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Shadows grow long as the blazing sun sets over the western mountains. Darkness descends on the tents and caravans of the Lower City of Katapesh. One small figure perched above a sea of canopies watches intently, looking for one stall in particular--a place that promises the possibility of buying anything.
Yet peel back that layer of canvas, I say, and all about is activity! Because here is Katapesh, and here, commerce is everything. The open-air souk brims with shopkeepers, stalls selling all manner of wares--food, tools, weapons, even the occasional slave can be found here. And there! Even the feral and bestial gnolls come here not to fight, but to barter, and in the case of one Shaggar, to watch and protect.
"Kitchikez, night has fallen. Open the tent. Wide, tonight. Others must see who we are, tonight. It is written in the stars." It is spoken by the mysterious Yin Hu, a frail old woman. Some say she is a gnoll, others an angel, others a demon. No one is sure what she is, but those that know her know that she can offer the best deals in all Katapesh, if you are not afraid of a little hard work. Yin Hu, swathed in dark fabric from head to toe, shuffles about the tent, arranging various bottles, pans, braziers, silks, cabinets, far more items than one might think she has the ability to watch.
A small distance away, there is a storyteller, Panchatantra. He has ducked into the tent of a brass-seller, a scrawny yet hungry fellow named Tawid. He examines a lamp, remembering stories of all manner of beings to be found in one. He rubs it for luck? For the hope of the story? Tawid calls back, "Careful!"
And thus, as if summoned by the lamp, our perched figure from the beginning, a young halfling named Javi, loses his footing and snags the tent canvas, tumbling to the ground and taking half of the brass-seller's tent with him. To the deafening clatter of falling plates, ewers, lamps, idols, and trays, Tawid bellows, "Ah! Thief! Thief!" swimming through the fabric to pick up a brass falchion.
The cry for alarm and the sudden brass cacophony startle a hungry, forlorn catfolk named Delahmbra, who loses step with the merchant's throng. His pack shifts, and out pops a beautiful ornate bottle, rolling forward, still intact thankfully, but threatened by a hundred customers traveling in every direction.
This does not go unnoticed by one passerby, a human named Maw'ud, desperately seeking Yin Hu for this bottle. Could it be? Would it be in the hands of a nomadic catfolk, and not held by someone of greater stature?
And this is when the ratfolk Kitchikez throws back Yin Hu's tent flap, down a tapestry-seller's alleyway, noticed immediately by those people I have named. For it is destiny that has brought these disparate people together, and you shall see how great that destiny is...
Delahmbra scrambles to retrieve the bottle gone astray. No, no, no.It can't be, I had packed it away so carefully. The lean, sinewy catfolk twists and shuffles trying to retrieve his possession.
Just as his fingers reach the bottle, his eyes glancing upward, the spry catfolk is brought up short, his attention riveted by the open tent flap before him.
Maw"ud starts at the sight of the object of his search. How can this be? What fortune literally falls at my feet?
He scrambles for the bottle...
...tripping over one of the catfolk in his haste.
"Umph! Please excuse my awkard feet, I..."
Maw"ud falters in his apology as, following the cat's gaze, he sees the tent of Hin Yu and the wares showing forth from within the opening.
The hulking gnoll walks the line of tents, trying to go relatively unnoticed. The brown, ground-sweeping, Bisht conceals his armor, clawed feet, and reverse jointed legs. Shaggar's long black-and-white patterned Keffiyeh loops loosely several times about his shoulders before it wraps over his skull, covering his elongated neck and hiding his hyena-like head.
The usual hubbub of the bazaar is overwhelmed by the sound of crashing brass. It draws the gnoll's attention... but less so than the cry of thief from the emaciated merchant or the brass falchion that is about to be brought into play. As a Dusk man, he maintains order and keeps the peace - after a fashion. Thieves weren't in the plan; neither was violence.
With five long strides, the gnoll crosses to the semi-collapsed tent. He puts himself within reach of both the halfing and the brass-seller but touches neither. He drops the keffiyeh from his head and looks the halfling over to see if he appears to have stolen anything or if Tawid was overzealous. The ranger then regards the merchant with his glittering red eyes which stare a hole into Tawid's falchion. His warning is clear, "Blood is my business, effendi. Put it away."
"...Others must see who we are, tonight. It is written in the stars."
The ratfolk keeps his back turned to Yin Hu even as he follows her orders in preparing the tent. But as she speaks the words his dark eyes roll heavenward and his mouth mimics the words soundlessly, 'It is written in the stars.' It's as if he's heard it dozens of times before, which he probably has.
