The desert is a harsh place for those that do not know how to survive there. The days are hot enough to burn the unwary, while the nights can leave the uncovered to freeze to death. Much of the most lucrative trade is in water, and the trade paths leading to and from these sources. Almost all are jealously guarded by those that can hold them, some still go unclaimed through circumstance. On the edges of the desert, trade exists in agriculture and metals. Danger exists in many forms, and even the knowledgeable tread carefully when setting out. Coin and curiosity are in great supply for those that have the skills, and you are no exception.
The only questions that remain are, "In what coin would you be paid?" and "Where will your curiosity lead you?"
Despite her skin being cracked, and her throat in a constant state of parched that made swallowing hurt, Rasheeda smiled into the sun. While the sand was something she was still becoming accustomed to, she was glad to be in familiar surroundings. Turning in either direction, the majority of what she was... nothing. It was like being back in the Mana Wastes.
Idly waiting for the caravan to begin moving again, Rasheeda wondered if there was a word for nostalgia about something that you didn't actually like. All things considered, she was glad to be out of the war, but there had been something simple about it. One direction, one objective.
She tried to spit into the sand but her mouth was too dry and nothing came out. Instead, she checked her gun for the fourth time that morning, making sure that no sand had gotten into it and gummed up the works. After all, there was no telling when excitement might arrive.
Sloan was an uncomfortable cat in the desert, but his general lack of too much clothing was strangely benefiting him. His open chest of white fur and muscle rippled with the wind and his steady pace. He stayed near the back of the caravan most of the time, staring over the hills of sand and lost in thought.
He was a large cat man, but didn't carry more than an old hunting bow and a quiver. And he kept to himself, sharing only a story or two at the campfire during the colder nights. He had made sure to pack some firewood in a neat bundle just for this long trip and set up basins to catch the rare rainfall.
The potential ally of the trading company/merchant's guild that governed this caravan was very important to secure for the Lords of the Wheel. So every now and then, he lift his nose to the wind and inhale deeply. Most of the time, it was in response to dinner being cooked.
Sloan was walking to the front of the caravan to check the winds with his nose, but was momentarily distracted by Rasheeda. He unhooked his canteen from his beltloop, offered it to her with the same stoic face that he had held for the entire trip, "Here, drink this."
The idle chatting of some of the guards reach your ears, the smooth and melodic rolling tones and aspirations of the Osiriani tongue of the guards on the brief break that they have as the travel caravan pauses as two of the drivers confer with the navigator. The merchant that is being escorted has remained in his carriage the past few days, only emerging when the sun has begun to set, when the fierce heat of the day is beginning to fade. Not that you can blame him. As part of the guard, you have to remain out, looking for any potential approaching dangers. The garb is light and flowing, providing coverage from the sun— helpful after the first few days out.
The other guards are respectful of your skill, having seen you repel an attempt by bandits, and the chance encounter with several larger scorpions that got handled with minimal help from the others. Their common is not as good as yours, so they typically speak in Osiriani, switching over only when there is something of import to be conveyed. The wind carries sand with it, stinging sometimes when you do not turn away from the wind fast enough, and the heat is oppressive when the sun is high.
From the murmurings, and some of the few words that you can pick up from their chatter, it seems that there will be a small stop at a nearby oasis? encampment? Either way, it will be a chance to get out of this sun, and relax a little bit.
Sloan lifted his head to the sun. Closing his eyes, "Its the same sun from so long ago. It feels almost surreal." Opening his eyes, he shields them by squinting and he lifts an open palm towards the canteen, "Drink as much as you wish. We will camp soon; we will refresh our supplies there." Leaving the canteen with Rasheeda, Sloan walks slowly to the back of the caravan. His nose lifts to the air, inhaling deeply. He lifts his lips and shows the sand his teeth. But it was an empty threat...now.
Rasheeda gladly accepts the canteen from Sloan, eyeing him curiously as she takes a drink from it. It still impressed her that he could seem comfortable in the blistering heat even while covered in fur. Coupled with him traveling light and being able to fend for himself... yes, she had been very impressed indeed.
The notion of an oasis or encampment troubled her. In the desert, one could see a threat coming. Where there were other people, however, one could never be too sure who was trustworthy. It made her feel more tired to know that she'd have to remain on her guard. She capped the canteen, thinking that she'd be better off saving the water. One never knew when they might have to leave in a hurry.
