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Pooka looks over to the Andoran flag draped from his lance, as well as down at his own surcoat, emblazoned with the eagle depicting the Liberty's Edge faction, and the symbol of freedom he cherishes.
"How long do you expect we will need to keep up this ruse? I don't exactly get in and out of this armor very quickly, and without it, Luna will be mount to a dead master in short order. I could use magical spells of disguise to conceal my armor and equipment if we only need a few minutes. If we need longer than that, then I fear I may need to come up with another solution to finding a way to don my armor."
After offering his magical lance to be shrunk, and being told it isn't possible, Pooka offers his Heavy Flail.
At least I won't be defenseless...
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"We don't know exactly how long it will take, but Okeno is a ways away from here. So, several days. You won't be turned over to the actual slavers until after you get there, but expect to be walking to wherever they are taking you. I would imaging a few days at least" says Lady Darchana.
Venture-Captain Valsin continues, "Your Andoran heraldry can be placed in the chest. No one will be able to detect that they are there until you are pulling stuff out. By then, your ruse will be up."
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Major Colson Maldris, head of the Liberty’s Edge faction, approaches any of you as you are preparing for their mission. He puts a loose bundle of maps he’s carrying down on a nearby table to have a hand free for saluting you.
“I have heard about your participation in Darchana’s plan, and I’m proud to know that you’re involved. Daring acts like these strike terror in the hearts of slavers and give hope to the subjugated. I know you’re unlikely to have—or leave—many witnesses, but if you can strike fear into the hearts of this villainous operation’s leadership, strike down the more dangerous and oppressive slavers in a dramatic way, or just be seen battling in the defense of the oppressed, we can share your exploits and inspire a new wave of freedom fighters.” He considers his advice for a moment and adds, “But don’t throw your life away trying to burn Okeno to the ground. Pick your fights carefully, and return a hero.”
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Pooka dutifully salutes back to the Major. At the request, he gives a wry smirk and playful chuckle that only a halfling can pull off.
"Have you seen when Luna and I charge across a battlefield? Tis a sight to behold, Major Maldris. Believe me, the involvement of Liberty's Edge will not be missed. I can only guess at the fear that Haafiz will strike into their hearts. However, I have been known to be a good guesser, and I would guess that between the two of us, they will be shaking in their trousers."
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The two of you notice that the maps are of Cheliax. Haafiz also notices that someone has cicled the cities of Pezzack and Westcrown on one of the maps before Maldris rolls up the bundle and marches off.
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Ibid's face shows his concern as he looks across the table at Haafiz, not wanting to push the man to anything against his nature, but also not wanting to loose a valuable companion. "No one will force you to take part in this, Haafiz. Nor you, Pooka," Ibid says, his tone almost fatherly. "Finarin speaks the truth about this path we have all chosen for ourselves. And there is a line, which each of us must know for ourselves, so that we do not throw away our morals unduly."
"I will not give you a long, finger wagging sermon about the greater good. Nor about doing a little evil to change things for the better. It is not my place to convince you of such things..."
The old man thinks over what Lady Darchana and Venture-Captain Valsin have told them...
"if I understand what you are saying correctly," the old man behind, addressing their hosts. "There are knolls to be expected, yes? These slavers?"
The old man recites what he knows to the others.
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Miro seems delighted at Lady Darchana's invitation to come sing. "I look forward to it greatly, Lady." He bows in a grandiose manner, bending forward almost to the floor in an exaggerated gesture.
Miro discusses what he knows about gnolls with Ibid quickly before addressing the group. "I know my values and lack thereof. Venture Captain, Lady, can you shrink another of my companion's items? My voice and modest spellwork are my finest attributes, and both will be available to me from the beginning."
He nudges Pooka, shrugging, "Besides, they'll inevitably underestimate we two. Easy pickings, I'm thinking." He chuckles, looking to Finarin.
"You know you're a valued asset when they 'fake' sell you into slavery, eh? Still, the look on their faces when their 'slaves' turn on them will be worth it, I pray. Yet another tale to impress our fellows when we return, eh?"
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Haafiz smiles when he realizes he can still equip his cloak and clasp. "Thank you, My Lady and Venture Captain Valsin. It is a big relief that I am able to bring my clothing without obscuring the Holy Butterfly. Life springs forth. I have no items of a mundane nature that I would wish to bring. However, I have been thinking for some time that it might be worth procuring a cold iron nodachi to complement my star-metal one. I think I shall do so and have that shrunk down."
Someone must be left alive: so do not kill everyone. Yes, message received. I can still kill her, though. No one has told me that I can not.
