Setesh eyes Tarik cautiously, but then shrugs.
"I am not certain that putting an extraplanar being against your eye is a good idea, but I am willing to roll with it..."
He then moves forward and claims the amulet.
When Basrac offers his admonishment, Setesh sighs.
"Were any of the camels badly wounded? If so, I apologise."
"Camels are fine, but the Fresnic fellows head just about exploded when he realised what you'd done..." he then spots the key in the treasures that the group has reclaimed "Good work all the same. If you've no objections I'd say it's worth putting some distance between us and them before we sit down to discuss our next move..."
Setesh nods.
"That would probably be a good idea. Distance will allow tempers to cool..."
Tarik looks both angry and sheepish at the same time. "How else am I supposed to test how a Raktavarna operates? Extraplanar creatures like this are rare opportunities to learn about natural magics."
Setesh sighs.
"I would not dream of forbiding another to experiment with themselves... The prudent scholar has contingencies in place, and does a little research beforehand, though; it is wise to know a little about what one might be getting oneself into, just in case there are... unfortunate... side effects..."
"The dangers in there were best avoided by the archaeologist and his men, that part is true. This is the best outcome he could have hoped for, if he wanted to leave here with anything more than sketches of a dry hole. Could we have gotten his cooperation? Possible, but this avoided lying to him of our purpose, and loosing precious time. I feel having him be angry at us, but safe, is a fair compromise, even though he does not see it that way."
She turns to Tarik Well, how does a ..a Rak..ta..varna work? What did you see looking through it.?"
Bas'rac leads you through the night for a couple of hours before making camp. He interrogates you on your experiences within the ziggurat and listens intently and thoughtfully as you recount them to him. He cautions Tarik to be careful with respect to the spyglass. Hetshepsu is not remembered by history as being kind or benevolent.
As the set fire ebbs low, thoughts turn to the road ahead. Bas'rac queries "Well there are two keys remaining to claim, and I think it still prudent for me to consult with my kin. Where do you think our efforts best directed now?"
Tarik looks both angry and sheepish at the same time. "How else am I supposed to test how a Raktavarna operates? Extraplanar creatures like this are rare opportunities to learn about natural magics."
"I am not familiar with Raktavarna, but as Setesh has said, bargaining with outsiders often comes with a high price.
I find myself somewhat unnerved by our recent experiences. I am thinking perhaps a less risky career in the creation of new wondrous magics would better suit me. Adventuring life is not quite as alluring when one considers the risks of living burial, demonic possession, or other awful fates. I have enjoyed your company and wish you well, my friends, but I believe I will accompany Bas'rac and then make my way home. Should anyone care for this rather ridiculous looking fur coat I would happily give it to you in the hope it is of use on your journey."
"I am saddened to hear this. Your wise counsel has gotten us far. But I understand that each person's quest takes them in a different direction. You will be missed. If our path comes back this way we will look for you to give you word of our further trials."
"I am sad to see you leave us Jaru, but I am glad at least to know our Lord of Magic will guide you still. Safe travels my friend." Tarik clasps him firmly upon the arm, smiling.
Once everything has quieted down, Tarik takes up the spyglass. "So, creature. What secrets do you hold?"
Setesh nods to Jaru.
"Understood. The risks associated with life on the road are not to everyone's tastes. I wish you well."
Bas'rac weighs the words that have been spoken and nods his acceptance "Very well, Jaru will join me as I travel to my masters for guidance.... Keep to the trail of the stones, they are key here"
The rest of the night is relatively quiet as you ponder the road ahead without Jaru or Bas'rac's guidance. The morning comes all too soon and farewells are exchanged. Bas'rac takes his leave with Jaru, though leaves the pack camel for you to put to your own purposes.
Curious little thing. Might need to find some 'alone' time with it.
"Well, which direction heralds our next great adventure? Let us discover that truth!" Tarik opens up the wayfinder, examining its lights.