The noisy, chaotic, but familiar flow of the souk is interrupted by the sound of poor Tawids' wares crashing to the ground, causing the long, cowl-covered ears to twitch in that direction. Kitchikez doesn't react more than that, keeping to his task, but listening to those unlucky enough to be caught in the area of the incident. As per Yin Hu's orders, he tosses wide the tent flap, curious as to who will be drawn to the stall this night.
Inwardly he winces as the authoritative voice of a Dusk man tries to bring a measure of order to the area. Hopefully the thief is either dead or halfway across the sands by now, he thinks to himself. Better that than facing an angry Dusk man! In the shadow of his cowl his slightly elongated nose twitches to the side, seemingly of it's own accord.
The tiny thief spits out a favored Vudrani curse as he falls.
A quick grab at a cart handle turns the fall into a spinning tumble, which becomes a tight roll as he hits the stone ground then to a sprint as he rebounds across the narrow alley. That was dumb, he inwardly jokes, if they're going to name you thief, at least thieve something. With the distraction of the noise, the falling cloth, the yelling, the stall-keeper grabbing of the now-useless 3 feet of wicked steel and the arrival of the hulking Dusk man to intervene, the halfling disappears under an opposing shop curtain… seemingly dissipating like a puff of smoke.
His silent feet – bare on the still-warm ground – change directions in the blink of an eye. The Wasp gives this booth's cotton-eared proprietor a silent grin as he passes through, slipping from shadow to shadow as he dashes unseen from one booth to the next.
He sheds his outer-cloak to quickly change his appearance. Different clothes, different halfling, right? It's not like he's the only halfling thief whose worked this area. Not to mention all the gnome or child human ones. And it's also not like the cloak was even his; he'd grabbed it off a cart the night before on a whim.
Leather armor peeking out from under a dirty red rumpled vest that leaves his arms and some of his scrawny chest bare, Javi steps back into the alley thirty or forty feet from where he disappeared, taking in the mess as if seeing it for the first time. He casually pulls a fig from one of his pockets and ambles around the mess, avoiding getting too close to the irate merchant or the Dusk man.
When the Dusk man – a gnoll, and a massive one at that – looks at Javi, the halfling grins and holds up his half-a-fig by way of response. The stall really wasn't important.. or interesting.
Javi's eyes keep being pulled back to the object of his evening's hunt… Yin Hu's tent.
Kitchikez quickly loses sight of the accused thief, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Survivor." he says to himself in a low voice, continuing to organize and prepare for patrons. In that single word he expresses more respect and admiration than a dozen other words could have produced, for him.
"Careful?" he asks Tawid. "Have you entrapped an efreeti in this one? Is the fire that burns at its end not oil but the flame at the very end of its majestic name?"
After all, he was only slaying time to be here. He had not the gold to afford brass. His destination was clear, and he had been days and nights in the bazaar to find it. When the entire tent comes down, Panchatantra stands tall and straight and Vayuvel's corked end keeps the fabric from being torn. Instead, it umbrellas around Panchatantra and his longspear. By the time the storyteller frees himself from the tent without damaging any of the rest of Tawid's brassware, he is just in time to catch a threat from the Dusk man. Assuming Tawid to be appropriately cowed, Panchatantra steps up next to him consolingly.
"I will s-"
The storyteller is going to offer to help Tawid reset his brass shop when he spies a tent flap open down the tapestry seller's alleyway. That tent has not been there before. It is different.
"-spread word of your tent. The shopkeep who fooled an efreeti into smithing his own prison out of brass. Who faced down a Dusk Man with a blade of brass and lived," he calls back, already bounding down the alleyway, heading directly for Yin Hu's tent.
One moment the halfling was there, the next he was gone - rather expertly, too. The points tick off in Shaggar's mind...
Likely a thief, but not stealing from this scarecrow of a brass-seller. With all the valuable small goods in the Nightstalls, only the desperate or the incompetent palm candlesticks. And not many of the desperate ones do more than steal a quick meal to feed a growling belly. So, an incompetent thief then? Not from how easily he tumbled from this mess and escaped you, eh?
The gnoll growls in his throat, the predator in him displeased with being out-foxed by a creature the size of his last bowel movement. He eyes Tawid and considers the likeliest story. So, an accident then... and a skittish merchant with the guts of a lamb.
He chuffs in disgust and throws the kaffiyeh back over his ears, leaving his black muzzle exposed. He scoops up a bent bowl from the ground and turns on the merchant. "The little one had no time to pocket anything. Your knick-knacks, I think, are still here. Look through them and tell me of any that are missing when I return."