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Pooka takes the time to get out of his magnificent armor, and removes all traces of the liberties edge faction, as well as his ties to the society, placing them all in the magical chest.
He grudgingly then removes Luna's barding and saddle and places it in the chest as well.
Come hell or high water, we will make time to put our gear back on. I won't expose you to the blades unnecessarily pooch.
"I am ready. Lets be done with this part so we can get to destroying this slaver ring."
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"So all play slaves? Will that work? Amaranti can be slaver. Me not very good to lie, but can shout scary"
Amaranti places his lance in the chest, along with his Wayfinder. That item may be small, but no one would believe the carrier to be slaver if found. The big man still hesitates with his armor and cloak - a slaver could very well wear them, whereas those would be an ill fit for a slave disguise.
"Please make this very small" Amaranti presents a silvered heavy mace to Lady Darchana.
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"I am prepared to pretend to be one of your slaves," says Haafiz, "But if we are to socialize and formulate plans together, it is best if we are all slaves. I will not be a slaver, even a pretend one."
Haafiz, despite his bluster, may be swayed on this last point but it will take a mighty speech. He prepares as instructed and gives the nod to Lady Darchana and Ambrus Valsin that he is ready.
"Let us bring to justice this spymaster," he says with a nod to each of his new companions. And when she is slaughtered, we will free all of those she has imprisoned - whether wrongfully or rightfully.
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A Pathfinder agent leads you into the Coins district, where a nervous Kelishite slave trader named Mahjub Mahdi writes up the appropriate
paperwork to identify you as slaves bound for Stonespine Island. He then transports them to the impounded Okeno slave ship, which is already outfitted with a new crew loyal to Lady Darchana and additional cargo bound for southern coasts. The voyage south is fairly uneventful.
Sharks casually feed on cast-off corpses that float like buoys marking the channel into Yellow Harbor. This close to Okeno, the rocky mountain range that gives Stonespine Island its name is a blur against the sky, hidden by the city’s haze of smoke and dust. Each pier is crowded with yellow-sailed slave galleys, pirate clippers, and the occasional, heavily armed merchant ship. Past a row of taverns, the slave markets are smelly and crowded, packed with auction blocks and pens.
Several other Pathfinder agents travel with you disguised as slavers. They lead you as far as the Fleshfairs, Okeno’s slave market. The group is met at the pier by one of the harbormasters, and given directions to a specific pen in the Fleshfair. There a harbormaster consults a logbook and tells any disguised slavers that they’re right on time, should expect their client to arrive for pickup later that day, and can place the merchandise in one of the pens until then. As if on cue, a pair of gnolls ambles toward the group and inquires about their shipment. The harbormaster grins, identifies you as the cargo in question, and calls over several assistants to finalize the transaction.
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Haafiz looks at the tiny blade and remembers all the euphemisms these westerners like to make about swords and genitals. It gives him an idea. He wraps the shrunk blade in silk and then, using some easily broken cotton, he straps the blade to the side of his cock. If someone is searching there, they need to die anyway, he notes, Just as well I am a shower, not a grower, as they say.
"Yes master," Haafiz says obediently to any question or request asked of him. Obeisance comes so easily to the man, Haafiz finds that he is disgusted with himself. He can feel bile rising in his throat, but manages to choke it down. One day soon, slaver, you will die by my hand.
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Here we go... the old man thinks to himself, feeling naked, not because he is without his normal garb, but because his trusty longbow is not strapped to his back. Let's hope it wasn't a mistake freely giving up all of our armaments... As Ibid thinks this final thought, he turns to meet the gaze of companions, he dour mood clearly evident. There is concern behind his look, as well, no confidence or glimmer of excitement.
The old man then turns his gaze down, keeping his eyes locked on the ground a pace or two before his own feet. He is trying his best to look pathetic, and as an old man bound in chains with no gear to protect himself, he probably is so.
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"Ah .. where to hide a miniature scimitar. I have heard of some using their anus to transport these kinds of ... contraband. Amaranti ... if you will please." Finarin hands his mini scimitar over to the large Garundi.
After seeing the look on Amaranti's face, Finarin rethinks his request. "No then? Ah, mayhaps, disguise it as part of my ... slave manacles."
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Miro chuckles in amusement as his sword is shrunk to the side of a long pin. Shrugging, he sticks it in the material on the inside of his sleeve, thinking it would pass a generalized scrutiny.
The halfling notices that his companions are all more discomfited about this situation than he is, and walks around, offering words of encouragement, and in Haafiz's case, a laugh, as they make ready to go.