"Bas'rac. How will we find each other again. The next stone leads us to an unknown destination. Shall we look for you at a place and time, or perhaps in the next town or city on our path."
Before he departs Bas'rac advises "Upon the pack-camel you will find a small onyx sphinx. It will allow me to follow your path and find you again. If you have need of me, then seek out one of my order and I can be found."
Retrieving the stones and wayfinder, you find that the white stone of the Radiant Pharoah is the brighter of the two. It leads you South and West across the sands. You follow it's light for a few days before making a disturbing realization. As you travel, the destination shown by the wayfinder is also changing... as though your target stone was moving...
Casting glances at the wayfinder, Tarik says "I don't like that. Looks like we're going to have some company on this one." And another fight on our hands.
Noor rocks along on the back of her camel. Still the feel of the pyramid collapse clings to her skin. A proper bath is what she needs.
"If the key is moving to a respectable town, I would welcome that most dearly."
Whatever it is that the white stone now faces leads you ever more West than South. Referring to your maps you gauge that the destination now lies in Shimian-Sekh, the largest city of the Western deserts and home to the Golden Spring. Your trudge across the sands is long and desolate, even more so for the lack of company that you must endure.
After a pair of tendays pass, the desert around you slowly gives way to farmland and the city looms large in the distance before you. The long weeks of hard travel since you last enjoyed rest leave you salivating at the chance to enjoy fresh cooked food and the serenity of a bath-house. The number of travellers on the road with you gradually increase as you make it to the farmland. Many of them making trips to Shimian-Sekh for supplies or the like.
Ahead of you there are a number of caravanserai outside the city walls where camels may be stabled away from the genteel citizens of the inner city. Just beyond that there is a relaxed city guardsman manning an entrance and idly questioning the travellers as they pass.
Noor comes out of a funk as more travelers are seen on the paths. She makes an attempt to look presentable, something she gave up on during the lonely trek through the wastes.
She looks to the others, "Can we go stay someplace...above the typical inn for caravan labors. I think we have earned it, although not sure we can afford it. We seem to be item rich and cash poor. But perhaps that handful of coins from the chest will at least get us nice baths before joining the masses at a common inn."
"Noor, we do not have the coins from the chest; since Tarik insisted on taking the Spyglass, the 'Archaeologist' claimed the coins, gems, and mosaic."
"I agree with our illustrious princess. Let us find an establishment suited for such fine personages as ourselves." And thus, Tarik begins the search for an inn meant for the upper crust.
The group stables their camel with a dwarf that looks trustworthy despite lacking an eye, and carries all valuables with them into the city. You are questioned at the gate, but not with any depth of intent. An offhand statement that you are on business is sufficient to allay his concern. Once within you are greeted once more by the familiar smells of a city. Spice, tea, fresh grilled meats and dung all waft past your nose.
There are a number of barkers near the gate spruiking their inns and restaurants, though you gauge that by their dress they would not meet with your standards. Instead you question a silk merchant that seems to have a clean shop and find out that if you really want to live as a sultan, there are but two establishments you need worry about:
The Sins of the Sultan - a discreet guest house come bath-house come shisha parlour; frequented by nobles and powerful merchants alike where anything can be obtained... at a price.
Akeema's - a typical Taldan inn opened by a man who settled here a decade prior. The bath-house is next door and the fare is less exotic than the other option, but it is also likely to be a friendlier place.
"How about Akeema's?"
"Akeema's sounds fine. The bath house is close enough, and if we spare ourselves some coin, so be it."
The party makes their way under the silk merchant's directions to Akeema's - which shows itself to be a solidly built and outwardly non-descript building in one of the finer districts of Shiman-Sekh. As you approach an impeccably dressed bowab greets you at the door of the antechamber that serves as entry to the inn proper. His name is Akeema, though he assures you that the bar is not his, taking the names you proffer in return he notes them mentally and uses them in the following conversations. Nose slightly turned up at your haggard appearance, the glint of coin is enough to overcome his sensibilities.