He casually presses a sizable ding out of the brass bowl with a clawed thumb before tossing it to Tawid. Much as he didn't think a crime had been committed, Shaggar loathed loose ends and nothing made a predator as keen to hunt as fleeing game. "I'll find your guest. If he has your goods, I'll step on his throat."
As Shaggar strides back into the alley looking for signs of the thief's telltale passage, he finishes in his head what he wouldn't say to the brass-seller - If this search turns up an innocent that tripped on your pile of junk, then I'll come back to step on your scrawny neck instead.
...the halfling grins and holds up his half-a-fig by way of response. The stall really wasn't important.. or interesting.
Bluff: 20
Shaggar scans the crowd. The small races were almost as rare as gnolls in Katapesh... but there were enough of them wandering the souk to make the search difficult. Then a little one draws his attention. Most people glanced at Shaggar, surprised at his race or his size or both, and then quickly looked away. Some stared. Very few made eye contact... like the little fig-bearing fellow. He definitely wasn't the Ranger's quarry - wrong clothing and he didn't bear the acetic smell of guilt. Still, his behavior was curious and he was small, perhaps he knew of the would-be thief or could identify him. It was a lead worth chasing.
The gnoll approaches the fig-bearer and squats down on his haunches trying to present a less imposing figure. All but sitting down and surrounded by the lake his bisht makes, Shaggar is still a head taller than the halfling. His voice is almost a rumbling purr, "Good evening, effendi. I am looking for a small one, perhaps of your race, that knocked over the pans of Tawid the brass-maker just now. Do you know of this fellow?"
Javi stops and looks up at the squatting gnoll. Correction, he thinks. MASSIVE squatting gnoll. How many other gnolls this big guy eat this morning?!
The halfling borrows some time to consider his options before forming a response, making a show of putting the last bite of fig in his mouth and very thoroughly dry-washing his fingers on his vest as he looks past his towering inquisitor. I didn't steal anything; nothing the merchant can really accuse me of. Well, except knocking down his stall, but his camel-squat construction is hardly my fault.
Javi's dark eyes shift to take in the mountain-that-walks of a gnoll. This big guy could be tricky. Gnolls aren't exactly known for their brilliance. Though some are known for their stubbornness. Annoying mix, that. He gives himself a mental shrug, though I work these stalls often enough and I don't know that I recognize Mountain-That-Walks, here. So what's the likelihood that I'll ever see him again IF he's actually able to connect me to the stall breaking at all? Really just need to get by him for the time being.
"I know of Tawid," Javi answers, intentionally misunderstanding the question . "Was something stolen?" He doesn't have to put on any affectations to seem antsy to be on his way towards Yin Hu's tent, "If not, I need to keep going. There's a merchant that I don't wish to keep waiting."
Shaggar tries to clarify his question for the tiny fig-eater. "No, not the Brass-man, the little one, that one that knocked... uhhhrrrr... forget it. Nothing of value was stolen. Enjoy your evening, effendi." The gnoll rises up and waves the halfling on to his destination. His job was straight-forward - keep the peace to keep the trade flowing. The fig-eater had business in the souk and wasn't going to magically point out the scamp. The would-be thief was in the wind; Shaggar would have to hunt him 'old school'.
The gnoll watches the halfling head toward the open tent before he turns his attention back to the few tracks left - mostly a narrow line where the spritely thief had rolled away.
"Excellent! I will." Javi reaches up and claps the gnoll on the shoulder as he walks away. "Good luck with your search."
Sucker.
He keeps from running towards the mysterious tent of Yin Hu, but only just. When he gets near, he slows down, making sure to give himself a chance to really take a look into the legendary tent before entering. The small (well, small for most people) cowled figure catches his attention, and Javi steps in and up to Kitchikez, simultaneously taking in the odd assortment of strangers converging on the same location. "Evening, merchant." His face shows a mix of curiosity and confusion, "Forgive my ignorance, but you're not Yin Hu, are you?"
I'd heard she was ugly... not that she was a rat-man.
Kitchikez sighs as the tent begins to fill up, waiting for Yin Hu to make her usual mysterious, grand, or confusing entrance as usual. When he's addressed by the quick moving halfling, he stands up from adjusting some wares and faces him, "Thank the sands, I am not. The good lady of the tent is about however, and will make herself known presently, I'm sure. Be thinking of what you might like however, Yin Hu does not like to be kept waiting." He distractedly adjusts the cowl on his head, to ensure his ears are properly covered and starts wiping some dirt from the tent, trying to keeping half an eye on the halfing as he does so.
Making light conversation he looks out the flap at the large gnoll down the alley, "Friend of yours?" he asks.