The Rahadouni was comfortable on the deserts after living on the sands for most of his life. Yet, he couldn't help but being a little on his toes during this travel. There was something special about this mission, and the very nature of his life and experience was about to be tested.
While he believed in no gods, he was aware and respectful of the mystical forces pertaining to the land. He let a side eye fall upon Sloan and Rasheeda, overhearing their quick exchange. The Lords knew how to fill their ranks, he thought; and yet, none so fine as the Wolves of Erheath.
The Osiriani from the guards sounded musical on his ears. A native himself, he took a while to learn Common and the other languages forced in him - he knew he was never a great student. He was lazy, for times felt beneath his pairs, but was ready to dress with an armor of confidence when needed be.
Somehow, humiliation and punishment had embedded competence and effectiveness at his lazy, spoiled skin, and he recognized he was now much more useful than when he actually started training.
Sloan felt his shoes sink in the sand as he returned to the end of the caravan, seating himself under the canopy of the wagon. Picking up a stray piece of wood that he had collected from a beach long before this adventure, he pulled out a carving knife and whittled away. He could never craft for money, but the wood piece was slowly forming out to look like a lady. Though it wasn't picture perfect.
Sloan was a patient man, making small cuts into the wood. Every now and then, he'd lifted his head up and smell the wind. But it was usually just wood and sand that returned to him, so he returned to whittling. His fur was shorter now, but it also insulated him. The caravan rolled underneath his hanging feet, bow nearby with quiver laying underneath it.
There was a song that came to him, that he recalled from his housed training. One of the cleaning ladies sung it, but he never asked for the words. He hummed what he remembered. His voice was gruff and rolled about, and he wasn't very loud. And he was a hummin'
"Puovaeuo ka daqo!"
All of you have come to know the shout from the front of the caravan that has been used to signal the preparation to travel again. It seems that something has been decided on after the pause, as everyone is moving with a purpose now, stowing the things they had retrieved for the small break, though most of everyone did what they could to remain in the shade. As before, a runner is sent to each group, relaying the moving orders and intentions of the Navigator. It was common practice since you were joined by another caravan, and coordination is important out here in this heat.
The path that you have taken thus far is somewhat indirect, with the location of supplies of water being the primary dictator of direction, though there are a couple of carts that carry barrels. Divine casters capable of producing water are well-worth the steep prices that they charge, though some do it as a duty, and others for other currency, citing long ago agreements or divine mandates. Some temples even have standing contracts with merchant companies, so you have heard.
______________________________
Agatsu got ready to move, recounting his equipment and checking his canteen. He took his sword from his back for a moment, giving it a quick polish with pig fat before sheathing it again. He translated the orders from Osiriani to Common to Sloan and Rasheeda, although already sure they probably knew what that meant already.
Our path shall be steady. - he completed.
Rasheeda moves back towards the caravans. As she passes by Sloan's, she almost tosses the canteen to him, but, noticing his whittling, instead moves closer and places it next to him. "Where'd you learn how to do that?" She asked, nodding towards the bit of carved wood.
Sloan stuck his knife into the caravan's wood to lift his open palm to Agatsu in thanks for the translation. Taking his knife back to the wood, he whittles even as Rasheeda settles next to him. Lifting his eyes to her, then lowering to his carving, "A man of my tribe taught it to me. He was a woodsman." Lifting the carving up for her to see, "It was a woman he met in the woods. She had trouble with two men on horseback. He had found them, heard their voices."
Whittling more, he continued, "They wanted to drag her in half, with their horses, and he came to their rescue. He chopped their legs, their horses, charging at her rescue." The caravan rolled along and he pointed to the finer edges that he had cut into the wood, "He taught me to cut her figure into wood. Its all I cut, because that's all he cut."
Returning to his cutting, "They ran off into the woods together. They ran like wild beasts. Then they stopped and he actually asked why they were wanting to hurt her." A short pause, "She had a face, and an arm growing out of her side. He did the sensible thing and chopped her down."
The runner reached the end of the caravan and gave a wary glance to the Cat-man before nodding to Rasheeda. Turning around, the younger man began to jog back the way he had come, motion evident along the length of the caravan now that everyone was preparing to move. It would be another ten minutes before the call of "Sok aik! would be called from the front and be echoed down the line. In that time, the guards would be at their places, some mounted, some not, and they would set out again.
