The confusion over names was uncomfortable, but understandable. After all, these humanoids did all look so similar. "Perhaps we should go up to look at the towers. Kalidnay was legendary."
[dice=sense motive]1d20+10
The confusion over names was uncomfortable, but understandable. After all, these humanoids did all look so similar. "Perhaps we should go up to look at the towers. Kalidnay was legendary."
The young boy certainly seems by all available measures to be telling the truth as he sees it, despite the apparently equal sincerity of the other mammal named Memnon.
It is curious how these shell-less ones relate with each other, even greater in subtlety and design than the manner and mien of the distant tohr-kreen and their limitless empire in the Crimson Savannah, of whose stories wonders Tkk-Tkk's clutch had a distant and ancient knowledge passed down through the ancestral memory of the thri-kreen at the holy Chak'sa and similar revered sites.
Indeed, the more she comes to know of these curious mammals, the more they seem of a kind with the inhabitants of the sunken lands beyond the Jagged Cliffs.
"Kinsman?" Gaanon shrugs. "I was born a slave. The raid would have changed little for me." Then, his tone softens. "But it is sad. The slavers will all pay, in the end. I will break the chains myself."
He speaks with righteous fervour and seems willing, perhaps even eager, to speak thus despite being among the very slavers he despises. Is he taunting them?
[dice=Intimidate]1d20+10
Gaanon detects a slight disgruntled snarl move through the assembled dignitaries of House Vordon, but none appear bold enough to share it directly with the imposing half-giant. Certainly, the merchant families of Tyr have suffered terrible with the abolition of slavery by RIkus, Sadira, and the other heroes who slew the tyrannical King Kalak on the steps of the Great Ziggurat. It is in fact because of this disruption of the previously profitable slave trade that Lady Almah and her coterie are destined for Kelmarane -- to replace the profits which had previously raised the immediate family of this caravan's enigmatic mistress to the very heights of House Vordon, and without which they had fallen into servility and ignominy. What exactly this lost trading post, reportedly overrun by a large tribe of fierce gnolls, could offer that would possibly replace so valuable a previous stream of revenue remains... a mystery...
Witnessing Memnon and the mysterious Archer's discussion, Gaanon shrugs. He sees the fellow's resemblance to Kuro but doesn't second-guess that this is merely a case of mistaken identity. Truth be told, he doesn't much care. In the desert, it doesn't matter who you are.
"Amlitkayek was destroyed?" he asks Memnon in lieu of a greeting as if it had not been years since they last saw each other. Gaanon was then a slave who was traded to fight in the pits when he prodigal strength and endurance became apparent...
"Did you know?" the half-giant asks Cloudbreather.
Cloudbreather similarly shaken by this horrible news. His normally inquisitive and open demeanor is shuttered for a long space while he absorbs this unwelcome information -- made bitter not only by the pterran's sorrow over his lost friends in the village of the Flamebearer Ymera, Queen of Fire Drakes, but also the loss of the clutch of slimahaccs younglings which his village had established in a small way station near Amlitkayek, expecting as they did to return yearly to the village and thus require fresh mounts to return home. When the moment allowed, he would have to preform the rituals of shai-hulud by proxy for the lost sand trouts.
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Upon on the observation deck, Rokan greets Dalman again, hoping the smooth over the interaction that led to his abrupt departure.
"So, Dalman, what stands out to you about the ancient city?" Actually, he realizes, he's not really so good at navigating others' sensitivities, but carrying on in civil conversation will have to do.
Rokan himself looks in particular for what buildings and structures are still standing after all this time.
[dice=perception, notice standout features among the ruins]1d20+10
[dice=knowledge (geography), identify anything that stands out]1d20+10
The observation deck to which Garavel had ushered those previously assembled in the audience hall of House Vordon's moving palace consists of a scaffold-like platform erected in the compound's central courtyard. Broad, slowly-ascending ramps wind around the outside of the platform, twisting in a clockwise direction until they reach the edifice's summit some 3 stories above the already highly-elevated rolling platform on which the palace stands. From this shaded vantage, covered as it is by an elaborate canopy to protect the onlookers from the intense heat of the crimson sun at midday, an enormous swatch of the horizon is visible.
Garavel gestures at the landscape to the right, looking westward, where the crest of a line of dunes is slowly receding, revealing a vast field of ruins.
