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Waylund looks at Nenet, then at the man with grim expression. He’d seen how the crocodile had opened a the woman’s -Nuzha’s -belly. He had little hope and didn’t trust the man not to stab him in the back.
“Dismount the camel and swear that you will take up the Prophecies of the Kalistrade. This will be your down payment on my mercenary services.”
As Waylund spoke he dropped his quarter staff and removed a sleep scroll from his scroll case. With it drawn, he the traced the pattern of his arcane eye and intoned the draconic words of power that would open his magic sight. Auras didn’t need light to be seen and the woman was, or had been, a caster. Perhaps something lingered.
The man jumps off the camel and seems to have only half listened to Waylund's, Theshen's and Badhru's words when he replies: "If you help me save her life, I will do anything, just please, show me where she is!" His eyes shine; whether its due to hope, tears or a mix of both, Waylund cannot tell.
The group and their thief run as quickly as they can to the riverbank.
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The adventurers reach the Sphinx shortly afterwards. Though it is too dark for most of them to see much, it is almost a blessing. Whatever little hope they had of retrieving the breathing, unconscious body of the sorceress who had lured them here just a few minutes ago disappears as the sound of crunching bones and flesh being rent covers the usual hubbub of the night. Crickets, mosquitoes, the flutter of a breeze against the grass; all is drowned out by the almost mechanical noise of violent chewing.
Accompanying this grizzly soundscape, Waylund senses magic auras but is not able to pinpoint their location without further concentration.
The man the group had found stealing their provisions puts his hands on his knees and lowers his head, sobbing. "Your prophecies cannot help her now, foreigner priest. Is this Kalistrade of yours a deity of vengeance too? Because I can surely use that." Without waiting for a reply, he charges at the crocodile, a knife in each hand and a heart-wrenching scream in his mouth.
With help from the waxing moon's faint light, he sees the feeding beast and jumps on top of it, attempting to stab the creature, but the grief and the rage do little to help the man's combat skills: both his attacks completely miss their target. The crocodile shakes the man away and drops whatever piece of Nuzha it was eating whilst swinging its tail. The attack hits the man, but most the impact seems to be absorbed by his armour.
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2. Badhru
4. Waylund
5. Asmani
6. Shu-kri
7. Theshen
8. Rawiya
If the crocodile is not subdued, Theshen will move closer and cry out for aid from Isis.
Shu-Kri runs behind the man and uses her longspear to stab at the croc.
I've moved Badhru, in anticipation of the spell's completion next round.
Whilst Badhru moves to flank the crocodile, his wizard companion begins an intricate ritual with soothing and hypnotic words in Osiriani that seem to become ever-so-slightly quieter at each sentence. Asmani, shortly afterwards, moves as a menacing shadow in concert with the half-orc and Shu-kri. The bekyar, the thrill of the hunt coursing through her veins for the first time in many days, overextends her reach and misses her attempt at stabbing the crocodile.
Theshen, the oracle of Isis, calmly approaches the fray, but stops halfway through. He begs for the grace of Isis to help them in battle and his entreaty is answered with a blanket of brightly coloured feathers that seems to fall like raindrops over the shoulders of his travel companions. Their touch is warm and electric, filling their targets with sudden optimism and courage.
Rawiya, a smile on her eyes and a song dancing on her lips, shoots an arrow at the crocodile. Despite the darkness, and perhaps due to the grace of an ancient goddess, the arrow flies true and pierces the beast’s hide.
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The widower is oblivious of everything that happens around him, yelling in rage as he furiously stabs the crocodile. One of his daggers finally draws blood and the wound it makes is small, but deep. In return the crocodile snaps its jaws and just barely misses the widower’s hand. His luck finally runs out when a second, unexpected tail attack hits him on the stomach.
As the other combatants prepare to make their move, Waylund’s voice, no more than a whisper now, somehow becomes a presence amongst them. This presence quickly moves towards the crocodile, leaving in its wake the smell of roses. When it’s gone, the beast collapses. A loud snore replaces the ghastly chewing sounds of just seconds ago.