He leads you through the common room of the inn, which is made out in dark hardwood that you guess must be imported. Tables are arrayed around the room with crisp red cloths atop them. The bar is Taldan style, though with an Osirian air - with bowls of dates and olives to serve as snacks. The bar looks exceptionally well stocked for its location. His tone as he speaks is clipped, but respectful.
The room is still empty at this hour, though Akeema informs you that dinner will be served in a couple of hours. He also points out an adjoining door that is down a back corridor that leads to a private entrance into the adjacent bathhouse. His tone suggests that it would be prudent to wash before dinner service commences.
At the top of the stairs he inquires "Good sirs and ma'am, how many rooms would you request of our humble house? - and are there any other requests that I would be honored to receive?"
"I think two room should prove sufficient for our needs, my dear Akeema. Once I tend to my bathing, could you have some wine sent up? I think a well-aged Osiriani vintage will do nicely." Tarik smiles appreciably.
She showers Akeemma with a gratefully smile. "How about sending my wine TO the bathhouse. I may be there a while."
"If my things could be brought up....." She drops her pack and blade, and starts to unstrap her breastplate, and lets it go with a <<clang>> upon the floor. "And if someone can scrub and oil that....oh that would be nice." Her sweat-laden linens clinging in a way her modesty several months ago would have made her blush, but weeks now in the open desert have taught her there were more important things in life..."To the baths!"
Responding to Noor: "Of course shaykhah" before giving a sharp bark. A couple of obsequious teenagers come forth to deal with Noor's belongings. Akeema gives them some hushed rapid-fire orders and they then stand to in order to receive Tarik's and Setesh's belongings. "Indeed we can also take care of your belongings also?"
Akeema ushers the group towards the bath-house where the group is separated by sex before being taken through to the baths. The men are initially led through a changing room where clothes are exchanged for towels. The attendants skilfully hide their distaste at the state of your garments, promising to have them laundered and then delivered unto your room. You then pass into a communal sauna with sunken pool in the centre and a couple of side-chambers with massage tables. There are a few other Osiriani men sitting in the pool eyes closed in heady relaxation, and two halfling men who you guess are their servants stand off to one side with heads bowed. Within the massage rooms are the masseurs: a lithe half-elf, and a burly half-orc - who is an odd choice for a high class bath-house.
After a few minutes, a servant boy comes through into the chamber with a silver platter upon which sits a bottle of Nexian port wine with a pair of silver goblets. The servant places it next to Tarik, ushering him to enjoy at his leisure. Despite the heat of the chamber both the bottle and goblets remain at a slightly cool temperature so as to not spoil the wine.
As requested a dutiful desert elven lady attends to Noor. The elf remains clothed and wears a niqab, though the veil is diaphonous and her features are able to be seen through it. Noor is provided with a private room complete with sunken bath and massage table. There is a cabinet fully stocked with oils, musks and ittars. The elf, Haziyah, stands ready to assist however required of her. After a few minutes a serving girl enters with a carafe of cactus wine which has a piquant foretaste, but a pleasant aftertaste that warms and lingers.
Tarik gladly hands over his belongings to the young men, eager to wash away the dust and sand from his person. He is oblivious to the attendants, and before long finds himself soaking peacefully in the sauna, wine at hand. "Isn't this wonderful, Setesh? A chance to enjoy some long earned rest, especially after what we've been through"
Setesh shrugs uncomfortably.
"It reminds me a little too much of a former life... There is such a thing as too much decadence. Don't get me wrong; I enjoy relaxation, but too much of it can make you soft..."
Noor enjoys a long soak while enjoying the wine. Eventually she pulls herself from the pool, if only to make it over to the massage table. Enjoying Haziyah's delicate touch, she almost drift off to sleep. But soon hunger overtakes her and she decides to set off to find supper and her companions. They need to talk about supplies and their next destination.