"Behold, the ruins of Kalidnay, ancient city state of the sorcerer king Kalid-Ma, and first home of House Vordon. May our return be better fated than our departure."
The assembled parties associated with Almah's lineage of House Vordon all then utter in unison,
"May it be so."
This response's immediacy and tone suggests that it is a component of a kind of ritual among the members of the merchant clan.
The ancient city rests in a valley gulch surrounded by high, rocky mountains. At the bottom of the ravine, a pool of viscous, black liquid presents an odd appearance -- it seems to reflect no light at all, but rather absorb it, for it possesses no sheen or reflection of any readily discernable character.
Around the pool, a dense metropolis of shattered buildings stretches out to the base of the rocky heights that surround the lost city. Many of these structures appear to have once stood several stories tall, and to have been both elaborately carved and painted. The highest ruins seem to cluster near to the black lake.
Rokan notices that the lake appears to be somewhat artificial, or perhaps just intentional, in its position or arrangement. It is not clear if the lake is a man made structure whose contours have become obscured over time, or whether its distinctive crescent shape was selected purposefully as the site of a city, and perhaps shaped by the process of construction.
Periodically, the shattered skyline is punctuated by obsidian gates that appear to be much better preserved than anything surrounding them. They stand several stories tall, and are arches of varying, immense sizes, all of which stand within large plazas. Small dark orbs hover near their overhanging shadows.
The immense ruined buildings nearest the lake might be the same as those depicted on the walls of the audience hall that served as the seat of the ten-headed dragon.
Upon on the observation deck, Rokan greets Dalman again, hoping the smooth over the interaction that led to his abrupt departure.
"So, Dalman, what stands out to you about the ancient city?" Actually, he realizes, he's not really so good at navigating others' sensitivities, but carrying on in civil conversation will have to do.
Rokan himself looks in particular for what buildings and structures are still standing after all this time.
[dice=perception, notice standout features among the ruins]1d20+10
[dice=knowledge (geography), identify anything that stands out]1d20+10
Dalman stretches out his hand in a didactic gesture to highlight several of the black arches, '
"Well, I suppose these are the famed way gates of the Green Age. It is said that a network of such structures once connected all the major cities of the Tablelands, and perhaps distant lands beyond. Most were destroyed during the Cleansing Wars as they inevitably became points of vulnerability to the vast armies of Rajaat's Champions. Their preservation in this site was one of the reasons Kalid-Ma established her rule here. The lake looks like the reflection pools that are found in the ruins of many ancient temples, and stand for the lost world sea of the Blue Age. Can it always have been so corrupted? What could have happened?"
Rokan listens to Dalman explain the multiple, large obsidian arches that he sees and becomes even more curious. Then they must be psionic in nature, as devices...
"Wow. Do you think they could be activated again, and if so do you know of others still standing in a another location?"
He points at the dark orbs near each gate...
"Do you happen to know what part those play in the function of the gates?"
|
Memnon broke eye contact with archer,shaking his head for a moment as he decided it did not matter. He could not be sure this man was lying and so he let it go.
"I apologize my good archer. I mistook you for someone from my village. I've been away from home and they might have been aware of its destruction so I got excited." He says by way of explanation as he offers a nod of his head in apology.
At the mention of his old home, Kuro is able to keep his face blank as before. his mythic power helping him sell his story completely. it hurt's to have to lie to someone so earnest in their intentions, but his past is something he refuses to get taken back too. he is not Kuro anymore...Kuro couldn't save anyone.
but it's too late, his mind drifts back to his home, the fire, flames so high they kissed the sky. the cursed smoke that filled his lungs. Kuro can taste it, the smoke, the death, the hopelessness...the guilt.
quickly, Kuro pushes those thoughts away. they fight to remain, but the boy has practice distancing himself from painful memories. he replaces them with the smiles and gratitude of the people he has helped. he pools their thanks into the empty hole in his soul that was created by the cursed flames. it soothes him, letting his body relax.
The only thing that keep's him going is helping someone in need. It's a hypocritical dream, to want to save people. for someone to be saved, you need to wish danger upon them after all. but Kuro has long since came to terms with that.
'It is never wrong to save someone' the boy thinks, assured of his life choices for now, focusing more on the approaching city.
