The man seems to believe he has found an unbeatable argument now
But I have seen you going to ze show wiz ze woman...zere ze soldiers drink and look at her naked body. Allah does not want zat! Men and women have to be chaste and should not drink alcohol. So we know you are no believer.
With a victorius smile he looks to his fellows who nod eagerly.
"Naked? When was she naked? She was nae naked when I watched, tha is fer sure, Ah think Ah would have remembered. Besides, Ah was raised in a monastery, there was nae women there, nor drinks. Where ye raised like tha Ah wonder? Surrounded at all times by naught but tha' word of tha' divine?"
"That said I haven't made up my mind on the Major yet - I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. I trust the bloke that put me on to the unit, but I'll be saving a block of plastic with the Major's name on it just in case" jaw set and deadly serious.
Gentlemen, back into the saddles, I think I've found a way! Hop Hop Hop
commands the major as he folds the map back together. The Algerian who was about to answer Liam, just shakes his head, but the tension with which he eyes the major is easily noticed by the Irishman.
Once back in the saddle, you ride northbound through the desert as you all notice how the wind suddenly becomes stronger...a veil of sand surrounds you and the flying particles sting into your eyes and unprotected cheeks and hands.
One of the Algerians yells
Is a storm coming, Allah is punishing us for riding wiz ze devil man!
Von Gilding turns in his saddle and looks incredulously at the guides and to Liam whom he remembers to have been sitting next to them in the camp.
Just settling in when he hears the Major's call "For christ's sake, I'm thinking he does it on bloody purpose." as he stubs the cig and answers the call.
Liam also looks incredulously at the guide, then he snarls, out of patience.
"Awright, if'n tha' is tha' ouinly tune ye know, then let's settle this right now!"
Liam dismounts and points to the one who spoke.
"Come with me, nou!"
After that he heads behind a sand dune, waiting for the Algerian to join him.
Assuming he is joined by the Algerian, Lian rolls up his sleeve, on his right arm so that the tatoo is not shown, then he draws his combat knife and cuts himself across it.
He then walks over to the Algerian.
"See? Blood, real red blood, like any man bleeds. Like ye bleed, like tha major bleeds. Like Mohamed bleed, like Jesus bleed."
He allows the Algerian to see the wound, to make sure he knows it is real, then he puts two fingers on the wound and mutters a short prayer.
"D'ye see? Tha' is tha' power of faith! Mah faith allows me tha' do such!"
He hold up his uninjured arm, walks over to the Algerian, so close that their noses almost touch and snarls right in his face.
"Can ye do that? Can ye stack yer faith against mine? Because anyone can do wha' Ah did if'n they believe strong enough! Anyone can find favour with tha’ divine if they try. Ah say tha' major is no devil! Ah say ah'd seen if'n 'e was! Don' ye EVER call me an unbeliever again!
Without waiting for a reply, Liam stalks back to join the others.
As you draw your knife, the man automatically puts his hand on his holster, then his eyes grow wide as he beholds what you do.
You also devil man!
Is the only thing he is able to stammer. But as you use your magic abilities to mend the wound, he is totally out of his mind
Oh Allah, you're a genie!
He buries his face in his hands, not daring to look at you any longer and begins to pray loudly.
Liam returns first from behind the dune, but some moments later the Algerian guide follows, his hands raised to the sky he praises Mohammed and Allah and prays loudly in his Arabic mother tongue. The other guides run over to him and ask him a zillion of questions, which he only answers by pointing frantically at Liam.
Von Gilding seems to have enough of this charade and bellows
Mr. McGregor, what the hell is going on?
Liam has to visibly fight to quell his anger, for a few seconds he just stands in place and shakes, the he exhales slowly and calms down.
"Ah think tha' guides shall give us nae more problems nau Major. Ah explained a few things...the Irish way..."
Knowing the Major might not be satisfied with that explanation, and not wanting to explain further right now he looks around.
"Best find shelter nau Major, tha' storm won't care tha' wait fer us."