Returning to your provided rooms you have a chance to dress before proceeding down to the common room for dinner. There are a few other tables with people at them, though they seem to keep to themselves. When you all arrive a serving boy comes to ask what you might like to eat. It would appear that the inn does not have a menu as such, but instead prepares whatever is desired by it's patrons.
"A hearty stew, many vegetables, and I think a crusty bread. Much thanks, young one."
Choosing an empty table, Tarik seats himself with a sigh of pleasure. "Veritably, this is quite a delight compared to nights in the desert. I will be sorry to see this go, but our job continues ever onward. So, my friends..."
Tarik leans in somewhat conspiratorially. "How shall we go about finding this next gem?"
"If I may,...Tahini Chicken, a vegetable platter, flatbread, and an assortment of olives."
On to the matters at hand, "It seems to be on the move. So someone has beaten us to it. If we seek to possess it, where words fail, we may need guile or the strength of our steel, and..um teeth, I guess, no offense Setesh. To swell our numbers would seem wise, as we were five and now are three. Our strength I have no worries about, other than fall to superior numbers. But losing Jaru has left a hole in our spiritual center. I think these are the areas we should seek, guile and wise magics. Of course how we find trustworthy individuals in this town should prove to be its own adventure."
The servant boy takes your orders diligently, memorizing them rather than writing them down and moves away to fulfill them.
Setesh smiles at Noor's words.
"No offense taken. I agree, we should probably look for additional recruits to our little band. Perhaps we should keep an eye out whilst we sell-off our items?"
"Veritably! A grand idea my dear Setesh."
When your ordered food arrives, you take the liberty of asking after a reputable antiques dealer where you might not be cheated. Your serving boy excuses himself, asks a few questions of the barkeep and suggests "There is a shop in the Artisan's Quarter known as the Ebon Scarab, it should serve your needs."
"The Ebon Scarab, eh? I think that should be our first stop then. Once we've sold these items, perhaps we can spend some time hunting for a few deals?" Tarik winks at his companions.
The night passes with peaceful conversation and cultured surroundings. Akeema's does not have any musicians to speak of, preferring the guests to make music with their own words.
The next day the party sets out from the Inn, washed and confident for a change, making their way through the streets towards their destination... The Ebon Scarab. As they have set out relatively early in the morning, the city is still awakening - most vendors have not yet opened their shoplots and the heady smell of baking bread is heavy on the breeze as the ovens work.
The directions given lead you through the wider streets of the high districts to their outskirts and a solid stone building that bears a sign showing a blackened scarab. It is open and it appears as though there is already one customer within...
Pushing through the open door that is screened by silk curtains, you quickly gauge that the barman did not lead you astray. An open floorplan allows for easy browsing of the outer shelving that is heavy with curiosities of Ancient Osirion. The proprietor, a Osiriani man in traditional dress of shendyt and tunic, is conducting a quiet conversation with a Dwarven man of faith.
Setesh waits for the proprieter to finish his chat, browsing the shelves in the interim...
Noor welcomes the relief from having to wear armor. She will leave her bow behind as well, but will wear her sward on her back to discourage the foolish.
"So what do we have for the markets? It would seem a collection of weapons, and some materials that I am not sure we can openly sell. We might have to ask about for the proper place to get rid of poisons and such."
Leaving his armor behind, Tarik basks in the desert wind. His sword still hangs from his side, as does his spellbook. He is no fool.
"I think most of this can be easily taken care of. Some of the oddities are certainly less than pleasant, but in a place like this? I think we will have little trouble." Tarik continues being overly optimistic, given his general lack of experience in these situations.
The dwarf pauses his conversation momentarily to eye the new entrants into the shop, but does not do so for long. These new customers seemed colorful, but his true interest was more esoteric. He offered a gruff greeting, carefully trimmed beard wobbling a bit in its length as he spoke.
"Ah. Customers. I suppose you'll need to attend to them, Sadiq. Our words can wait a while longer."