"it's fine...all humans look alike yes?" Kuro responds to Menmon as a joke, missing Gaanon's proclamation to the merchants.
"Quite true. When they have the same color hair, I tend to focus on distinctive articles of clothing or favored possessions. That makes up for the softness of features." She is relieved to hear another admit the truth of the matter.
Memnon takes a step back from the half-giant, slightly intimidated by by the look in its eye.
What an impolite cur, i offer him kinship due to our shared home and he spits in my face.
Memnon cracks a small smile at Archer's little joke before gasping theatrically as though wounded.
''How could you even suggest all humans look alike? Have you ever seen a face as beautiful as mine? Surely there is no other face which comes even close to its splendor.''
He pulls his hood down so people might see his ''beautiful'' features, though the glint in his eye suggests he is making a jest. His face is plain, with common brown hair and brown eyes.
At the news of their village's razing, Shizuka bows his head. "I'm sorry for your losses. It's never easy to lose a home." His eyebrow raises at Gaanon's outburst. Ah, someone forged by the fires of a trouble youth. Chains do often make the best garrotes.
As the others enjoy the view, the blind man pauses. With a slightly sardonic tone, he asks, "I do not suppose someone would be willing to describe the scenery to me? I'd take it in myself, but all the sands seem to whistle the same anymore."
As the group chuckles about looking the same, Shizuka nods along with a jesting smile. "I'm lucky I don't have to worry about everyone looking the same. I just have to smell you all." Chuckling, he makes exaggerated fanning motions while pinching his nose.
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Rokan listens to Dalman explain the multiple, large obsidian arches that he sees and becomes even more curious. Then they must be psionic in nature, as devices...
"Wow. Do you think they could be activated again, and if so do you know of others still standing in a another location?"
He points at the dark orbs near each gate...
"Do you happen to know what part those play in the function of the gates?"
Dalman adjusts the folds of his cloak on his shoulders, upsetting the play of light upon the iridescent waves creased by its thick folds.
"I cannot say for certain. Certainly, they have not been successfully employed within living memory, or at least not in any event of which the Rhul-Ty'ragi have any verifiable knowledge."
Pausing a moment, Dalman casually rearranges a spike of his striking white hair as he continues,
"As to the possible existence of other surviving gates, I have heard rumors of an ancient city, far to the north, known as Saragar where such wonders are still to be found. It is similarly mentioned in some texts that the gates connected these lands to the far eastern territories, beyond the terrors of the Sea of Silt."
He pauses briefly, as if considering some weighty matter before concluding with a reply to Rokan's inquiry about the orbs,
"Well, obsidian orbs have at least two functions, albeit ones that are partially interrelated, that our order has discovered in the course of our research. The first is to hold the mind of a powerful psion, which thereby provides the necessary energy to artifacts of various sorts through the manifestation of their occupants' mental abilities. For instance, it is said that in distant Saragar, by the shores of the Last Sea, these devices contain generations of the most influential psions, who universally choose to continue their existence after death by serving their people instead of departing for the Gray. So, since ancient times they have created an impenetrable invisible psionic barrier around their home, as well as levitated the vast armada of obsidian vessels that are said to criss cross its horizon like swarming bees. Perhaps the orbs power the gates? Alternatively, they are a focus point for defilers such as the sorcerer-kings in the process of dragon transformation. It is said that the sorcerer monarch of this long-lost city before us employed several in his plot to quicken the ascent to a station equal with that of Borys. The Dragon of Tyr, likewise, is said to use these orbs for some dark purpose..."
At the news of their village's razing, Shizuka bows his head. "I'm sorry for your losses. It's never easy to lose a home." His eyebrow raises at Gaanon's outburst. Ah, someone forged by the fires of a trouble youth. Chains do often make the best garrotes.
As the others enjoy the view, the blind man pauses. With a slightly sardonic tone, he asks, "I do not suppose someone would be willing to describe the scenery to me? I'd take it in myself, but all the sands seem to whistle the same anymore."
As the group chuckles about looking the same, Shizuka nods along with a jesting smile. "I'm lucky I don't have to worry about everyone looking the same. I just have to smell you all." Chuckling, he makes exaggerated fanning motions while pinching his nose.
Memnon takes a step back from the half-giant, slightly intimidated by by the look in its eye.
What an impolite cur, i offer him kinship due to our shared home and he spits in my face.
