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"But wait... Wait, wait a moment" - Heledar stops Shaggar even before he starts leading the way - "I think I may have a solution for this"
As his words flow through some ancient conduit of power, it seems as if he becomes momentarily much more impressive and his pose more demanding - turning to all of you, and lifting his hands towards the Sun, it is as if a shade has been brought over your heads - it still shines directly on you, but you seem much more at ease under its strong shine, totally unencumbered by its insidious effects, and able to ravel normally.
"Well?" - he asks in expectation - "How do you feel?"
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"Well?" - he asks in expectation - "How do you feel?"
The gnoll runs his hairy arm into the hard sunlight, anticipating the punishing heat. The feeling is no worse than a spring day. Shaggar nods, vaguely disappointed at how easily spellslingers can yank the desert's fangs. "I may catch a cold, sayyid."
Javi grins, "Heldar! Dammit, man! You just get more and more useful." He looks around, his energy renewed, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's haul ass, eh Lyrian?"
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The powers of life come in handy in preventing suffering, as well as healing it. Heldar is relieved not to have to worry about the heat. Hatyah probably gives Shaggar a slightly bemused look as if trying to figure out why the temperature suddenly dropped.
But with the healer's graces providing shelter from the heat, the group quickly starts making tracks-- they leave the eastern road behind, and cut west and south, skirting Sothis on the horizon.
It is quickly apparent to the northerners that if not for Heldar's prayer, this would be a blistering environment for them to travel in. Even with the blessed relief from the heat, the sand is a resistant terrain, shifting underfoot and working a tireless way into one's boots. The sunlight glares off the dunes and stabs at the eyes. Occasionally, fitful winds will kick up, sending a fine sandy grit into your faces-- Shaggar's wisdom in providing the desert garb, with the keffiyehs that can cover mouth and nose, comes clearer with every step.
The gnoll himself frequently casts glances back along the open sand, to watch for pursuit.
But the sands seem clear behind them, empty and stark... There is nothing but the plodding placement of foot after foot, the sounds of sand hissing gently as it shifts down the side of a small dune, and Hatyah occasionally snuffling at some interesting desert scent.
You are spared the heat, but it's still a long hike. The full skins of water are another blessing. Be sure to thank your neighborhood gnoll, friends.
For three hours, the Pathfinders (and honorary Pathfinders) make steady progress, interrupted only by the occasional break for water or to munch a handful of dried meat. The sun drifts west, casting long shadow-versions of the heroes onto the sand behind them.
Shaggar crests a dune, and his keen eyes pick out a line of greenery bisecting the desert in the far distance: the River Sphinx, with its farms and trees huddled close to life-giving water. The sand slopes downward beneath your feet, in a long gradual decline to the shallow river valley.
The night before, the moon was just past full-- so the moon tonight will still provide plenty of light and visibility for those of you not blessed with darkvision.
You pause collectively to catch your breath. You're much too far from the river to pick out individual farmers or fishing boats at this distance, but you can imagine the Osirian common people are there, going about their simple lives-- coaxing life from the dry sands for their families, with no thoughts of tombs and long-dead Pharaohs.
Lyrian takes the moment to study the mask, its severed strap dangling in his fingers, gold silk against coppery flesh. The auras emanating from the mask are almost overwhelming, but as he picks through them, he is able to decipher two distinct conjuration auras upon the mask. One of them is a spell he has never seen before, but the other seems to operate on a similar magic as that of a silver horn of Valhalla-- it summons ancient Osiriani warriors, as you have already observed, but now you know a little bit more about why.
Lyrian, you do not think that the accidental activation of the mask earlier (by Javi's severing the strap) has used up this week's allotment of magical warriors... but you do think it might be a good idea to try and fix that broken strap.
So. You're thirty minutes' walk outside of civilization (and camels). You see no immediate signs of pursuit. How would you like to proceed?
Heldar laughs at Shaggar's pun, and bows with a smile at Javi's compliment - "I try friend Javi, I try..."
