Sajan will inspect the other tent too.
You work your way back to the first tent, more confident in your movements. Carefully, you ease aside a flap of door, looking inside.
You see carpets, bedding, what looks like an expensive oil brazier but again noone. You don't hear anything overt this time but can't shake the feeling that there are multiple creatures inside but unseen.
I come in peace- you don't need to hide from me. Sajan's voice reverberates through the tent. Despite his words, Sajan is ready and poised to leap aside the moment a projectile or spell is flung in his direction.
Your words produce a sharp and surprised inhalation from the other side of the tent but no immediate response as you ready yourself.
A few seconds later and you hear a warm voice speak from some distance behind you (from the vicinity of the fire pit).
That is good news friend, assalamu alaikum. If actions speak louder than words then I believe yours have spoken loudly.
You turn to see a tall, well-proportioned man wearing blue trousers and a yellow silk shirt under a silvery chain shirt. A strong jaw and cheek bones frame a regal and handsome face. His eyes are a deep blue, the iris' almost glinting in the sunlight. A scimitar and a long curved dagger are thrust through a wide belt. He speaks toward your general vicinity .
These are harsh, unforgiving lands. Discharging a basic level of prudence is necessary, yes, but can sometimes make for poor manners and for that I apologise.
I am Mohandis, leader of this jama'at. You and your companions are welcome to enjoy the hospitality of our camp.
He seems to wait for your reply, right hand resting comfortably near his scimitar hilt. There remains noone else visible.
Sajan bows deeply to the man, forgetting that he may not be able to see such a gesture.
Being careful is being safe this far out. Don't worry, not offended; we too were cautious. Greetings, Mohandis. I am Sajan Krama Sumna, of a group of adventurers from Kelmarane. If you wait a little while the Elf's spell will wear off and I can greet you properly- it seems fair.
Sajan will wait for the invisibility to wear off and bow again.
A place by your fire would be excellent. Perhaps we could break bread together and trade tales? If you are willing, I will fetch my charges. I feel I must tell you, we have a Gnoll among our number- an ex-slave. He is used to people not trusting him. But he is a good person and has proven himself time and time again to have mastered the base instincts of his race. I will be responsible for his actions if you need it, I have spent the last year protecting Kelmarane from his kind. Is this deal one you are willing to take? If not, I must say no to your kind offer.
As you like. Mohandis waits patiently for the minute or two for the spell to expire. When it does he makes a casual hand gesture and from a way behind him six more men become visible.
They're clothed and armed similarly to their leader, in a mix of leathers and metal armour. The majority also have long composite bows and quivers strapped to their backs. They regard you easily enough although with an undercurrent of wariness.
You will find we keep to the old ways of hospitality Sajan. It is our obligation to attend to travellers in need and I suspect you will have had enough of my stories by dawn.
I will accept your gnoll although as you say I will also take your parole for his good conduct. Long have his people and mine been in conflict. I will also ask that you leave your weapons, such as they are (he eyes your knuckles) in a tent that will be set aside for your use. I have women and younglings in my jama'at and I fear trust, even for new friends, goes only so far.
Feel free to talk to your companions, we will wait.
"I guess you are right, Grall." Linah manages a smile, but her voice is still tired with a hint of defeat as she turns to Nuveril. "I can not sway you in this, and i do understand your reasons. I still hope that you can be more lenient towards Zeladiel. He is neither a priest nor a gnome." Linah speaks the last words with a teasing smile.
"Were he a Gnome, he would not be traveling with us," she growls under her breath, "or I with him, at any rate." She had argued vociferously against Felliped being allowed to remain in Kelmarane after Xulthos's defeat, but her well-reasoned arguments about the untrustworthy nature of Gnomes had been unable to sway Almah's ruling. She continues to watch the camp for any outcry which might indicate Sajan had been discovered.
Five minutes seems to pass very slowly indeed and there is no immediate sign (sight) of Sajan although you can now see what you think are humanoid sized figures moving fairly casually down in the camp, partly obscured by the tents.
