a scholar and a scribe, and a curious soul."
The dwarf arranges his bedroll between several large boulders and carefully sets his warhammer nearby in case he should need it suddenly in the night.
"I am Morgrym Hammerbolt, and I greet you all."
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He waits and listens to the introductions.
"To begin, Almah is a merchant princess, she will expect your best. In return she is one of the brightest, and most loyal mistresses I have worked for. I often bless the day that the Masters placed me with her. There is much to learn from that one. And better yet she does not keep her head in the clouds, she knows men."
Garavel nods as he talks, his cheroot ash falling off every now and then.
"Almah has also brought several retainers and guards for this task."
Perception (Sight) Check DC15
"I'm Nombir Kadesh, servant of Abadar, praise be upon him". Nombir settles down near Zaid and studies the others cautiously. He then looks at Morgrym and says "is it true that dwarves drink beer for breakfast when they can?"
FW
Erizi sits silently while the fireside chatter continues. He doesn't want to know anyone's names. In the Salt mines, and in the fighting pits you didn't want to know anyone...They wouldn't be there tomorrow. He finds it is much easier to worry only about himself...and whoever is providing the next bit of coin.
In trying to tune out the friendly conversation he tunes out the rest of the world as well. Intent only on his meal.
"To begin, Almah is a merchant princess, she will expect your best. In return she is one of the brightest, and most loyal mistresses I have worked for. I often bless the day that the Masters placed me with her. There is much to learn from that one. And better yet she does not keep her head in the clouds, she knows men."
"In that case I shall be glad indeed to meet her."
"Ughh hmmm" A clear female voice sounds as from behind the boulders outsteps a slim girl, short sandy hair, fair complexion, deep blue eyes.Dressed in light brown pants shirt and cloak
"Hope that I am not too late to join the party, I am Zsithreminni of Dolshek."She gives a flurry of bow's."And am pleased to meet you one and all."
With that she sets her pack to the ground lay's her bedroll out and gives a sheepish grin.
"Hello to you Zsithreminni, you are welcome". Nombir addresses the whole party and says with a slight hint of sarcasm "as we have people appearing out of nowhere to join us, perhaps we should set a watch, in case anything that may harm us tries to join us?"
Shimei busies himself preparing and cleaning up from the meal and doing other small chores around camp, especially when Garavel looks his way. When there's a lull in the introductions, he pitches in, "I am Shimei, of Merraketh. It used to lie 2 days walk from here until gnolls took and burned it. When the gnolls lie dead and Kelmarane is in our hands, I will be happy."
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Garavel listens and agrees with Nombir.
"I shall watch first then wake you and so on. We are not far from the Sultan's Claw and Almah's camp. The gnolls may be around so keep your weapons close. Also do not get separated, these dogs are masters at tearing a lone straggler down before help can come."
He flicks the last of the cigar into the fire and pulls his aba tight.
Erizi listens to the conversation unsure of how to react. He has been told what to do his entire life, and is not used to having input on decisions. Finally he just decides to bed down, and if anyone wants him to do something they'll tell him.
Just before he turns in however he decides to take a walk around the perimeter of the campsite, to give himself a better idea of the lay of the land should anything interrupt their sleep.
"Ughh hmmm" A clear female voice sounds as from behind the boulders outsteps a slim girl, short sandy hair, fair complexion, deep blue eyes.Dressed in light brown pants shirt and cloak
"Hope that I am not too late to join the party, I am Zsithreminni of Dolshek."She gives a flurry of bow's."And am pleased to meet you one and all."
With that she sets her pack to the ground lay's her bedroll out and gives a sheepish grin.
After making his introduction, Shimei says to the girl, "There is a little more stew in the pot if you are hungry." He glances back toward the spot where he had been preparing to scour the pot. The wild dog's head is deep in the pot, rooting for its own meal.
"Ahh. Perhaps something from the dry stores then?"
*** Later ***
Shimei returns to his small tent. Before it he has laid out a small prayer rug. As is his nightly habit he takes a small vial of oil and begins oiling his longbow. Once that is done he lays the bow facing north and facing north himself kneels and puts his head to the ground. He quietly murmurs in prayer.
Then he turns in.
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Erizi gets a chance to see the shapes of the distant mountains thanks to the moonlight and stars. He discovers little unusual but did his ears hear something far away. Who knows? He certainly never heard it again.
By the time he reaches the camp people are beginning to bed down. Garavel is playing with a twig in the fire.
Almah's servant shrugs and shakes his head disappointed.
"Thank you for your kind offer to share the pot but me thinks that the hound has claimed it as his own,it certainly smelled good, but luckily for me my belly was filled a few hours ago at Marshoum Oasis some few miles north of here."