Just half an hour into the trip, and the man is already grateful he had remembered to offer such protection to the group - the route is terribly hard to navigate by itself, had the heat been piled on top of the already harsh terrain, and they would be in dire straits indeed.
As Shaggar communicates that the river is in sight, Heldar ponders the options before them - "What do you thinkg Shaggar? Will we have a chance to find accomodations for the night down there?" - then turning to the others he adds - "And will it be wise to do so with the possibility of having pursuers on our tracks?"
”It’d be easy enough for a few of us to get down there quietly, purchase a few camels.. maybe some supplies… and we could put another few hours between ourselves and pursuit. Could even drop a few false leads with the people in case we are being followed.”
He looks over at Shaggar, then the group, ”Not sure how smart it is, but we could even push on through the night… find a place to hole up and sleep during the heat of tomorrow?”
As he waits for a response, he carefully watches the far-off dwellings and structures, wary for possible issues.
Tyying to keep up the group spirits, Heldar comments with a smile - "Well, if we are going to travel during the night, someone will have to take me by the hand"
Lyrian examines the mask. Does he know how to fix it?
As the sun fades, the gnoll removes his smoked goggles and blows the day's dust from his muzzle with a powerful snort. "We have taken a long and slow path to get here. If our pursuers are very good, they could be ahead of us - waiting. I think two of you should go forward to buy camels, then we whisper past this village like the wind and move on." He scratches the hyena's ear, "Day or night, we can lead you. Pushing on into the night is best, I think."
Javi nods at his massive desert guide’s words, immediately checking his gear and funds for a quick trip into town. ”Pathfinder,” the halfling says, grinning up at Lyrian, ”you up for some camel-getting?”
”Anything else we should be looking for while we’re there? Any tricks or magics we should have for our desert vacation?”
Shaggar points out a hidden spot among the dunes as a good temporary bivouac point for the team to wait while Javi and Lyrian approach the village. The gnoll drops his pack and extraneous gear, getting down to the bare essentials - clothing and weapons.
"I'm going to scout for signs of pursuit and the best trail past the village. I should return in an hour, perhaps a little more. Hatyah." He catches the hyena's attention, points a set of claws at his own eyes and then makes a sweeping motion across the dunes. The guard set he quickly vanishes into the sand.
Hatyah digs in near the top of a dune. She wiggles in, letting sand cover most of her body to break up her silhouette. With her head resting on the sand, eyes vigilant, and body submerged the hyena looks something like a land crocodile waiting to strike.
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Rosalia is moderately impressed by Heldar's quick-thinking on the spell, and tells him as such at some point during their long hike across the dunes. Better to trust in magic than... a civilised gnoll, she figured. At least magic usually made sense and followed fairly logical rules. Usually.
It appeared that they had in their possession something that didn't quite make much sense, though. Rosalia peers over Lyrian's shoulder as he inspects the mask, occasionally offering her own thoughts as to its construct - although Lyrian's face-to-face contact with at least half of the mask's abilities makes him a much more useful source of information. "Alas that I do not know a spell of identification," she opines at one point. "Even a scroll of it would be enough, I think..."
Not that I've ever cast that spell... Details, schmetails.
The sun beginning to set brings welcome relief from the trip; it was unpleasant to walk in the desert for so long, even with the sheltering protection of Heldar's spell. Shaggar's route was obviously well-selected, though, so Rosalia chooses to hold her tongue from the complaints welling up within her.
With Lyrian and Javi apparently set to go off and rustle them up some camels, and Shaggar quick to take stock of their surroundings, Rosalia opts to take a seat in the sands beside Hatyah. "A scroll of identify for the mask, perhaps," Rosalia suggests with a shrug. "Though it's not all too important."
Rook pushes his way out of Rosalia backpack and nuzzles up against her side with a loud meow. Rosalia arches a brow at him. "... Rook is requesting fish. He saw the fishing boats, it seems. Ignore him." The tomcat hisses in response.
Lyrian: You think that Make Whole would suffice to repair the strap. It's not dangerous in its current state, but you're not sure what might happen if the powers of the mask were activated while that strap is broken.