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2. Badhru
4. Waylund
5. Asmani
6. Shu-kri
7. Theshen
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Waylund considered hitting the would be camel thief with a drench spell to shock him back to his senses. He realized, however, he'd break his own neck trying to get in range quick enough to make a difference in the darkness.
“Someone please restrain him before he gets himself or one of us hurt.”
He looked in the general direction of where he thought the woman's body was and began concentrating on the auras, hoping it would help find all of her remains. He wasn't sure if Nenet had packed a shovel, but the woman would get a proper burial even if he had to dig it by hand. Including whatever had to be cut from beasts gullet.
Theshen pulls out a length of silk rope from his backpack and begins to move towards the crocodile.
"You. C'mon, now. Let the others handle this thing."
When Badhru sees the crocodile fall asleep, he moves towards the widower and drags the man away with surprising ease. ”Let me go! I will destroy this foul beast, I will carve its bones with my bare teeth!” He says as he’s carried away.
Meanwhile, Theshen draws nearer the animal. Despite all his medical training and familiarity with gruesome wounds, the puddle of mud, blood and shattered bones is horrifying enough to make him avert his eyes for the moment, focussing solely on binding the ropes as tight as he can.
Waylund, once he sees his half-orc companion taking care of the enraged man, starts searching for magic auras once again. This time, he manages to locate the sources, both are faint and close to where the crocodile and the corpse lay. The first one is of a kind the wizard is familiar with, conjuration; the second emanates patterns completely foreign to the Avistani and he has no idea to which school of magic it might belong.
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Waylund carefully replaced the sleep scroll he'd been holding into it's case. Then as he walks toward Theshen he takes out the last four candles in his spell pouch.
With a casual twitch of his index finger he says “Ixen.” and a small flame ignites from the tip. He lights one of the candles and then repeats the sigil and chant used earlier in the night to create a vessel of force. He recreates the "lantern trick" from earlier in the night and uses it to light the other three candles and offers them to whomever wishes one.
“The beast will slumber no longer than ten minutes. I suggest we secure the mouth first. Once it’s tied we may slaughter it at our leisure and perhaps use the camels to drag its corpse further inland. Afterward I’d like to give the woman a proper burial – and I would appreciate any guidance on local customs.”
He then helps Theshen tie the beast, thankful of the time he spent learning some basic knots from the deckhands of the Prophet’s Ascension.
Seeing the crocodile secured with ropes, Rawiya turns her attention to the faint auras that she perceived earlier
"There is magic beneath her clothes. Shu-kri, Asmani, will you help me discover what it is, so that she is not dishonored by men viewing her body?"
Rawiya positions herself, as best she can, to hide the woman's corpse from the party as the three women search for the sources of the auras.
"Yes, of course."
The beast must be bound - and well!
Theshen focuses intently on the task at hand, trying his best to ignore the gore that used to be a person he was speaking with not minutes ago. He takes his time to ensure that the crocodile will not suddenly slip. He takes especial care to ensure that the crocodile's jaws have no leverage to work their way free.
He says quietly to Waylund as they coordinate:
A trashing beast would be bad enough, one who could gut another person here would be disastrous. Those jaws must not open again in life."
After the crocodile is secured, he thinks on funerary customs, on how best to handle the ruined body with appropriate respect. Sadly, many have perished to these beasts so he has examples to draw upon.
Theshen, a grave look on his face, explained the traditional burial for Osirian peasants. First they would have to dig an oval pit in the sand; then the body would be wrapped in white cloth and put in foetal position and lying on its left side; alongside the body, they would put small offerings of food and wine, together with whatever special belongings the deceased would use in the afterlife – it was also common to collect the tears of their loved ones in a small shallow vessel. Finally, the pit would be closed and someone, either a priest or a relative would say: “We are sitting in the shadow of knowledge; knowledge is written all around us, in the sands and on the rocks. Walk into the light of the sun and welcome oblivion until the shadows call upon you once again.” The attendees would reply "May such a time never come" and the rites would be finished. Averting their eyes from the corpse crushed by the hulking beast, the two men carry away the still asleep crocodile.
