"Don't beware her, she's not a threat unless you try to hurt her first. We're just trying to bring her back to her friends, she's been out in this desert somewhere for almost a day now. We're just worried about her."
"Perhaps you have but you just don't recognise me, could we perhaps talk in private?"
"Well I do apologize if that's the case. Of course, we have some lovely private rooms in the back." Naome takes Lindale by the hand, her brows raising slightly as she ushers him into the back room.
Once behind the second set of doors Naome draws a bone dagger lightning fast, pressing it against Lindale's throat. "Who the hell are you to come in disguised like that?"
Lindale slowly changes his disguise back to his normal 'Ares' one. "No need for violence." When she removes the dagger he explains, "The arena was cancelled today so I though I would come here for a drink. Then I saw you. You probably already know Targ is here. Is there any new information you were able to get that we talked about last time?"
Naome indeed lowers the dagger when Lindale reveals himself. "Nothing too progressive has been reported. Although apparently intends to make the newest arena fights very interesting to watch. They say he single handedly captured a giant desert death worm to pit against some of the slaves he brought with him."
"That makes things interesting indeed." He looks at her a moment, touching the spot were here dagger had been, "You said the last group sent the same person too often and got caught. I never need to be the same person so there is little chance of me being caught coming here to see you."
"If our half-minotaur friend has to fight that it could be quite dangerous. You wouldn't know anything about any weaknesses it has would you?"
"I'm not an expert on the creatures of the desert, you would have to find somebody else for that. But with a name like 'death worm' I wouldn't be too optimistic about fighting it. I wouldn't know if Ares would be sent against it, I would certainly hope not."
He nods. Let's hope not... "I might know someone I can ask actually. You said you could acquire things for us. I might need to make use of a mask of stony demeanor. Think that's possible?
"I could acquire something like that within a day without much trouble. Just pay me the item cost and I should have it in the morning."
"Ok, I'll be back in the morning with the gold for you. Not a small amount after all. Thanks for not stabbing me with that." Lindale doesn't have anything else he needs to talk about here.
Naome curls her lips in amusement. "It was a good ruse. Make sure to take on that same appearance on your way out." She hides the dagger on her person again, adjusting her silks and putting on a smile as she leads Lindale out.
The man stares in disbelief at Rilka for a moment, then hits himself on the head with a laugh. "You always were better at this game than I was." He takes a knee in the sand. "That merchant had a friend go to somebody in the white cloaks and told them what was happening. Your entire group is under investigation now, although the Aussirian Legion Commander Raul Ulric found no definitive proof so he didn't charge them with anything. But there's a lot of irons in the fire right now. Targ is hours outside the city and will be making an appearance soon, he delayed the games until tonight for some reason. Plus that lead box you found holds what we believe to be an incredibly dangerous Drow artifact."
"Long story short, we're here to relieve you. Heff wants your skills back in Akropash when all the shit hits the fan and he considers guarding a noncombatant woman lower on the importance level than dealing with Targ."
At that moment Fuero steps out, glancing at Rilka and the other men suspiciously. "What's going on out here?" He says with bow still in hands.
The Aestheric looks back at Rilka. "You need to get back, we can take care of things here."
”Fuero, Master Derek sent these men to replace me. I told you he can find me with his magic. The master wants me back in Akropash. They’ll guard the woman with you. That’s not a problem is it?”
Fuero looks at the three men, face as if on the edge of snarling. "Hell, I feel like I'm getting into more than I should be. Fine, that's fine. Keep in touch, remember Malley can get a hold of me." The two men and the half-elf introduce themselves to Fuero, beginning their setup for a long stay here.
The human gives Rilka a farewell (out of earshot of Fuero) "We brought plenty of supplies so we should be good. Give Heff our best, and good luck in there."
ooooooooooooooo.......
The sound of the horn blasts over the entire city, demanding the attention of every person within or around the city.
ooooooooooooooo.......
Suddenly the entire population begins to frantically move towards cover, boarding up windows and screaming to find shelter.
ooooooooooooooo.......
The panicking stops, although the people look just as afraid. Something Rilka discovered and shared during her investigations comes to mind...
One blow for raiders.
Two blows for dust storm.
Three blows for Targ.
As if the thought of her made her real, Rilka walks into the inn where the entire party has come back to after their various adventures.
The city begins surging towards the gate to meet their slave prince. Even shop and innkeepers close down just to go to the front; it appears every individual will be there. Seeing no reason not to, the party goes with the tide.
The front gate is completely open, much wider than anybody has seen it yet. Outside is the entire traveling camp that is Targ's. Hundreds of people amidst dozens of wagons and labor animals, some of them slavers but most of them slaves. They begin trudging forward slowly, the slaves clearly worn and beat from what must have been a long journey while the slavers ride various animals.