Javi: You're a mile away from the riverbank, so picking out details at this distance is tricky. You see nothing out of the ordinary-- it looks to be green farms, soaking up the Sphinx's water, and date palms, and maaaybe you can make out mud-brick structures. A hawk sails by far overhead, circling over some presumed dying animal. Nothing pricks your hackles or triggers your Waspy-Sense.
The main issue would be availability. This is a fishing/farming village several miles out of the core metropolitan area of Sothis-- it's a small town, or perhaps an extended suburb if you like, but it doesn't have the bazaar catering to professional crypt-breakers and the like that Sothis had. Scrolls, if there are any to be found in the town ahead, would be rarer... but Javi knows the best bet would be to find the village's priest, as such individuals would be the primary magic-users in a village like this.
Shaggar leaves the others to handle camel-obtaining. The gnoll lopes off into the desert sands, looping north of the village to check for any signs of an overland pursuit.
There are two main problems with looking for tracks on the main route between Sothis and the river. The first problem is that there are two 'main routes'-- running right next to each other-- and one's a canal. The second problem is that both routes are heavily traveled. When Shaggar approaches the road & canal from the south, he can see a dozen small reed boats and several larger galleys and barges making their way along the river in the late, late afternoon sunlight. Similarly, the road currently has farmers driving carts home from selling things in Sothis's bazaars, oxen pulling the carts, sheep, cows, and a number of people. Trying to tell if a specific group of guardsmen or others came along this road in the last few hours (or took a boat) by tracks alone would be an exercise in futility.
As for who he sees passing on the road right now: there is nobody dressed in the livery of the Crook Bearer's servants, at least. Shaggar does see Osirion soldiers, marching along in a dusty platoon, but unless the city has sent out sixteen soldiers and an officer after you, they probably don't have anything to do with your group.
He does see one boat being rowed along the canal, a sleek galley with a pavilion of cloth erected over the center deck to shield passengers from the sun. The rowers are straining and sweating in the late evening heat, every man of them bared to the waist. A pennant flies from the pavilion's center pole-- a black and red flag... that Shaggar can recognize as the symbol of Cheliax.
The galley is making good time towards the river.
The motionless hyena's eyes snap sideways to regard the curious drama between the cat and the woman briefly.
Javi—finished with his gear check—gives a nod Shaggar’s exit and does the same, cutting a path towards the nearest group of huts he deems likely to have camels available. ”I’ll see what’s available in terms of scrolls… maybe a local priest will have something. And I’ll see about the fish.” He winks at Rosalia and her feline companion. ”I owe Rook for the earlier tumbling.”
His little feet quicken to a surprisingly ground-eating hustle, and he yells back over his shoulder, his voice carrying a hint of his usual jokester-osity, ”Lyrian, you coming? If you’re not moving forward, you’re backing up.”
A good approximation of the view you guys have looking towards the river (sans the ruins in the foreground, anyway)
Javi is easily able to slip down between the lush greenery of the farms. Wheat and barley grow in high stalks right now and he finds plenty of opportunities to slip through the fields unnoticed. Farmers wander the fields waving off birds, and irrigation ditches run through the area, carrying life-giving water from the Sphinx to the farms.
The closer the sneaky halfling gets to the river, the more buildings there are. Simple structures compared to Sothis's bustle, but people have what they need-- a few river-powered mills to turn the wheat of the fields into flower, mud-brick homes and shops, a weaver's, a blacksmith's, the fishing docks with their ships in for the evening. The 'market' here, such as it is, is a pitiful thing compared to Sothis's-- everyone's packed up for the day, but the handful of booths sold nothing more exotic than livestock and vegetables and farm tools.
Javi is quickly able to pick out the temple-- a single-story mudbrick structure marked with Pharasma's spiral, but also the serpent of the river-god Wadjet, and the dung beetle of Khepri-- regional gods of Osirion. An open curtain marks the archway into the dimly lit interior of the temple. An old man with a shaved head and a white robe is shuffling around inside the modest building, sweeping the floor with a broom of bundled reeds.