Ah was stupid, flyin' offa tha' handle like that. might 'ave spooked them tau much. Ah best not sleep tonight lest they try tha' sneak away.
I see, Mr. McGregor, good job scouting the dune. We will find shelter behind it until the storm has ceased. Hop Hop Hop.
You all hurry up to get behind the dune and out of the whirling winds. Soon the sand blurs your view and clouds the sun. It's literally getting dark behind the dune and the howling of the wind becomes so loud that you can barley hear your own yelling.
Suddenly one of the camels panics and as it gallops away the Algerian guide is not able to hold it.
Whether or not you're able to keep the camel at the dune, you all have to withstand the sand as good as you can.
Reflex save:
Fort save:
Phil is unable to see the other camel panic and run as he is too busy ducking into the side of his own camel to avoid the sand.
Liam is on the ball, but as he throws himself forward to grab the camels reins he is caught in the winds path and the sand tears into his face and arms.
As Liam drags the camel back into shelter he curses most profoundly.
"Blast an' buggery! Bleeding flaming areswipe offal farthing Englishman! Damnation high and below! Ye stopid ugly critter!"
Ref
Fort
Gregori's laughter can be heard over the storm. "IS LIKE WORST PART OF RUSSIAN WINTER WITHOUT BALLS FREEZING OFF!"
The Algerian guide quickly takes the reins back from Liam and nods thankfully....this will surely amplify Liam's new mysterious aura...
Von Gilding just shakes his head as he hears Gregori cusrsing and mutters
I guess even the forces of nature fear this ill-tempered Russian...
Liam snorts at Gregori.
"Naw, 'ere ye jus' get them sandblasted of, so much better donnae ye think?"
Phillip doesn't speak, but has a wry smile on his jaw as he snuggles into the camel's side out of the sandstorm.
The violent winds howl on for about another ten minutes until the brutal cyclone has passed...
Nearly submerged by a ton of sand, you and the camels begin to crawl out of the dry sand that has nearly become a grave for you.
Oh well, that's quite different to the autumn storms we have in Lower Saxony...pfff
Von Gilding rubs the sand from his face and peers eastwards.
We should hurry up, maybe the Italians are still hiding in their posts-HOP HOP HOP!
He mounts his camel and spurs the beast to a wild gallop through the desert.
"Ah, tha is better! Damn camel finally decided tha act right!"
Trying his best to sit as comfortable as he can on the camel while still keeping up with the Major, Liam gazes at the horizon.
"Think it's wise tha 'urry like this Major?"
Ride:
As the Major takes off, Phil finds it hard to keep up with the pace and his camel starts to fall behind. "Bugger it" he reins in the camel to follow, but at a more manageable pace. Eyes scanning the horizon in case of hostiles.
Perception:
"Gregori much prefer tank."
When the sand storm appeared Oskar had calmly pulled up his Kafiya to cover his entire face and thwacked his camel into a sitting position before hunkering down beside it to try and keep out the worst of the sand.
As the sand clears Oskar rises and unwraps his precious rifle and scope to make sure none of the abrasive sand had made its way into their protective coverings. Satisfied, he quickly rewraps them and leaps aboard his camel. He rapidly catches up with Gregori and chooses to ride with him instead of trying to catch the Major.
"Tank would have run out of fuel days ago. In Oskar's opinion jumping out of plane would have been best idea. No sandstorms or spitting camels in the sky."
Since not all are able to remain at the Major's side, the "vanguard" consisting of Liam, the Major, Gregori and Oskar has to wait for Phillip and Ivan. Just as the Italian post comes into view you are waiting again for them on top of a large sand dune.
Oskar, can you see one of the Macaronis?
You spot five small figures trying to dig out two jeep-like vehicles, while a tank in the back is totally buried under the sand. You guess you can pass them now without the danger of being pursued.
Catching up to the Major and the rest, Phil shakes the sand out of his clothes as Oskar takes a gander.
