Welcome weary travelers to the Caravanserai. A place to rest and relax in safety while you discuss the events of the day. Why don't you settle down and tell me a little about yourself while I serve refreshments to help slake your thirst and my staff removes the dust and sand from your garments. So sit back, relax, and enjoy. Try the dates, they're delicious!
Taking a seat is a tanned half-elf who waves off any dust and sand removal assistance. In fact, his embroidered robes and gear look free of dust just as his brow looks free of sweat. Passing the reigns of his camel to one of the staff, he looks to the host and smiles. In his hand, he holds a cane of Chelaxian craft though he speaks Kelish fluently and without any sign of foreign accent. "May your supply of water be ever flowing," he says as his turbaned head dips in greeting. On his finger is a finely crafted ring and a pack is slung over his shoulder.
Barely a few moments has passed after half-elf appearance, when a Badawi human enters Caravanserai. Dressed in flowing, light scarlet coloured robe, it was still obvious that he wore a short-sleeved mail shirt underneath. Shoving through the robes, it could be seen that his armour was made from hundreds, if not thousands of small, interlocking brazen and iron rings, each of them riveted. Dangling from his hip was a long, narrow curved blade, stretched to his left forehand was a yellow and black round wooden shield, while strapped to his back was a small crossbow. The fact that most of the crossbow was made of strange dark wood, with bits of ivory and even silver, spoke of high quality of the weapon.
He had a long black hair, and his skin was very tanned, almost brown in colour, which made it very hard for the average bystander to determine his true age. It was also a clear sign that he was spending lots of time in the open, under the sun. He looks around, his black eyes darting across those present, as if trying to anticipate potential danger. Finally his gaze rests on the tall half-elf sitting on his left.
Badharkan approaches him and addresses him speaking Kelish in an even tone: "May the gods increase your good fortune traveller. I am Badharkân k'Assar ke'Attem, of the Badawi. I came searching for one named Garavel. Would you by any chance know where I might find him?"
Coming upon the Caravanserai is a tall man in the face concealing mask of a Packmaster Guard. In this man's hand is held a chain that leads to the collared neck of a young girl, whom he leads towards the Caravanserai at a quick pace. Seemingly not paying any attention to his surroundings, the Guardsman walks straight up to the leader of the caravan heading towards Kelmarane and hands off a small set of papers bound in a leather strap. Unclipping the chain from the girls throat he nods brusquely and sets off back towards Katapesh. The caravan master gives the girl one look and nods towards the tent of the Caravanserai. Getting the hint, this young girl quickly steps away from the caravan master with a curtsy and rushes off towards the tent.
As she steps through the flaps of the large tent, her features become easier to make out though she hardly looks like the adventuring type. Her skin is pale despite being an obvious Keleshite, with the hints of her people's usual dark tans hiding under her unnatural coloration. Her eyes are slightly sunken into her face and her dark black hair hangs down in bangs around her face. Barely looking over fifteen winters old, she wears a simple skirt and midriff baring shirt of white cotton. Though she tries to hide it with her long hair, the gleam of a collar is still easily seen around her neck, indicating her status quickly to whoever she meets.
On her back is a small pack that seems to hold the few possessions she has been allowed to keep. Included among them is a flute she pulls out once she is among the group she was told to join. Without saying a word, she sits down and crosses her legs together in a place where she wont get in the way, bending her body with a dancers grace and sets the flute on her lap, pulling out a cleaning rag and beginning to gently thread it through the flute.
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A tall man with a hawkish nose enters the room, his dark brown eyes narrow as they adjust to the dim light. As he crosses the ring a pair of well worn scimitars, one strapped to each hip, jingle slightly as he walks. As he settles down upon the cushions next to a low table he opens his robes to reveal armor similar to the earlier arrival. As he seats himself the lamplight glints off a golden symbol of the Dawnflower that hangs around his neck. As he settles in his eyes scan the others in the room as if looking for someone or something.
A young woman wearing a lightweight white cloak over a suit of gleaming scale mail graciously accepts the help of the servants as she enters. They do their best to brush the caked grit from her boots and long skirt, and insist upon taking her hood and cape. She relents and agrees. handing her newly bought mantle away. This reveals not only her wooden, angel-shaped, holy symbol, but her long black hair falls upon her back and shoulders as well. Hanging lazily from her belt, a scimitar's scabbard gleams in the lamplight, while a crossbow and large wooden shield hang from her back.
She notes the three men who now adorn the room. A visible discomfort and sadness crosses her face as she observes the collar around the flute-cleaner's neck. Her eyes then turn to the host, and she says, somewhat embarrased, "Thank you for your hospitality and your staff's... assistance." She walks over to sit upon a series of cushions near the younger girl. "I've never been in such a dry place before, you see, and I hadn't had the opportunity to buy anything new since I left Varisia. Everyone says there's no place like the Katapeshi market stalls, so I felt I had to see them for myself. I'm called Sonja Velfieren. And you all are?"