"Looks like we wait for Sajan, then go introduce ourselves. Can you pray for healing, Linah? I still have many spells in case of trouble, but doubt I could stand up to another flying lion."
** spoiler omitted **
Very well.
Sajan returns to the group, gesturing down to the camp below.
I made some new friends and we agreed to share tales and shelter with them. I think they might have information on the Gnolls. However, we must put our weapons in a tent; they are cautious. And Grall, stay close to me please.
"Put our weapons in a tent?!" Nuveril responds in disbelief. "Among complete strangers? Make deals for yourself, Sajan; you cannot be disarmed. Or are you to submit to being bound while we sit around the campfire sharing tales?"
They were invisible themselves until I announced myself. They are just cautious, I don't think they have any ill intent.
Sajan smiled, expecting the outburst from Nuveril.
I will put my brass knuckles in with the rest, Nuveril. They mean us no harm; they are more scared of us than we are of them. Have some faith.
"Faith in strangers? Am I to 'trust' them, too?" she responds hotly. "And where are their weapons to be? Oh, I forgot: they were invisible. They are spell-slingers; they need no steel to subdue us." She shakes her head. "The only honest people on the savannah bear weapons as we do and would never ask a stranger to disarm himself to enjoy their hospitality. They are robbers or slavers, and I will not place myself so easily in their hands. Go if you wish. I will make camp here on the trail; you may be glad of having an ally with a weapon before morning."
Sajans smile grows as Nuveril continues, but eventually he looks rather sombre.
You are so quick to think the worst of everyone Nuveril. I have met these people, you have not. Yet you maintain they are robbers or slavers, before even talking with them? Stay on the trail alone, but know that with a closed heart you will always be alone.
"And with an open one, you will eventually be entrapped," she retorts. "I know only that my people would never ask strangers to walk among us unarmed unless we considered them enemies. 'When a man and a stranger both bear arms, they are men and equals; when one is unarmed, they are beasts, and one is prey to the other': so say our elders."
This is not some flea ridden tribal meeting- this is their home they have offered to open to us for the night; with a Gnoll among us, no less. My heart is open but I am watchful for deceit; and I sensed none. Come and meet them and speak for yourself, rather than letting your own issues of trust decide for you.
Nuveril hesitates, glancing down at her hammer, but her knuckles whiten as she tightens them around the haft. Sajan is large and can defend himself with the strength of his limbs, and no one can take away Grall's bite; Zeladiel has his magic and Linah her goddess. But without her hammer, she is nothing but another halfling for the slave markets; with her nails and teeth she could not even reliably take her own life rather than be sold as chattel. "I would not be welcome there," she says coldly, "because I carry a weapon won honestly in battle. Your 'friends' are welcome to visit my camp themselves and to come armed. I do not ask them to enter as slaves and supplicants."
I'll let them know and bring you some food later then. Sajan says. Perhaps after a few hours of time in our company they will relax the restriction.
Grall trusts Sajan's assessment of the situation and is willing to give up his weapons.
Nuveril begins to set her own bare camp on the path while the rest of you descend to the valley floor.
You are greeted by the camp's leader a tall, well-proportioned man wearing blue trousers and a yellow silk shirt under a silvery chain shirt. A strong jaw and cheek bones frame a regal and handsome face. His eyes are a deep blue, the iris' almost glinting in the sunlight. A scimitar and a long curved dagger are thrust through a wide belt.
Greetings friends, assalamu alaikum. I am Mohandis, leader of this jama'at. As I have said to your companion Sajan we keep to the old ways here. You shall be our honored guests for the duration of your stay.
While you were talking he seems to have gathered his group, who have dropped their invisibility (or so you assume). Another four male warriors join the six Sajan saw earlier. There are eight women, although less armored than the men they look equally formidable. There are four younger people. Their ages are difficult to place. You would say teenagers although they carry themselves with an adult like poise.
They are remarkably homogeneous bunch in terms of appearance, all over six feet tall (Mohandis the tallest by a few inches at six feet four or so), all muscular, physically attractive and with the same blue eyes.
Mohandis gestures toward one of the larger tents. I am sure we will have much to say to each other but that can wait until you have rested. This evening we shall have a great feast!