Targ the Twice Taken stands at the front, although he looks much closer. When he crosses the gate there is a frame of reference, and he appears about 15 feet tall. He's well proportioned as a human is with no typical elongated limbs of a giant or other abnormalities. With his short cropped beard and golden eyes he even has an exotic handsomeness to him. He wears simple white and grey robes that cover his waist, ankles, shoulders, and wrists, and around his neck is a golden pendant with several points on it . He has what appears to be freshly healing scrapes across his chest and rows of circular bite marks around his right arm, although if they pain him he doesn't show it. Every slave is on their knees, faces a breath from the dirt as he walks through. The slavers have their heads respectfully bowed and the freefolk are on one knee.
Standing next to him, dwarfed by comparison is the dark beauty Acera. Despite the heat she wears heavy black robes and a billowing cape that seems to ignore the sand at her feet. A terrible scar rips down from her head and vanishes beneath her clothes, but she has a dark and terrible beauty about her as her sky blue eyes sweep the crowd. A large necklace with black and red gems rests against her breast.
Targ looks down at the inhabitants with just a ghost of a smile, then speaks in a magically augmented voice that booms across the city. His voice is deep and resounding, even without the magic. There is a cheering from everybody, inside the city and out, although some of the slaves are clearly faking it and only joining the crowd as to not be singled out.
Targ dismissed the crowd with a wave of his hand, turning to talk to several gathered slavers while Acera follows closely at his heels. The crowd begins scrambling over themselves to get to the arena and reserve their seats, even a good portion of the slaves seem excited at the upcoming fights. Looking around Ninnec is nowhere to be seen although Malley is following the party closely, seeming excited himself.
After some time the same tiefling who Dalton signed Bjorkus into the tournament with finds the group, delivering the news that 'Ares' will be part of the first fight. He does not know who the opponent will be.
A short time later Ninnec returns, but instead of appearing to have run off he says that he reserved seats in the arena tomorrow for the party. They are third row seats, not the best but pretty good on such short notice.
"It is good to have you back Anafa." Toramin rumbles when the halfing woman returns. "That reminds me . . " The dwarf reaches in to a pack and removes a codex of the city's laws. "Master Dalton, this might interest you. It is the codex of this city."
*************************
There is a man who believes he can own others. That they exist only for his edification. By the Father of Creation, I swear to do my best to tear down the edifice of malice and suffering that you have wrought.
*************************
When things have calmed down after Targ's arrival, Toramin will whisper to Ninnec, "I would like to speak with you privately." Just to be sure he will scan the ratfolk with detect evil.
Toramin detects no evil when he scans Ninnec. Ninnec agrees to meet privately.
Bjorkus watches the procession with mild interest. Giant or not, this was a man that needed the world to believe something of him. If he was really as strong as he wanted everyone to think, he wouldn’t need the fanfare. There was something false about the mighty Targ. His witch though, she would make a fine trophy…
”I have an off-the-books fight I’m gunna attend tonight at the Spider. Someone there suggested I come in secret. I think it’s a good idea – mostly for keepin’ the White Cloaks off my nuts. Lindale, can you work up some kinda disguise? It seems like the kinda thing you’re good at.”
Lindale warches the halfling return with blank face, Well done Heff. He has not much chance to say anything when the arrival of Targ is announced. He goes with the crowd, not wanting to miss the grand arrival and see Targ and Acera for himself if possible. He is not disappointed as he stands there. The giant of a man, almost to be mistaken for a brute soon shows that he has the intelligence to be where he is. How much Acera effected that though was unknown. "Death worms in the arena and more. He means what he said."
"I could get you in there without ever being seen." Once he has something to eat he heads out again to meet Lucian.
Bjorkus snorts and shakes his shaggy head. ”I don’t know if that’ll be good ‘nuff. The guy in charge at the Spider seemed to think folks would be scared off if they recognized me.”
"I will go with you if no one else does, Bjorkus."
***********************
"I wanted to speak with you, Ninnec on two matters the first is professional and the econd more personal. Master Dalton, has been acquiring too much negative attention. Is there anything we might do to smooth his time in this city? Second, while I will fulfill my contract with Master Dalton, I am much dismayed by the suffering I see in this city. Everyone here is thought of as a slave or the next best thing to a slave. People do not thrive in Akropash, they survive. I would like to help the survivors -- the hungry, the cunning, the down trod. I have access to healing and supplies, but I do not have the knowledge of whom needs my help or how to get it to them. Would you be interested in aiding me in this?"