Regarding camels, there are a handful of stables in the village-- most people in the village don't actually own camels, which are primarily beasts of travel used for great distances by merchant caravans and others who need to strike out over the sands. The bulk of the camels that are in the village will belong either to caravans spending the night in the village, or to the traders you were hoping to avoid. ;) You might find... one or two camels privately owned by the richest people in the village, perhaps.
Shaggar shades his eyes with his hand as he watches the galley with the Cheliax colors making time down the canal, easily passing the other boats. The ship's master seems to be setting a driving pace, and punctuating it with the whip.
After a few moments of observation, Shaggar turns his steps south once more, moving over the sand like he was born to it (which he was). He keeps the road in sight, observing the travelers along its path. He sees none of the Crook Bearer's guards en route, nor any obvious Chelaxians on the road.
He is able to loop around back to the bivouac point. Hatyah wriggles out of the sand at her pack-leader's approach and lopes forward in case he brought her anything good, but nothing has disturbed her vigil in the two hours Shaggar has been gone.
The gnoll's flat red eyes watch the Chelaxian ship, wondering if this is the opposition or a coincidence. The whipmaster draws a snarl from Shaggar, his contempt for Chelaxians only outweighed by his hatred of slavers. He unlimbers his bow and debates the value of giving the ship's master something to worry about...
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Hunkered below the dune, the gnoll watches the barge slide by and weighs the options. If you can't have a dead enemy, have a frightened one. Even if this isn't THE Chelaxian... it's just another slaver. And if it IS our enemy, fear and confusion work in our favor. Let the hunter fear he's being hunted.
Shaggar's mind turns to the coldly pragmatic consideration of tactics as his arms test the bow built to his strength. At that speed, the barge will travel a hundred more paces before it can stop. Plenty of time. Perhaps it holds a score of guards? Maybe they'll be cautious or maybe they'll pursue. They won't know who struck or why and that doubt will make them cautious... Probably city-men as well, not desert-dwellers. And they'll need to guard their master who likely won't risk himself - they'll be on a short leash and every moment chasing me will slow them down.
The gnoll snarl/smiles, liking the odds. I'm the scorpion here and this is my desert. Without another thought, he knocks an arrow and takes aim on the Ship-Master, willing his aim to be true. He lets the barge slide a little further down-river before sending his single arrow streaking towards the Whip-man's throat.
Shaggar sights along his bow.... draws... and looses. The arrow arcs over the greenery, over the road, over the heads of those traveling the road, over the water... and with almost preternaturally-perfect aim, it buries itself in the throat of the man raising the whip to urge the rowers on.
The human drops to the deck like a sack of grain, and a chorus of alarmed screams rise from the rowers.
The reaction is quick-- chaos among the rowers, who mostly stop rowing and throw themselves to the deck. Two seconds later, a man throws open the flap of the sun-shade pavilion and steps out onto the deck; he spares a bare glance for the downed man on the deck then his head raises to sweep the shore, and the sand beyond.
The man lifts something that looks like a staff or stick to his shoulder and points it Shaggar's direction. A half-second later a loud CRACK echoes across the river valley.
A small puff of dust rises in the sand forty feet from Shaggar's location, nowhere close to hitting him.
Several more figures pour out from the pavilion, using the ship's railing for cover, and orders are quickly barked-- the rowers quickly forced back to their stations. The ship starts pulling to the bank, but Shaggar's assessment that it would take the ship time to stop is correct-- he still has a little time to act before people on the ship could easily disembark the slowing galley, if he chooses.
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Shaggar waves casually to the stick-wielding man, turns, and walks nonchalantly down the slope until he is out of sight... and then he sprints away in long strides across the sand heading into the deep desert away from the canal and the river for awhile before looping back along his planned route. Much as he is tempted to try to pin-cushion the spell-slinger, it is too much of a risk and he doubts any following shot would do much save prove the first shot was more luck than skill... and it was to his benefit if the Chelaxian thought he was a dead shot.