Agatsu got more from the runner than a nod. "Oiu rozk botk'raek'ar 't Addaet. Tlouo vo v'rr tvorb klo r'slk." He nodded respectfully to the man before he departed back up the line of wagons. As one of the more distinguished guards that could speak their language, he was paid a little more respect than the others.
The sun was finally moving from its position overhead, and the cooler part of the afternoon was to come soon. There, the heat would start to relent, and that would make travelling easier. The wind still blew dust and sand into whatever it could, but at least there were no storms anticipated. Some of the worst ones were said to be carried on winds of glass sharp enough to shred a man if he were unable to find cover.
____________________________
Sloan eyed the man eyeing him, but he returned to his whittling,"Foul magic breeds foul magic and deeds." He let out an easy sigh as the caravan move along,"But everything has its season to live and to die. That is life." getting up out of his seat, he places the carving in his place, sticking his knife beside it. He had to walk around the caravan's corners, testing the smells of the wind with deep inhales and a watchful stare.
We're now on our way to Abbas, where we will rest for the night. - Agatsu translates yet again for Sloan and Rasheeda.
The silent human didn't comment initially on the catfolk's story; he liked to hear the stories of his companions, but was usually too focused on the business at hand. Unless, of course, they were sharing cold mugs of beer.
Rasheeda stares at Sloan's carving as he whittles, her expression changing from curious, to nervous, to proud, as the story goes on and finally reaches despair at the end. For several seconds she is silent as she holds back tears. "So." she finally manages to choke out, hoping her voice doesn't carry the emotional weight she feels. "He was ready to save her until he found out she was different. No salvation for freaks."
Uninterested in any further justification, Rasheeda walks away from Sloan, brushing past Agatsu somewhat roughly, acknowledging neither his presence, nor what he said about Abbas.
Sloan had stared at Rasheeda as he finished, his face inquisitive. As she left, he mused quietly to himself. That is a different way to see. But not untrue. At least the wind didn't smell of rain, tears, or otherwise. At least, not right now. Sloan returned slowly to his seat, lifting a hand to Agatsu, "Thank you. I welcome rest."
Good time is made after the caravan starts moving. Travel is good, with no trouble as the day passes. A fortuitous turn of luck, perhaps, as the caravan traveled, since it was beset by multiple threats several days ago, with barely a day between them to rest and take inventory. Thanks to your actions, nothing too valuable was damaged, most importantly, the supply of water that you carried went unharmed.
As you all have been keeping an eye out, in the distance, there has been something growing on the horizon. The keener-eyed would start to make out distinctions in the land, slightly different from the look of the sand. The rippling of cloth, and the growing familiarity of the design of tents that were set to withstand the winds and the sands. Respite is near. Judging by the look of it, the tent city of Abbas was large enough to be a town in its own right, albeit slightly more mobile than its stationary relatives.
It's a good thing too, judging by the clouds, and your growing familiarity with the desert, there's a sandstorm coming. The light of the sun on its way to setting plays tricks with the clouds, almost making them sparkle. The caravan does increase its speed a bit, and who could blame them? The trappings of civilization are near, and after more than a week of travel, some luxuries are certainly due. If it can be claimed before the storm rolls in, all the better. All of you are quite sure that you have eaten more than your fill of sand since travel has begun.
Rasheeda, Agatsu both notice that the guards are worried. This seems like worry that can lead to panic, though most of their words that you can hear are in the tone of fervent muttering. Could it be something about their intended location for the night? One word does seem to stand out, though: "graevv'".
__________________________________________________
Rasheeda approaches Agatsu, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm sure you've noticed, but our guards seem a bit antsy." She casts her eyes around to make sure that no one is listening to them now. She was sure they wouldn't appreciate gossip. "They keep using this word, 'graevv' - know what it means? Some kind of superstition?"
Flaywind... - Agatsu responded, trying to make himself not audible to anyone but his two companions - ... And you're right. They do seem worried. I guess we should be too.
He signs for Sloan to approach more.
I'm not sure, however, if we should bring it up to one of them or not.
He looks around, as if trying to see any signs of what "flaywind" could mean. He wasn't much of a man of nature, as much as he was still competent on surviving anywhere.