Delahmbra glances side-long at Maw"ud and grabs the bottle, tucking it under his arm. While doing so, he overhears the conversation in the tent. So this is the tent of Yin Hu? Speaking to Kitchikez
"Be thinking of what you might like however, Yin Hu does not like to be kept waiting."
"Oh, then I guess I better poke around a bit. I came because I heard she has nearly anything.. not because she necessarily had something I wanted." He watches the rat-man watch him as he picks at a few random doodads in the stall, "Don't know that I've met many of your kind around here. You from Katapesh?"
"Friend of yours?"
Javi looks back at the towering gnoll, "Ha! Recently so." He gives the rat-man a quick grin, "At least until he proves otherwise."
Even as he straightens some other objects, Kitchikez is nodding at the catfolks question, "Correct, you have found it. Congratulations."
Turning back to Javi, "She does have nearly everything, and don't ask me how she does it either. That's something I keep my nose well out-of." He considers the next question, "It's more accurate to say I'm from around Katapesh, ...been with the caravans most of my life. I don't like to be too tied down." The last part is said with particular volume for Yin Hu's ears.
As their attention is drawn back to the knoll, Kitchikez comments with a wink towards Javi, "I'm guessing most of his friends have been eaten anyways."
As their attention is drawn back to the knoll, Kitchikez comments with a wink towards Javi, "I'm guessing most of his friends have been eaten anyways."
Javi gets a considering look, brow scrunched, "Hmmm. Then maybe I should reconsider my answer." He sets down what he can only guess is a statue of a cat curling around a snake's head. "And I can understand not wanting to be tied down. Quick feet are happy feet. And there are a lot of sunsets to see, from a lot of different places."
Kitchikez purses his lower lip even as he moves to adjusts the statue a quarter turn the other direction and flick an imaginary piece of dirt from it, "Indeed, some are better than others, but the most sunsets I've seen are those falling upon Katapesh. What about you? You seem to know your way around a souk."
"Same here. I grew up around here, but I've gotten to take a ride in a caravan a time or two." He indicates Yin Hu's tent with an all-encompassing nod. "Definitely the first time I've seen this place, though."
"So," Javi continues, "does Yin Hu pay well?"
The ratfolk looks up and around the interior of the tent, at Javis's admission, "Yes, I hear that same thing quite often actually. It's uncanny how she does it, but she seems to know who's going to visit before they do." Kitchikez scoffs a little, but quickly covers it up, "We have a mutually beneficial arrangement. It's been good to work for her."
"Oh, then I guess I better poke around a bit. I came because I heard she has nearly anything.. not because she necessarily had something I wanted."
Until then, Panchatantra remains quiet in Yin Hu's tent, observing the wares Kitchikez has already placed with a combination of childlike wonderment and a mystic's curiosity. But Javi's statement proves too difficult not to inquire after.
"If Yin Hu has anything, then she must have something you want, whether you came for it or not. Unless you are a rare and happy man who wants for nothing. In which case, she has that, as well, I have heard. That it came to her from the King of Hrosput, who had fought in a hundred wars and in those hundred wars gained a lake's full of spoils..."
Panchatantra taps a glass vase with his fingernail. It echoes, hollow.
"...but lost an ocean of gold and a multitude of sons, some to battle, and the rest to fighting over the land he once claimed as King but had wrested from him by envious progeny. He lost the love of his wives and his daughters, and in wandering the dunes of Hrosput his health, as well, until he was left with nothing. Nothing at all. And then he found this very tent high upon a hill beneath a palm tree. He begged Yin Hu to take nothing from him, and so she did, and now she keeps it in a well that has no bottom for the day that someone who needs it comes to find it."
He laughs, a good, common laugh. "Have you heard this story? I believe he has heard this story," he gestures to Kitchikez. "And many more, too."
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"That was by Ninshabur," a voice creaking with more age than ancient Osiriani tombs calls out. "Although I don't keep it in a bottomless well. The well by Ninshabur leads to only one place, and that place is very forlorn indeed."
The soft staccato of a cane tapping the dusty ground calls out to announce the coming of the proprietress. Stooped over, holding a bamboo stick carved in myriad arcane symbols, and wearing an ultramarine burqa embroidered in gold with invocations of peace in a dozen scripts, the diverse assembly in her tent might not see her eyes, yet nonetheless feel her gaze.
Outside the tent, Shaggar notes a scent. He notes that it was on Tawid's tent, and that it now leads into the tent at the end of the alleyway. He leaves the scene, Tawid blubbering inpotently, lowering his falchion. "Uh... Yes, very good, I would not want to reveal my skills as a master swordsman to a peasant thief!" Following the scent, Shaggar enters the tent, realizing that the smell comes from the fig-seller standing inside. Yet this little man is clearly not laden with brass.