The women arrive and begin to collect the remains of Nuzha, the sorceress, in a very literal sense. The joyless task takes a few minutes over half an hour; at its completion Rawiya, Shu-kri and Asmani look upon the dismembered body they gathered on the river bank (a missing chunk where the crocodile first bit the woman; a missing arm and half a leg), each wondering where they could get enough cloth for an impromptu burial.
On her hands, the bard holds two papyruses, finely decorated – one covered in text, the other in drawings – both largely intact despite having been submerged for a considerable amount of time. She also finds a small bag of coin , a plain dagger and a beautifully crafted necklace of wooden beads.
The first scroll narrates the story of a wizard who summoned a great eagle to aid him and save a village near Sothis.
The second scroll is covered in cryptic images that become readable with the aid of a detect magic spell and much concentration. It tells the story of a village beset by a terrible sleeping disease.
Though very simple, the collar is crafted with skill and care. If son inclined, one could sell it for 50gp
Pity fills Rawiya's eyes.
"Such a terrible fate. I can spare a sheet from my bedroll. It isn't white, but it will have to do. And I have a needle and thread that we can use to sew her shroud together. I think we can count on Threshen to direct our ritual."
"Now, let's take a look at these things."
"Shu-kri, I think you volunteered to keep track of the things we found?"
Rawiya hands the coins to Shu-kri, along with the dagger.
"Perhaps Badhru can tell us more about the necklace and Waylund can take a look at the scrolls."
While to that point Badhru had been standing what he'd felt was a respectful distance back, at Rawiya's request, he comes forward to take a look at the necklace.
Not that anyone deserves to get eaten by a crocodile, but this lady was trying to rob us, he thinks to himself.
"This life, it carries a certain... assumption of risk," he mutters to no one in particular as he examines the necklace.
Theshen humbly accepts the role of ministering to the burial.
"I know the rites. I shall do this task."
After the burial is complete, he seems a little deflated.
"The River carries both life and death. Remember this well friends, especially those from other lands."
Asmani participates in the funerary rites with a grave, almost distant countenance; the events of the past hour take on a surreal, otherworldly cast as they intone the prayers and lower the body of their assailant into its pit.
She can't help but cast continuous glances at the crocodile, glances which inevitably slide over to Waylund; he'd quelled the monster with but a word. What power.
When Theshen finishes the rite, she bows her head, then steps back to take comfort in the shadows and observe.
The burial is a quick and solemn matter: 6 strangers burying a woman who moments ago tried to trick and rob them whilst her husband cries in shocked silence. Once the deed is over, the group gives the man some privacy; whoever looked back would see the man lying on top of the fresh grave, gently caressing the sand that covered his wife's corpse.
Back in camp, Nenet begins stirs awake. Pale and weakened, she listens to the summary of the night’s events with downcast eyes. ”They would have done us great harm, yet I still wish to pay my respects to this woman’s grave before we leave tomorrow. If I were there, perhaps things would have gone differently? Lord Wyllt, if I understood correctly you made the man promise he would take up the Prophecies if you came to his wife’s aid…what shall you do now? Will you hold him to your informal contract?” Sitting on the ground, she brings her legs close to her body and hugs them, shivering. ”Though I trust Unas-Ankh’s healing arts, I am still rather unwell…and we all need some rest. We shall continue our journey at 16:00 and camp by the Topaz Bridge tomorrow evening.”
"Well, what shall we do with this crocodile?" Rawiya looks at the bound beast.
" I say we kill it now, while it is incapacitated, and take the hide with us to sell to the first available tanner. It's a murderous beast; that would be fair punishment for taking a life."
She turns to the weeping man
"What were you thinking? No one would be out here on the off chance that travelers *might* pass by."
Theshen is silent for some time.
He does respond to Nenet's words, with eyes that are weary.
"She was near the water too long, too close, and too loud. It was a dangerous plan and she paid a great price for it. I do not think there was much more we could have done. She would not move from the water and the crocodile struck so swiftly..."
He trails off then hears Rawiya. He looks from her to the weeping man, desiring also to hear an explanation for their dangerous plan.
"I say we put the beast down before it wakes up. If it hadn't already enjoyed the taste of humanoid flesh before, it has now. But it should be done quickly and mercifully. It only followed its own nature."