As he races across the desert, the gnoll keeps a sharp eye out for any pursuit, even something as inoffensive as a bird. Magic-users meant familiars and familiars were trouble... or dinner. Shaggar grins at the idea of bagging the Chelaxian's familiar as a meal for Hatyah.
Javi crouches momentarily in the deep shadow of a structure just off the market, taking a few moments to simply enjoy the evening. He considers the situation for a few seconds, then grins, making his way towards the church as he looks for a stable or two that look to have some options in the way of camel-flesh… and is preferably poorly guarded and a bit off the main square.
For simplicity, let’s assume Javi is taking 10 on Perception/Stealth while things are getting set up. Perception 21. Stealth 31.
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Heldar sits down in a soft patch of sand, staring out at the amazing view - "This is an adventure" - he speaks, as much to himself as to Rosalia - "And our lives are probably in danger as we speak" - he adds - "But this view... Is simply breathtaking" - he stares for a very long moment more - "I had heard much about the desert and its beauty, but always dismissed it as some sort of romantic, infatuated recount - I guess I am falling into that same exact feeling - it is amazing" - he turns to Rosalia and smiles.
In the village, Javi and whoever is with him momentarily lift their heads at the sound of a strange noise. It's not unlike like a twig snapping, a clear, short, hard POP that rolls over the village. The villagers lift their heads, blinking, looking around, and a fisherman hastily sketches a protective symbol from strange spirits and gods, while another reaches for the clay scarab talisman around his neck.
Out in the desert, Hatyah briefly perks her ears as well, staring off to the north, while Rosalia and Heldar arch brows at each other.
Shaggar, it's no spell you've ever heard of or seen in action... the loud boom is unusual, and so is the fact that you saw a thin puff of smoke from the end of the stick. Strange.
Shaggar takes to his heels... tearing through the desert. This is terrain he is made for and knows intimately.
He sees no signs of pursuit, either by two-legs, four-legs, or by winged creatures, on his run back through the desert.
"Why are we taking pot-shots at locals?" asks Lyrian, obviously disapproving. "They represent no harm to us."
After 20 minutes with no signs of pursuit, Shaggar slows his pace and stretches his strides to his normal long-legged gait but remains vigilant. He slides from dune to dune until he winds his way back to the bivouac point, by which time he has cooled down from his run. He shakes the sand from his bisht and sits down heavily near the submerged hyena, throwing the bisht over himself in odd folds to break up his silhouette in case anyone were to look up from the village below.
He nods companionably to Rosalia and Heldar.
Javi:
-Fish: best bet is by the riverside, really. Because of the heat, fish don't keep long, and the fishermen tend to come in in the morning, sell their catch off hopefully before noon, and not go out again until evening... but Javi wanders by the waterfront and sees a handful of children using homemade poles and lines with hooks, up to their knees in the river mud and the reeds. They have a woven basket submerged in the water, with a lid on it to keep their catch from jumping out, but the basket twitches ever-so-often as if it had something flopping around inside.
-Temple (because camels are complicated):
Javi circles the temple quiet as a mouse. It's a simple structure, with the open worship area in the front and a small living quarters in the back. The external door into this back room is not locked. Inside, you are looking at a modest dwelling-- a low cot, a clay oven, a chair of woven reeds and a small table. A few shelves hammered into the walls hold personal effects and religious texts.
There is a carved wooden box at the foot of the cot. It does have a lock, but it is rudimentary enough to be no challenge to someone of Javi's skills.
The box contains:
1 scroll
...a folded white robe such as the priest is currently wearing, a second pair of sandals, priestly underwear, other personal effects, and... four scrolls.
It's very easy for Javi to snag them and exit without anyone the wiser, if he wishes to do so.
Camels!
Javi is able to find the village's inn, such as it is. Single-inn village, because podunk town is podunk. It does have an attached stable though where guests stable their mount. Even as he scouts it out, he sees a group of dusty travelers leading several camels along the street towards the stable. One of them goes in to negotiate for a room for the night; the others lead their hump-backed beasts inside.