Maw"ud similarly notes that the catfolk fled into the tent as well, and follows.
"Now then," the enigmatic Yin Hu proclaims, "You are here because you want something. Something to buy, something to sell. You are here to browse? Come, look and see. You want a weapon? It is here. Some perfume? Makes a nice gift for your woman. Or maybe you want a woman to love you? So? Tell me. Or maybe I pick something for you, huh?"
Kitchikez was formulating his response to the insightful story-teller, but Yin Hu decided to make her entrance at just that moment. So Kitchikez backs a few steps to the side, adjusts his cowl and turns his eyes to the proprietress and the potential patrons. He smiles inwardly, knowing that few who step into this tent leave without something they did not bring with them. He gives a rueful chuckle, thinking back to his own deal that was made with the wizened, mysterious woman.
Looking around at the contents of the tent, Maw"ud cannot believe he has never seen this particular stall before. He turns at the entrance of the old woman. At her welcome and pitch, his eyes slide back to the various wares with a new appreciation and greater understanding of his mission. The emaciated man keeps his ears open to the goings on of the other occupants to see how events play out.
Focus is on the catfolk and, in particular, the bottle.
"Uh... Yes, very good, I would not want to reveal my skills as a master swordsman to a peasant thief!"
The gnoll smiles, which looks more like a snarl. His voice could almost pass for sincere. "Yes, effendi. Your skills must be great to fight with a brass weapon. Most warriors prefer steel since lesser metals break in warfare."
Chuffing like a hound, Shaggar follows the trace scent from Tawid's tent across to the opposing stall. He pushes through a side flap and squeezes into the narrow alley that winds between the backs of the various stalls. The scent is still discernible. Here and there the would-be thief had brushed against canvas as he hastily fled. Further on, Shaggar finds and sniffs a discarded cloak, the scent is familiar now. He inspects the garment with a practiced nose, picking up more scent clues about its owner. Cloak in hand, he follows the trail which leads him, by a circuitous path, back to the alley near Tawid's stall. The thief's scent intersects with Shaggar's own musty smell where he was talking with the... fig.
A growl of irritation emanates from deep in the gnoll's throat, sending a scavenging dog wisely running. Shaggar lopes on after the scent of figs and lying, deceiving, #@$&*@&! halfling to the curious tent down the alley. The Duskman ducks inside, debating how to manhandle the thief...
Yet this little man is clearly not laden with brass.
... And is brought up short by the enigmatic Yin Hu, the large number of unusual patrons, and the empty-handed thief. He gives the proprietress a respectful nod, "Sayyidah , an honor. I am here on a small matter."
He eyes the vested halfling blackly and then, with restraint, drops the discarded cloak on his shoulders, "You dropped this, sayyid. Clumsy. We will talk later. I will be unhappy if we don't." Javi doesn't know a lot of gnolls, but he's quite certain that whatever makes a gnoll 'unhappy' likely ends up on the dinner table.
Shaggar gives Yin Hu a nod of thanks and finds a spot near the tent flap where he won't be in the way. His head tilts sideways, curious at all the strange things on display.
Maw"ud hears the words of the newcomer as he enters the tent. His eyes dart to the gnoll at the sound of the unmistable canid accent. He notices it drop a cloak on the halfling and listens to his words of warning to the dimunitive figure.
Poor doggy seems upset at something. Probably just lost a bone.
"Ninshabur!" Panchatantra grins, running a hand through his dark hair. "Of course, of course. One day I will travel there to this well, when I am old and forlorn myself."
While others are silent, the storyteller has no fear in addressing the mysterious creature, Yin Hu. Though he speaks with the simple words of a poor man, his tone towards her is equal parts respect and wonderment.
"I've not the coin for your greatest treasures. I am come for myself and another, a man with a qalyān." He finds an ornate water pipe in Yin Hu's stall and turns the purge valve before mimicking a draw on the pipe. With a minor application of prestidigitation, he blows a cloud of sparkling blue smoke from his mouth. Trails of it slither like oily mustache ends from his nostrils for a couple of seconds afterwards, dissipating when he speaks again. "I seek you for a great story. The kind of story that breaks shackles made of harder things than iron. Like fear, or sorrow. And makes men rich with things more precious than gold. Like love and the wisdom to know love. The kind of story that changes, that shapes."
He purses his lips, then, and seems to debate. "But even more important than that story is the one that will pay the debt of the man who breathes indigo. Without him, I would never have found my way here..."
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The old woman looks at the gnoll. "You want him to talk, then, is that it? So much silence around here. You'd think there was a funeral."