As the gnolls stroll up, Miro does well to hide his smile, his head canted downward, a look of hopelessness across his features. He casts brief glances up, hoping this is taking as a sign of nervousness, though he really is just measuring his enemies and getting a count.
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"You have pin or hook? And wire? Amaranti make small weapon into earring" And just as he said, the Garundi attaches a small hook into the mace. Then he removes of his existing earrings, and replaces it with the miniaturized weapon.
He looks at his disguised companions. How vulnerable they look. Ibid without his bow, Finarin almost unrecognisable in that clothing. Miro... Amaranti has not seen Miro using weapons or needing armor so he should be fine. The two newcomers also look different without their heavy armors.
And Amaranti needs to go without his lance. He really feels naked now. To complement his feeling, he abandons all clothing but a loincloth. That should give the slavers something to look at.
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A pair of gnolls makes their way to the stands that you are in. They talk to the pathfinders posing as slavers, and then search each of you.
Miro has managed to hide your shrunk items in a way that the gnolls don't notice. He does mention that you will never speak of how he hid them again. EVER.
One of the gnolls then speaks to you, in a barking shout.
"Listen up slaves:
"I am Master Hargur, this is Master Vangru, this ball of fun is Snapper, and we are your guards for this trip.
"These are the rules:
"Number 1: You do what we say, when we say it.
"Number 2: You are on your best behavior.
"If you don’t follow orders - you get a beating.
"Any talk of freedom or escape - you get a beating.
"Any disrespect, if you even look at us wrong - you get a beating.
"Any of that magic funny business - you get a long hard beating
"And take note Master Vangru here likes to tenderize the meat so much, sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop. So don't give him reason.
"Number 3: Don't run. Snapper here likes to chase things and chasing things makes him hungry.
"That can lead to unfortunate accidents.
"Tasty eating, but bad for business. Don’t run.
"I trust I made myself clear. I won’t be taking any questions.
"Now mush."
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Pooka does his best to keep a deadpan face throughout everything, both the hiding of his shrunken flail, and the verbal beratement by the gnolls.
Don't twitch. No crooked smile. Just because I will be skewering at least one of these mongrels doesn't mean I should let everyone know I am enjoying the thought of it. Think about something else. Think about the base of balls where contestants run laps from station to station. Anything to keep my mind off of the excitement of sticking my lance in that snapper.
Pooka suddenly doubles over in a fit of coughing to hide the laughter from his own internal joke, then stands back up, eyes dutifully on the ground in front of him.
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"Yes master," Haafiz says deferentially, bowing his head lest his anger show. Without hesitation, the little Keleshi puts one foot in front of the other. Even without his newly acquired boots, he has to slow his stride down significantly so that he does not get out of file with the rest.
Haafiz pats Pooka on the back and helps him back to his feet. The man is used to slavery enough to know not to talk to him, though. He makes a quick furtive gesture with his index finger over pursed lips to warn the halfling to also remain silent. Just as quickly as it the disruption began, the two 'slaves' are once more walking in step-time along the way to... wherever.
I would like to see you run faster than I, snapper. That shall be a race for another time. On that day, though, you will be the one who is running away.
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Finarin opens his mouth to speak but Ibid nudges him before he can say anything silly. Rethinking what we was going to say he merely says,
"As you ... command." in as bland a voice as he can.
Patience. Something the longer lived races knew much about. Funarin had lived many life spans of his friends, and Neyths willing, many more life spans to come. This was a blip, a blink, a soon to be forgotten brief moment of time.
Yet, why where his knuckles white with restraint?
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The old man can see his elven friend on the verge of saying something, and no matter what the words may be, Ibid knows they will be the exact wrong thing. So he juts his elbow toward Finarin, hoping to stop an ill advised statement from blowing up into an ordeal.
As Finarin responds in a bland tone, the old man casts a secretive, side glance at his friend, and the slightest of smirks shows on his lips. Finarin is probably still considered young by his people, the old man thinks, erasing the smile from his face. You are a wise old man. You know how to keep your cool. You may need to teach these young ones... even if Finarin is a hundred years older than me.
He'll appreciate it in the long run...
Ibid grunts as he struggles along, trying his best to keep pace.
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Shuffling his feet as the group moves forward, Pooka spends his time daydreaming of his parent's farm.
Long was it a stop on an underground escape route for slaves smuggled out of Cheliax. He drowns out the barking of the gnolls by thinking of the pack of dogs they kept, and the elaborate early warning system that was developed for alerting the family when soldiers and sneaks were about. He thinks about his Squire, back in absalom tending to the wagon, horse and pony. It certainly would not do to bring them on this trip. The logistics of that were even worse than trying to bring them on the patrol of the wardstones he had just returned from.
