Work completed, and aware now of the linking threads of your adventures, you bid farewell to Namarth and head towards the harsh world of Kargzant. No easy task awaits you there. To understand the Wards of Balance, you will need to convince the Kargzant of your urgent need to speak with their eldest shamans.
For Kia and Arianwyn especially, there will be no warm welcome. The People and the Fey have long been enemies and the old memories of past atrocities run deep. The rest of the party are fortunate. The Kargzant merely pity those who are not of The People and do not discriminate.
Your immediate objective is the border town of Kurstifars Balaga. There you can pick up supplies and news before hunting for the Bone Riders. This elusive tribe is said to the most approachable of the Kargzant, and you have the assurance of Pirot Samagal that they will know his name and his owed debt.
Behind you lie the cultivated lands of the southwest as increasingly the landscape turns to scrubby tundra. In the distance, the wooden walls of the fortified town are approaching. Journey's end is within a two hour ride.
From the little information you have been able to garner, true Kargzant regard the town as a despised tool. True Kargzant need nothing but their horses, but they are willing to trade the wealth of their land with the less fortunate. Mud-Hands and Walkers (as they call those creatures not of the People) live and work there. Among their number are some Fallen - Kargzant who have rejected their own great birthright, but are too useful to slay. Merchants, farmers, money changers and artisans can be found here and a few oddities too. Harsh though Kargzant is, it has long held an allure for hardy (or foolhardy) types. Kurstifars Balaga is a bustling place and a fine source of information, if nothing else.
Vel looks to Reason. "Well, it looks like you're our diplomat here."
Then to Arianwyn, saying sourly, "Kia at least wears armor. Isn't there some way you could -- you know -- cover up?"
Arianwyn looks at his own rune-enscribed leather armour and mismatched nobleman's clothing. "You may have a point." he replies nonachalently, and draws the hood of his cloak over his head to cover his face.
He points at Kia, "In our case, of course, the eyes have it. Even with a helmet, your eladrin orbs will be quite evident. Best to conceal them in a like manner."
"I can't see what all the fuss is about. They are only eyes. But, if you say so...".
Kurstifars Balaga offers contrast enough to Namarth. It is a vibrant, active township, packed with the bustle of trade and news, but there any resemblance ends.
Here there is no pride in building. Few dwellings are more than two stories high and they are clearly designed for practicality rather than beauty. That said, it is not unpleasing. Where stone and woodwork are lacking, paint more than compensates. Your eyes are almost assaulted by the murals that adorn every house and shop. Strange music and the loud shouts of traders in the curiously beautiful language of Kargzant fill your ears as you ride the unpaved streets absorbing this new place.
Thanks to your precautions, you attract little attention as you make your way towards the centre of the town. Ahead of you lies the market place and here you see the full panoply of goods on offer.
Apart from the usual food and household goods stalls, hawks, hounds and hunting equipment abound, along with woven goods, leatherware and weapons. The shapes seem odd to your eyes, but there is no denying the quality of the workmanship. Here also are storytellers, fortune tellers, wandering shaman and preachers, dotted throughout the square and calling their wares.
At the edge of your awareness you sense the vastness of the steppe beyond. Outside the walls of the town there is nothing that could reasonably be called a landmark as far as the eye can see. And yet, in its own bleak way, it is beautiful.
Evening is drawing in and the sharp blare of horns signals the shutting of the town gates this night. Around the market place, the vendors seem to relax slightly, the urgency going from their calls. Nobody is shutting up shop yet, but the need to attract passers by before they leave has gone.
The smell of roasting meat and strange spices rises in the air as the bustle of the market place slows to a gentler pace. Now, for the first time, the odd curious glance comes your way.
A boy comes up to you and pets Whiteclaw, clearly approving of her lean hunting lines.
"Kuyo dua, ishi?" he queries, looking up at Arianwyn.
Arianwyn adopts a low, but not overly harsh tone, "We are strangers here, boy. We do not speak your tongue." he says quietly, making sure his face is hidden.
The boy looks pitying, shrugs and gestures to a woman behind one of the stalls.
Heavily veiled herself, she looks at the child, sighs and comes towards you. The boy grabs her arm and speaks to her and she nods.
"You want good food and rest?"
The common is heavily accented and clearly not often used, but she is quite understandable.
Whiteclaw doesn't seem to mind the petting at all, playing up the role of hunting dog rather well, even going so far as to lick the boys hand.
"That would be welcome." Arianwyn replies.
Gesturing to the companions, the woman makes her way back to her small stall which stands in front of one of the mural covered houses lining the market square.