Memnon cracks a small smile at Archer's little joke before gasping theatrically as though wounded.
''How could you even suggest all humans look alike? Have you ever seen a face as beautiful as mine? Surely there is no other face which comes even close to its splendor.''
He pulls his hood down so people might see his ''beautiful'' features, though the glint in his eye suggests he is making a jest. His face is plain, with common brown hair and brown eyes.
[dice=Perception]1d20+10
Gazing out over the alluring vista of the ruined city, Memnon experiences a brief, but undoubtedly unnerving sensation. But what exactly it might be, this is a more difficult matter -- a fiery flicker on the edge of his vision perhaps? The uneasiness passes as quickly as it arose.
[dice=Perception]1d20+6
Gaanon feels a slight tremor as the bolt of light reaches its destination on the far side of the ruined district.
Memnon broke eye contact with archer,shaking his head for a moment as he decided it did not matter. He could not be sure this man was lying and so he let it go.
"I apologize my good archer. I mistook you for someone from my village. I've been away from home and they might have been aware of its destruction so I got excited." He says by way of explanation as he offers a nod of his head in apology.
At the mention of his old home, Kuro is able to keep his face blank as before. his mythic power helping him sell his story completely. it hurt's to have to lie to someone so earnest in their intentions, but his past is something he refuses to get taken back too. he is not Kuro anymore...Kuro couldn't save anyone.
but it's too late, his mind drifts back to his home, the fire, flames so high they kissed the sky. the cursed smoke that filled his lungs. Kuro can taste it, the smoke, the death, the hopelessness...the guilt.
quickly, Kuro pushes those thoughts away. they fight to remain, but the boy has practice distancing himself from painful memories. he replaces them with the smiles and gratitude of the people he has helped. he pools their thanks into the empty hole in his soul that was created by the cursed flames. it soothes him, letting his body relax.
The only thing that keep's him going is helping someone in need. It's a hypocritical dream, to want to save people. for someone to be saved, you need to wish danger upon them after all. but Kuro has long since came to terms with that.
'It is never wrong to save someone' the boy thinks, assured of his life choices for now, focusing more on the approaching city.
"it's fine...all humans look alike yes?" Kuro responds to Menmon as a joke, missing Gaanon's proclamation to the merchants.
[dice=Perception] 1d20 + 6
The archer looks out over the vast horizon, and is suddenly struck by a difficult-to-place sense of wrongness. For a brief second, it is as if the corners of his vision were briefly overwhelmed by black spots such as arise from staring directly at the sun. But where is such a light on the horizon? In any event, it passes quickly, and then is gone.
"Quite true. When they have the same color hair, I tend to focus on distinctive articles of clothing or favored possessions. That makes up for the softness of features." She is relieved to hear another admit the truth of the matter.
[dice=perception]1d20+10
Then, a mysterious light arcs over the plaza in the heart of the ruins, descending quickly to a location on the far side of the ruined district.
Simultaneously, the thri-kreen's chitin trembles slightly with the concussive force of some mysterious power that shakes the portion of the city closest to the mysterious black lake. Given the obvious effect, even at such a great distance, she can only imagine the monstrous force of its impact to those unlucky enough to directly face its descent.
The skyline of the city then lights up with several additional sparks...
Araska turns quiet as the current conversation speaks of her former home. While her heart cries out to ask questions, and maybe learn if her parents survived, she could not do anything with the information and so chooses to keep that to herself. She will learn the truth eventually. Instead, Araska turns to the blind man and says, "The city rests inside a gulch surrounded by rocky mountains. Sand and a black lake... and ruined buildings all around. The desert has taken its toll on the city as it always does. It doesn't feel like there's much in the way of life... few could survive out here at least."
Dalman adjusts the folds of his cloak on his shoulders, upsetting the play of light upon the iridescent waves creased by its thick folds.
"I cannot say for certain. Certainly, they have not been successfully employed within living memory, or at least not in any event of which the Rhul-Ty'ragi have any verifiable knowledge."
Pausing a moment, Dalman casually rearranges a spike of his striking white hair as he continues,
"As to the possible existence of other surviving gates, I have heard rumors of an ancient city, far to the north, known as Saragar where such wonders are still to be found. It is similarly mentioned in some texts that the gates connected these lands to the far eastern territories, beyond the terrors of the Sea of Silt."