When Panchatantra speaks, however, her voice takes on a much happier tone. "Ah, finally, some communication! Yes, indeed, there is a story that will pay off his debt. Long ago, he came into my stall. He stared at my wares. That calendar stone, in the back? He wished for it, but refused my price. This golden kris? He yearned for its possession, but would not do as I asked. The rug you stand upon? He would have moved heaven and earth to claim it for his very own... and yet found he would not lift a finger in my direction. No, he decided that what he wished for, more than anything, was the power to see the future. And for this, he was willing to pay the price. And once he accepted the gift, he recognize what the price was, and wept. Oh, how he wailed! He wandered as a beggar for seven years, lamentations his sole company."
She pauses a moment before adding, "Quite annoying, actually. He'd have been far better off if he had just stuck to his end of the bargain. But, he's the one who sees the future, he must have known he'd have been useless for the next seven years. But his price? He was to find and send seven people to me, and for each a task would be set, and to each a fortune would be granted. And, you, you poor benighted soul, will be the sixth."
Yin Hu leans backwards, lowering into a divan with far more grace than one might expect. "But what does this mean for you? What indeed? You must follow an object. It has a story to tell. Thousands of stories. And someone must learn them. That will be your task."
She scans the room, making a show as if her choice is random. She then points a gloved hand toward Delahmbra. "There. The catfolk carries a bottle. Follow the bottle, learn its stories. Do this, and greatness will be yours."
Kitchikez was tempted to roll his eyes again when Yin Hu began speaking to Panchatantra, but he'd seen this process too many times to take it lightly. His hands moved instinctively to his full belly as he remembers his own moment of decision. He decides to chip in, to see if he can help the situation a little, "Think long and hard, if you're able, before you make your decision." he gestures around the tent, "Make sure the prize is worth the cost. For while the allure of your hearts desire is before your eyes, it seems any cost is worth it." He holds up a broom for all of you to see, "I've never swept so much sand in all my life... but then I've never had as full a belly for as long either." He turns to look back at Yin Hu, and gives her a small nod, one of acceptance and appreciation, and addresses those gathered, "But, speaking from personal experience, Yin Hu always makes good on her deals... sometimes not how you'd expect, and despite all odds, but she does it."
Delahmbra unconsciously clutches the bottle tighter at it's mention,and begins glancing around the tent.
What do you know of the bottle, I found it in the middle of the desert after many days on wandering. What can you tell me of it? Do you know where my tribe is? Have they been sold, killed? Del finishes in a rush of words, pain creasing his furry brow. It is plain to everyone watching that he is becoming agitated.
Kitchikez frowns slightly, seeing the catfolks agitation, "Sorry, we don't normally trade tribes of catfolk..." He glances around at the others, his ears twitching beneath the cowl, clearly uncertain how to proceed. "What's happened to your tribe? and what's a funny bottle got to do with anything?" He holds out small hands tentatively, inquiringly so he might inspect it.
Shaggar looks on Yin Hu skeptically, resisting the urge to scent her to get some inkling of her race. He'd been told that the muzzle-less races found it... off-putting.
He eyes the objects she mentions and grunts at her circuitous speech, "Sayyidah, are you a Witchwoman or an Oracle?" Both terms are heavily laced with suspicion.
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The shopkeeper lets out a cackle. "I've been asked if I was far worse. You flatter me."
She then turns to Delahmbra. "I can give you the knowledge you seek. Your tribe, where they are, how to find them. The price? You should find it perfectly reasonable. Your price is that bottle you found. Kitchikez, bring it here if he agrees."
Delahmbra hesitates, looking down at the bottle and rubbing it with furred hands. He looks up at Yin Hu with a glimmer of hope in his eyes and thrusts the bottle forward, holding it out at arms length. Yes, yes of course. Tell me please, where are they? Do they still live? Do not leave me to my tormented thoughts. The catfolk's shoulders sag slightly as he stares at the woman pleadingly.
Panchatantra watches Delahmbra eagerly until the bottle is produced, and he looks at it for a very long time. Yin Hu promised that it was surrounded by so many stories that they might as well be bottled like vapor on the inside, compounded by pressure one atop another atop another atop a thousand more.
"If I am to follow the bottle, and you are to take possession of the bottle," he asks, his tone laced with just enough sympathy to express his sorrow for Delahmbra's loss but not so much as to embarass or shame him, "then am I to follow you from now?"
Ma"wud watches the scene unfold in silence. His attention centers upon the bottle as the catfolk hands it off to the ratfolk. His brow jerks upwards and a small smirk pulls at his lips at the thought of a cat and a rat in social company.