When it becomes apparent that Nuveril will not be joining the rest of you several of the jama'at mutter to each other in a deep rumbling language that you do not understand. Mohandis on the other hand seems sanguine. Grall also seems to attract a lot of attention, not aggression but certainly wariness. On the other hand several nod respectfully at Zeladiel.
Your study of elemental languages is sufficient for you to know they are speaking Terran, if not what they are saying.
Thank you. Sajan says simply, proceeding into the large tent to sleep.
Sajan is blissfully ignorant of the Old Ways, but imagines they must be very hospitable.
Thank you for yourrr hospitality masterrr Mohandis, yourrr ways arrre ourr ways for this night.
Whie bowing his head in Obvious respect for the man. He then heads to the tent.
Knowledge (Local)
"Greetings, children of earth. I wish to thank you for your hospitality. While I have no wish to offend, I do ask if I may hold on to my bow. I have no desire for ammunition and could even unstring it, but my bow itself is a family heirloom of great personal value to me. I would even entrust you with my spellbook should you require further assurance for my behaviour. However, whatever your final decision I shall abide by it."
Zeladiel watches Sajan and Grall leave, then sighs inwardly to himself.
"You are gracious hosts and we shall be indebted to you. Ask us a favour that we may repay your kindness."
Nuveril watches the others walk down the path, then turns her back and begins to set up her solitary camp just off the trail in the rocks.
Unable to shake Nuveril from her decision and to weary to keep insisting Linah follows down the path, casting glances over her shoulder as she walks. "Greetings, Mohandis. It warms my heart to find such hospitality, even in a harsh landscape as these mountains. My name is Linah Jamil'Kaid, a follower of the dawnflower. ", she introduces herself and curtseys. "I am honored by your offer but i must ask something of you. We travel with a halfing from one of the savannah tribes. She holds her hammer in very high regard and does not wish to part with it. Would it be possible to make and exception and let her keep her hammer?", she asks the camp leader.
......
Unable to shake Nuveril from her decision and to weary to keep insisting Linah follows down the path, casting glances over her shoulder as she walks. "Greetings, Mohandis. It warms my heart to find such hospitality, even in a harsh landscape as these mountains. My name is Linah Jamil'Kaid, a follower of the dawnflower. ", she introduces herself and curtseys. "I am honored by your offer but i must ask something of you. We travel with a halfing from one of the savannah tribes. She holds her hammer in very high regard and does not wish to part with it. Would it be possible to make and exception and let her keep her hammer?", she asks the camp leader.
Zeladiel diplomacy assist pass! and overall success
Mohandis seems more or less receptive to Zeladiel's request to keep his unstrung bow when Linah adds her own. A few others of the group seem displeased, one going so far as to speak a few clear words of protest to Mohandis in their odd rumbling language. Its clear they are a proud people who feel free to speak their mind (and their displeasure) to their leader.
The bulk and Mohandis however seemed swayed by your politeness and combined diplomatic efforts. The leader nods his assent. Very well. I suppose we would be poor hosts if we left your companion to camp on hard ground in the cold over a point of honor. Please extend to her my invitation to join us while maintaining her weapon. Or I can do so personally if that would mitigate any offense.
He turns to Zeladiel. As for yourself Master Elf please keep your heirloom and your spellbook. It has been a very long time since we have met one of your race. But in this jama'at at least we remember and respect those who share our duty. We are children of all of the elements but as you gather earth most of all.
And poor hosts we would be if we asked favors of our guests. Perhaps when we eat you will tell us your story, I am sure it is an interesting one.
Grall and Sajan find the allocated accomodations to be comfortable (if a little squeezed with all of you inside). Carpets and a few cushions cover the ground and there is a small brazier with jars of what seems to be different types of coffee.
It takes a little while to notice but the camp has a few oddities. For one, you can't see any food and water supplies other than the herd of goats. They do seem to have boxes and boxes of various herbs and spices though. Similarly while the encampment seems temporary the fixtures are quite luxurious and relatively bulky and theres no obvious way to carry all of it around. Perhaps they have extra-dimensional items like your haversack or other magical means of transport.