"I'm with Shu-Kri on this. I don't blame that crocodile for doing what it does. But I also ain't keen t'lug his carcass all the way to the nearest tanner."
"The beast is dangerous and will slow us down. I say we give it a quick and merciful death here and now."
The man keeps looking at the grave and his answer comes in a monotone: ”There are always travellers leaving and going to Sothis…and this is the quickest road…usually lots of travelling merchants with just a guard or two…even pilgrims…but it was a slow day, only some of the shambling pilgrims of Sarenrae… I said you were too many, but Nuzha insisted, said she would lure you away, we needed whatever we could get our hands on, the lepers didn’t have anything…I told her it was too dangerous, you would put up a fight, it’s crocodile mating season…” his voice trails away.
Too absorbed in his grief, he does not react to the ongoing discussion regarding the crocodile and shows no concern for the beast’s fate.
"What lepers??!
The man shrugs and replies: ”yes, the shambling penitents, shambling pilgrims, whatever they're called…they walk in circles around the desert…chanting for Sarenrae’s mercy…something about Sarenrae burning their sickness away if they survive for gods know how long. Not all of them are lepers, but most, I guess. Seems like they were going to cross the Sphinx soon.” He lies down beside Nuzha’s grave. ”She was so afraid of them, of getting their sickness. We’re never afraid of the right things, are we, cleric?” Though the last sentence seems directed at Theshen, the man continues staring into nothingness.
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Waylund waits takes a moment to consider Nenet’s question. “I am not inclined to charity. To be frank, my wish to see the lady buried had less to do with chivalry than with the fact that I cannot countenance a person being eaten by a beast. You'd think after the first few dozens times I'd have developed a tolerance but I still sometimes become irrationally angry. The thought of a person's final resting place being the bowels of some creature just boils my blood. It’s a common phobia of Academae alumni.”
He takes a drink from his canteen, his expression pensive “Perhaps we should find out his story, and then make an informed decision about what to do with him. It would behoove us to discover where they were based, what resources they had, who else might have a grudge against him, what he knows about the road ahead etcetera.”
Theshen nods sadly to the man.
"We are not, that is true. I would hear your story, why you turned to this dangerous life of robbing from the sick. Your name as well."
Rawiya walks behind the crocodile and motions Shu-Kri over.
"I have heard that the most vulnerable spot is at the base of the head, where the spinal column joins the skull.
"But he is a large creature. Perhaps one of us should strike first and then move quickly away, while the other readies herself to immediately strike again, but from behind. We need to be certain that we kill this beast and not just anger it.
"Why don't you go first, and I'll be the backup."
Rawiya moves behind the crocodile, and stands near the left shoulder.
Rawiya’s arrow pierces the crocodile’s skull and part of its tip become visible below the reptile’s lower jaw. It squirms briefly before becoming completely still. A further stab from Shu-kri’s longspear punctures the hide and, if there was any life left in the crocodile, it has been extinguished now beyond any shadow of doubt.
The man sighs at Theshen’s question: ”not much to talk about, cleric. I am Tariq al-Zarqa, son of Karim al-Zarqa. Born in Sothis twenty-five Inundations of the Sphinx ago. One day I was walking through the bazaar and saw the most beautiful woman in Golarion surrounded by thugs and ran to help her.” He chuckled, his voice taking a bittersweet tone. ”Got myself two broken teeth and almost lost an eye, whilst Nuzha burnt two of them to a crisp and made last one lick the sole of her feet, which were hot as glowing coals – y'see, she has – had – ifrit blood running on her veins. Thing is, the man, a mean pimp called Phokas, eventually climbed up high enough to become the gang boss and, cleric, he holds a grudge uglier than a harpy’s c@#%. We had to leave Sothis and have been living nearby, doing what we had to survive.”
Theshen thinks, on the offchance that he has heard of this Phokas. Or Tariq al-Zarqa or Nuzha the now-deceased ifrit-blooded.
After helping Shu-Kri pull the carcass of the crocodile far downriver from the camp, Rawiya returns to the fire and her abandoned supper.
