hide stay on the roadClear as mud. What you guys gonna do with Ryor? Untie him?
Ve should hide, dem riders be lookin' fer sometin and I don't want to be it. If dey pass quickly we can make de outskirts of town by the night's arrival.
"A man who knows his friends. Thanks big guy!"
<Rubbing his wrists.>
"We shall watch you carefully."
"Silence now. The riders approach."
"We shall watch you carefully."
"And I'm watching you, Whitey."
<Ryor winks and laughs.>
"So what the hell happened to me back there? Was there a trap in that weird room?"
"Nothing much. You were just mind-fncked by a demon."
"Good to 'ave yer back, baldy." Syd grins.
"Nothing much. You were just mind-fncked by a demon."
"Hey, that explains the dreams."
"Good to 'ave yer back, baldy." Syd grins.
"Good to be here."
*Sniff, sniff*
"I smell like piss."
Party: 1d20+4=24, Riders: 1d20+5=21
Most head for some rocks as Aref leads Drasheer into the mouth of a gully nearby, admonishing the camel in a language only the camel understands.
Nine men on horseback thunder past, uniformed in breastplates, mail, sandy robes and indigo silken turbans, scimitars on their backs and bows on their saddles. At their head is a powerful looking man wearing a similar uniform, but with more ornamentation and a broad silken stash.
Aref:
The Judges are the most revered members of Qadiran society. Aside from the Satrap himself, they are the only ones empowered to pass judgement at will.
After they pass Aref steps out and, looking at the quickly diminishing cloud from the riders, speaks to his companions. "The man in the lead is a Judge, or Qadi, and de soldiers are the Shurta, or de lawkeepers. Such units are regularly dispatched for the bringing of peace and law in Katheer, but less frequently travel beyond the valls. Out here law is usually dealt out by the Spah, the armies of Qadira.
The Judges are de most revered members of Qadiran society. Aside from the Satrap himself, dey are the only ones empowered to be passing judgement at will. I wonder what would draw them outside like dis."
"Well I for one want to wash myself off. I smell like piss and camel and I haven't had a good drink for weeks."
The party moves on.
The sun behind you lights up the Zho mountains to the east with rich yellows and deep browns.
Your first signs of the city are blinding flashes, reflections of the sunlight behind you.
"Gold" Aref says. "A very lot of gold."
Trees. Irrigation. Farming. You begins passing plantations, all of them walled, farmers lead mule drawn wagons, snapping at the beasts in terse, guttural tones.
As the ground cools in the growing shade the skyline of Katheer begins to rise from the plain and takes shape. In the foreground a geometric hash of fearfully hunched mud constructions, these limned by a wall with gilt crenelations flashing repictured evening sunshine, and behind... gilt domes and towering minarets.
"Ahead, these are the Hives. Al Nuntesh. The poor and the cast offs. Outsiders. Behind them the walls, they will open in the morning."
Aref
"Well I for one want to wash myself off. I smell like piss and camel and I haven't had a good drink for weeks."
"Which is an improvement...."
<Ryor laughs hard.>
"Touche! I have nothing for that Smiley, that was a clean cut."
"Ready for round two."
"First I think ale, bathing and wenches are in order. All at the same time would be my preference."
<Loudly to Aref.>
"Sandman! I'm sure you can drink and wench, but what i want to know is -- do the Keleshites bathe?"
well...
maybe Book and his crew is around, maybe the reason to explain Judge appearces here
"Le's try an' keep a low profile, yeah? Incognito like, an' mufti."
well...
maybe Book and his crew is around, maybe the reason to explain Judge appearces here
"Or they're looking for the guys who shot up their big red buddy...."
"Or it has nothing to do with us."
"Leviternlo rot'h Niplern! Do not vorry, friend. You shall not wear de sight and smell of your journey any longer." Aref concentrates on Ryor for a few moments, directing his prestidigitation spell to clean the man, then smiles slightly as he make him smell heavily of lilac and hyacinth.
"That vill have to do for a day...I know a place...a dive of a tavern with a great man for an owner, Draka the Wide, but the tuber and spice soup is filling and good and the brew is smooth, the owner has rooms to rent for strangers. For friends he sometimes allows use of his cellar, a clean, cool space that vill be nothing more than some cots on a dirt floor, but far more secure and safe than any other rooms to find in The Hive. Ve will not need worry about being robbed, or worse there. Ve can then head into the city proper on the morrow to one of the bathhouses to get the grit of the road to fall away and melt some of the tensions we carry."
Aref looks around at his companions, "Dis is my suggestion, and de safest course I can think of. Vhat do you think?"
Aref looks around at his companions, "Dis is my suggestion, and de safest course I can think of. Vhat do you think?"
"I concur, friend. Your suggestions are sound."
"Sounds like a plan t' me, beardy." Syd says cheerfully.
The Deceiver removes the dust from his clothes before following into town. He checks his weapons making sure that they are ready to deal death at anytime.