~Lindale~
Lindale prepares himself for the short trek and moves north of the city. He is hailed by an elf on top of a sand dune after about twenty minutes. The elf wears the typical browns of the Sand Wraiths. He raises his brow at Lindale's skin. "Well aren't you something special." Following his rude comment he motions Lindale after him, leading him into what appears to be the middle of nowhere. He gives a stand still hand motion to Lindale, then puts his hands to his mouth and gives a whippoorwill bird call.
Then the ground swallows both of them.
Lindale is dumped unceremoniously on a clay floor with sand showering over the top of him. The elf lands beside him gracefully, grinning at Lindale. "Up and at 'em. Lucian's a busy man."
It's a network of clay tunnels crudely carved. It's surprisingly cool although fairly cramped. Lindale is led down a short corridor where Lucian is sitting with a human, a half-elf, and a tiefling. When Lindale enters he stands, dismissing them. "Have a seat." He turns, pouring a dark amber liquid into a clay cup and pulling out another one. "Drink?" If yes, he pours one for Lindale from the same bottle, then sets it down in front of him and drinks his own first.
"I imagine the very existence of this place is somewhat of an answer for your questions the other day. there are various isolated and connected underground areas like this spotting the land north of Akropash. It's no coincidence either. Akropash was built next to an underground river for the fresh water. So was the drow city that used to be here."
He watches Lindale for a moment, taking another swig of his drink. "I don't remember the name of the city, but it perished in the dragon wars with the rest. These caves are what is left. Some know of them, some don't. It's possible your adversary hid out in one of them. I would like to know the fate of this man and the item he took if you found him."
~Toramin and Ninnec~
Ninnec listens closely and nods along with Toramin's words. "Master Dalton spends much of his time with a small group or secluded. He is not well known by others so their first assumption is that he won't be good for business. It's like news, if there isn't any than people will make some regardless if it is true. Master Dalton could spend more time in public, perhaps gambling or drinking and conversing with the other masters."
At the second party Ninnec stares at Bjorkus for a long moment. He works his hands around nervously. "Truly a very kind gesture. You're right, it is survival here. I know a few handfuls of people who could use the help, although it doesn't come close to the entire population of the needy. Yix could be good to talk to about that, or another information trader if you are uncomfortable with him, although he has never back-stabbed me as of yet." He appears oddly nervous about the proposition.
Toramin strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Yes, you are right. He is socializing with the wrong people. I will speak to him about this. Thank you."
Toramin notices Ninnec's discomfort. "What's wrong, Ninnec, what worries you about this idea? Please, tell me. Your council has been valuable since I arrived. Please, speak your mind."
So that's what we're here to end.
After what Dalton had seen of this city, he wasn't impressed with Targ's credentials for continued life. The brand of legalese seemed sketchy, liberty was a dream, and the vicious bloodsports only sought to increase peoples' suffering - either by the whitecloaks' hands or in the arena.
And how ironic it is we will use that distasteful practice as an exodus here.
Almost as if reading his mind, Dalton was notified of Bjorkus's schedule. The first?
"Ares! You're up tomorrow - before anyone else but your opponent. Feel up for it?" Listening to the bull's concern, Dalton agreed it would be best if he had a partner. And it was time, now Targ was here, to coax Ithel's aims out of him. "We'll go together. Business unfinished is not my fancy."
Bjorkus snorts and thumps his thickly muscled torso. "I'm ready. I'll kick the ass of who or whatever fool they put in front of me. I'll be even more ready after a good warmup tonight at the Spider."
"What do ya think Targ's up to? His whole entrance felt like a song and dance."
"Power is a song and dance. No matter how potent a ruler is, the ruled are greater still. Sadly, the ruled consent to be ruled even by the brutal as long as they can still continue to imagine a life for themselves and those whom they love. What we must do is awaken them to see a beter possible life."
Ninnec fidgets while he speaks. "This will gather attention from the gangs of the city and they'll try to see where all of the sudden supplies are coming from. If the needy aren't needy than they lose some of their information and power. You could anger some dangerous people with this."
"Hmm. That could be a problem, but not one that should deter me from helping. Danger should lessened through careful planning and strategic caution, but it is not an excuse to not do what's right. If we do it slowly it will take them longer to realize what's happening."
Barrowwheel agreed with Gearsmith. "My life now is completely different than what it was when I was a lad. Namely, the lord and lady I served overshadowed us; we lesser folk didn't see ourselves as proper people with proper potential. But the problem is always easier once solved."
He turned to Ares. "I'm glad you're set for this. Can't say I relish your position."
Song and dance...
Lindale responds to Toramin, "What we must do. Is what we have been sent here to do. Help stop a war between nations and keep it here between the slave lords. Sometimes you must choose the lesser of two evils or we will be unable to stop either."
"I don't think we've met." is all he offers the elf. Following him and not seeing Lucian around he wonders if this is some sort of trap.