All eyes turn as the door to the common room opens once more as another traveler arrives at the inn. Removing the hood from his head the strange reveals a bare scalp tanned by years in the sun to the same brown color as his armor. He waves away the servants as they approach to remove the dust from his desert robes and approaches the inn's proprietor "I was told I would meet the caravan to Kelmarane's master here." He looks around the room "Are any of you Master Garavel?"
Having already sat down, Badi nods in greeting to those who enter. At Sonja's question, the half-elf smiles and says, "May the desert be merciful. I am Badi Al'Mukhabat Nabih Ka'im. You are correct foreigner. None of the markets in the world can compare with those of Katapesh. Take care should you find yourself in the Night Stalls however. That place is a thorned bush disguised as a desert flower for those not in the know." Those familiar with Katapesh are want to believe the man as the hand he used to hold his polished cane has a ring etched with the insignia of the Duskwalkers.
"Thank you for the advice Mr..." she struggles with the long name,"Erm... Mr. Badi. I'll be sure to stay away from desert flowers. Or bushes. Or both. I honestly wasn't sure what you were saying there except that it meant to stay away. And you sir," she turns to the bald man in brown armor,"Have just asked what I believe we all have been thinking. I am not Garavel, and this poor girl certainly isn't. Mr. Badi has introduced himself, and you are certainly not Garavel seeing as you are searching for him. Unless our silent friend here with the two scimitars is Garavel, I believe the man has yet to arrive."
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Upon hearing the new arrival introduce herself Nasir looks up before rising to his feet and, as she waves her hand to indicate him, bowing before introducing himself "Mistress Velfieren, I am Nasir ibn Al'Said. The temple in Katapesh sent me to be your guide and protector on the journey to Kelmarane. I would be honored if you were to come join me at my table while we wait for Master Garavel to arrive."
Chuckling, Badi continues with, "I made no such statement, simply offering warning should you find the need to explore the curiosities one could find in such a marvelous place. Abadar has a far reaching view and once you learn how it works, there is much honest trading happening among the chaotic bartering that happens among the Stalls. I too am taking part in Domo Garavel's expedition into Kelmarane. Let us find a table to share, the desert trip will be long and making acquaintances before facing the journey ahead will make such journey much more tolerable." With that, he stands to join Sonja and Nasir at their table.
"Ah! So you're the young Paladin they told me about! No need to stand on such ceremony, Nasir! I'm Glad to have you here. I may be no amateur in combat, but one can never be too careful. And yes, Mr. Badi, we should get better acquainted. All of us." She directs her words toward the young girl, whom Sonja has been eyeing with some concern: "Young lady, would you care to join us? I didn't catch your name."
Staying quiet as more and more people enter the tent, the young girl keeps at her work, moving to polishing her flute when Sonja sits close to her. Shifting her body without thinking to give Sonja more room to enjoy in the tent, the girl doesn't look up when the questions start to go around and everybody introduces themselves.
Looking up in surprise when Sonja asks for her name, the slave's eyes widen as she stammers out "I... I am called Marossa, Kahineh. I could play some music for your enjoyment."
Holding her flute in both of her hands as she follows Sonja and Nasir to the table, once the small party reaches the table Marossa sets herself on the end of the table and moves to kneel back down on the floor, not wanting to set herself an equal of others at the table.
"No, young miss. I am not he. If I were, I would not be searching for myself." his white teeth showing in a smile "I am Turok of..." his mile fades "Nevermind, it doesn't exist anymore. Many around here just consider me a wanderer, a nomad, or a vagabond depending on who you talk to."
As the young man approaches and introduces himself, Turok nods in assent "Yes I think some refreshments are in order, to toast to our journey at least." He waves Nasir back to his table.
As everyone settles in the door opens once again as a stern looking middle aged man enters the room. He scowls at everyone before saying "Good, I'm glad everyone is here. I would hate to have to leave anyone behind." Although you can tell by the tone of his voice that he would have no such regret.
"I am Garavel, Mistress Almah's Major Domo and your caravan master. While you are here lazing about there is a supply train that we must get to the Sultan's Claw within the week. Now if you would be so kind as to join me outside we can be on our way."
Once you step outside you see the servants of the Caravanserai leading about a dozen pack animals, a mixture of horses and camels, laden with supplies into the courtyard.
Once they are all assembled, Garavel vaults into the saddle of the lead camel. As it rises off it's haunches he shouts over his shoulder "All right, Mount up!" and even though the sun has barely risen above the horizon, he adds "We have wasted enough daylight. Mistress Almah awaits."
As Turok follows the others out into the courtyard he mutters, under his breath, to no one in particular "Pleasant fellow, isn't he?"
Hey all, I'm sorry my posting rate has been really slow lately. Work just fired one of our consultants and everyone's been really busy picking up the slack. Hopefully everything should slow down in the nest week or so if you can bear with me.
No prob. Real life always takes precedence over game. I'm just glad to hear that we're slowing down for a little while and not stopping altogether. I'm involved in a few other campaigns at the moment that look like they're coming to a screeching halt.
Bump?
Yeah. I sent a message to MPL a while ago and haven't received a response. I'd offer to DM it myself, but that would be my fourth campaign to DM. Sadly, I have a life.
Bump.