He pauses briefly, as if considering some weighty matter before concluding with a reply to Rokan's inquiry about the orbs,
"Well, obsidian orbs have at least two functions, albeit ones that are partially interrelated, that our order has discovered in the course of our research. The first is to hold the mind of a powerful psion, which thereby provides the necessary energy to artifacts of various sorts through the manifestation of their occupants' mental abilities. For instance, it is said that in distant Saragar, by the shores of the Last Sea, these devices contain generations of the most influential psions, who universally choose to continue their existence after death by serving their people instead of departing for the Gray. So, since ancient times they have created an impenetrable invisible psionic barrier around their home, as well as levitated the vast armada of obsidian vessels that are said to criss cross its horizon like swarming bees. Perhaps the orbs power the gates? Alternatively, they are a focus point for defilers such as the sorcerer-kings in the process of dragon transformation. It is said that the sorcerer monarch of this long-lost city before us employed several in his plot to quicken the ascent to a station equal with that of Borys. The Dragon of Tyr, likewise, is said to use these orbs for some dark purpose...
Rokan is pleased that his questions have calmed Dalman considerably.
"If this was so universal as you say, then I would think there are many more of these orbs hidden in the world, unless there were fewer proper scions in those times. However, this is hard to believe given how prevalent it is in Athas. It makes sense that the sorcrer kings would use them for their power as well, but I wonder if they could also act as an escape hatch for them. If things were to go terribly wrong in their transformation, I wonder if they would join the psions of yore in eternity."
...Dalman adjusts the folds of his cloak on his shoulders, upsetting the play of light upon the iridescent waves creased by its thick folds.
"I cannot say for certain. Certainly, they have not been successfully employed within living memory, or at least not in any event of which the Rhul-Ty'ragi have any verifiable knowledge."
Pausing a moment, Dalman casually rearranges a spike of his striking white hair as he continues,
"As to the possible existence of other surviving gates, I have heard rumors of an ancient city, far to the north, known as Saragar where such wonders are still to be found. It is similarly mentioned in some texts that the gates connected these lands to the far eastern territories, beyond the terrors of the Sea of Silt."
He pauses briefly, as if considering some weighty matter before concluding with a reply to Rokan's inquiry about the orbs,
"Well, obsidian orbs have at least two functions, albeit ones that are partially interrelated, that our order has discovered in the course of our research. The first is to hold the mind of a powerful psion, which thereby provides the necessary energy to artifacts of various sorts through the manifestation of their occupants' mental abilities. For instance, it is said that in distant Saragar, by the shores of the Last Sea, these devices contain generations of the most influential psions, who universally choose to continue their existence after death by serving their people instead of departing for the Gray. So, since ancient times they have created an impenetrable invisible psionic barrier around their home, as well as levitated the vast armada of obsidian vessels that are said to criss cross its horizon like swarming bees. Perhaps the orbs power the gates? Alternatively, they are a focus point for defilers such as the
Dalman merely nods thoughtfully in response to Rokan's perceptive deductions.
However, a more vocal response comes from a now-familiar voice in the ascetic's head,
Indeed, I wonder if the sorcerer-queen of this lost city might have preserved her life in just this fashion, and so is not in fact so lost as we had supposed. Perhaps, even now, she is... watching us...
[dice=Perception]1d20+9
Araska turns quiet as the current conversation speaks of her former home. While her heart cries out to ask questions, and maybe learn if her parents survived, she could not do anything with the information and so chooses to keep that to herself. She will learn the truth eventually. Instead, Araska turns to the blind man and says, "The city rests inside a gulch surrounded by rocky mountains. Sand and a black lake... and ruined buildings all around. The desert has taken its toll on the city as it always does. It doesn't feel like there's much in the way of life... few could survive out here at least."
Suddenly, Araska experiences an odd sensation in her vision, like she has been blinded for a space less than the rotation of a hummingbird's wing. It passes quickly, and it is difficult to tell if the small dark spots at the edge of her vision are the after-effects of whatever has happened, or merely the conjuration of her heat-afflicted imagination. It is exceedingly difficult to mark the distinction with any accuracy in this oppressive climate.
Ja'far listened to all Husayn-el-Khanif had to say," One must do what they must to survive. If you'd give me a moment to get some fresh air on the observation deck. I'm sure over this expedition we will speak again." Ja'far bows to Husayn and makes his leave for the observation deck.