"Now I see why Uncle Tariq always said to see to the animals first, and then grab your food. Who knows if you'll actually get a chance to get rest?"
She eats her fill, then goes to check her camel, for whom she's developed some fondness, totally ignoring Theshen's interrogation of the man.
As she returns, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd like to know that someone else is awake and on watch while I'm sleeping. Anyone want to share guard duties with me?"
Theshen is not sure he's ever heard of anyone by that name. Sothis being a big city means it is very hard to keep track of all the gangs and their leaders.
Asmani steps forward and gives Rawiya a curt nod. "I doubt I'll be able to sleep after what just happened. Sure. I'll share your watch."
Rawiya eyes the man, who calls himself Tariq, but she's not sure she's ready to respect him enough to call him by his name.
"How shall we bind this ... man so that he doesn't create more mischief? I don't think he's trustworthy at all. And watching the darkness will be doubly hard if we have to watch him as well."
"I have a length of silk rope. We can bind him with that.", Theshen offers.
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Waylund uses his dagger to pry the largest tooth he can find from the crocodile. Then he cuts a piece of twin and tiesbit to the tooth making a simple medallion.
“Tariq al-Zarqa, son of Karim al-Zarqa.”
He holds up the medallion. “You will wear this as a reminder of the cost you paid this day for your treachery and deceit."
Waylund stands in front of him for a long moment then continues. “In the morning when our party leaves, you will travel back to Sothis and to the pier nearest the Black Dome.
He pauses for a moment to let his instruction sink in. “You will speak to Captain Marlain, master of the Prophet's Ascension. You will give him tonight's tale with neither omission nor embellishment.
The wizard seems to be struggling to keep his expression hard. “You will offer to trade - it's important not to beg - your labor for passage to Druma and instruction in the Prophecies of Kalistrade.”
“If he will have you, you will take great care to learn as much Taldan as you are able during the voyage. When you arrive in Druma, travel to Prophet's Home. You will then hand deliver a letter from me to Liliana Wyllt.”
“Then you will report to the Thousand Shields fortress and offer a trade to the Master of The Horse. He speaks Osirion fluently. Again, you will give him tonight's tale with neither embellishment nor omission.”
“You will point out that you managed to waylay an honors graduate of the Academae and snuck past the Falcon that ruined so many of his ambush drills. You will also explain that you are familiar with the route between Sothis and Eto - where many future contracts are likely to be.”
“You will offer him five percent of your wages as scout in the Mercenary League if he agrees to accept you into the training corps.”
If he will have you, you will train for two years and then spend five more years protecting caravans in Nuzha’s name. Very likely, most of your contracts will be along this very route. You will be able to pay respects to your wife's grave and show her what kind of man you've become.”
“I suggest you spend those five years observing and learning from the merchants you protect. Make allies and contacts among them.”
Waylund then hands him the medallion and steps aside so that the others may bind the man. “Seek me out then. I will test your knowledge of the Prophecies and the merchant trade. If you pass my test there maybe a place for you in the Wyllt cartel but remember that I am not a man inclined to charity. It will not be an easy test.”
Tariq seems to listen to Waylund a bit more attentively than to Rawiya and Theshen, though his expression is still vacant and dazed, as if he struggled to understand the words that came out of the wizard’s mouth – the only moment when a flash of understanding and pain danced through his face is when he hears Nuzha’s name. Nevertheless, after some prodding Waylund feels satisfied that the man understood his instructions. Tariq seems to almost not notice when Theshen binds him and his only complaint comes when someone tries to move him away from the grave. He whimpers ”please, let me stay by her side…one last night”
From the widower they recover two daggers, a blowgun with 9 darts and two small flasks of a blue substance that Theshen readily identifies as Blue Whinnis, the poison used to render Nenet unconscious.
Eventually everyone goes to sleep, except Rawiya and Asmani. It is a quiet night, now, and at a certain point the only sounds are Tariq’s whimpers and, later, his twitching during what seem to be very bad dreams.