Sloan had just rounded the corner of the middle of the caravan, on his way to the front. He slowed to a stop when he spied Agatsu waving him over, giving him pause. Trailing his way over, "What are we bringing up? I can bring up very little. Their language is strange to my tongue."
Once someone explained, Sloan looked distant, "The rocks in the sands are often sharp. They are picked up by winds and can be carried far, quickly. I think they may mean for bad weather to show itself." Shaking his head, "But I'm not certain." He looked between the other two and shook his head again.
The other guards were definitely worried about something, but the caravan's forward motion had not stopped. They were still travelling at a hastened pace, with The weather was calm with a light breeze, but beyond their destination, a wall of weather loomed. The sunlight was still playing tricks with it, with the setting sun giving it a reddish glow, and some peculiarity of the storm causing a myriad of reflections around its edges.
Very well. - says Agatsu, immediately continuing - I meant... Should we engage one of the others and question them what worries them? If it is really the sharp rocks on the sands, pushed by the winds, or something else?
The Garundi pulled his explorer clothes closer, briefly touching the side of one of his chakrams. He repeated to himself, "graevv".
Sloan turned to watch the caravan for a short while, "If you wish to. Information is better to have than to not. But if something is worrying them, then I will have to prepare myself to face it." Sloan walked beside the caravan, then in front of it to the, off to the side. He closed his eyes and let the sun fall upon his face. He inhaled and exhaled deeply.
Rasheeda nods. "It would be better to know, especially as we are intending to stay nearby for a time."
It is with some concern that you note the dust storm seems to be coming closer, just as you are approaching the small expanse of tents that is Abbas. The state of the men has not changed, with their emotions running higher as it seems that the cloud seems to be coming closer.
Sloane squinted his eyes at the clouds, but he didn't snarl this time. Snarling at nature's will is a fruitless practice. He turned tail and walked his way to the back of the caravan, taking his seat and placing his back against the crates and such there. Lifting a blanket that he had been sitting on over his head, he crossed his arms on the edge, hugging the fabric to his chest. And he closed his eyes, steeling himself to weather this storm.
Agatsu shakes his head to the others and moves to approach one of the men. He, himself, has growing worried about the storm too, but tries not to show it.
Greetings, my sibling under the Osirion sun. - he has no difficulties sounding native on his accent, being truly from such lands - What concerns the men? Would it be this storm? Graevv? Should we make any special preparations?
The guard is moving with the caravan, adrenaline and nerves quickening his pace. Thankfully, the caravan is moving relatively quickly, which can be taxing for those guards that are pacing it on foot. At this point, they were at a steady lope. With relief in sight, they were grimly focused. "Guook'rst, duaklou. Ta do kaeislk dv klo graevv'rb 't boaekl. Wo uitl gau Addaet. I vuaev klo Sxv Faeklou aerravt it ka taegorv aeuu'qo."
_______________________________
Very well. If we can be of any help to speed up, let me know. I will tell my comrades to rush.
Agatsu bows and leaves his presence, moving towards his companions. He then quickly translates to Sloan and Rasheeda the conversation.
Apparently they're referring to the wind, as we suspected. Let's see if we can help rush this caravan, and please be ready if that thing catches up to us. - he completes, looking worried at the horizon.
Rasheeda frowns. She'd heard and seen some things that she couldn't explain during the war, She'd seen gravity behave strangely, or the dead stand up and continue fighting. But rarely had she had an experience that suggested so strongly that nature itself was objecting to their presence. "Flaywind." She repeats dryly. "Yeah, let's do our best to avoid that."
The caravan is increasing its speed, with respite in the distance, and at the current rate, it seems that you may arrive in Abbas with enough time to get under cover before the storm hits. The concern is noticeable from everyone now, as they are all moving with an eye to the storm. Some of the guards are pacing the wagons, while from time to time a face of one of the merchants or their guests can be seen looking out of the windows of the wagons towards the storm.
In the sunset, the wall of the storm has taken on some of the colors of the sunset, oranges and reds along the edges of the darkened mass that stretches from ground to sky. The shimmer along those colored edges also is more pronounced, but all of you are fairly certain that metal is not commonly something that accompanies a dust storm, so what it may be is questionable. Certainly, it is not a common weather phenomenon.