Once outside Ja'far gazes upon the vast vista of harsh red desert.
Smiling, Shizuka bows in the direction of the voice describing the location. "My thanks Lady." Pausing as some air flows around his hand, the blind man adds, "I don't recognize you. May I ask your name? I am Shizuka."
At Gannon's outburst Tkk-Tkk nods her head. "I saw it as well. It could be a sign of danger to the crew. We should track it and ensure that it does not harm us. I will go with you."
|
|
The archer looks out over the vast horizon, and is suddenly struck by a difficult-to-place sense of wrongness. For a brief second, it is as if the corners of his vision were briefly overwhelmed by black spots such as arise from staring directly at the sun. But where is such a light on the horizon? In any event, it passes quickly, and then is gone.
Kuro almost immediately closes his eye's once the spots appear, rubbing them furiously as they slowly fade.
"that...wasn't the sun..." he thinks, his vision returning."Over there!" Gaanon exclaims, pointing to a bolt of light like a comet racing across the sky. "It started within the bones of the monumental structures over there... And look there: it has landed on the far side of the ruined district! Either it's warning of our coming, or...? Either way, I'm going to go see."
With that, he seems suddenly and unstoppablly ready to go...
At Gannon's outburst Tkk-Tkk nods her head. "I saw it as well. It could be a sign of danger to the crew. We should track it and ensure that it does not harm us. I will go with you."
His Giant friends loud proclamation manages to get his attention from the fading sunspots in his vision. he quickly takes a second look at the ruins, but can't find anything Gaanon spoke of. however the fervor in his voice forces Kuro to reconsider.
If Gaanon is right, the first thing they need to do is NOT go charging off the heavily fortified and defended castle. their position is very strong here, and to give that up would be very fool hardy.
he's brought from his musing's when Tkk-Tkk gives her agreement.
...ok he should probably stop them.
"Gaanon" Kuro speaks "running off into something that might be a trap is never a good idea. we don't know what that was but leaving our post and position is not smart. if combat is to come, we have a greater chance of success here and as a coordinated group."
Kuro makes sure to look the man in the eye as he speaks to him, not commanding, but as a friend.
"we are not in charge, and leaving our post is most definitely not something we are being payed for"
Dalman merely nods thoughtfully in response to Rokan's perceptive deductions.
However, a more vocal response comes from a now-familiar voice in the ascetic's head,
Indeed, I wonder if the sorcerer-queen of this lost city might have preserved her life in just this fashion, and so is not in fact so lost as we had supposed. Perhaps, even now, she is... watching us...
Rokan turns to meet the gaze of the nearby brown eyes again, and then turns away quickly when he realizes he's doing it.
"Yes, I suppose so. Perhaps we'll even have the chance to "encounter" her as we explore the ruins. It would be quite the opportunity to pose some questions to her, no? On the other hand, I wouldn't want to be overcome by that power."
He thinks some more.
"Perhaps over time I could learn a minimal amount of telepathy from you, in exchange for something you might like to learn from my discipline."
Ja'far listened to all Husayn-el-Khanif had to say," One must do what they must to survive. If you'd give me a moment to get some fresh air on the observation deck. I'm sure over this expedition we will speak again." Ja'far bows to Husayn and makes his leave for the observation deck.
Once outside Ja'far gazes upon the vast vista of harsh red desert.
[dice=Perception]1d20+13
Smiling, Shizuka bows in the direction of the voice describing the location. "My thanks Lady." Pausing as some air flows around his hand, the blind man adds, "I don't recognize you. May I ask your name? I am Shizuka."
[dice=Perception-Auditory]1d20 + 18
The composed demeanor of the Lady Almah, which has heretofore been maintained in a pristine image of unwavering implacability in all public venues, finally breaks with this sudden eruption of disorder within the crowd gathered upon the observation deck.
She appears to become quite excited at the prospect of her houses' employees boldly traipsing off to explore the disturbance under their own aegis. Though the lower portion of her face is concealed by a strip of thin linen gauze, it is apparent that the Lady Almah quickly whispers something to Garavael, who then intervenes.
"Worthy companions, the Lady Almah wishes you to consider the dangers of any unplanned investigation of the ruins, and forestall any such intentions until a proper scouting party can be convened, and an appropriate plan of action devised."