Oskar fishes out his scope and takes a closer look at the Italian encampment, a small grin breaking out on his face as he does so.
"That sandstorm screwed the Fascists more than us. They have tank but is all but buried in sand and their jeeps are stuck too. Oskar is thinking we can get past with no problem."
"Ah like tha' sound o' that. Sometimes ye only need ONE horsepower...erm..camelpower tha' get by."
The major seems satisfied with Oskar's explanation and spurs his cammel to another gallop.
Come on everyone, we have to get behind their lines before these Paganinis are able to excavate their cars, ha! Oh and HOP HOP HOP!
Riding like a bunch of dervishes you cross the Italian "border" and soon you are behind their lines...back in the endless desert...However, the desert seems to be less endless than on the English side and after only about two hours of riding, small white buildings appaear behind a large sand dune.
A small village consisting of about 25 buildings built around a well and a small natural pond lies here, nestled in several sand dunes and at the end of a badly kept road. Some goats stand around the pond and two young herders lazily watch over them.
"Don't know bout the rest of you fellers, but my arse could do with a rest. Major, can we take break or do we need to keep on 'hopping'?"
Hopping?
The major furrows his brows, but sweeps the confusion quickly away
We should find out how these people think aboute the Italians...and us. We could need some fresh water and a cooked meal wouldn't hurt either. So, who speaks Arabic and can find out what these people think about us?
The Major looks around expectantly.
Phil pipes up jocularly "I can arr a bit Major, but I can't speak arabic. He he.. he..." meekly laughing at his own joke before realising how pathetic it was and looking down to studiously inspect his camel's neck.
-Perhaps the Italians have spies in the village. Best to keep our cover. It may be better to pass ourselves off as Italians or Germans? Ivan adds...
Good idea Ivan...we have no uniforms, but we could pretend to be travellers...or...mhh Ivan, how did you imagine that?
Von Gilding asks while chewing on some kind of dry meat.
We are German Experts on Egypt,or War Journalists with local guides.Ivan looks at the group Or we just kill everyone in the village...your choice.
"Oskar knows a bit of Arabic, but is no good at getting the accent right for different countries. Maybe they'll just think am from somewhere with strange accent? I will test on guides."
Oskar hops down off his camel and makes his way over to one of the Algerian guides, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention Oskar proceeds to spout off a stream of heavily accented Arabic at him.
هل تعتقد أن لهجتي سيجعل الناس في القرية فقط أعتقد أنني من مكان ما مع لهجة غريبة؟
Yah, no way could this EVER go wrong.
Liam merely waits, trying to avoid smirking at the antics of the others.
"Or we simply ride by and take chances with desert." Gregori says. "Desert on our side so far. People inside it ehhhh not so much on our side."
"Is also a good idea. Oskar does not exactly look North African and small village like this not going to know much. Water is running low though."
The Algerian shields his eyes with his right hand and replies
بففلبصىت غ٥ته امنهفق نغ٥٥٣ اانلثث لتنسسييا
Von Gilding just scratches his unshaved cheek, waiting for Oskar's charade to unfold.
"Six of one and half dozen the other far as I'm concerned. Me arse is starting to go numb so I could take a bit more of a saddle pound if we need..."
"Well, Oskar 'ave ah guid point, water might be our first thought."
Ivan hopes all that piano wire will come in handy very, very soon.
Oskar grins at the guides reply and turns back to the rest of the group.
"Accent is good, guide thought I sounded like his cousin. So plan is we all go in and I have words with village leaders? Rules of hospitality should apply so asking for water not massive problem and then be subtle about Italians. Will be simple."
Slowly and very cautiously you jog-trot down the sand dune into the centre of the small village. The goat herders spot you at once and run over to the houses to tell everyone that strangers have arrived. It does not take long until several locals come out of their small white houses. They eyeball you and you guess they are not sure what the correct greeting could be...Two of them have daggers at their belts and one carries an ancient rifle that looks like it would stem from the Napoleonic invasion of Egypt.