"No problem Garavel, wake me when you are ready". I need plenty of sleep if I'm going to be much use to you tomorrow". Nombir surveys the amount of people around him and asks Garavel "shall we stand watch in pairs in case one of us needs to wake the others, or one of us falls asleep on watch?" Nombir says with a chuckle.
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The moon is growing fuller with each starry night. In a few days time, it will be at its brightest in the autumn sky. However in these latitudes the weather does not change drastically, unless forced to.
Typically the sky is clear blue with only the occasional clouds. Even more rare are the rainstorms.
The cloudless night passes peacefully and dawn arrives early (about 5 hours after midnight).
----
The following morning as the small caravan sets off down from the sheltered spot, the way is almost pleasant. It is hot but nothing too wearing, perhaps later as the sun reaches its zenith, things will become more of a test.
"We should be there by noon, if all of you hurry up!" says the camel rider, Garavel.
"This caravan master is more like a slave master." She mutters under her breath, as she pulls her cowl of he cloak over her head to protect her from the beating sun. "Whats he expect us to do run, in this heat, why we dont strike out during darkness with the light of the moon to guide us the powers that be only know why."
Zaid spends the early hours of the morning studying a book, then writing a journal in another sheaf of parchment, in a language he thinks no one else can read.
Zaid shoulder his pack and shuffles off with the rest. "Let me know if you begin to suffer in the heat." he tells Nombir.
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PART ONE: THE SULTAN’S CLAW
In the haze to the west, the immense outline of Pale Mountain can be made out, rising over the mid-evening horizon.
Garavel is annoyed and finding it hard to hide. The caravan should have reached the camp by now, and then he smiles as a craggy tree appears over the next hill. It is obvious why it is called the Sultan’s Claw. With five huge, mostly leafless branches, the growth looks more like a giant skeletal talon than a thing of living wood.
When everyone crests the last ridge, a caravan of several wagons and a large tent comes into view. Camels in a nearby pen prance in agitation, and a clutch of confused goats and livestock wander the grounds around the wagons. Perhaps a dozen men and women rush around the campsite, chasing down an animal or hastening toward the centre of the cluster, near the Sultan’s Claw with pails of water in their hands. One of the wagons is on fire!
Lush orange and red flames engulf an elaborate wooden wagon emblazoned with moons and stars. A gout of smoke pours from an open door. Bits of paper and card scatter into the darkening sky, blown by an ill wind.
Suddenly the whole of the Sultan’s Claw erupts into brilliant flame.
The central flap of an elaborate tent flies open and a regal woman who can only be Almah steps out into the firelit twilight.
“Douse that flame!” she shouts to the men surrounding the wagon before turning towards the major-domo. “Ah, Garavel! And just a moment later than the nick of time!” then she notices the rest of his group,
“Find some way to help!”
"By Sultan's beard,how the heck this happen." She rushes cautiously so as not to lose her footing down to the camp."C'mon get a chain of buckets going or you going to lose the lot."She shouts.
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As Zsithreminni starts forward a fateful gust of wind blows some of the cards, out into the open. Fortune-telling Harrow cards, a singed card blows directly at her, catching against her chest. It is a Cyclone card, the card portends war, arson and destructive plans.
Almah, Garavel and four soldiers in the distinctive red chitin-plated armour of the Pactmaster Guard are already running back and forth between the burning fortune-tellers wagon and an uncovered wagon about 20 feet away. The latter contains a huge barrel. Each person is dipping a bucket (from a pile by the wagon) and flinging the water over the fire. But it is a strong fire.
Erizi stares around dumbfaced at all the chaos. Should he take this time to just run away. He could be free...but know he still had honor. He would earn his freedom as he agreed.
Seeing nothing better to do he decides to help with the watering down of the fire.
She will run to aid in the round up of animals, thinking that pulling wagons requires a lot more strength than she has
Nombir shouts "move the other wagon before it catches fire as well!"
He then checks the water barrel to see if there is going to be enough to put the fire out?
Zaid runs and helps the mercenaries pull the other wagon. "How did it start?"
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Nombir shouts "move the other wagon before it catches fire as well!"
He then checks the water barrel to see if there is going to be enough to put the fire out?
As Nombir moves to the water barrel, he sees the four men trying to rock the wagon, to get it rolling. Zaid goes to help them.
He judges that the barrel has enough water for everyone to last a good few weeks. It may be enough. Probably. But Nombir is no fire expert.
"Dammit,come here you stupid goats, am trying to rescue you."
Nombir moves next to Zaid and helps push the wagon.
"Master Dwarf, here let me help you." As she rushes to the aid of Morgrym "Think i'm better suited being a bucket bearer than an animal carer." She chuckles.