Perhaps to cushion this admonishment with a note of encouragement, he continues,
"Your esteemed patron, as well, is most curious to know more of the origins of the mysterious apparition which has struck so many gathered here today... but it must be done in the proper way, not rushing ahead without regard for life or limb."
By the winds I didn't think my old bones even knew the feel of arthritis. Not to mention making my hairs stand on end. I've spent years casually maiming with lightning and have never felt something quite like that. Hearing the half giant and the Thri-Kreen speak of running off, Shizuka's warm demeanor disappears. "A fool rushes in blindly, and while I may be blind I'm not a fool." Shaking his head, the blind man pauses at the lady's proclamation. "Surely letting a scouting party explore can't hurt? Worst possibility is they die instead of us." The old man's face is uncaring at the idea of a search party losing their lives.
By the winds I didn't think my old bones even knew the feel of arthritis. Not to mention making my hairs stand on end. I've spent years casually maiming with lightning and have never felt something quite like that. Hearing the half giant and the Thri-Kreen speak of running off, Shizuka's warm demeanor disappears. "A fool rushes in blindly, and while I may be blind I'm not a fool." Shaking his head, the blind man pauses at the lady's proclamation. "Surely letting a scouting party explore can't hurt? Worst possibility is they die instead of us." The old man's face is uncaring at the idea of a search party losing their lives.
Garavel's entreating demeanor quickly begins to slip in response to this provocative statement by the old gladiator, perhaps even suggesting by the celerity of its recession that the entire poise had been no more than a semblance the whole time.
His cowl falls away slightly, revealing the glossy obsidian dome that rises from his forehead. The combined effect of the light reflecting from the obsidian's sheer surface, alongside the blooming brightness of his cheeks, is at once deeply unsettling and simultaneously possessed of some macabre humor. Garavel's speech veritably hisses through his clenched teeth, producing a tumultuous stream of slurred words in a voice scarcely recognizable as his own.
"No old fool, the worssst posssibility isss the failure of thisss misssion!"
Dalman merely nods thoughtfully in response to Rokan's perceptive deductions.
However, a more vocal response comes from a now-familiar voice in the ascetic's head,
Indeed, I wonder if the sorcerer-queen of this lost city might have preserved her life in just this fashion, and so is not in fact so lost as we had supposed. Perhaps, even now, she is... watching us...
Rokan turns to meet the gaze of the nearby brown eyes again, and then turns away quickly when he realizes he's doing it.
"Yes, I suppose so. Perhaps we'll even have the chance to "encounter" her as we explore the ruins. It would be quite the opportunity to pose some questions to her, no? On the other hand, I wouldn't want to be overcome by that power."
He thinks some more.
"Perhaps over time I could learn a minimal amount of telepathy from you, in exchange for something you might like to learn from my discipline."
The response that arises in Rokan's mind is as close to the 'sound' of a winsome smile as anything can be to such an impossible subject,
"Perhaps so brother scholar, we shall see which way our paths lead..."
Misra turns her head to scan the horizon and its field of ruins,
"But now we must attend to the strange matter at hand..."
"I was not suggesting a full expedition, merely to approach to detect oncoming danger." she explains. "A few fast runners to watch and return information."
She pauses, "If we wait for a formal scouting party I volunteer my service."
"I was not suggesting a full expedition, merely to approach to detect oncoming danger." she explains. "A few fast runners to watch and return information."
She pauses, "If we wait for a formal scouting party I volunteer my service."
The now familiar, albeit unwelcome, tones of Slavathras' sibilant drawl arise from behind, causing the sensory filaments' of Tkk-Tkk's chitinous carapace to stand on a nervous edge.
"Oooh, I do believe that would be quite the little jaunt, indeed, a really rousing walkabout, no question at all. I have passed by these ruins before, and I am certain there must be new... presences at work in their hallowed midst."
The bard smiles in an unsettling rictus as he rounds the thri-kreen's flank and comes to stand before her.
"Indeed, it is almost as if the bones of Kalidnay have come alive, resurrected by some sleepless ghost to greet the return of envoys from its former merchant house."
By the great Element Lords! Could the spirits have awoken and or what could of caused this?