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Yin Hu accepts the bottle. She looks to Delahmbra and responds, "I fortunately heard of a tribe of catfolk falling prey to slavers not long ago. They live still, but they are not here. Despite the countless forms of flesh that pass through the Nightstalls, this is not the largest slave market around. That, precious dear, would be on the island of Okeno. Indeed, they are now in the service of someone very close. In fact, I expect it to be the very next person to step into this tent."
A glance to the tent's entry... reveals nothing. No one enters on cue.
Turning to Panchatantra, the shopkeeper adds, "Now, yes, to follow the bottle means to follow me, while I own it, but I do not suspect I will be its owner for long."
Gazing at Maw"ud, she adds, "Will I?"
Maw"ud steps forward and bows deeply to the elderly woman. "Yes, sayyidah. I am come at the behest of my master to receive the very same bottle from your hands."
Delahmbra looks between the entrance and the occupants of the tent. Who..who's coming in, wha..what do you mean receive the bottle? How could it known that I would bring it here? What is this nonsense? He peers at Maw"ud and Yin Hu meaningfully, starting to suspect a ruse of some sort. I want some answers now or I will be taking back that bottle.
He eyes the vested halfling blackly and then, with restraint, drops the discarded cloak on his shoulders, "You dropped this, sayyid. Clumsy. We will talk later. I will be unhappy if we don't." Javi doesn't know a lot of gnolls, but he's quite certain that whatever makes a gnoll 'unhappy' likely ends up on the dinner table.
Javi deftly sidesteps the dropped cloak, "Not mine, actually. Looking forward to it… hate to make you unhappy."
Do gnolls even understand sarcasm? he wonders to himself as he keeps his smile plastered on his face. Though he connected you to the cloak. Have to keep an eye on the Mountain here.
His eyes are pulled back to the origin of the old voice like moths to a flame. Seriously, he thinks as he looks her shrunken old body up and down, what IS she?
"Now then," the enigmatic Yin Hu proclaims, "You are here because you want something. Something to buy, something to sell. You are here to browse? Come, look and see. You want a weapon? It is here. Some perfume? Makes a nice gift for your woman. Or maybe you want a woman to love you? So? Tell me. Or maybe I pick something for you, huh?"
Javi looks around the mysterious stall as he listens to the various conversations, eyeing a dozen different unique items. He waits for a break to jump in, wondering at the convoluted path this strange bottle seems to be taking. "There is a wealth of amazing stuff in here. So much unique and wonderful looking stuff." The second time he uses the word, he fills it with additional emphasis. Then his eyes dart over to where Shaggar sits waiting, "The fur-wearer called me a thief. So what does a thief want with stuff? Stuff is easily found and easily lost." He grins his charmingest grin, "I came because I've heard so much about your magnificence, Your Magnificence." He gives a bare nod to Shaggar without breaking eye contact with the ancient woman, "Though, with all your insight and wisdom, maybe you could assure our Dusk man that I haven't stolen anything from his brass-maker this night?"
Panchatantra grins good-naturedly at Javi. "And even that testimony must have a cost. Are you so willing to barter with Yin Hu? Should she request you steal a caliph's scepter of authority, you will have traded your innocence for a story of your innocence. If the Dusk Man believes you have stolen from the brass-maker this night, then I can offer," the desert man nods to the gnoll in respect of his authority, "that I was in the brass-maker's stall for quite a time before it collapsed and never did see you in it with us."
He then gives Yin Hu an apologetic glance, and then turns to Mawud and Delahmbra. "Whichever among you takes the bottle, I shall follow you."
Panchatantra grins good-naturedly at Javi. "And even that testimony must have a cost. Are you so willing to barter with Yin Hu?
Javi shrugs, "Worst she could do is offer a price, right?" He cuts her a gauging look, "And I've never heard that she gives deceptive answers… simply mysterious or oblique ones."
"If the Dusk Man believes you have stolen from the brass-maker this night, then I can offer," the desert man nods to the gnoll in respect of his authority, "that I was in the brass-maker's stall for quite a time before it collapsed and never did see you in it with us."
Javi flashes the gnoll a winning smile, "See? Case closed. The brass-maker clearly was mistaken."
His focus shifts back to Yin Hu to see if she has any responses to his other comments, while also waiting to hear how this business with the bottle would play out. I have to admit it is intriguing… like watching a master play a zither.
First, I'm guessing the Duskwalkers aren't quite legal or a 'legitimate' authority. I imagine they are less like police and more of a 'mafia-like' organization that runs 'protection' in the Nightstalls and have other legal or quasi-legal business interests. Presumably they receive their cut from the merchants in the Nightstalls - so while they 'keep the peace' their bias is in favor of the merchants.