"Book, your time on this earth is almost at an end." The Deceiver says with a grim smile.
"Now, that we can agree on, Smiler."
"Right back at you, handsome."
"Book, your time on this earth is almost at an end." The Deceiver says with a grim smile.
"Tell him Pharasma says hello."
is tavern far away... ?
Syd breathes in a lungful of city air.
"Ahhhhh! Nuffing like it!"
"Book, your time on this earth is almost at an end." The Deceiver says with a grim smile."Tell him Pharasma says hello."
"With a dagger through his heart."
You're barely into the hives when a wiry sun-burnt man accosts Cordoba and Aref, clawing at their robes with black nailed fingers and holding out his tattered robes proclaiming his poverty.
He speaks first in Aref's tongue and is answered curtly.
He then turns to Cordoba speaking in common: "Welcome Katheer traveller. Gold piece for guide? Spare silver? Me children? Me children? Hungry they be, and thirsty." He gestures at his mouth as if with food pinched between his fingers.
"Me children," he repeats again and again first to one of you then another, pulling at you and gesturing.
Crowds. Density. The road narrows and the Varisians among you begin to comprehend the sheer scale of the city.
Women stand around a stone watering trough. One looks Jon over boldly, pulls her skirt away from a tanned thigh and licks her painted lips. Drasheer brays at the water. She turns to Syd and mouths a word - the meaning escapes but her intention is clear.
As the heat shimmered evening sun begins flowing into the horizon behind you hook nosed watchmen turn their heads - you pass and they continue their conversations. The clay smooth buildings around you darkening, shifting colors in the sunset, a mish-mash of shapes, walls with jagged spikes and sturdy portals.
Cordoba is familiar with the routine and checks his valuables. "Back, knave, no gold for you here." He clasps the hilt of his rapier for emphasis.
"Flippin' eck. Crowded innit?"
Syd continues to look around, interested in the buildings, the people, the smells, the whole gamut.
The beggar claws at Pulsifer last, pleading. "Food? Copper?"
"Me kids, me kids."
The beggar claws at Pulsifer last, pleading. "Food? Copper?"
"Me kids, me kids."
"I feel your pain, but I have no money. I shall pray for your family."
Jon looks around for something to eat
Perception
1d20+3=9
"i'm starving"
There are restaurants all around you, mostly full of boisterous men swilling ale from glass bottles.
There are creaky kiosks on wheels filling the air with the savory aroma of lamb and strange spices - selling fragrant barbecued meat and vegetables on a stick - stuffed in a flat bread with some rice and yogurt sauce.
Alas, I believe you gave your money and jewels to Bohdan and the Bhuka to look after the kids. All you have are some magic items and spherical emerald the size of a small bowling ball.
Perhaps Aref will spring for something.
After Sunset – Pharast 27th, 4708 - Draka's
Aref navigates the crowds deep into the narrow inner streets of the hives losing sight of all landmarks yet unerringly brings the party to the gates of a low walled compound with a shabby building inside. At the gate a bare chested one eyed man with a poleaxe and a scimitar stands guards.
"Draka's" Aref announces. "Dat is Roshan."
Roshan in Kelish, with a smile and laughter: "Drasheer why are you still hanging around with this vagrant.... Why he has friends! Aref, still digging in the sands? What have you found other than... Varisians!"
<Looks the place over.>
"Beats sleeping outside."
The Deceiver smiles at the doorman but gives the impression that he is not intimidated by the latter.
Aref will spend a few gold on food and drinks. "Draka! You ol' Dunestalker you! You are a vide as ever, my friend! I have a good group of people vith me, but our travels were hard and a safe night vould be most velcome. There is only one person I thought of vhen I thought to their safety.....Draka the Wide!"
As you enter the yard Drasheer makes his way to a creaky shelter with a water trough and manger. A brown pony gnashes it teeth at Drasheer but before long the two whinnying and braying at each other like old friends.
Draka speaks in guttural rolling Rs: "Always a pleasure to have Aref in my palace. Your chambers are unoccupied other than a few crates and barrels which we shall pretend we are not seeing, right my new friends?"
"First some food? Inside."
While Drasheer and Buttercup snack on straw and over-ripe mangoes Draka leads you into his hall - not much cleaner than the outbuilding to be sure - greater numbers and less ventilation to its disadvantage.
Circles of robed men seated on pillows around mats laden with food and drink gamble, sing and carouse in Kelish throughout the hall. Women in silk robes ply the rings with liquor and ale while a plump belly dancer wiggles through the middle of the room. A nearby band playing a reed flute, goatskin drums and some kind of violin keep her mobile with a sultry background rhythm.
Everyone is armed. Draka maintains that all men have the right to defend themselves, and an unwritten code keeps anyone from drawing and those who violate the rule are usually taken down by the tavern's regulars.
"Reminds of the cantina I last visited," Cordoba comments.