His mind flutters back to the present as he brushes some of the dirt and straw that clings to his threadbare tunic and trousers. What would his family say if they could see him now? Would they be terrified of the position he is putting himself in, or would they be proud of his dedication to the cause? There was no second guessing things now.
His mind floats back to the patrol with Sir Ilivan.
Poor conflicted man. Such atrocities he had seen. I am glad to have reconciled with him in the end. I wish we could have saved them all. Those farmers still haunt my dreams, that missed opportunity. Curse those demons for their evil.
Pooka looks around at the gnolls milling about. He watches as another slave is suddenly whipped and begins to be beaten mercilessly. It takes every fiber of his being to remain still and not try to rush to his aid.
In time, Pooka. In time. They will all be judged for their evil. Yes, I am glad I am here, vulnerable as I may be. A reckoning will come, and the filth will scatter and flee before the righteousness of Liberties Edge.
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You start hiking out into the Okeno wastes. While marching, you realize that there are three other slaves with you. One is a halfling woman, one a Kelishite man, and the third a Kellid woman.
You think that Hargur and Vangru will let you talk quietly to each other (and the other slaves) as long as you aren't disruptive. Or at least that's what you are hoping.
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Hunched over, Haafiz approaches his countryman. "My name is Haafiz," he says to his fellow Keleshite, "Have you been a slave long? Me, I was born a slave, and a slave I am today." While proficient at lying, Haafiz is very careful to stick to the truth for now. After all, he may need this man to trust him in the future.
"Despite this, my spirit remains unbroken, friend," Haafiz says even more quietly, "What of yours?"
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The man looks to Haafiz with a cold scowl and says, "I am Talmin. I was forced to sell myself into this... condition... to pay for my debts. I will persevere, but there will be no joy in this task. But, my family will not be burdened by my failures." The scowl never leaves his face, even when me mentions his family.
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"Ah yes, debts," Haafiz nods, "The 'honorable' way into slavery. They burden you with so much interest and so many conditions that you cannot hope to pay. At the end, they get all of their investment back and more... and still they ask for you to repay them. Then, when you can pay no more, they get a slave. I am sorry for you, friend. The life of a slave is harder for those who have already led other lives before this one."
Haafiz wants to tell the man about how the families of men who sold their debts to become slaves were often treated - how the women were habitually raped and the children often made slaves anyway with no male figure to protect them - but this man felt he had done something noble for his family. And he was foolish enough to get into debt with the wrong people in the first place.
"How much was your debt? If you do not mind my asking of it," Haafiz cannot help but enquire. It always fascinated him how cheaply some men's freedom could be bargained away.
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Finarin turns towards the Kelishite man,
"Well met. I am Looo ........ Lorin." Just catching himself in time, Finarin delivers a pseudonym. "These gnolls are a frightening .... lot. Mind if I stick close to you? Maybe ... strength in numbers to try and avoid a beating. I for one ... have been beaten enough in my day. What say you?"
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"Hello, ah, m'lady" Pooka says by way of introduction to the halfling woman. A short time ago he may have brought more bravado and slightly inappropriate commentary, but this wasn't the place.
His voice is low, and a little shaky. He wipes the sweat from his face briefly. "This is kinda new to me. Just last week I was working my farm. I'm not really sure what to think. Have you been here long? Do you know where they are taking us?"
Either she is a new slave, and I can comfort her, or she has been a slave all her life, in which case I can be her hero. No talking about that just yet... Getting us beaten would be a bad idea...
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"Please don't worry, my new friends," the old man whispers. In his disheveled state, and with his face beset by the wrinkles of age, he is not the picture of encouragement. Even so, Ibid continues, "We will all lookout for each other."
Hearing snippits of the other's conversations, Ibid chooses to remain silent and concentrate on keeping his feet. He knows he is not in as great of shape as the others and so must conserve his energy until their time to act has come.
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"My debts?" Talmin responds to Haafiz. "Enough to put my family in debt for my children's children's lifetime? Perhaps that, and more. My wife oversaw the transfer of funds, the letters of lien removed, before I entered my servitude. I don't know how the bastard did it, but he got me to over-extend myself, and then undercut the market."
"Well met. I am Looo ........ Lorin."
Talmin takes advantage of the interruption to excuse himself from Haafiz, and turns to address the elf. "I am Talmin, Loo-lorin. I am not really in the mood to talk, so kindly bugger off." He then moves away from the two... at least as far as he can.