As he drops he manages to turn his failed landing into a roll, coming up with his rapier drawn. "What is going on?" When the elf points him down one of the tunnels he puts his weapon away. Not a trap yet..."
Finally he sees Lucian and his company and enters, nodding at him. "Of course." he says to the drink as he takes a seat.
"It is rather useful. You can surface anywhere you want around Akropash? "
"Not many alive would remember. I met an elf once who remembered the wars. Many things were lost. Only a few ever return."
"I wish to find him too. But the lead casing around the item hid any magical aura it might have had so tracking it that way won't work. They were a group of mercenaries that came out of no where and attacked us. Perhaps you know of the merchant who was transporting it." Lindale tells him of the merchant and being hired to protect his wagon and the item they didn't know they were really protecting. "Knowing who he was associated with might help. Find them, find their enemies. Eliminate possibilities. Just an idea."
"Not anywhere. We've been mapping out the tunnels for nearly five years and we are not anywhere near done. It takes a lot of time to learn where the tunnels are."
He swirls the cup. "Elves that old are rare or generally secluded. They can offer much wisdom." Lindale knows the river is still running and is the main water source for Akropash.
"I don't recognize the name off the top of my head, so I doubt he causes much trouble." He grunts. "Knowing merchants and their business isn't one of our focuses. I doubt any of our sources would be of much help."
As the horns fill the city, Rilka’s face is clearly relieved to be back with her companions. She doesn’t have much time for conversation other than ”Thanks,” to Toramin as they go to watch Targ’s procession. Despite the limited chance for observation, as she kept her eyes down, like the slaves, she looked for Aussirian Legionnaires.
Back at their quarters, Rilka looks at Bjorkus’ horns. ”A paste that provides limited invisibility would be useful for the horns. Even better a helm where the horns appeared to be part of it and not growing from you. I can paint on a few scars for your chest. Oh and maybe a temporary tattoo. Just black ink with grease so it won’t run with sweat. It’d be hard to see under the fur, but it’d look older and be less susceptible to close scrutiny. So I hope.”
Rilka studies him for a moment. ”So the people at the Spider haven’t seen you yet? A big part of disguises is using a different voice or language. Can you do an accent? Maybe speak Giant exclusively. I’ll go with you Ares and Master Derek. I need to create some extracts first. Change my clothes too. Think I could pose as an half-elf boy?”
Rilka goes to her little alchemy kit and creates seven extracts in the course of a few minutes.
Bjorkus snorts in surprise at Rilka's cleverness. "I'm thinkin' I shoulda come to you first little one. Do you have the supplies to do all that?"
”Well, we could find a blacksmith to make a helmet. Obviously wouldn’t be ready tonight. It might be handy in the future though. The disguise kit we brought will help with the scars and such. Have to keep it simple. With the violence of a fight any prosthetic might become loose.” The halfling gives him a small pot. ”Rub this on your teeth. They’ll look like you haven’t cleaned them in about a year. Maybe a tally line on your forearm? Number of bouts you've won? People could see something’s there, but it’d get covered by a shield or bracer at the last moment before the fight.”
She turns to Dalton, “If you’re not going to disguise yourself, I don’t think I should either.”
"Perhaps I will look into it later, what are your ideas for finding this object? A man of your means must know many things about the inhabitants of the desert. Hidden things seem your speciality." Lindale relaxes for a moment taking a mouthful of his drink. "I grew up far from here, this is your dessert."
In awe of Rilka’s energy and creativity, Bjorkus watches as the little Halfling works, pointing out where to apply makeup and how best to sell the effect. He snorts and nods, trying his best to commit the supplies to memory. ”The helm will have to wait. Think we can improvise in the meantime?”
Lucian doesn't seem to know anything about the merchant.
He grunts, taking out a map that shows the known caves, although he doesn't show it to Lindale. "We could sweep what we know of. But it would require a favor in return." He takes out a parchment, dropping it in front of Lindale. Unrolling it shows the sketch of a human man with a close goatee and cropped hair. "This is a Golden Serpent. He's been a nuisance for a few weeks now, informing the white cloaks of our movements inside the city. I want you to...convince him that it's a good idea if he stops." He lets Lindale keep the sketch. "I'm not sure where he is during the day, but during the night he is often at the Circle of Stone."
Bjorkus tries to be a patient subject, pointing out important scars to cover up and good places to paint on new ones.
"I will come to the the Circle tonight. If I can get a look at him tonight, I may be able to help. Why would the white cloaks want to watch you instead of the Serpents?" He takes the sketch and studies it.
Rilka settles on passing Bjorkus off as a tiefling so they have a good excuse for the horns. When the party walks downstairs with the newly disguised Bjorkus, Jaware looks over with an arced brow. "Are you inviting guests under my roof without telling me?"