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During the day Nenet recommends that Waylund and Badhru stay in their tents as much as possible. She asks for company to fetch water at the river, both out of fear from another crocodile attack and because her legs still seem about to give away every few steps. Each group member takes care of whatever they need to prepare to continue their journey until Nenet begins to break camp. Whilst doing that, she speaks. "Though I trust holy Unas-Ankh that little could be done to avert yesterday’s tragedy, it was still a blessing from the gods that I stayed behind. Otherwise, our provisions would have been gone and we our journey would have suffered a tremendous set back. This is something to keep in mind, should we need to distance ourselves from the camp again.”
Tariq is exactly in the same spot he was left the previous night. Once released, he rips a piece of his tunic and creates a makeshift pouch with some thread. He pours a handful of dirt from Nuzha’s grave inside and trudges along northward, to Sothis.
Nenet climbs her camel and looks to the group: ”Are you ready, my friends? We shall ride to the Topaz Bridge today and cross it tomorrow. After that we will be outside of the life-giving embrace of the Sphinx.”
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Before Tariq leaves, Theshen speaks quietly to the group away from the grief-stricken man.
"The desert is dangerous. He may not make it back to Sothis unarmed. Should we return him his weapons, if not the Blue Whinnis? Or would he simply rob others on the way? I am truly unsure my friends."
Theshen seems genuinely torn about the matter.
**********
After Tariq leaves, Theshen replies to Nenet.
"I am as ready as I can be. Hopefully there will be less bloodshed this day."
"Ngozi ya maziwa, Waylund, what gives you authority to judge and sentence this man?"
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"If we truly care about his future, would it not make more sense to take him with us? Then we can be certain that he contributes his own thoughts to the decision.
"No person can be forced to do things that they are not willing to do, unless they are a slave. Are we making him our slave?
"If not, how can we ensure his safety until he can be returned to a place where he can survive?"
"Slavery is a popular 'solution' among the Avistani. Especially when abroad."
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Waylund steps close so that only Shu-kri Kaba can hear him. His expression bored and haughty. "If you wish to sink the raft I've just given this drowning man, that is your choice. However, I will never be on a first name basis with someone so twisted and cruel Lady Kaba.
He steps back and addresses Rawiya with a cool look. " His world has been shattered. He's moments away from slitting his own throat. He needs structure, he needs a goal and he needs a way to put food in his belly that doesn't involve hurting innocent people. "
He turns his back on the women and walks back toward his tent. "You will excuse me if I don't give credence to the moral authority of the two jackels who pounced on the woman's body before it was cold and were counting her coin while the crocodile still endangered us all."
He pauses by his tent flap "Now. If any other uneducated bigot wishes to call me a slaver out of the left side of her mouth while demanding the same man be put in chains out of the right side of her mouth...I'll be in my tent."
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Waylunds words echo in Rawiya's brain
His world has been shattered.
So we tear him away from everything he's ever known, send him to a foreign country where he does not speak the language. Sounds like continued shattering to me.
He's moments away from slitting his own throat
So we send him to face the terrors of the night without anyone to see to his safety, and far away from any family or clan who care about him. The man won't make it through the darkest hours without someone to keep an eye on him. Walking alone at night in the desert is not the most comforting of situations.
He needs structure, he needs a goal, and he needs a job
When did a foreigner who knows nothing of our culture become so intimately acquainted with the needs of our people? This man needs to reclaim his honor, more than anything.
Radiwy lifts an eyebrow and turns to the rest of the party.
"If he is an exemplar of his religion, I'm glad it hasn't spread to our land.
"Are we all agreed that the man's life should be spared? Should we report him to the authorities in Eto? Or should we turn him lose, bound by some oath to us or one of our gods?
"Shall we take him to Eto with us? Or leave him here to make his way into whatever future he prefers? Perhaps there is a way to help him that does not involve sending him alone on a journey that is more than likely to be cut short by violence, whether self-inflicted or not.
"Or perhaps we can help him find his tribe, who would be honor bound to assist him.
"If we decide to release him, at the very least, he needs a clear mind when he makes a decision that will eliminate any hopes and dreams that he currently holds and wrench him away from every kindness he has ever known.
"If released, that would be his decision to make, with full knowledge of both the benefits and the possible regrets. I don't think his emotions will allow him to do that with an unclouded mind tonight or perhaps even for the next few days."