As you take your rest the main part of the group stow their weapons and armour except for a quartet, presumably guards, who disperse around the camp. They keep the curved knives though. They seem to be used as combination tools, eating utensils and presumably close quarters weapons in a pinch. Two of the goats are butchered, presumably for the evening feast.
"I thank you for your kindness. Your hospitality is a true testiment to the good residing within mankind. I will go and present your invitation", Linah says with a bow. She excuses herself and heads back to Nuveril alone, worried what the halfing might say if Mohandis accompanied her to deliver the message.
Never the stealthiest of people, Nuveril has no trouble hearing Linah advance up the path and onto her camp by the road. "I see that you have begun to settle", she says with a smile. "Are you certain you do not want to reconsider accompany us down at the camp. They offer you a place to sleep as well, and you will be able to keep your hammer."
Nuveril looks up at Linah with a suspicious squint. "And why have they changed their tune? Because I am only a weak halfling and they believe they have nothing to fear from me?" Before Linah can protest, she goes on. "It does not matter. Let them think what they will. If they are as friendly as you all believe, they may part ways from us, chuckling at the halfling who fancies herself a warrior. If they prove false, then I will teach them their mistake." She looks down at the camp, balancing the odds in her mind. "I have my hammer; Sajan has his fists; Grall has his teeth; and the elf has his spells. It should prove enough, if necessary. I am surprised Khalid would agree to be separated from the spirit in his blade, however."
She leaves behind the ground she has prepared for her camp and goes with Linah into the circle of tents. Approaching Mohandis and ignoring the rest of his people, she goes down on one knee, touching her head, then her chest with two fingers in her tribe's sign of respect, though her steady, appraising gaze never leaves the man's face. "I am Nuveril, of the Lions of the Savannah," she introduces herself, ...and of Kelmarane," she adds less surely, knowledge of the place of her birth still new to her. "We meet as friends; may it always be so."
"Mohandis, we are grateful for your generosity," bows Zeladiel, wincing as he does so."I am humbled that you recognise my race and regret I cannot return the favour. Still, we would be delighted to share stories with you but while we have had many adventures, I fear I am not much of a storyteller. I am curious to hear your own stories, of how you came to flourish in this sparse environment."
Zeladiel attempts to rest while being attentive to our hosts desires.
Sajan feels obligated to stay awake until Grall is sleeping to honour his oath to the friendly strangers.
Sleep well friend... he says once the Gnoll seems to be asleep, resting his own weary body. It had been many years since he had been this tired; his daily disciplined regimen and natural physical ability proving more than sufficient to keep him in perfect shape despite the trials he regularly faced. For the first time in several days, his sleep was so deep that Tiger did not come to his dreams, perhaps sensing his weariness.
"I thank you for your kindness. Your hospitality is a true testiment to the good residing within mankind. I will go and present your invitation", Linah says with a bow. She excuses herself and heads back to Nuveril alone, worried what the halfing might say if Mohandis accompanied her to deliver the message.
Mohandis smiles in response, he seems to think something Linah said is quite humorous.
When Nuveril approaches he appraises her, not unfriendly, his eyes flicking from her hammer to madu to the amulet at her neck. His smile seems to freeze for just a half second but he carries on smoothly and no less politely, bowing at the waist to make his own greeting.
Greetings Nuveril I am Mohandis. You are welcome in our camp. Be at peace.
You'd say you saw a flicker of shock although he schools his features well.
Nuveril only needs a second to make Linah glad that she came alone. She reminds the halfling that they are guests at the camp and tries to make Nuveril promise not to be so confrontational when they arrive to camp. Her fears seems to be unfounded however, as the barbarian greets their host with respect, but the reaction Mohandis gave as he studied their newest guest did give Linah paus to wonder.
Once the introductions are done and preparations for the feast are made, Linah takes Khalid to the side. "Did you see our host's reaction as Nuveril walked into the camp? I am not sure but i think i saw a flicker of shock wash over his face"
The scars across Zeladiel's shoulder and chest instantly stitch themselves together and fade, leaving only a single angry pink line cutting across his heart.