"The giant and the thri-kreen are correct, I saw and felt something active. As if the world is waking up and lashing out in rage and frustration. Should a small team venture out to explore the area, I would volunteer my expertise." He said calmly addressed to no single person.
Malkaer, silent up until now, nodded at Ja'far's comment.
"How could anyone run from history? I would risk death to witness such a thing."
"Perhaps you should go have a look," Gaanon challenges the bard, chuckling. It's easy to make jokes when it isn't you out there, fighting in the desert.
Slavathras turns on his feel to face the half giant, the pinions of his chitinous armor forming a blur of violet streaks in the air between them,
His tone is unmistakably smug,
"Great one, as I have just indicated to your non-mammalian associate, I have already had occasion to visit these ruins in times past, and so stand without any need to presently trespass upon their confines in order to fulfill some species of juvenile curiosity or overanxious, unconsidered thirst for action!"
The bard's slips curl again in an unsettling expression of amusement,
"However, I might be persuaded to accompany your little reconnaissance, and to share my expertise... despite your poor manners and comically haughty countenance."
His final utterance is more like a snarl,
"For I assure you, Great One, that it is assuredly I who should fear least to venture upon the bones of Kalidnay, not you!"
Malkaer smiled with amusement at the bard. In his experience, those who acted like he rarely survived long when surrounded by hostile companions in the wilderness. Either the bard was far more capable than he looked, or had been in a position of urban power for so long that he had forgotten what it meant to be afraid.
By the great Element Lords! Could the spirits have awoken and or what could of caused this?
"The giant and the thri-kreen are correct, I saw and felt something active. As if the world is waking up and lashing out in rage and frustration. Should a small team venture out to explore the area, I would volunteer my expertise." He said calmly addressed to no single person.
The sheer surface of Husayn's bald head glistens in the sunlight as he takes up a response to Ja'far's general pronouncement,
"Earth waking up heh? I don't know why, but I thought that the Tablelands outside Raam would be less tumultuous than our troubled home. There, the subjects of Alabach-Re fend for themselves against the elements, and here I find we must yet do the same."
He slowly adjusts his shoulders, loosening his corded muscles.
Husayn's back is borne down by the two, long, curved scabbards that hold the twin blades for which his people's warriors became known among the inhabitants of Raam when the descended from the steppes millennia past under the banner of the sorcerer-queen.
"I, too, would know something of these matters."
He smiles warmly with both his mouth and his green eyes as the former attendant of Abalach-Re's harem turns to his old associate,
"Different circumstances, but the same troubles, are they not Ja'far? They follow wherever we go, the most dutiful of servants!"
"I was not suggesting a full expedition, merely to approach to detect oncoming danger." she explains. "A few fast runners to watch and return information."
She pauses, "If we wait for a formal scouting party I volunteer my service."
Rokan, not really sure of who makes such decisions, throws in his hat as well.
"I would also volunteer to join the expedition, when the party is formed."
He looks around and recognizes some who were observing the wall reliefs with him in the audience hall.
Hearing Garavel speak, Shizuka's face takes on an expression similar to eating a lemon. And what have you accomplished, besides becoming another slave? The death of your house means little to me.
At the sound of the others volunteering, Shizuka sighs. "Considering my speed, I could probably manage it. Granted, someone capable of seeing would be helpful."
Memnon stares out at the ruins, trying in vain to see whatever the others have seen and perhaps catch a glimpse of whatever it was that unnerved him.
He hears several people suggest they venture out into the ruins and the idea appeals to him.
"I too would like to volunteer for any expedition that might be made into the ruins."
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Kuro see's there is no stopping the group now. their fire has been lit and wants to grow into a blazing inferno. this seem's like a bad idea, but Kuro has gone through with many of those before. his mind thinks back to his first fool hardy raid on a gnoll camp.
regardless, Kuro keeps his voice to himself for the moment. not wishing to offer untill it is clear that they are sending people. his eye's stay on Garavel and the bard, the venom in their voices unmistakable.
Hearing Garavel speak, Shizuka's face takes on an expression similar to eating a lemon. And what have you accomplished, besides becoming another slave? The death of your house means little to me.
At the sound of the others volunteering, Shizuka sighs. "Considering my speed, I could probably manage it. Granted, someone capable of seeing would be helpful."
”Then I will run with you. Together we will catch the wind.” Malkaer put his hand on Shizuka’s shoulder as a friendly gesture.