A stable boy of thirteen or fourteen years runs out to help take the camel's reins and guide the beasts into the structure. The big beasts go eagerly enough for the trough of water that stands by the stable, drinking long and deep before suffering themselves to be led inside by their reins. Javi can observe the camels are having their saddles and tack taken off by the stable boy. The camel's owners-- Katapeshis by their looks and clothing-- flip the boy a coin before heading into the inn themselves.
A wiry dog snuffs around in the stable by the boy's feet, chasing mice in the hay.
There are no 'guards' per se, other than the stable boy and the mutt. The inn is situated just off the village's main street; there is middling foot traffic right now (and animal traffic too).
He nods companionably to Rosalia and Heldar.
Heldar stands up and heads towards Shaggar's watching post - "I assume we have no one tracking us for the time being, at least not close enough that we can detect - Am I correct friend Shaggar?"
While Javi and Shaggar are gone, Rosalia buries her nose in her spellbook. The leather-bound tome of magic appears quite old and worn around the edges, like something she's clearly had in her possession for some time. Those remaining behind may, if they happen to be looking in her direction, notice that the writing in the first few pages has the unmistakable unconfident wobble of a young and inexperienced scribe.
She only briefly looks up from her work when a strange exploding noise echoes out across the dunes. How odd.
Upon Shaggar's return, Rosalia slips her spellbook back safely into her backpack and greets him with a wave. "Did you hear that explosion earlier? What was that about?"
Heldar stands up and heads towards Shaggar's watching post - "I assume we have no one tracking us for the time being, at least not close enough that we can detect - Am I correct friend Shaggar?"
The gnoll gravely considers the lightly phrased question, "If we have shadows, their skills are greater than mine. I scouted to the road and canal stretching between Sothis and the river. There were too many tracks and travelers to find obvious signs of pursuit."
"Did you hear that explosion earlier? What was that about?"
Shaggar tilts his head, dog-like, "Possibly a less obvious sign of pursuit. There was a slave galley of Cheliax rushing to the river. Since a Chelaxian is dogging our steps, and I've seen few of their kind in Sothis, I thought the galley might be his... so I engaged it. The ship's master took offense and fired a strange loud staff at me - some odd wizardry."
First, I forgot that Shaggar is trackless and cannot be tracked in desert environments (as a 3rd ranger) - just in case there was some pursuit at the canal.
Second, you said I spotted several people (non-rowers) on the boat. Could you throw a range around that - 7 to 10? Less? More?
On his way to the temple, Javi stops by the children fishermen, giving them a show of playfully bartering with one of them to buy one of the larger fish in their baskets. With a wink and a quick ”just between us”, he wraps the fish up in a spare shirt and stuffs it in his pack.
He pause at the windows of the temple, stealthily peeking in as he considers. After a few moments consideration, the small halfling shakes his head and moves on… apparently thinking better of bothering the old man and circling away from the temple in search of camels.
Shaggar tilts his head, dog-like, "Possibly a less obvious sign of pursuit. There was a slave galley of Cheliax rushing to the river. Since a Chelaxian is dogging our steps, and I've seen few of their kind in Sothis, I thought the galley might be his... so I engaged it. The ship's master took offense and fired a strange loud staff at me - some odd wizardry."
Rosalia's expression darkens upon the mention of the Chelaxian ship.
"I wonder if you didn't scare our... friend... enough, or if the Chelaxian figured things out on his own. Either way, it's concerning. We must be doubly careful with two separate enemies on our trail now."
The gnoll gravely considers the lightly phrased question, "If we have shadows, their skills are greater than mine. I scouted to the road and canal stretching between Sothis and the river. There were too many tracks and travelers to find obvious signs of pursuit."
Heldar nods and smiles - "I find it doubtful that their skills are greater than yours - you are thorough and meticulous, hence I place my trust in you for this endeavour - if you found no pursuers, there are none" - he winks - "What now then? We wait for Javi and Lyrian?"