_________________
The caravan picked up pace and Sloan still sat on the back of the last wagon, cloth still over his head. He laced his fingers together and dipped his head to meditate, his feline grace leveling himself with the caravan's movements. He spoke quietly to himself, "The wagon will shield my back, and I will shield its. This is how it is and should be." When the wind picked up a bit, he held onto the cloth to secure it.
The caravan continues its pace, and your timely, safe arrival in Abbas is ensured. As the caravan hastens towards the city, you can see a rider heading out to meet the head of the caravan. As for the city itself, it seems that walls are being raised out of the earth itself, slowly, but in sections. Even as the rider approaches, the walls raise higher, enough to block direct sight of the tents, though not high enough to enclose the city entirely. There is a rumbling underfoot, coinciding with the walling of the tent city.
The tone of the guards changes to slightly relieved, as you can say for certain that you will make the city before the storm, though even now the winds have increased, and there are some outlying gusts that sting your exposed skin. You take note of the guards all covering what they can, even as you can make out a low roar, different from the rumble of the wall going up in sections.
Sloan's rocking finally came to a stop and he pulled the cloth off of his head and tossed it into the back with the rest of the stuff. Taking a leisured step outside the wagon, Sloan stood with his back to the wind. He could feel it on his arms and he tensed his fists, adopting that stern, thoughtful expression.
Sloan turned towards the walled city and kept his head down, the sand coursing through his chest fur. If he wasn't so ripped-ugh! He only lifted his head when inside the city, giving the others around him a careful look over. The merchant they were escorting...to his other two, "Look after him. I must meet with our mutual sources and speak of any new news of this auction."
To everyone, it looked like the rider that came out was to help facilitate entrance into the Abbas, as the caravan snaked in with certainty, coming to a stop that was accompanied by a palpable sense of relief from the guards. They were still concerned, but nowhere near as much as they had been when exposed out there on the desert sands. The animals were led away, presumably to a more solid shelter, while the remainder of exposed items were secured within their carriages.
What you can see of the city is that it is definitely divided into sections much like any other city, though you can tell the wagons get more ornate, the further in to the center of Abbas you travel. In the center, one tent stands, large and ornate, with no wagon nearby, and no people moving around it as if it was to be taken down. Some stood with it, but the further away from it, and the center of the city, the more that tents were being taken down, to the point where it was looking more like a wagon gathering than the tent city that you had seen on the way in.
The roar of the wind was getting louder but not upon them yet, though it would likely be barely a double-handful of minutes before the storm arrived. Now that they had a chance to get a good look at the town, they could see many of the tents in the last stages of being taken down and packed into their nearby wagons. Very few people were on the street that did not have to be, and those that were were moving with haste.
The wind was becoming more of a hazard, stinging at any exposed skin, with prolonged exposure likely to draw blood. An examination of what is carried on the wind shows fine pieces of clear particles, though some are larger than others.
_____________________________________
Agatsu pulled his clothes and shook his head agreeing with Sloan.
Okay, guys, push! Let's get to some more protected shelter. - the Human added, trying to keep an eye on their escorted merchant.
"Agreed." Rasheeda calls back. "Storm's picking up." She does her best to help out and push people forward where she can.
Sloan walked into the sharp, sandy weather and was soon out of sight from the others. He attempted to peer into the storm, but couldn't make out the symbols of much around him. The storm cut into his cheek and he lifted his hand to touch it. Giving a last look, he turned around and returned to the caravan's tents.
Opening the flap of the tent, he shook his head, which was very sandy. His chest had many minor cuts, but the thick fur seemed to keep them at bay, "The storm is too fierce and I am not accustomed to this place. It is best to wait out the storm for now."
Things to add to the list: add phrases that can be shouted out to create secret meetings elsewhere. Though symbols are safer, phrases can become a necessity in emergency situations. Sloan set aside his journal and crossed his arms, settling in his seat. He closed his eyes, thinking over something.
The caravan had arranged itself so that some tents could be set up, but only very closely in the shelter of the wagons. There was still some tension from the guards, likely from the coming storm. Here and there, there were several of them making haste in wrapping themselves with heavier, canvas blankets, and practically burying themselves in sand against the inside of the outer wall with some trepidation.
With the help of the party, everything gets squared away with minutes to spare, and of the original guards that arrived, there are none to be seen. In fact, from what you can see of the city if you brave the wind and sand, no people are visible, just wagons and the wall of shimmering dark wind about to descend on the former tent city.