"Take off your horses and eat. It is good. Not much money," she explains.
The boy continues to pet Whiteclaw, offering her titbits from the cookpot when he thinks the woman isn't looking.
"Iyi dua, siz bir avci olmalidir. Siz cok iyi chivin?" he croons to her.
"She is a good dog." The woman looks half appraisingly at Whiteclaw.
"How much?"
"Has she young? Chivin?"
The woman moves towards Whiteclaw and passes a hand over her head, and then expertly pulls back her lips to look at her teeth before nodding.
"Dua must hunt. Show in day." She gestures broadly towards the gates and shrugs, shaking her head.
Abandoning her attempts at common, a fluid burst of Kargzant comes from her.
"Sen bu dua avi; yarin bize gosterecektir. Bu gece icin, kapilar kapali;. Ne zaman o iyi, biz para tunta oldurmek getirdi."
Vel scowls.
Arianwyn mutters to Reason, "I think she wants to buy Whiteclaw. I wonder how much she would fetch?"
Arianwyn realises with some frustration that he cannot easily read the people of this area.
Whiteclaw looks amused at the discussion.
Arianwyn
"We shall not be trading her. I'm afraid." Arianwyn says to the woman.
The woman nods understandingly and pats Whiteclaw once more before going about the important business of feeding you all. The stew (for such it is) is oddly spiced, but pleasant. With a slight smile, the woman places a bowl for Whiteclaw.
"She hunts and must feed. Is 3 silver to eat and sleep."
The woman goes about her business, staying within earshot as another customer comes up. The boy stays beside Whiteclaw, petting her with one hand and casting curious glances at the strangers in his midst.
In her efforts to remain unnoticed by the populace, Kia has remained silent up to now, but did tense a bit when it looked as if they were going to sell Whiteclaw. Had it not been for her glasses, she would have given Vel a 'look' when it appeared she was trying to sell her.
Quietly, she says:
"I think we need to have a better understanding of the language around here before we make any deals we might regret. Vel, can you do something to understand their language a bit better? I could read it, if they write anything down, but that's all."
Vel replies testily but quietly to Kia, "No, I can't, and I doubt there's much writing here. Try our librarian." She nods at Reason.
Strangers in a strange land, the group sit by the stall and eat supper. The woman points you out proudly to all her regular customers and more than a few wander over to look at the newcomers. One of them, a heavily tattooed woman with bones and beads wound into her long hair, looks particularly hard before approaching.
"What do you seek? Is it your fortune or vengeance for some wrong?" you hear her murmur in perfectly clear common.
The stallholder shakes her head.
"Senin sacmalik, Iuki onlara musallat etmeyin. Onlarin tazi satin dua ve onlari mutlu ve iyi beslenmis gerek calsiyorum."
Vel shakes her head and scowls (again) when the stallholder replies. The frustration of not knowing the language is getting under her skin.
Whiteclaw doesn't worry about the language issue - likely not that suprisingly. She does, however, walk around the stall area, doing her best to act like a typical dog, though never too far from her companions.
Reason rustles furtively in his backpack.
"Errm. I took the precaution of visiting the Library before we set out. I have a phrasebook. It's quite short and not terribly helpful, but I think the vendor is telling the other woman not to make us unhappy as she wants to buy our dog. I'll see if I can negotiate a room for us, shall I?"
Tucking his tail neatly over his arm, he walks politely up to the vendor and scuffles through his book for a moment. She seems slightly bewildered, then laughs as understanding dawns. A few coins change hands and Reason rejoins you looking pleased with himself.
"We have a room. Once we're there, I can arrange matters for us. Although I think it would be a good idea to move lodgings soon after or this lady may be suspicious at our sudden comprehension of her language."
"However," Reason continues, "it may be useful for me to cast the ritual and have us considered ignorant outsiders. Hm?"
"However," Reason continues, "it may be useful for me to cast the ritual and have us considered ignorant outsiders. Hm?"
Within the hour, the group's communication problems are resolved, for today at least.
Arianwyn opens his mind to the arcane threads permeating the group and bends his will to aiding Vel.
Somewhat surprised at being Chosen, Kia gives Reason a wry look.
"Well, at least I understand the importance of Tact, so I shouldn't offend anyone."
"But, it will look a bit odd if I walk around with my face covered and then try to talk to everybody. Any ideas of some sort of story we could say about Arianwyn and me? Maybe I should have some exotic name like... like... Like Shalumbana of the..."
"Ideas anyone...?"
"I just don't want to be questing, that's really not like me at all."