"I am sorry to burden you, Linah. You have my thanks, and I shall sleep well tonight."
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Once the introductions are done and preparations for the feast are made, Linah takes Khalid to the side. "Did you see our host's reaction as Nuveril walked into the camp? I am not sure but i think i saw a flicker of shock wash over his face"
"No, I can not say that I did notice anything of the sort. But if you did, it certainly bears paying closer attention to."
You all manage a few hours sleep before the evening. Not enough to fully recover from your fatigue but a welcome respite regardless.
As evening falls the aroma of roasting goat wafts across the camp and fills your nostrils. Several low tables are set out near the fire pit and a steady stream of other dishes join them from one of the tents: soups, vegetables, potatoes (these would be rather rare for Katapesh). Mohandis' group seems to like their portions large and extremely spiced.
Rugs and cushions from the tents are brought out for seating and with little ceremony the meal begins. Small clay jugs are passed around with the food. The brave find these are filled with a very strong whiskey-like liquor. The jama'at seem used to the potent brew, drinking in deep mouthfuls while you find it goes fiery and straight to your head.
As before the mood of the majority of the group is polite but reserved. They clearly remain wary of Grall and, somewhat oddly, Nuveril nearly as much. Perhaps it is because of the hammer resting prominently at her side. On the other hand several approach Zeladiel, bowing to the elf and asking him about his family and his tribe. On hearing he is alone they respond with commiserations and evident pity.
As best as you can tell the jama'at don't abandon their usual security arrangements for the feast. A quartet of warriors seem to guard the encampment at all times. They don't eat, they don't drink, remaining focused on their task. A reminder of where you are.
Mohandis is a gracious host, serving you up prime portions of the goat with his own hands and describing any unknown dishes. As dinner is winding down, the goat carcasses now empty skeletons, he leans forward.
So. Three humans, an elf, a halfling and a gnoll. An odd a mix as can only be an adventuring group even if Master Sajan had not said as much. What can you be seeking here in the mountains? Perhaps the lost Halls of the Hammerfall dwarves? Or perhaps you seek your way to the Darklands through the Jackal's Maw? My people have walked these trails for centuries, perhaps we can help you find your way.
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"You're hospitality is already more aid to us than we could have hoped for. Unfortunately, my friend, our mission requires our silence on the matter. Simply put the fewer than no our destination, the more likely we are to succeed."
During the meal and the conversation afterwards, Khalid continues to study Mohandis's words and body language, hoping to figure out more about the mysterious campmaster...
Sense Motive:
As you sit watching the man something about him and his group strikes you as familiar. You can't help thinking about your dreams (or Vardishal's dreams).
You find him difficult to read but his good humour seems genuine and he seems truly curious as to your purpose.
His people (or at least some of them) seem less practised at keeping their emotions from their faces. That some of them aren't happy with you all there is obvious. Their reaction to Grall seems fairly unfocused. You get the feeling they'd react the same way to any gnoll. Some do seem to have a particular issue with Nuveril, often looking at her and speaking to each other in their own language. There seems to be a range of reactions though. One or two even seem fearful.
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Unable to shake the feelings of familiarity, Khalid approaches Mohandis...
"May I have a word or two with you, my host?"
"Mohandis, you say your people have traveled this area for centuries. Do you know anything about the Templars of the Five Winds? If so, could I trouble you for what you know about them?"
Khalid studies his reactions carefully, seeing if mention of the Templars changes anything in his expression.
Sense Motive:
Mohandis and Khalid step aside from the fire to talk.
Whatever he was expecting from you, a question about the Templars was not it. This time his surprise is written across his face although he does his best to hide it.
The templars. Yes. I know of them. It would be surprising if I did not.
He proceeds to give you the basic version you already know from the book from the monastery ie immortal servitors of Nefeshti, their names, not known of for centuries etc.
Perhaps its because you caught him off balance but for this part of the conversation at least you think you have his measure. He's telling the truth but is being very careful about what he is saying and clearly the Templars are not a topic that he wants to discuss.
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