The guards had done their best in doing what they can for the merchant, who is occupying the tent that has been built onto the center of the arrangement of wagons, against the largest wagon. Only one of the merchants has taken up shelter in the tent, the others likely having found other shelter. This merchant, who by the name of Basliel, was the merchant whose crew boss had hired Rasheeda, was looking over a small book as Sloan entered, followed by the two of you.
"It is good to see the three of you!", he exclaimed in Osiriani-accented Common. He was a middle aged man, dressed much like the other guards, except that his clothes are of a brighter color and higher quality. His hands and face show wear, as if he were not unaccustomed to work. A sword lay on the small crate that was serving as a table, a lantern near it. There were a couple more crates against the wall of the wagon, but this was a hastily constructed shelter. The fabric of the tent is at least heavy and seems strong, though ripples are passing through it because of the wind.
"I am so glad that we have arrived, though the guards are overly worried about this storm that comes." The small book was closed and put away on his person. "Tell me, have you had a chance to look out at the city any?"
____________________________________
I have not, sir. - finally replies Agatsu - And as an Osiriani myself, I assure the concerns are probably justifiable. As you well know, life in the deserts is unforgiving most of the time.
He is jovial, happy to have arrived at the destination despite the inclement weather. "It is no worry. We are here, and there is business to be done. When this storm has ended, we will see what fortunes Abbas can provide. Once we are settled, I will have an additional task for you", he said, nodding to the three of you. "Tell me, do you know much about the trade routes around here?"
Rasheeda nods, uncertainly. "Somewhat..." She smiles, slightly embarrassed. "The weather was enough of a surprise that I'm unwilling to say my information is complete."
Sloan sinks into the chair provided, his hands grasping at his knees. He dips his head and ponders with a sound meant to focus his pondering, "Hmm." Shaking his head after several minutes, "I have never been a merchant. Trade routes are not my most knowledgeable subject."
I can say the same. As much as I was born and raised on these deserts, I don't know much about trade routes other than what's common knowledge.
The roaring of the wind has become louder, with the flaps of the temporary shelter having to be anchored, but nothing is being blown in. There seems to be an undertone of breaking and sliding ice with the storm, which makes no sense to you, since ice is something that is never seen out in this desert. Even Basliel is slightly distracted by the sound, tilting his head with a curious frown at the contrast in what would be expected.
"A surprise, indeed...", he agrees, the curiosity prominent on his face. "I must say that the characteristics of this storm are most puzzling." One hand comes up to stroke his chin as he listens for a few more seconds before he goes back to the topic. "Right! Trade routes! My apologies for getting distracted, this phenomenon is fascinating. So, since you're aware that from a mercantile perspective, establishing a new trade route through this desert is dependent on a number of factors that are fairly valuable. Primarily, water. There are only so many sources that can supply, and negotiations are difficult, since they know just how valuable they are. There is some organization to how these resources are controlled, as chaos benefits no one."
Thoughtful, he paused for a second. "While I may have hired you as guards, would you be interested in extra coin, should the opportunity arise while we remain in Abbas?"
"If this extra coin assists these trade routes, I will assist you. If they do not, the coins of the land are still helpful to our whole. Our company is dependent on coin to maintain weapons, armor, and provisions more often than not."
Agreed. - said Agatsu, shaking his head towards Sloan - Please, tell us more.
Rasheeda nods solemnly. "We are here to assist. What would you have us do?"
He seemed unconcerned about the wind that pulled at the flaps of the lean-to with the disconcerting chorus of shattering drizzle outside, and barely spared it a glance. "Our meeting with the organizers has been delayed due to the storm." He only then turned his ear to the sounds outside. "Most curious...", he murmured to himself, as the sound momentarily intensified. "When it concludes, we will meet, to see what may be sold or purchased. Provided it goes well, I may have more to tell you tomorrow. I intend to try to negotiate a new trade route."
To Agatsu and Rasheeda, There was no sense of self-satisfaction when he said it, no sense of congratulations, or even anticipation. It was the expression of someone that did not expect it to be easy, and simply declaring it would not make it so. There would be difficulty involved, that much was evident. The degree of difficulty was not something known, but he read like preliminary research had been undertaken, and it may not be easy. To Sloan, his words were just that, a statement of intent.
____________________________