Also, as a not-quite legal group, I'm guessing they aren't concerned with the niceties of the law... so they don't need hard evidence of criminal activity, don't have to give the benefit of the doubt, don't have to be polite to patrons, and have a good deal of 'latitude' and personal discretion in terms of punishing offenders. So an important merchant crying "thief" - whether true or not - is likely to result in the possible thief beat up and dumped in an alley to crawl away and lick his wounds as an object lesson.
Assuming the Dusk are mafia-like, I'm guessing that maintaining their reputation is also an important consideration... so having their power flouted would rank very low on their list.
So, am I right in all that? If not, please let me know how the organization works.
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Yin Hu emits a guttural growl toward Delahmbra. "No refunds!"
Calming down a moment. she adds, "What I gave you will prove to be of excellent value."
"As for you," she adds, turning to Maw"ud, "The price for this bottle is simple, Sayyid. It is yours, if you promise to fill it."
Without skipping a beat, she gestured toward Javi and continues with, "I can provide proof of your innocence if you like, but perhaps you would be interested in these..."
She lifts a damask cloth from a small display case. Inside, on a satin cushion, are a pair of small wrist sheaths. Spring-loaded wrist sheaths.
Kitchikez, after handing the bottle to Yin Hu, moves to sit on a half-filled sack of... something, and listens to the wise-women go to work. A half-smile fixed on his face, as he moves only his eyes and his head, craning to look around at each speaker in turn. His eyes do widen slightly in alarm as Yin Hu reacts to Delahmbra's threat to take his item back, but other than that he simply waits to be summoned by his master. He does emit a low whistle of appreciation as the spring loaded wrist sheathes are revealed, "Nice."
Then his eyes dart over to where Shaggar stands waiting, "The fur-wearer called me a thief..."
Shaggar listens to the halfling with mounting irritation. The gnoll's reflective red eyes glare and he raises a single long clawed digit indicating a one...
He gives a bare nod to Shaggar without breaking eye contact with the ancient woman, "Though, with all your insight and wisdom, maybe you could assure our Dusk man that I haven't stolen anything from his brass-maker this night?"
The gnoll snorts and cricks a second clawed finger to match the first one - that's two... He loosens the oversized flail from his belt and lets the spiked and rusting steel ball settle on the rug.
Javi flashes the gnoll a winning smile, "See? Case closed. The brass-maker clearly was mistaken."
The gnoll raises a third finger and snarls as his foot claws dig unconsciously into the carpet, "No, sayyid, you are mistaken. You act like I am your fool. You insult me. You speak lightly of the Dusk and talk like we are common watchmen. You, little sayyid, are mistaken to try my patience."
He turns to Yin Hu, his tone measured, "Sayyidah, to test me in this way, this one must think he enjoys your protection or he sees me as an idiot. So, is he under your protection besides from maybe being a buyer?" Despite the evenness of his voice, the gnoll's ears flatten along his skull - his barely curbed anger is readily apparent.
Panchatantra grins good-naturedly at Javi. "If the Dusk Man believes you have stolen from the brass-maker this night, then I can offer," the desert man nods to the gnoll in respect of his authority, "that I was in the brass-maker's stall for quite a time before it collapsed and never did see you in it with us."
Shaggar makes a chuffing noise that passes as something between bitter amusement and an irritated snort. "IF is right. Had I thought he stole from Tawid, there wouldn't be a discussion. My teeth and claws would have already spoke for the Dusk. As for 'proof' or testimonies, I need none. We are not the Watch or the Zephyr Guard. Tawid the Brassman wanted him beaten... and I could have delivered that beating without him having stolen a bent spoon... and I would have been rewarded for it. How I handle this 'crime' is at my discretion... and the little sayyid is making me rethink my previous kindness."
Shaggar snorts out a measure of his anger and regards the well-spoken bard, explaining "In the Nightstalls, no one of skill steals brass - or takes down an entire tent doing it. And Tawid blusters hotter than a desert wind - as everyone knows. It was almost certain no thieving had happened... but I am not paid to be 'almost certain'. So I tracked the little sayyid and determined his innocence for myself. I need no far-seer's assurances when his hands have no smell of brass."
The gnoll's black muzzle twitches as he watches Panchatantra for a moment. "Thank you for the offer of testimony. Most in the Nightstalls mind their own business and would say nothing."
He nods seriously to Shaggar, humbled by the compliment and respectful of his authority. "I have lived by my words. I will die by them, too."
The storyteller remains sober while observing the offer of wrist blades to Javi. "Nice? Depends which side of those blades you are on. Those are made for men who profit in murder and blood."