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@Pooka
[smaller]"Good day. Well, perhaps not that good." she replies, with half of a chuckle. "I am Gima, and I am pretty new to the life of slavery myself. Until very recently, I was a farmer as well. A pretty successful one, if I may say so myself. Unfortunately, I had a run of bad luck, and we had a bad harvest. I took most of the blame, having failed to properly predict the weather."
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Miro ambles over to the other halflings, like attracting like. He keeps his head down, having repeatedly started to hum to himself but catching himself before he could burst into full-fledged song. A bit morose after having to conceal the weapons of the others in various orifices, he let Pooka do the talking, trying his best to wipe the memory away as quickly as he wiped the stink away off his hand.
After a suitable time, he introduces himself, "I am Marko, another unlucky farmer, it would seem. At least the landscape is rather vivid, wouldn't you say? I mean, it doesn't match the view of the ice-capped mountains of the north, or the majestic swell of the waves on the coast, but it has its charm all the same."
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"Me Amaranti. Enemy tribe kill home tribe and take Amaranti slave."
Almost true. Except when trying to hide from the attackers, the scared boy wept and cried for help. And something answered - a serpentine form rose from the sands protecting the boy, hunting the enemies one by one. And so young Amaranti walked free from that night.
But without that, the restraints of a slave would surely have been very familiar to the Gardundi.
"But Amaranti good slave. Strong. What about you, woman? Why you here?" Amaranti moves closer to the Kellid woman to ask his question.
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"Perhaps in time he will pay, my fr..." Haafiz's fellow Keleshite just walks off. Unsure how he managed to offend the man - Oh, talking about finances. That always offends people - Haafiz is left to his musings for a while. 'Enough debt for his children's children's lifetime...' oh, that poor man's family is definitely being torn apart while he is here.
"Well, 'Loo-Lorin', it is perhaps best if we just keep going. One foot in front of the other," Haafiz suggests. Still, the little man grows bored and speeds up and slows down throughout the trip so that he might catch snippets of others' conversations.
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"It is good to meet you Gima. I am sorry to hear about your farm. It is a sad day indeed that falling into slavery is the consequence for poor predictions, if indeed that was the case. Chin up though dear. We are halflings. It can't rain all the time, right?"
Pooka does his best to cheer her up, and dutifully shuffles along with the group.
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Seeing the man abruptly turn from him, Finarin was left wondering what he did to anger this man. Was it his good looks? Was it his cherry demeanor? Was it the way that even dressed as a slave he still wore the shackles like a golden bracelet? No matter time spent in misery will soon solve these mysteries.
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"I am Epanas, Amaranti. I am from Numeria, and have been a slave for some time now. I was captured a while ago, while out with a hunting band. Ran into a bad lot. Been sold a few times since then, and am now here, in this horrible hot, dry land.
"I really do wish I could go home, I miss the trees, and the cool breezes. And my family... luckily I do not yet have children, nor a spouse, but I do not know if my parents or sisters still live."
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"Move it scum!" cries the ebon-skinned man with the scar over his eye, "You slaves had best get yourselves in order before Master Javar arrives."
"You are a slave also," mutters Haafiz. Oh, sweet Sarenrae, he heard me! The whip cracks down again and again and again...
The whip cracks down on Haafiz, breaking him from his reverie. Quickly looking about, he realizes that he had managed to get quite a way ahead of the column while he wasn't concentrating. Damn it, so many memories coming back to the surface... *CRACK* It takes a significant force of willpower from Haafiz to stop himself from grabbing the whip and strangling the man with it. Instead, he jogs back into line and continues forwards at a more reasonable pace.
Pay attention, Haafiz, and remember that there is more at stake here than your pride and discomfort.
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Miro's eyes widen with realization as he processes the female halfling's words. He quickly realizes his error, regaining his composure and bowing his head once again lest he give anything away. He slides a bit closer to Pooka, "It seems we share more than farming in common with Gima. When it comes time to drink, me thinks that we shall have one more that would be willing to slake their thirst."
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Finarin stares at his companions, not sure what to do next. His only attempt to commiserate with the other slaves had failed. So far he had avoided a beating, which was quite important to him. He saw Haafiz fall behind. For such a seemingly able bodied man, Finarin was unsure if the physical demands were too much, or if the man had just lost focus.
Need to keep an eye on that one. Lort would never have had a slip up like that.
"Um ... someone want to ask the .... master ... how much further?"
It can't rely take this long, can it?