"Greetings, fellow Qadirans", says a halfling dressed in typical Qadiran desert clothing, with two scimitars on his belt. "I am Qassir, dervish swordsman of the Qadiran desert." He draws one of his swords and bows with a flourish of the sword in front of him.
"I know that most honorable swordsmen of our native desert are human, but as a loyal citizen of Qadira and servant of the Satrap, I aim to make a name for myself as a loyal warrior, despite my small stature. I have recently completed my first two missions for the Pathfinder Society, in the name of the Satrap, so you haven't read my name in the Pathfinder Chronicles yet. But I promise, my time will come."
A well dressed Keleshite man extends his hand in greeting,
"I am Tariq, son of Faris. Greetings, and may Sarenrae's blessings shine upon you as the sun. Should you need a good mount, or well made leather goods, please let me know."
Turning to Quassir,
"Worry not over your fame, for Sarenrae's Light shines on all, no matter their stature, in size or standing. Each of us shines bright in the eyes of the goddess, and should she will it, we will be lauded before the masses. We will experience the dawning of our glory in the time of her choosing."
A tall, young Ulfen man stands with a battleaxe on his belt. He has a young man's beard and moustache and his face is somewhat scarred with peck marks down both sides of his face. He has a tattoo of Erastil on his right bicep and one of Sarenrae on his left.
I am Samur Scarring and I am new to the ways of Qadira and Sarenrae, but what I see I like, and I am outcast by my own people.
Qasir, you are short, but I have met a number of your race who are from Qadira. It seems not uncommon. Many of them seem to make good merchants. I have learnt something of the merchant art from such Qadirans. I have not heard of you, and likely you not of me, but I am pleased to meet you.
Tariq, you sound like a man of wisdom which i am not. Tell me more of Sarenrae. I feel her warmth and protection, but know little of her ways. In my lands, she is not well known.
"Yes, many halflings from Qadira are successful merchants, or lower forms of laborers."
"But in Qadira, and most of the Kelesh Empire, the most revered of noble swordsmen are human. Other races must work twice as hard just to earn the honor of training among them. And even then, those of us who succeed in earning glory and respect among the dervish warriors might still not have the respect of civilians who look down at us as less than a human of the same accomplishments."
"It will take much work for me to overcome this prejudice and prove myself an equal among the finest swordsmen of Qadira. But it is work worth doing, both for my own glory, and the glory I will bring to the Satrap through my many adventures!"
|Mark Seifter Venture-Lieutenant, Massachusetts—Boston aka Rogue Eidolon|
*The elf who enters during Qassir and Samur's conversation is a study in contrasts. He wears clerical vestments of Sarenrae in the traditional bright blue and white, with a silver holy symbol about his neck, but his hair is jet black, and the scimitar at his hip pulses with a blackness that is almost alive.*
"The Dawnflower, blessed be her name, brings her light and mercy to all her children, halfling or human, elf or dwarf," he intones, paraphrasing a scripture from The Birth of Light and Truth.
"As an orphan, I was raised in Her temple--one of the human priestesses there was the closest thing I had to a mother. Some may hold prejudices, but not all, and I am a proud dervish as well. In fact, I have met a Trade Princess who is a halfling like yourself, and she said she received her title thanks to the good word put in for her by Pasha al'Jakri. It seems that Trade Prince al'Hakam also makes his decisions based on merit rather than race, and I have yet to disappoint him."
*It is only after he has completely finished that he pauses, blinks, and then remembers.*
"Oh yes. I am Agravaine al'Gaheris, a humble servant of the Dawnflower."
*In strides a Kelish man draped in silken finery of blues and reds. His thin mustache dances on top of his warm smile, while it's bearded counterpart flanks below. Stopping at the door, he produces a bottle from his vestments, the contents of which he quickly splashes under either arm before entering.*
Ah! Hello my kinsmen! It is good to see the warm sands of my country again after a visit to those frost ridden lands of Irrisen. I think this is cause for celebration! But... oh dear, I seem to have left my decanter of imported brandy outside with my caravan. No matter!
*He pulls a different bottle from his robes, pouring the contents out onto the floor. The liquid steams a little, and gradually the clouds condense into the form of a dog.*
To the dog "Go fetch the bag with my crystal decanter and good glasses."
*The dog hurridly exits, as his master sits down at a table nearby*